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About Literature / Hobbyist Official Beta Tester Shehroze Ameen23/Male/Pakistan Groups :iconpoeticalcondition: PoeticalCondition
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Deviant for 3 Years
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Given by TheGalleryOfEve
Statistics 421 Deviations 26,114 Comments 35,878 Pageviews


Poetry commissions
By The Sea I Felt The Dripping Whispers by PuzzledHeartBox
A Bleeding Heart Box Called Puzzled by PuzzledHeartBox
World-Inside-Me  Commission- The Heart of Serenity by shehrozeameen
TheGalleryOfEve Commission by shehrozeameen
ZieAwsomePrussia commission - Lirena's Exile by shehrozeameen
Provided are poems that I have written in different formats and using varying styles of presentation.  Each one is unique and each one has a semblance of its own.

length can vary between 8 lines and 19 lines. For epics requiring more then 19 line, I will require a detailed storyline about what you require.

themes: epics, melancholia, human nature, poetry, romanticism. No erotica. Dedications can be done. Eulogies can also be arranged.

Bear in mind that I am not a schedule driven poet. You will be notified during the drafting process, so that you can monitor the progress of the poem you commissioned from me.

I can complete one poem at a time.
For any work which you like but want an opinion regarding its nature, understanding, and its presentation.

You will be provided a note containing a detailed analysis over what I thought about the work - only you will be in the knowledge of this critique (unless you ask otherwise).


Successful projects:


:iconpoetrynprosewatchers: :iconthecritiquables: :iconevery-photo: :iconpoeticalcondition:




Shehroze Ameen
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Hi! :wave: My name is Shehroze Ameen.

I'm at present working in the following groups:

:groups: :iconpoetrynprosewatchers: - Founder - A place where all your :+fav: get exposure. Do give it a look :)

:groups: :iconpoeticalcondition: - Head of the Critique Department - send a :note: whenever if you want to apply as a critic to me, prettyflour or Michel-le-fou . For more details, see this journal: Critique Department Update: Critic Openings!EDIT: Duties of Critics have been added in this notice. Thanks fernknits for pointing that out. Appreciate it. :)
Hey Everyone! My name's shehrozeameen and I recently became the new Head of the Critique Department of PoeticalCondition.
This was an administrative decision taken by our boss RiseandBe. I'm succeeding NotenSMSK, who started the critique department. A gem of a boss honestly - punctual, very dilligent in his approach, and particular about how the department was being maintained. Suffice to say, life is more than dA in the end.
Me and NotenSMSK keep in touch outside of dA, so rest assured he's doing well and is in good health - but he's become busy post-graduation due to a job and other non-dA related exercises which require his fullest potential. It was a mutual decision from all three sides.
And thus, ladies and gentlemen, I have something big to tell all of you:

:groups: :iconthecritiquables: - Second in Command - a place where you get critique in exchange for critique given to members :heart: . The rules are provided in the unappreciated journal features posted every month. Come on over!

:groups: :iconevery-photo: - Staff Critic (now promoted to Co-founder) - Yes, photography critic as well. :heart: in case you ever have any photographs which you feel require attention or are outstanding, don't hesitate to send me a :note: .

What else.... I love :dalogo:. If you need somebody to :+devwatch:, or need someone to talk to about something, :note: me. but if your serious about progressing forward, I'll do my level best to help you out in any way possible...

Looking forward to what people feel about my works :)


:twitter: :̴…

:new: Hear me :blahblah: / :sing: my poems on Bandcamp or Soundcloud:


:new: Apart from dA, I'm also :typerhappy: in the following writing websites. Cheers. :)

Blogger : vermilionshroudsofmyinnerself.…,

I am available for commissions as well (writing mostly :pencil: ). Here's the thumb to my commission details: Commissions OpenName of commissioner: shehrozeameen :iconshehrozeameen:
Type of Commission: poetry (though epistles are also included)
Number of commissions done: five
From the commissioner:
I love writing poetry, frankly speaking. I can write a poem between 8 and 19 lines. Provided that the theme has been carefully told by the customer, I will send drafts of my progress as often as I can. I can write in both traditional and non-traditional formats.
So far as traditional are concerned, I am not particularly good with sonnets, but I have a decent assessment of syllable count. I don't follow meter. Having said that, I have written terza rimas, rub'iyaat, villanelle, ottava rima, triolets, blank verse, and quatrain style poetry.
So far as non-traditional formats are concerned, I would like to be t
and its only for 20 :points: (my cut is 16 :twocents: , if you want it in real life amount).

Don't hesitate to go :typerhappy: when you wind up looking at my works :) Cheers.

shehroze ameen's Personality Type Results
Hey Everyone :wave:

I owe everyone an apology for the lateness in my replies. I have to give 69 replies and get back to two mentions on a work. But with that said, life's good at my end.

In case everyone's still interested, ya'll remember the - *ahem* - "motherfucking thesis" yeah? I'll be submitting it on Wednesday or Thursday. So I'll be free from uni once I do that :woohoo: And honestly I am happy about it. I'm finally done with my BS and can move on to other avenues. Sadly, I'll have to give the GRE, but hey - better to give a GRE, then live with my parents till I turn forty (I felt like rhyming - judge away :lol: ).

So, before I begin, lets get a few things out first:


Diluculi Questions:
  1. When having an appointment, do you usually show up too early or too late?
    I try my best to show up early. And often do so as well. I only tend to be late when I'm dependent on someone else for a lift or a drive.
  2. How many languages to you understand (not necessarily speak)? 
    I manage a little bit of French (using wordreference, and a French dictionary that I have), Urdu (I read and speak Urdu, even though as an Urdu speaker, I'm very rough and coarse and make significant tense, gender, and word errors), German (German uncle), Arabic, and a very limited understanding of Latin (phrases or sentences at best).
  3. Imagine I spontaneously decided to visit you for full 24 hours, what would the day look like? 
    Depends on the location. I either spend most of my time in my room, so it'll be artificially lit by fluorescent lights - or I spend most of my day outside the house in the shops and city center (which means there's going to be summer weather, but winters here are nice too).
  4. What is The One Thing you want to have done before you die? 
    Have one published work which I have written, I suppose.
  5. If your house was on fire and you could save only one single thing or person, which/who would it be and why? 
    Persons, actually. My family. Get them out of the house, and then die with the house itself.
  6. What's the thing you currently possess for the longest time? 
    Books, surprisingly - I do have Lego toys as well, but I don't consider them as significant a part of my life.
  7. If you could bring back a dead person for about 12 hours, who would it be? 
    No one.
  8. When meeting a person for the first time, do you immediately associate a song or movie (nothing else) with them? 
    Surprisingly no. It takes me a while to actually define one song for them, to be honest. I say surprisingly, because everyone has a tune which matches them - I've met assholes who suit good old fashioned metalcore/Slayer-sound thrash metal; while there are girls I've met who fit the morose, serene mood of "In The Mood for Love" the movie's theme.
  9. Do you consider yourself to be a generally good person? 
    I do my utmost to be; although, frankly speaking, I'm not "that" good a person, per se. I have faults and flaws.
  10. Go through the alphabet and list a musical instrument (in your native language) to every letter without looking them up (but you may go back and forth). What does the list look like?
    (laughs) I hate playing musical instruments, and I only like hearing rather than knowing how the sound came to be. So... I'm not doing this :dummy: Strikethrough!!!
Radiant-Intention Questions: 
1. What is a song that you would use to describe yourself? 
None in particular really "describe" me to be honest. I prefer leaving this question out in the open for everyone.
2. What is your favorite way to exercise? 
Stretching, occasionally running, Walking and Massaging... Man's best friend is his left hand, after all.
3. Read a book or go to a party? 
Book all the way. I hate parties.
4. Bike or run? 
Bike preferably.
5. What is one trait you can self-identify with? 
Being honest? Being awkward? Making people go "what-the-fuck?!" or "huh?!" ? Making a girl bite her lip without actually knowing it - or blush, whichever you'd prefer? Not being able to get a hint?
6. What is your favorite poem?…
Find any random poem in this list.
7. How much water do you drink on an average day? 
In the summers, two glasses in the morning, nothing in particular in the afternoon, and then about four by night. I'm always dehydrated when I reach home.
8. What is your favorite season and why? 
Winter - suits my melancholic and romantic ideals. Plus I identify with snow and snowy terrains more than meadows and "green" environments.
9. If you could live in any historical era, what era and why? 
It varies significantly with my moods. I'm not fixed to one age. Although with that said, I guess I'd go with either the Crusades or the Victorian/Edwardian era (1857-1942) specifically to British India.

The Crusades: Plague, Leprosy, and Warfare on one side; courtly debauchery, politics and intrigue, and a dedicated environment for the patronage of the arts on the other. Although with that uncertainty in mind, I'd like to see the environment in which everyone spoke the Latin tongues, and there was this atmosphere really well described in the works of that age. Its suitable for my more... "violent" tendencies.

The Victorian/Edwardian era (1857-1942) specifically to British India: It was an adventurous era. Plus, it produced the literary giants of this country. Post-1942 India was all chaos, plain and simple. Plus, after 1947, the decay started.
10. Who is your role model and why? 
My parents.

Right, now on to other things:

dA related work:

Unappreciated Works Feature #18The new unappreciated feature is up. The works for the month of July are:



The House made of Flesh - Prologue by PaleAuthor Sleepy Daughter by PaleAuthor
Now, the rules for submission are as follows:
• One critique allows you to submit one deviations, two critiques allows you to submit three deviations and three critiques or more allows you to submit five deviations for the whole month.
• You have to link/thumb the work which you have provided a critique on, to this journal.
• Number of deviations featured is based on how many critiques are given – they are equal to the number of critiques – one up till three.
• It is not compulsory but will be appreciated if you mention “This critique is on behalf of TheCritiquables” in your critique.
If you
 from :iconthecritiquables:

In case anyone among you like get-critique-for-critique sort of groups. You're more than welcome to submit here.

What else...?

up by Knifapotamas

I loved Up the movie, and this work is a really nice tribute to it. Funny enough, the red hues suited this work. For those who have seen the movie, you'll recall that the movie was very vibrant in its colors. Here, surprisingly, I think that the choice of red, white, and blue makes it feel more... it isn't warm, but rather, empty. You know that last scene in the movie, right? Its as if the house is represented mid-flight, as if it won't be able to return to its original location, yet it might not even reach its new one. Which in a way, does good - I think its does a good job.

Landscape. Autmn by korlyuk

I think that this landscape shot was well taken. That's more or less all that I can say about it - its atmospheric, granted, but I feel that anything said further will ruin what it is: A well balanced, well contrasted, decently balanced brightness, and ambient shot.

Fleur by amandinezoli

Personally, I was genuinely in love with this painting. I absolutely love how the drawing has been handled. I simply adore her expressions. And what's more, I think that this work really does deserve credit where its due: particularly where the shading is concerned.

For those of you who might not know:

Triumph against failureI hear the cries of the damned calling me out
Noodlot is here, its mark leaving no doubt
Those who were meant to live, are now gone, forsworn
Its seeds here leave behind decay
As death awaits, one left astray
There is still hope, there is a way
I carry that hope, on my back 'tis borne
Those who were meant to live, are now gone, forsworn
I hear the cries of the damned calling me out
It knows I am here, I must win this bout
Stay and fight destiny, or to flee and hide
Is it something with which I can abide?
Time is running out for me to choose what to do
Do I have the courage needed?
To not make this choice I pleaded
All my pleas remain unheeded
The sun is rising, grass covered with dew
Time is running out for me to choose what to do
Stay and fight destiny, or to flee and hide
It is now or never, time to decide
Noodlot, leaving none - cried voices in my head
Murderous screams - terror - bring back the dead
The sun shines, vitriolic, a dark halo
The people passing by - astray
For them I su
 and  Koratoshisfriend and shehrozeameen collab - poem 2I hear the cries of the damned calling me out
Noodlot is here, its mark leaving no doubt
Those who were meant to live, are now gone, forsworn
Its seeds here leave behind decay
As death awaits, one left astray
There is still hope, there is a way
I carry that hope, on my back 'tis borne
Those who were meant to live, are now gone, forsworn
I hear the cries of the damned calling me out
It knows I am here, I must win this bout
Stay and fight destiny, or to flee and hide
Is it something with which I can abide?
Time is running out for me to choose what to do
Do I have the courage needed?
To not make this choice I pleaded
All my pleas remain unheeded
The sun is rising, grass covered with dew
Time is running out for me to choose what to do
Stay and fight destiny, or to flee and hide
It is now or never, time to decide
Noodlot, leaving none - cried voices in my head
Murderous screams - terror - bring back the dead
The sun shines, vitriolic, a dark halo
The people passing by - astray
For them I su

The second part in the collab between me and Koratoshisfriend is up. Give it a look :)

And my second commission is going good. The client's happy, so I'm glad its all going well. Oh!

CadaverousDingo has a commission available:…

And now for a big list of what's going on in the dA literature/art world, journal wise :dummy:

Love dA Lit Loves You: Vol. 6Hello lovelies. Love dA Lit Loves you! Well, it would if it were a sentient being, in the meantime please accept my undying love. Bear Emoji-03 (Love) [V1] 
I don't actually get a lot of notes / comments from people sending me news or contests, so when I do I'm super happy. Like. Super duper happy. And what better way to say thank you than feature those who support Love dA Lit [I will feature those that frequently comment and fave too]! Then I might surprise you and randomly feature some people just because I can or those who've sent me in DD suggestions. It's all about spreading the love! Heart
As always I welcome suggestions for news, events, projects, groups, or contests for Love dA Lit! ♥
Love dA Lit (and Stephany) Gives Lots of Hugs and a Big Thank You To...
:iconLiliWrites: :iconMedoriko: :iconmirz-alt: :iconxSilverSpiritWolfx: :iconVertigoArt:
  Love dA Lit: Issue 176Welcome to the one-hundred seventy-sixth issue of Love dA Lit!  Every Sunday this article will aim to promote volunteer opportunities, various resources, prompts, challenges, and workshops, as well as highlighting various contests. This is by no means a complete list of all the literature going-ons, merely a tool to help you get involved and stay informed.
LITplease's Community Portal
A Smattering of Lit News

Literature Links |
  LIT me explain u a thing Jan - June 2014LIT me explain u a thing...about literature news
There is a lot of it.
Well hello 2014, my don't you look nice and new and fresh and just started. What do you mean 2014 is half over?! WHAT. WHEN. WELL, EXCUSE ME.
If you have not realized by now I'm a little crazy about news. I mean really, who gathers news spanning half a year and compiles it in one handy article? Me, that's who. Why? Because I love news, especially Lit news, and you. You beautiful, glorious creature; with that beating heart and ugh, your facial region just ugh, gorgeous. Oh right, I should stay on topic. [But you! How can I leave youuuu?!]
Anyways, this is the first part of the article series "LIT me explain u a thing" chronicling some of the things dA's Lit Community was up to in 2014!
Tell me when you're prepared, I'll hold your hand and we'll get through this article together.

Also, please :+fav: this to spread it along because my sanity depends on it. No, really.
  June Literature DD Round Up:iconneurotype:
Features by neurotype
Ellie, chap. 1. by solis-ortus Journeyed Too Far West by CrackedMack Summer Love by callerofcrows if i hadn't had the drunk luck to meet you by thetaoofchaos 7am on Blackridge by greenleo94 Suicides Learning To Speak by RosaryOfSighsx My Mother's Horse by Kathryn-Walt
Features by GrimFace242
Adrian by schriftsteller Atlas by brokenisland breathing is easy but I'm terrible at it by Bluezbreakr twenty by brokenfragilethings the world doesn't need beauty sleep by forshepard Death Is Patient by Longdragon92  yellow by Aquarius-Claire The Day I was Never Born by RoboticZamat The Understanding by oracle-of-nonsense . by oaklungs  The House Of Dying Poetry by NemoX7 longing by Fragments-of-a-Pawn he cried because no one cried for him by CelestialMemories The Man with the Gaping Eye by NightLigt When It Rains by Riorlyne Bard's Lament by DeniseCroy She Was With the Stars by WindFragments
Features by IrrevocableFate
Kingdom of Night by fallenidle Renfield's Clock by fainting-goat Jessa by leyghan Afterlife Astronaut by AyeAye12 Hello, I'm Me- Nice To Meet You by MetaruKitsune symphony stellata by Lissomer What I Lost by Moonlightauthor Grave Robber's Dowager by Mertus Depression (in Eight Parts) by SpiritFingers Passing Ships by ohanthem we shouldn't be so afraid of death by dearspineless In Between the Living and the Undead by AuthorKatieOlson
Features by ShadowedAcolyte
How to disappear completely by futilitarian :thum
  Love dA Lit: Issue 175Welcome to the one-hundred seventy-fifth issue of Love dA Lit!  Every Sunday this article will aim to promote volunteer opportunities, various resources, prompts, challenges, and workshops, as well as highlighting various contests. This is by no means a complete list of all the literature going-ons, merely a tool to help you get involved and stay informed.
Note: FFM starts soon, are you participating? Maybe Flash Fiction isn't your thing and you're going to do Camp NaNo? Either way, I wish the very best to you and hope you get lots of writing done. :eager:
LITplease's Community Portal
A Smattering of Lit News

Literature Links | Workshops, Prompts and Challenges
  Spotlights on... #15Wow already #15. I still remember the feeling I had when I posted my first features articles: I really wanted to share my favourite art with all my friends, supporters and watchers. I received several compliments and praise for my features articles therefore I definitely can't stop doing them. :) (Smile)
I'm aware I might miss some unknown artists that need more exposure, and I'm sorry for that. I'm doing what I can to please all of you, and please me as well. 
I hope all of you have a great week so far. Summer definitely came back, and mosquitos too. Crying  Feel free to note me if you ever wanna talk, about anything. I'd love to share my stupid stories with you. Anyway enjoy this 15th wave of features. Make art, not war. 
See you soon! Hi!
Plum facts #8 : I've found a new hobby, watercolour. I just came across some amazing pieces of
  The Ladies of Lit: Volume XLIVWelcome to volume forty-four my Literature series, The Ladies of Lit!
The premise here is simple. Below you will find an assortment of Literature features from a selection of female deviants here on DeviantART, all of them suggested by you. In this article, you will also find a variety of other things of interest, including:
:bulletwhite: This article’s deviant spotlight: featuring the amazing PinkyMcCoversong. She has offered to answer a few questions as well, to tell us a bit about what inspires her writing and which piece in particular she favors.
:bulletwhite: Additional information about our upcoming events, including a special critique Q and A session in our official TheLadiesofLit chatroom. And we also have a selection of other interesting Literature news links to share with you.
:bulletwhite: Our “meet our contributors” sectio
  July Festivity: DeviousnessWelcome to July!
Everyday, we encounter extraordinary deviants who remind us why we are present here within the community. I feel that it is a blessing to have the opportunity to be amongst those who greatly inspire me on a daily basis – I know I have expressed this often in my journals and comments – but I simply cannot articulate it enough. This community has given so much in my nine years – friendship, support, trust, utmost care and most importantly: love. Oftentimes, as I reflect on how I have traveled along my personal path during my DeviantART journey, it is then I realize the truest magnitude of the things that really matter: the individuals and the heartfelt joys shared amongst us.
There is a rare beauty reflected in watching an artist grow – seeing them come into full “bloom,” and knowing that one’s played an important role in it on many levels. It is exciting having that special place where you can reach out and know you make a rare
  Kick ass Portraits- A Feature- Part III think the title says it all.  Here are some of my favorite portraits taken my some talented deviants.
Please enjoy and show these some LOVE.  

and what else...?

yeah, that's about it really. Cheers :)
The Month... Its finally ended :w00t: I can't wait to get this motherfucking thesis over and be done with it. I honestly cannot wait :)

With that said, This journal's meant for three things:


With the exception of these:

Which would you like? by cutemussy Mankind vs. Nature Redone by Jadie-Lee Le monstre de la salle de bain by CtrlZzzzz Characters by kse332 Velodrone by Rubens-Oscroft

All the rest took three days to comment on, using mobile! Yeah... I had 108 deviation stacks when I started commenting and yesterday, at 11:40PM I brought it down to 18 deviation stacks (which were new deviations by the people I'm watching). So... what'd I read, and go through?

Byraftian Lovecronic: Lord Byron + HP LovecraftIt was Hallowe'en, and I sat at my desk, illuminated by a single spluttering candle, struggling to write. On such a night I dare not venture out, for something old and unspeakable whispered of secret pagan rites and the festering grave. The very air seemed to hum, as if imbued with wicked potency.
The hour of midnight approached and the night grew darker every minute. Stillness descended like a vast creeping monstrosity. The trees ceased to creak and the clouds hung like stationary spectres - consorts of the repulsive yellowed moon. Yet the wind howled louder than ever, screaming through the shuttered panes.
In horror I watched as the candle's flame began to fade, as if being extinguished by some unseen force. Glancing at my watch I realised it wanted but one minute until the hour of midnight.
I felt panic welling up, swallowing my senses. In a fit of terror I reached for the drawer of the writing desk, drew forth a box of matches and struggled to rekindle the waning flame. But alas! F
  Another hot dayStirring from within, he felt the calloused arm sizzle further in the rays that crisped up the ground besides him. It was as if among the roars of the passing wind, and the distant, indistinguishable screeches and screams the ground too was blistering, was churning up and disintegrating, calling out for someone to shade it.
“Not today you don’t…” the man replied through gasping breaths, replying to the sand that shifted with the wind, letting fresher layers unearth. He chuckled at the irony and looked around for any sort of shade. The trench he was huddled in was of no use in the matter – or at least at that specific time. The sun was right on top, over head, setting its fiery gaze upon the scene. It was a witness to what was to happen and it was also a beacon to allow the events to occur.
However the man was in no mood to appreciate the sun’s intentions or even to judge them. If he were to judge them, he would deem the sun a cruel creation of God, b
XC - Un caillou dans la gueule.
X C -  Un caillou dans la gueule
L’étreinte d’une liane
Du sang sur des feuilles
Un caillou dans la gueule
L’acrimonie d’un crayon
Rongé et mal taillé.
Un champignon desséché
Dans une bande dessinée
Où les bulles sont vides
Le caillou tombe à terre
Rien à faire et des grimaces.
X C -  A peeble in the mouth
The embrace of a liana
Some blood on leaves
A pebble in the mouth
The acrimony of a pencil
Eaten away and badly cut.
A dried out mushroom
In a comic strip
Where bubbles are empty
The pebble falls on the ground
Nothing to do but grimaces.
There Might Be MonstersThe 'steam-car palace,' as Yazi affectionately called it, was magic. Sun beams aired through the open marble roofs, bathing the murals of dragons and princesses on the walls in gold; steam from the trains wafted through the clamouring commuters and tourists, flower shops (Chrysanthemums,  Marigolds, seasonal Black Roses and Violets) and coffee houses selling exotic brews using beans as far out as The Mountains - and indeed through the very being of Yazi herself - billowing from the engines with an inaudible sigh. Even at her young age, she understood the concept of loneliness. If she could marry Kafka, she would. She'd embrace him every day, hold him close and say sweet things she's only ever said to visions in dreams. She would be happy if Kafka was happy. But there wouldn't be any reason to think about existence. She had sat reading Franz Kafka for an hour, eager eyes pouring over the page, drinking in every haunting wor-
The man had spotted Yazi from across the platform and cro
Living in the PastI fell asleep last night,
only to wake up
yesterday morning.
Six Word SermonLove is not a raised fist. Cherry Blossom by World-Inside-Me Art Project by TinyBlueCat Sad poems need pretty titles.April was lungs weak of blue, and
scalpels held in heartless,
uncaring hands.
You told me you were no coward
that the seas and the oceans
whispered in your ears and told you
only the bravest of men
deserve to kiss their beds.
May passed too quickly.
No time for mourning
when I gained ten pounds
of pure muscle
holding up your stars.
People asked too many questions.
People told me I was strong.
One day in June
you woke up to a skeletal frame
that wasn’t yours and the biggest,
strongest ribcage I’d ever seen.
I had cornfields in my eyes;
You misplaced your anchor
and your mind.
Love Returns Passion Ignitesah and how your touch doest refresh unto me
parts I had buried in deepest sorrow of them ner again being reached
how deep, how burning, how sweet are the flames that come again
as ye my laird reach into my soul and pull them forth once more beginning
that love that once felt could ner again be felt again with another
yes, oh yes my laird, take all of me, my heart, soul and spirit for there could ner be any other
that could make me feel the waves of passion ye do with the very whisper of my name
ye have begun this journey once more and forever again
ye have taken back yer lover aye she is yours and yours alone
ner again shall we depart from the other, always together eternally as one known.
AbandonedSo many years ago, we met for the very first time
It was not long before friendship took place
How I still remember our first embrace
How you playfully and laughing taught me how to rhyme
Years flew by, our skin was weathered by the deep cold
Our love for each other disappeared
As one day you said to me the thing I feared
As you said to me that you had grown too old
The truth is what I should be facing
I should not have taken love for granted
Fathom of a dream is what I’m chasing
The entirety of my life was imagined
I am a puppet, a mere child’s plaything
I was supposed to be abandoned
Chibi Adrian by blacky91 Breathless Chapter 1I knew it wasn't Chandler the moment he stepped through the door. I gripped my backpack straps, unsure if I should run now or wait for an explanation. He wore the orange mask of an Acceptor, a bulkier model than my own sleek, green one, but I had never seen him before. The uncovered half of his face looked to be around my age, in his mid to late twenties. His black hair contrasted the pristine white air filter held over his nose and mouth by the mask. I knew my filter would already be tinged green with exposure.
He shifted from one foot to another, the fog of the toxic gas swirling around his legs. "I need to see the package before signing for it." The mask muffled his voice.
“Only Chandler can sign for deliveries.” Every muscle in my legs tightened with the anticipation of running.
The man seemed surprised; I could see his identification card in his gloved hand to prove his title and residence in the house. “Chandler is dead. You were supposed to receive the order fo
our flotilla;  
your cupped hands
the grace of my ribcage
as we drift toward  
the shelter of a quiet cove            
my hair tangles
the valves of your heart
holding you at bay
for a moment
till I return your breath
the children we were  
play together  
share ev'ry secret  
rolling in the grass, always
laughing in our dreams
Broken String by JutsuGal1208 UnboundThe father, eleven years into his marriage with Marlboro lights and seven years prior to his illicit affair with Stolichnaya and Red Bull on ice, sits on the front porch with his daughter to watch a storm roll in. Their house stands upon an impressive hill, and gazes at the scalp every nearby house.
He lights his cigarette. She remembers how, just two years ago, she had gotten up before her mother and father and wandered downstairs to find her parents' ashtray. It sat on the edge of a table in their living room, next to a glass of beer with remnants of backwash from the night before. She remembers dramatically bringing one stale butt to her lips, exhaling immediately. It tasted gross, she thinks. For a second, she feels the sting of her mother's hand when she found her there, hears her mother's shrill chiding. Those will kill you! Mommy and Daddy are stupid, you shouldn't be like us. Later that day, she flushed her parents' cigarettes down the toilet, and earned herself another smack,
But Whiskey's QuickerThe scene was set, all the props in their proper positions.
The blinds pulled three quarters low, giving an atmospheric light.
The radio, whimpering low melancholic melodies through the still, silent air.
The low, walnut coffee table lay bare and gleaming under the low light and high polish.
Upon the table, seven empty bottles, each inscribed with Greek and Latin; sitting in perfect alignment.
Amid this scene of precision placement, the actor sprawls in contrast, limply disheveled.
His eyes struggling feebly to remain open, fail and close.
His breath coming in a shallow dysrhythmia.
It stills.
It stops.
It ends.
My Oc: Namida Yun by MakoTM Same Old StoryRevelations wreck my mind
Regurgitation relishes for a sign
Something from the unknown
To show me my home
Can I take this mental stabbing
A Jabbing and hacking at my psyche?
One can hope and maybe
Yet it continues like butterfly without beauty
More a moth drawn to the same
Aesthetic nothingness and alienated brevity
Surpasses my need for true beauty
Sentient beings we are with no sensitivity
Selfish demons we are lacking all empathy
Dont harm yourself they say
Yet at night it is all dismay
Indulge in fantasies of a shadow's reflection
Drudge up realities with no affection
Im going down to save myself
Im going down to behave myself
Cant I not allow the screams in these dreams?
Cant I not find the shallow meaning in all that seems?
A tale as ancient as the echoes of erosion
Inside me is nothing but pollution
The elements have all turned to black
These emotions are all reverted back
Back to a time when youth was on my side
The murdering of time has come along
I lay in bed and under my bla
I first realised there was something wrong when she kept waking up covered in bruises. She would look towards me and her eyes were blank in the morning light: everything reflected on the surface. There was something indefinably missing, her eyes were made of glass and black ball bearings. She would sit and look right through me, her eyes constantly unfocussed and fixed on the wall behind my head. There was something that I found unsettling about this inexplicable absence within her. She would stop speaking for hours and I would find her late at night, curled up in the corner of the spare room, holding an old frayed teddy bear and singing nursery rhymes in a detached whisper. She would sing in an softly melancholic, ephemeral voice that used to know the tune, but had somehow left the melody behind, forgotten and lost.
I tried to get the doctors to help me, but there didn’t seem to be any medication they could prescribe that could bring her back to me. They told me that she was a l
Goddess AngelI witness captivating, bountiful luminosity
in golden hues of sunlight, shining upon crystal blues.
She smells of lilac, scent divine
I ache to reach for thee, Goddess Angel.
I must touch those golden tresses, for they suffocate my senses
in lyrical fashion, angelic song baits me upon thine hook.
She breathes in splendor, my haunting enchantress
I cry out to possess the beauty of her soul.
I worship the celestial sunlight, as it kisses her glowing cheek
in daylight, in darkness, my love for the girl with the golden hair burns.
She leaves me famished, drowning in wanton need
I adore thee, Goddess Angel.
XI. Beatrice gathered up her clothes and tried to straighten her make up. She was beautiful in her anger and it made me far too hypnotized to try to stop her. 
"You're just like that man! Selfish and deceiving. Only now do you tell me, in our post-romantic passions!" she shouted at me. 
I couldn't help but smile at how unreasonable she was acting, and I regretted my amusement when a shoe came flying at my head. Luckily, like my father, I had quick reflexes. I ducked and her delicate shoe slammed against the nightstand. 
"Beatrice, it's for your safety. If Kirkpatrick found out..."
"A coward afraid of his father! You're emasculated, you coward! You..." but she paused, gazing over in my direction. 
She was right. I was far too much of a coward to pursue her. I returned her gaze briefly, then glanced away with a timid, "I'm sorry."
I didn't look over even though I felt her sit next to me. Not even when I felt her arms around my shoulders. 
"Robert, my poor Robert," sh
Tale of BanishmentA storm rages on within me
trying to get free
the sound of beating drums
throughout the still night.
Anger and Sadness
clash in their fight
tearing down walls
with their might.
I will be
no man's tool,
nor played like
some poor fool.
Begone from my sight,
within you shall spark
away with the dark
and let shine the light.
Andrew VanWyngarden by mir4nd Times Square-ish by Kamal-Q Hanging In There by 3wyl Labyrinth of a Wonderland - Sarah by Figarro-Luv Flare - 28102013 by Physco-Matter Sift, Shape, Stumble onSift, Shape, Stumble on.
Stay the night, leave at dawn.
Kiss me, hold me when you wake...
But you don’t stay for my live’s sake.
Sift, Shape, Then move on.
My life is yours, my life is gone!
My heart collapses; unsteady pain...
Hopelessness, your steady gain.
Sift, Take, Then move on.
I am nothing, fallen, worn.
Your feet have taken you, this I know,
Where mine once refused to go.
Twist, Take, Then move on.
I’m no longer who I was.
In your footsteps, without pause
I will sift, shape, stumble on.
Khaleesi- 2 by manasi3194 writers anonymousi would never want to date a writer.
it's hard enough living with myself -- someone who goes off on a tangent every five seconds, spewing whatever nonsense that comes to mind. half the time it isn't even realistic. yes, it's imaginative, but does anyone want to hear about how one day i thought how weird it would be if pee would come out of the buttocks, while shit would come out of the genitals? no, not really. not even i wanted to hear that.
if you haven't noticed by now, writers don't make sense. we are two things at once: egotistical brats / attention whores. lo and behold that one guy that sits in the corner of the mind, aka our worst critic, telling us how badly we write. it pushes us to try harder, but it also drives us mad. (do not believe the writers who claim writing keeps them sane. in fact, writing is the leading cause of insanity, and yet it's highly addicting and so contradicting at the same time.)
here's another thing you should watch out for: writers write the emo
Dream Obstructed by MelikeBAt Grief of a MonsterA shapeless creature was crying,
Under my bed without breathing.
I felt so sorry for the Monster.
That’s why I choked my fear
And buried it in the corner.
With the courage born in me,
To ask him I leaned over.
”What is the problem sir?”
With the Monster’s words,
The darkness torn into pieces:
No goodness left to destroy out there,
Or a hero worth to scare.
Not even a lover is able to
pierce through a mountain
just to find his own fountain.*
The Family
The man grasped his beer in one large scarred hand, taking quick steps back to his corner across the virtually empty bar. He spread his spindly limbs out across the couch and ran a hand through his short hair, as bright blue eyes darted to the window, where the snow was still falling heavily outside. Satisfied, the eye abruptly moved to spear the plump youth opposite him. After a few seconds, he decided the youth posed no danger, and he calmly opened his newspaper.
His name was Lucas. Though few would jump to pleasant conclusions about him, it was difficult to believe he was a man who had personally killed over twenty people, and ordered the deaths of hundreds more. His light build and casual dress – ragged jeans and a faded t-shirt – belied a vicious temperament and a deadly efficiency.
The young man on the other side of the room was more aware of this than he knew.
Art pulled a mobile out of his suit pocket. It occurred to him that at the age of twenty-six, he was far bet
You've Fallen For Himhe's young and tender
with kisses that let
your heart soar
like a kite dancing
on a summer wind,
he has poetry eyes
and notebook fingers
which print endless
words upon your skin
with a single look
or a delicate touch,
and he dreams
for two with every
breath that he takes
entwining his hand
with yours as you talk
the minutes away
sinking into the
sweetness of
Soul Searchingwith my emotions
carelessly sprawled
across the cutting-table
  i scratch out
  random bits of
  for that light
  at the end
  of the tunnel.
The Old Man of FarsvilleTwas midnight is Farsville,
The old man sat with his tea.
The day had been good,
As good can ever be.
Just before he could sit,
He heard a faint knock,
One that sent the mice screeching
And wrecking every clock.
The man opened the door,
And saw a hooded figure,
Holding a rapier,
And saying in a whisper,
Your time has come,
Follow me,
Your destiny has been written,
Let be, be.

The words were spoken,
In a horrific voice,
Like knives against ice,
Giving little choice.
The old man stood,
And stared at the stranger,
Contemplating his decisions,
Ignoring the current danger.
He smiled and waved,
Shutting the door with locks,
And twas the last time
Fate told the old man of Farsville
What to do…..
Promise Of HopePromise Of Hope
A pure coincidence, some might say,
To be able to dream again even for just one day,
Just when I thought all hope was lost,
A chance appeared before me, which I would die at cost,
Yet, near grasping the chance, my insides trembled,
All the courage I’d collected instantly disassembled,
For a minute, my little heart started to waver,
Should I do it now or should I wait a little longer?,
Then a thought crossed my mind,
If I let this one go, there will never be another to find,
So I tightened my grip and readied my heart,
Of emotions of happiness that would make it hard to tell fantasy and reality apart,
Though the possibility of such to actually happen is very low,
If no one dares to take the first step, then who would know?
dance in the abyssa half-hearted apology
takes a fraction of a
second to make its way
to your alcohol-numbed lips
as the singing rolls on.
funny, you mumble to the
woman whose fingers long for
that yesterday never even
started fading away
like everyone said it would.
you chase tomorrow
the way the insomnia-ridden
bartender chases dreams.
you laugh-
it's for the best,
you think.
you feel a whisper
at your sunken shoulders,
and you know it's time
to run
away from all this
choral madness.
ten years
have been longing for you
to smile at that
alcoholic lawyer with the ocean eyes
in the corner of the bar,
to take the scotch
out of that
old vet's shaking hand,
replace it
with a comforting palm
and walk
but there's a devil on your back
who's still telling you to run,
so you stumble
with the faceless,
cover your eyes with a
crumbled hand
and sing your sorrow
to the tides.
Black WidowThe first time we met,
I kept our distance
at minimal,
hoping the inches
would form a small bridge
between us
and that one day
we could sew each others'
limbs when our
bones have learned
to give up.
But I mistook you
so severely:
your kisses
were flesh wounds
and your embrace
a coffin too tight
around my ribs-
your hands were never
meant for holding.
The sheets of skin
and whitewash were
a cocoon at night
as your teeth
sink into me;
my body of craters
and fissure-deep dents
close to
Moonlit ReflectionsThe moonlight beams upon the clouds tonight
Amongst the shapes, I see the bison strong
My mind recalls this creature's bulky might
The billow vanishes before too long
Compelled to scream my words of poetry
To any open mind or willing ear
My voice with fury vents my misery
And still the world ignores my presence here
The bison once again do I behold
And do they thunder fast across the plains
In sorrow wonder I what would unfold
Should I decide to join in their refrain
Among the multitudes, I have no place
And all I know is melancholy's grace.
Writer's Scribble: Chiaroscuro“Does it hurt?”
    I’d usually have healed up after turning back to flesh, but this monster I was fighting… this thing was weird. The creature looked like it was made from almost the same stuff I am when I transform, like a type of blackness. When it touched me, it seared.  I let my mind wander a bit, as she set another gauze to my blackened arm.
    I missed my friends, my family. Why did the Book even bring me here? I only ended up answering my own questions, halfway even, because there wasn’t much else to think about. It’s obvious it shot me here because of the monsters, but past that I didn’t know, couldn’t tell. The Book obviously has its own agenda. I had this cold burning feeling in my stomach that my questions wouldn’t be answered. Or maybe I was hungry.
“Ah… Yukiko?”
in the morning light by prettyflour Conflict of HeartImagine the little shapes that dance in your eyes as you say to, I, those words that you hold so dearly, so tightly, waiting to be popped out faster than a speeding bullet.
You say I do, and, I respond with a quick, cannot.
Like the steam of a roaring train, the little shapes vanish from your eyes and I bite my lip. Knowing, only my good friend, fear.
ProtocolesC’est l’heure blanche des novembres
enchâssés de griffes longues électriques
et transi je te sens mâcher de tes guerriers les os
surmodernes orants au faîte des remplois en boucle
Les brumes éparses de Mérovée
frissonnent dans la glaise épaisse des déconstructions réticulaires
Voici venu l’envers du signe - émacié comme une lune
Frantz, mai 2014
LuciferI want to hear your screams
Careless and intimate, beyond my wildest dreams
Make them loud, pierce the shroud
The veil of silence. Howl at the cloud
Hidden moon, it’s the last you’ll ever see of it
If you let me do as I see fit.
Moan in pain, I want to hear my name
Fleeing past your chaste lips, I want to hear my fame,
My reputation precede me and once again
I want to hear you scream my name:
Darkness, my old friend, Hell can wait
Can’t see you I have a date with Fate?
Dance with me, my dear
I promise everything is so clear
On the other side of the looking glass.
Men wear their pride on their sleeve
The epitome of class.
What they’ve achieved
Earned, deserved
Is their own little special place by me.
Moan in pain, I want to hear my name
Fleeing past your chaste lips, I want to hear my fame,
My reputation precede me and once again
I want to hear you scream my name:
My darling angel, ridden of your wings
If I was the one who pulled the strings
The Fantastic Portal by darkallegiance666 spectrumyou are no garden;
without one to keep you
by shears and a vision,
you grow in sun streams
and the chance
of rain.
I triedI tried to write a story today
but all the things I wanted to say
didn't come out as planned.
I wanted to tell the world my tale
but couldn't cause the words wouldn't flow.
I tried to sing a song today
but you took away my voice
when you went away.
I wanted to tell you all I felt
but nothing came out.
What Might Be     
    Liquid silver, the essence of peace, gently rested upon the wooded hills, pouring down like silent rain from its source in the heavens.  Beneath the trees, only narrow slits and small patches of moonlight reached the forest floor.  Little sound save the night song of the crickets and the wind through the leaves hung upon the air.  A low rustling of the brush added briefly to the noise, and bright scales slid in and out of a patch of light.  The scales were broad and silver-grey, but the slightest hintings of green played beneath the moonlight’s silver.  Scars crisscrossed the scales, paler than pale in the instant they were lit.  Unlit, scar and scale alike were dark, hard to see, merely a deeper shadow in the darkness.  They paused.   Legs tensed, talons silently gripping nervously at the soft earth.  Nearby, a frog croaked out a harsh, throaty shout, and the talons, startle
to feel warmthi exhale words
into the frigid air.
they almost solidfy,
and i reach out,
but the frosted letters
evaporate, even as my
fingers venture closer;
not close enough.
the words, they
are all that i have,
but they always seem
to be lacking something
these days.
desperate for substance
i piled metaphor, assonance,
and adjective into a bonfire;
set them alight--
and as the fire raged
like wildfire spreading
inch by inch through
dry-as-bone grasslands,
i sat,
and i whispered
without sound; this
is what i've waited for.
journey by Lissomer Mochi by raspil Spirit Compass by Chardove Weird Tastes ReviewRemember my Fish Hooks series finale review? Did you honestly expect that to be my last critique of anything Fish Hooks related ever? I would have been had I not discovered the existence of fanfiction. Yes, there is actually fanfiction of this show the same way there is fnafiction of Johnny Test.
[Note to self, review Johnny Test fanfic in the future]
I was looking over the fanfictions and wondering to myself what fanfics would be worth reviewing until this one particular fanfic caught my eye. It caught my eye because the description tells us about an OC hitting it up with rich kid obnoxious himself Randy. You know, that annoying crab guy who was just barely as bad as Milo who I guess is the show's antagonist. Yeah, and I thought someone wanting to hit it up with Dr. Heiter was bad. Lets dive in shall we? No pun intended.
"Oh, DANG!"
THUMP! I landed on my new bedroom floor hard once I got out of bed.
[Well, I can see we're off to a promising start.]
I groaned, looking out the window to
War ProfiteerHarmony doesn't sell
half as well
as does conflict.
your words plop into palms
like monarchs’ unfolded wings-
they are warm and fragileborn
and always right. mine are
grenades without a clip,
and I’m stumbling through
minefields trying to alter
their left justification.
my hands have bruised honest ribs
and cracked blameless vertebrae
because I held on too tight after
the kite string was severed.
still you pat your right lung
stuffed with blue balloons,
ladybug wings, and petrichor
into my wobblyweak hands,
and I want to shake my head
shake my head shake my head,
but your smile is a beacon, so
I will say yes overagainoveragain
because you continued to love me
even after I gave you every reason
to leave me without any adieu.
I would call you faultless
except your mouth is the San Andrea
and the ground shakes when it shuffles
into an upwards parabola.
Haunted(English version below)
Mes rêves me parlent encore de toi,
Seule, j'agonise 
Sous une pluie battante où ces lames s'écrasent contre moi,
Chaque goutte m'est plus douloureuse que la précédente.
En hurlant au désespoir, Solitude me contemple et compatit.
Seule, je me noie
Dans ces marécages sonores où ton nom résonne,
Asphyxiée par ma propre respiration, dans un murmure
Mes poumons se remplissent de ce manque.
Cette corde du désespoir à laquelle je suis pendue
Cédera bientôt sous le poids de mes tourments
Permettant à mon esprit de prendre son triste envol.
Un champ fleuri écorché vif dans la fleur de l'âge,
Mon âme m'est arrachée comme les racines du vieux chêne.
Je ne suis qu'une carcasse vide voguant sur l'océan de la dépression
Où j'ai l'impression que même le vent souffle ton nom.
My dreams are st
On the other side of dawnClouds I can't see
cover the stars
another storm.
For the missing
I should have known.
As I lie down
wide awake once again,
once again I scream my promise
in the darkness - 
you can throw at me
all the sharp broken words
you want
can really hurt me,
nothing as much
as the peculiar tone 
of your silence -
so loud to my ears.
Me by Andrew-YM Life long dreams by NervIris I Am Your ServantDarling, I beg you--
What is your deepest desire?
Please don't torture me.
Description - A Hundred Words - Liz-DarkWarriorIt was already dark when she ran outside, her small legs carrying her as fast as she could. The cypress tree shook from the strong wind, dancing in the darkness.The sky was a myriad of colours, the sun burning into an oblivion. Blinding white, searing yellow, moulding together the rays. A fiery pink was sweeping across the hills, merging with an intense mauve.She had to leave now, but the fence went on and on...and on and on into the sunset. Ride The Spiral by Spiritomb1231 Index 28 by MissKIttyGames101 oh dearest museOh dearest muse, beauty divine
could I ever fathom?
that one day, you may be just mine
could I ever fathom?
In your embrace I feel complete
oh dearest of divines
and every pain does so deplete
oh dearest of divines
and in your eyes, heaven I see
oh deepest of delights
and wish we will forever be
oh deepest of delights
although I hardly worth your while
of one who warms my soul
you are the reason for my smile
of one who warms my soul
and I do hope that I am worth
a blessing such as you
for where else could I find on Earth
a blessing such as you
and all the thanks to God I give
are only trifles still
and all the breaths for you I live
are only trifles still 
Coalescence in (and of) Poetry                                              Chatoyant stargazer, you with
                                              skin as opulent as spring itself
                                              hair a realm where fairies roam
                                              limbs redolent of riverbed soil
                                              lead me to the illusive seams
Checks and MatesYou're not a damsel, weak and helpless,
You're willowy and thinking tall,
The chess clock's ticking, and you're restless
For future moves in place to fall
With neither moving, neither walking,
And neither doing all the talking:
I love it, how we see things eye
To eye, twinkling, wry on sly.
The time stands still, packed in a quantum.
This game we play is tactical,
The words phase, then it's practical,
We move our pieces like we want them.
The king supported by his queen:
A midgame still developing.
Small as a Mouse (YouTube link included)When I was 13 my first counsellor asked me what animal I thought I was most like. A mouse. A dormouse, I said, because I sleep a lot. She laughed, and I laughed, and everyone in the gallery agreed how funny it was. It was true. I sleep all day because sleep is the natural anaesthetic and the only way I could numb the nerve endings crackling their anger through my brain.
No one ever asked me again. No one ever asked me why I was late for school every day, why I ignored alarms and never ate breakfast. They told me to buy a clock, buy another clock, buy a better clock. I did what I was told, like I always have, but it didn’t make a difference because at the end of the day, at the start of the day, I’d rather be asleep. Awake and arithmetic had nothing to offer me, just give me sleep. I’d skip classes and parties, miss birthdays and brunches, just give me sleep.
My friends were used to it, I ran on my own timezone, it became a personal joke. They laughed
You       You.
       You're lying in a hospital bed.
       Waiting for your life to run out.
       Sick of all the pain,
       And hurt you must indure.
       You cast all your feelings away.
       Locked them up in the corner of your mind.
       Then you let them eat you.
       From the inside out,
       Until nothing is left but bone.
       You waited for your angel to come. 
For a priceOnce upon time, there was a handsome prince who lived alone in a tower, guarded by three lions – he had grown there since his very tender age, for legend had it that he would grow to rule all kingdoms along with his Queen, if only a brave enough young woman could free him from his prison and claim his hand.
But the young man did not wish to be freed, or to be wed; and so whenever, once every few years, a courageous lady managed to climb up to his tower and momentarily defeat the lions, he challenged her to a swordfight, and killed her if she lost.
For he had everything he needed there in his loneliness and peace; food he could hunt for, and his faithful felines brought back enough game for the four of them; a clear spring trickled down the stones nearby, and in winter there were birds, and stored provisions from the kind months, to survive on.
In clement times he would run and hunt and play with his animals, roam about the mountain and watch the clouds; in winter he would play mu
Charred JournalsCharred Journals
Stripping all of me from the page,
tearing off
to try and stuff myself back
into my body, to struggle with
finding a way to become
whole again, despite the
                                 missing pieces.
Tears -- of
and crumpled notebook paper,
show memories of what we used to be.
There was so much magic in our ordinary
but I couldn't recognize it --
now the only magic I
charred journalsStripping all of me from the page,
tearing off
to try and stuff myself back
into my body, to struggle with
finding a way to become
whole again, despite the
                                  missing pieces.
Tears -- of
CM: Airsoft Madness by CadaverousDingo hanging onto strings that are breakingI’m not okay.
Only in the sense of that blood is still being pumped throughout my limbs.
Oxygen still reaches my muscles through the air to the blood, combining with hemoglobin through the use of elemental iron-- which I hilariously lack.
HeatSuddenly, she was there. He had no idea where she came from or how she got there. But from one moment to the next, she was standing in the garden. The late evening sun shone through her red and blonde hair as if it was on fire. Of course he had tried the obvious and ask her, but she had just smiled at him. Maybe she was mute. So they both had been standing in the garden and for a reason he could not really explain, he was glad that she was there. It was something about the way she could smile. It gave him a feeling of ... comfort was not the right word. Reunion maybe? When she had smiled at him, it was as if something returned. Something he wasn't even aware that it was missing. He didn't lust after her, she was barely more than a girl. Other would have probably reacted way different than him. Others might have chased her away or called the cops. However, he had asked her if she would like to come in.
So now she was sitting in his couch and looking around like a curious, but shy child.
In his MemoryFor the Kath who goes unsung
And slips from the ladder's oiled wrung
He flies and falls and laughs and cries
All the while the jester bides
His time till he can change the way
The river flows, and none can say
Its change was good, and no one should
The Jester laughed from where he stood
His voice scraped harshly on the ear
His mindless drivel, he does steer
The City of Wind, the brass-band sound
Into the saddened, weeping ground
What was so promising, now instead
Should never enter into one's head
Whether twenty five, or six to four
The real Chicago tours no more.
My Constantinople, i/iia)
Cobwebs in  the fireplace
with eczema and spiders from
the 1950s, moved on.
Newspaper clogging pastsmoke  
so hard its gone soil
like the people it talks of;
ILRA and Kirkpatrick and Mr Sean Flynn.
Whiteboard above the high-bed
still says "Star 805"
even after the LEGO packed away.
Calendar is August 2013,
hills of pastel green and hospital gold,
wall colours.
Bookcase a ransacked five-tiered temple
pillaged, empty but with cobwebs
from a time of ILRA and Kirkpatrick and Mr Sean Flynn.
Gold, like the pillows.
Clock clicks on modest.
Quartz-made in diamond memories,
coal feelings.
Emotions soft as the towels.
The roof touched
by a a hyper eight year old me.
The pine has comforting eyes
and ungrazed treeknees,
watching ten year old me
forward roll across the mattress,
back arching up to the sky
waiting for the sun to grow up.
Fluff desert below
does not have any
paper prologues.
iPod canopy green plays.
Ceiling glue offers the new miasma.
Yellowing rows of Napoleonic rose
Allaying Alideya (6)I woke up screaming. It felt like there was a fire spreading across my skin; melting, charring, searing away my flesh. I screamed louder as I rubbed my arm, there was no fire and the pain did not ebb. I was boiling from the inside out. I writhed in bed, trying my best to smother the flames beneath my blankets, but the more I moved the more intense it became. An inferno raged war upon my fingertips and a blaze of fiery suffering rode along my spine.
A voice called out to me in between my screams, but I could barely focus on it--the woman's monotone voice. I ignored her pleas for me to listen and instead focused on my body, willing myself not to move. I looked around me as best I could; I was still in the same room, same equipment. I groaned and felt tears slip down my cheeks. I looked down to my arm; an IV line was taped and covered with some kind of protective cloth. I lifted myself up, the pain slithering down my arm as I yanked the line from myself. It came free, but I felt the skin
veinte uno.there are lines down your wrists
that drip like vines falling from the sky
and they taint everything red
like the snow cone you ate when you were five
your skin is the color of
milk, just like the kind you ate with
your oreos before bedtime
you paint your eyelids with all the colors
of the sunset to try to hide
the purple veins beneath your skin
like your mother taught you when you
were ten
but the concealer cannot tame the long
midnight hours you've spent hating
yourself that sit under your lashes
the puppy you got is like the one
your daddy bought you when you were three
something just isn't the same anymore
and god forbid
you'll never be afraid of the monsters
in the closet like when you were a kid again because
now they're in your
MarigoldsYou call yourself a man,
yet shamelessly crush
my pile of marigolds
beneath your feet -
your old rubber soles
grinding the petals
like mortar and pestle.
Those apricot leaves.
But you never knew love
in the form of a flower;
how vibrant, how gallant
like the sun it could be.
And you never knew that
the true secret to manhood
is boldness with a touch
of sensitivity.
Feather Whiskers by seven11ART Ghost Storiesi don't want to remember you;
i want to snuff out your memory,
extinguish your flame that still burns,
exorcise your presence
that still lingers,
despite my disbelief in ghosts
it's in the little details,
the devil's little details,
that you're resurrected
everything that we loved together,
the passions and hatreds we shared,
they've become a pestilence to me
i don't want to bury your memories
i want to rip them from my mind,
destroy every fibre of their being,
because even the happy memories
have soured in this looming cloud
of darkness and remembrance
i don't want you to live on,
now that you're already dead
because it's easier to grieve
for someone who isn't hear,
rather than someone
who won't go away
Wicked Toys Ch. 91965: East Philadelphia
    Arthur looked down on the small parcel on his desk. It had come from his uncle. Such a kind man to remember his birthday. He felt an out of place delight as he reached a hand out to touch the brown paper. It was rough, but he was certain the gift inside bore a soft sentiment.
    Inside resting on a piece of cotton filling, was an ancient knife. There was a note beneath it. Arthur removed both for examination. The note read that the knife had come from a Native American tribe around the Canadian border.
    “Dear, Arthur,” the young man took on the gruff voice of his husky uncle. It was less to mock and more to make himself feel better, “I have found you another treasure for your collection! This knife was found during one of the digs near an old Native camp we found last month. It was from an unmarked grave. Some of the translators have told me that it had belonged to a young brave called Altsoba. They also
AMARA by Imaginatik THE CROWOver the labyrinthine pitch of my soul he sits,
a crow with feathers fashioned from the splinters
of Darkness and eyes that stare into the abyss
of Forever, parting the mists of my Dreams
so he can make his secret sojourn-he comes to me
as I lay in bed-asleep and oblivious to the decay
of my life with each passing deadweight day,
Nyx' inkwell overturns and shadows creep over me,
an eerie cast of Moon plays over my body's
slumberous nude, and the crow looks on...
at my lonely vulnerability before him and the
Darkness scratching her fingernails against my window.
I can feel him near, this Sentinel of Sleep,
imbibing the tears of blood that trickle free
after he plucks out my eyes-I can see more
clearly without them anyway-I know he will
never let the Darkness rust and ruin around me,
I can feel him rake my flesh with his talons
until I ache with what I fear to deny any longer,
he chants an incantation to keep my purity from
being perverted into anything but a beautiful decay,
inwardly I

Its not much, to be honest, but I'm glad I was able to read all of 'em. And at least have something or the other to comment on.

All in all, a good experience I might need to pursue for deviation stacks.


Lissomer tag:

Post five things - here, posting five quotes from people which I've heard every now and then:

  • That's one of the things you do best: being crazy, and wussing out on women.
  • But the thing is this: humans breed faster than lycanasses
  • There's a fine line between things which are said and things which are best left unspoken.
  • The things that you do for love is so adorable.
  • Dude, do your thing!
now, questions:

1. Your Top 5 Favourite Songs of All Time?

"in The Mood for Love" theme - technically "Yumeji's theme" but you'll find the song using that title more effectively.

The whole Shadow of the Colossus OST

a tie between "Medicate Me" by Beneath the Tides and "Cyberwaste" by Fear Factory

Yanni's "Nightingale"

and "Over and Over" by Nana Miskouri.

2. Cats, Dogs, or both? Why?

Both: Dogs represent my friendly side, the extroverted idiot everyone finds adorable. (And yet is terrified of... never mind) while cats are my unpredictable, erratic, feral side which prefers being alone, left to procastinate, unless I have something in mind in which case I pursue it selflessly (which usually tends to be something that's beneficial to everyone inclusive of myself).

3. What's your favourite poem of all time? Why?

"Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas. Introduced me to Villanelles, a format which I've played around with and found a surprising closure with, when done right mind you. So far, done it right 3 / 5 times.

4. We all have that one person that we watch on deviantART, we get all excited whenever they update anything, we read EVERYTHING they write (even the scraps and the bits they wrote four+ years ago before they learned how to use punctuation) and we really just have a bit of a deviantCRUSH on them. Who's your deviantCRUSH?

(sigh) Considering that this question is more or less in the open, I'll lend you my list here:…

5. What was the best day/moment/event of your life? Tell us about it ^^

Umm... My birthday last year. As mundane as it might have sounded, it was really fun :) I liked it!

Now, next:

AyeAye12 tag:

  • Thing %
  • Thing $
  • Thing &
  • Thing @
  • Thing ~

1. You have inherited an Eastern European nation. Which waltz do you do in hearing this news?

The "Aladeen" waltz.

2. In the prospect of overwhelming discourse born from the Gh'thalgian Depths, what volume will your voicebox be?

between "Abaddon Incarnate" and White Noise :P

3. x(x^x)/36547568939
When it has the property of a real function, what is its domain?
[&&&'&&&'&&& MARKS]

technically, the domain is represented by the x in this function:…

4. What do you think of tags?

tag, your it :meow:

5. Agh? Ugh? Which?

Mix of both, really. I tend to make lots of noise - apparently it provides closure, weird as that sounds.

BONUS POST-GAME QUESTION $: Favourite album?

"Glass Kites" by "Glass Kites"

Finally: EclecticQuill tag:

  • The thing...
  • That... is a really big thing...
  • that's a thing? Thongs look better.
  • These things need moisture - I got plenty where that came from...
  • You said things you shouldn't have.

1. Pie, Cake or Eclair?

All three.

2. If you discovered an alien species from beyond the stars.... what would you say to them as a first message from mankind?

"Men have dicks, Women don't"

3. How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

* :iconwanker-plz: , looks at you* Umm.... that's awkward :blush:

4. What 3 books would you take with you if you were exiled to an isolated and uninhabited island?

"Siddharta" by Hermann Hesse

"The Prophet" by Khalil Jibran

and probably "W40k 4th ed Rule Book".

5. Would you rather be a pirate or a ninja? Why?

Pirate. Get more booty, are out in the open, and live the high life. Unlike ninjas who are deep in the shadows.

Now, with that out of the way:


I have to now get back to the works submitted to :iconthecritiquables: (tagging bookloverblue , jackgunski, Malintra-Shadowmoon , PaleAuthor on this one to let them know that the new feature's up, they should give it a look whenever they can. While they submit, I'll get back to their deviations submitted. I'll manage to get time out for it). For those who are interested, here's the link:

Unappreciated Works Feature #18The new unappreciated feature is up. The works for the month of July are:



The House made of Flesh - Prologue by PaleAuthor Sleepy Daughter by PaleAuthor
Now, the rules for submission are as follows:
• One critique allows you to submit one deviations, two critiques allows you to submit three deviations and three critiques or more allows you to submit five deviations for the whole month.
• You have to link/thumb the work which you have provided a critique on, to this journal.
• Number of deviations featured is based on how many critiques are given – they are equal to the number of critiques – one up till three.
• It is not compulsory but will be appreciated if you mention “This critique is on behalf of TheCritiquables” in your critique.
If you

I have around 2 comments and 61 replies to get back to, which I will in due course. Guaranteed. :hug: Stay blessed, all of you.

Also, one of the commissioning customers is happy with their progress. The other... well... I have to get back to them ^^; Silly me. Now that this is posted, I'll take out time to get their works done so that I can then get back to the other works I have to do:

  • Review a book and give it feedback.
  • Groups
  • get back to people.
And finally, writing... Haven't written anything this month :( I'll remedy that. for sure.


Someone gave me a compliment:

To shehrozeameen
You, my brother, my friend, and faithful listener.
I, your brother, your friend, and faithful ear.
Without you dA would be a lot less vivid and colourful.
Stay awesome.

- Guess who

I guessed it to be EclecticQuill but it seems that PuzzledHeartBox gave it. So, I'm going to take the most neutral decision possible and offer popcorn while watching new sensations. So, you two, what say ye?

I got a special washroom deal - damn thing has thigh massaging as a perk :eyes:

Anyway, with that out of the way, if anyone has anything they'd like to share, send a note, or a comment. I'm all ears.

In case anyone would like to read something from me:

happy reading. Cheers everyone.


shehrozeameen has started a donation pool!
890 / 4,000
The purpose of this donation pool is to provide anyone participating in the prompts and contests of PoeticalCondition and to members of Every-Photo.

Your donations would be greatly appreciated.

You must be logged in to donate.


an afternoon visit by fotomademoiselle

Every-Photo critique The overall lighting in this photograph is decent. With that said, it felt dry and there wasn't much specific ambi...

Critique is such a hard job - but somebody's gotta do it. I for one, am proud of my critiques.


5 deviants said I love cats! :meow:
3 deviants said Unappreciated Works Feature #18The new unappreciated feature is up. The works for the month of July are:



The House made of Flesh - Prologue by PaleAuthor Sleepy Daughter by PaleAuthor
Now, the rules for submission are as follows:
• One critique allows you to submit one deviations, two critiques allows you to submit three deviations and three critiques or more allows you to submit five deviations for the whole month.
• You have to link/thumb the work which you have provided a critique on, to this journal.
• Number of deviations featured is based on how many critiques are given – they are equal to the number of critiques – one up till three.
• It is not compulsory but will be appreciated if you mention “This critique is on behalf of TheCritiquables” in your critique.
If you - FOR THE CRITIQUES!!! (and you get them as well!)
1 deviant said New Prompt!Hey everyone! :wave:
For those who're new here, welcome to :iconpoetrynprosewatchers:. Hope y'all are doing well :)
This journal is to indicate that a new prompt is going to come up. For those who'd like to know more about our prompts, refer to the following journals:
Prompt start:

Prompt end:


So yeah, its the month of April and so, the admin (me, and :iconpauper-circumstance: ) present to you, a new prompt in case you're interested and looking forward to it. This time, the prompt will last over three months because the theme, is as follows:
So, what's sacrifice here? According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary:
the act of giving up something that you want to keep especially in order to get or do something else or to help someone
Hmm... what is it lacking... Ah! here we go:
So there you have it. Some examples of what is portrayed by sacrifice from the dA literature community - Submit your :+fav: to the prompt (described in the journal)
1 deviant said Get exposure!! Learn something new!!!! (yes, I'm being an ad-guy!! )
No deviants said :la:


Add a Comment:
fotomademoiselle Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you for faving!! <333
(1 Reply)
NicholasName Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the WATCH! :D 
(1 Reply)
BCabiling Featured By Owner Jul 14, 2014
Thanks for the llama badge :)
(1 Reply)
bookloverblue Featured By Owner Jul 9, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks once again for the faves.
(1 Reply)
Nolannilestheletter Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Hey man, you respond to my Facebook?
(1 Reply)
Edges-to-Everything Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Shehroze, thank you for recently adding War Profiteer to your collection. I appreciate it. :nod:

- Michael
(1 Reply)
SolidMars Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Wave by chil96

thank you kindly for the fav. I'm glad you found my work worth your time :tighthug:
(1 Reply)
CelestialMemories Featured By Owner Jul 5, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:iconflyingheartsplz:This is very late, but thank you for the favorite!:iconflyingheartsplz:

I appreciate it very, very much!
(1 Reply)
World-Inside-Me Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2014
Thank you for the fave~! =D 
(1 Reply)
DrippingWords Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2014  Student Writer
:huggle: Thanks for the fave! :huggle:
(1 Reply)
Diluculi Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
thank you very much for the :+fav: and the feature :D
(1 Reply)
JutsuGal1208 Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2014
THX 4 TEH MENTION!!!! :woohoo: :hug: :iconiamhappyplz:
(1 Reply)
EclecticQuill Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2014  Student Writer
Thanks for the fave and feedback brother. :hug:
(1 Reply)
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for collecting, darling. :heart:
(1 Reply)
JutsuGal1208 Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2014
THX 4 TEH FAV! :woohoo: :hug: :iconiamhappyplz:
(1 Reply)
manasi3194 Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you for adding my work to your collection! :)
(1 Reply)
BloodshotInk Featured By Owner Jun 27, 2014


Thanks for reading and for faving my work! I really appreciate it 

(1 Reply)
IrrevocableFate Featured By Owner Jun 27, 2014   Writer
:tighthug: I hope you're well. ♥
(1 Reply)
Jadie-Lee Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2014  Student General Artist
thanks for the fav!! :D
(1 Reply)
TheGalleryOfEve Featured By Owner Jun 23, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I miss you!!! :iconflyingheartsplz::iconsweethugplz::iconflyingheartsplz:
(1 Reply)
NervIris Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2014
I have wanted to leave a comment for you, but never had the right words.
I wanted to thank you for the kind comments you leave. Including the last journal I had posted, but ended up deleting.
I cannot express how I appreaciate your kindness towards. Along with neglecting to do so. Thank you very much, and I hope you have a a wonderful day. 8)
(1 Reply)
Manouilidis Featured By Owner Jun 9, 2014  Professional General Artist
Hi dear :)
(1 Reply)
SakuraAkuma16 Featured By Owner Jun 5, 2014  Student General Artist
Thanks so much for the fav on  Tranquility!!!
(1 Reply)
Lethus1 Featured By Owner Jun 5, 2014  Student Writer
Been on and off DA recently due to Real Life getting in the way, shehroze, but as ever your comments and notes are ever appreciated. =D I'll review something of yours when I'm back properly. ;)
(2 Replies)
Nolannilestheletter Featured By Owner Jun 4, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Do you have a Facebook?
(1 Reply)
Add a Comment: