a look so nonchalant
yet somber
tells me stories
with a silver voice
ringing gently the drums
of my head
now filled of images
grandiose and couture
lives lived lavishly
while brave and intent
denizens drive dastardly
towards fates decided
with only the end
Daily Literature Deviations for January 8th, 2013 by DailyLitDeviations, journal
Daily Literature Deviations for January 8th, 2013
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Daily Lit Deviations for January 8th, 2013
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Poetry
Featured by: betwixtthepages (https://www.deviantart.com/betwixtthepages)
:thumb345892164:
The Prince's Last Wife by
Daily Literature Deviations for November 6th, 2012 by DailyLitDeviations, journal
Daily Literature Deviations for November 6th, 2012
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Daily Lit Deviations for November 6th, 2012
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Poetry
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Daddy by :devstardustedkar
The Phillipians to St. Paul by ashellessmind, literature
Literature
The Phillipians to St. Paul
When light flooded your eyelids
& permanently blinded you
that was Jesus'
love, covering your skin
like the palm of a hand.
It was then you found you were as zealous
in persecuting trash
& the gods we make of our stomachs
as ever you were
in persecuting Christians
with the brand. How they
recoiled from you when you
began effusing to them
in fires & gibberish tongues! For the light
that filled you was eruptive
& though
you speak of your own life
as if it could be a drink offering,
you are a fire work
& we are attending the fuse.
I collect syllables,
string destitute sentences together
from the air in the sky
and the breath on your lips;
I am not a wordsmith,
but a desolate stranger
beneath a desert sky
(arms protruding like
wrecked branches,
reaching for the wisps of clouds,
I write in silence
I write silence
I write nothing.)
There is no time left
to reckon,
no time to assemble
armies, to raise soldiers
from this crumbling sand;
there are minutes left
to wage our war,
just minutes to obey
what has been declared
the Cause.
You cannot run.
I am no wordsmith but a stationary
general
without his forces,
and only the parched syllabl