So anyways, I hope that all of you have been well New Year, 2015 now begins! And here we are, ready to begin a new year, a new age, a new era for all of us to start and ponder on what life has to offer

And life has indeed a lot to offer, so here's my first 2015 journal. Lets begin

Features:

I finally managed to finish reading the deviations in my stack. And what wonderful works they were So, here's the list:

Treetops
I saw the mountains stretching into infinity.
These red brick mountains, monuments of someone’s achievements,
somewhere.
The walls never stopped,
the mountain went up forever and
I was back where I started.
I climbed up each step, forever.
Look into infinity,
look into infinity and blink.
I saw the fields before me,
a single road covered in yellow leaves, not dead
because they had life again.
They had life on this waterlogged road,
they were flat, but they jumped
and if you looked at them long enough
you could see on the edge of your perception
something,
just look into infinity,
look into infinity and blink.
I danced on the treetops,
They bounced beneath my toes.
I saw the world.
I saw it in the distance,
and while I was far away for a moment,
while I was away from the tragedy,
my own thoughts,
I was free.
Look ahead,
beyond the buildings,
the roads,
just up ahead, there it is.
Look into infinity.
Look into infinity, and blink.

Mature Content

which isn't a bad read per se, Although I feel that there is significant room for improvement here and there Comments and improvements will help this artist. For sure.

Mature Content

Eternal LoveIs your love as infinitely
Deep as infinity?
Is your love as furiously
Mad as fury?
Then your love is real
And know how I feel
I will eternally
Love her into eternity
She is a Poem within a Poem
A homage to my heart's home
She's so spectacular
I love her
Desperately
Infinitively
Chaotically
Madly
Eternally
Can your love withstand
Time's cruel hand
When your hearts meld
Can they be held?
Can your love survive infinity
Throughout all eternity?
© Jerry Langdon 2014 - a food for thought, truly.

AlaudidaeLittle Lark,
Do not let the wolves whittle lies
into your hallowed bones, for you
were never miniscule. You are
centimeters contorting into meters,
minute millimeters morphing
into a colossal kilometer.
Your shadow prowls the hunting grounds,
but you are no killer. Kind hearted
birds are more than powerless prey.
Loveliest Lark, surround yourself
with temperate touches and
weave wonder into those you come across.
And while white fireflies blink
in their lighthouse language,
know that there is hope slung
beneath your fluttering feathers.

:thumb491148194: which was in my opinion, even with the mature content, a very good story.

:thumb500775102: To The NorthThe sky was a grey mass without any textures. It looked as if someone had carefully painted it, ensuring it was evenly coloured. The sun was hiding somewhere above the thick blanket of clouds and only the general lightness revealed it was actually day. A cold wind whirled brown leaves over the street. Even without snow, there was no doubt about the season. The autumn had been grey and rainy, but now, even the clouds seemed to have frozen in place. The air was dry, taking away every bit of humidity it could find. Another wind gust followed the course of the street and tugged at my cloak, searching for an opening. It was successful and I wished for an additional part of tights to wear. Two were obviously not enough.
Suddenly I saw him.
He stood out of the masses of people rushing from one place to the other, though I couldn't really tell why. He was not the only one wearing colours instead of the omnipresent shades of black. Not even his impressively huge backpack was unique. A lot of pe :thumb495390816:

LenoreWhat days have passed when summer’s last
Has come and then gone by?
When its breath grew small and it came to fall
To hold man’s thrall with leaves and bleary sky:
‘Tis time to say goodbye.
In summer’s wake came us to the lake,
The lake! Just her and I.
We sat under a willow on earth soft as a pillow
Gazing at the billow of waves and clouds on high
That waved for us to say goodbye.
‘Twas her the seraphs did adore, her the cherubs named Lenore,
A maiden with my heart allied.
With countenance fair and flaxen hair,
Such beauty rare upon my eye,
Thus loath was I to say goodbye.
Amid the foam and grassy loam
I paused, about to cry.
"Lenore," said I with quavering voice, "I have no choice
But to leave your poise and quiet sighs,
The time has come to say goodbye."
Her gaze, it traveled to my soul, there upon that grassy knoll,
But from her mouth came one word: "Why?"
Our fears welled up in burning tears
As sharp as spears that fatally fly:
"Because we have to say good and :thumb501949433: are Edgar Allen Poe tributes - to each their own, although I'll be frank and admit that ArthurCrow had the more unique approach in his poem, while stylistically Parsat did have a more obvious Poe presentation.

Age is But A Number              They told me
              That I looked
              Older than
              I really am.
              For years people assumed
              The number of my days
              Was way beyond
              What they really were.
              I carried myself
              With the utmost maturity.
     :thumb497036499: ExcavatedI am the substance of archaeology -
the authentic goddess of earthenware.
Each nail trimmed in terracotta clay,
each bare shoulder gracefully glazed.
Blue eyes spun like pottery wheels.
Young heart heated, oven-infused.
The last vase standing in a field. CreativityTear out some paper,
Grab your trusty pen.
Take a sip from your
Frothy hot chocolate.
Understand that this is
Where the work begins.
Let all the gears groan
In pleasurable torment.
Words appear and vanish,
Flashing behind your eyes.
Try and catch them with
Your eager butterfly net. ONCE I HAD A DREAM...Once I had a Dream...but she was hollowed
out by the mad delirium she met in me,
without a vent from these veil of shadows
my soul bequeathed my discarded Dream to
the dust that quietly gathers between the
bones of Eternity, but I found a spade
half-hidden among the wilted petals on my
pillow and as I dug in my half-awake state,
I made a place of hallowed remembrance
for my ailing Dream to rest awhile,
I felt she deserved to live in some stray
form or other, so I watered her with the
bedtime maroon of my tears and fed her
the marrow of a melody, sweetly sung
by a nightingale before a daytime nightmare
clipped her wings, I nurtured and cherished her
in the sweetest dessert of Darkness,
for she was a part of me that was too
precious to endure the lies of adulthood,
only in the liberated recall of my inner self
she lives, an iridescent whirlpool of our
own design, she keeps me never lonely
...but always and ever loved.
August 18, 2014
© Jewel MoonSilver Knight - All rights reserved :thumb498896570:

:thumb497813319: KICK ASS!!!!

ProphylacticIf love doth be like winter’s day, 
clad in black, little light,
No… more so grey.
I beckon light candles abundant, 
Defy the terror of night’s sigil.
Lest it too shall take me ‘way.
Ere love doth chill in bosoms core,
I implore, I implore,
Dwindle in candle’s light,
Beacon of truest delight.
Where love doth shine the brightest.
Ere this too unspoken.
O’ver come this blackened day.
For love doth be like summer’s day,
That not nothing more than the light of candle lit,
That I say, that I pray.
beats back the wings of death’s prophet.
Ere this love too shalt fade. RiverbendMaking my thoughts bend
Like the curves in the river
But in the end
The flow will never differ
My legs are like the water
Heading for the fall
How the rocks try to slow me
They make no difference at all Scan...Compute Human Analogy
Loading................
.................50%
..............Done
No feelings detected.
2nd Test
Limbs
Loading..........
......50%....
Error...No limbs detected
Final Test
Heartbeat ratio
Scanning........
................
Scanning........
................
Scanning........
................
....nothing detected
Evaluation
No feelings
No limbs
No heart
Target dead
........... :thumb495265515:

a really good render. In my opinion anyway



The Olympian project: Goddesses (total fr/en)I Hécate

Vêtue d’ombres fines
comment pourrait-elle cacher
longtemps sa clarté
Dressed in shadows sheer
how could she be hiding her
luster for so long

II Artémis
Le sable d’or fin
cherche la bénédiction
de vos pas perdus
The sands of fine gold
seek the benediction of
your absent footsteps

III Hestia
Dame de lumière
les arches bleues de l’éther
sont vides sans vous
Lady of the light
the blue arches of my sky
are void without you
 
IV Aphrodite
Glissant doucement
la soie sur sa peau dorée
raisins blonds sucrés
Gra a collection of haikus which are, in my humble opinion, nice portraits of the Greek mythological gods and goddesses. Really nice for a quick read

Ode to the Sun GodOde to the Sun God, how do I reach you?
burning alive to keep me warm
burning alive and twisting form
flaring up and waving to me
solar waves are straying through the
atmosphere to give me something
not of earthly muds and bringing
something but the dark and cold
my star my warmth my light my old
mythology, my closest glow in space
my incandescent a'blazing grace
Sun God,
retire now my orbit falls
into your glow I know the walls
of frantic fusion fuss and fail
Sun God finally exhale
breath into the dark your glory
Sun God now you end the story
star of paupers, kings, and creatures
supporting so many features
Sun God, holding oaks, hibiscus,
with your breath you dared to kiss us,
Sun God, making wolves, zelkova,
Sun God rest now; Supernova. a must read

ways we constellatea. dictitious
i
am well-woven.
i
am a spell
that does not release
and never tells.
these constructions
i allow,
and better
awaken
to speak in hearttones
and hymnbeats
on rugged pavements.
i
have built
art.
b.bahaar 
this body has
forgotten its infinite
beatings, denied
itself the luxury
of acceptance.
this body has
remembered its lovers'
last names, phone numbers,
birthmarks and kindness--
the only cruelty this vessel knows
is from its middles;
i 
have riddled 
myself into
warmth
c. capabuilt
these hands
are imbued
with patient dynamism
and ichor
that the goddesses
savor. 
they have moved
mountain ranges
and hoisted dark seas
overhead,
then returned them
deftly. 
suc tell me baby, what's your story?                                         i love you to the moon
                                         and back again, babycakes
                                         were the words you tattooed
                                         on the inside of my eyelids
                                         and waking to see strands
                                       

Mature Content

(a must read)   Defying the omenFaith is both an honor and a curse  
As your hand rests upon my ethos,
Mouthing of silent devotions first,
Supplicant in your fever's Eros.
To summon the balance of portent  
From scarab oracles' age'd stay,
That has you bargain for a life's rent  
Of always, only just one more day__
For an urn of emblazoned frescoes,
With processions of bulls, and of maids,  
Filled e'er white with ashes bright as bone;
Earnest to the marrow, it ne'er fades. IllusionMy heart is in my sleeves
An illusion none may disbelieve
Almost all people fall for my trick
But someone in the crowd made it weak
My cards fall to her mind
The first to happened in my life
I'm not trying to deceive her
But she saw what is behind my mirror
So I start on being better
And I want to make her believe
Falling for me won't be a mistake
It's a promise that can't mislead
With her presence and not her words
She gave me a reason to live
Even she is far from my own world
Her mark from the start won't fade on me
Illusion is one of a kind
It can make people go blind
But when she saw my illusion
I found love to only one person the road less travelled. The trees creak above my arms
raising eyes to the sky, breathing
snowflake-dusted songbirds
draw the horizon against the clouds;
I count the footprints on my palms,
dread the smell of you
lingering on the back of my tongue,
no respite from the blood
pumping the berries red raw,
burning with their lonesomeness.
Should I pass this way? the lights
tell me so; I can't see
past the glimmering city's 
arching back, pressing me hard
against the wall, engulfing me --
the songbirds don't sing any more,
they don't sing for me.
And should I pass this way? 
the last tower of affection
crumbles
I melt into the thawing sea ice
dribbling, cadaverous glacier
of candle wax, licks the ocean breeze
and my eyes fill with brine.
You are perched upon my shoulder,
tying knots in the telephone wires
and piano strings, till the singing voice
cries to its own requiem
and the songbirds fade and die.
They drop like overripe apples
from the trees. 
I can feel the blush in my cheeks
soaking through m LighthouseBruised, beaten, burnt to char;
But no longer woe was she.
As she spreads black, the evenings scar
To lay to rest his memory.
Too long she’s lain under his reign;
Her heart disheveled, sad and caged.
Freedom lies within the pain,
And now a calm within the rage.
No more of hiding, nor of fear
While burying her wounding knife,
She sheds one solitary tear
Only for the loss of life.
“Lighthouse”, She prays,
“Lead me home tonight!”
“Something I've never had”, she says,
“Is a future: clear and bright” Which Do You Prefer, Hot or Cold?There is a town named Fortuna that has a most unusual guardian. The guardian is a nineteen year old girl named Snjór White. She is a brave, yet kind, warrior who mainly relays on ice in battle. Not only can she conjure up icicles and launch them at opponents, she is also extremely agile and can fight for a long time. In her spare time, she enjoys ice hockey, ice cream, and snowball fights. Normally she's always on a constant vigil, never letting her guard down for anything bad, or out of the ordinary, thing to occur. However, she'll discover that some of the things she likes can get the better of her.
One winter morning after a snowball fight with her pet snow dragon, Aeron, Snjór felt a little rumble in her belly.
Snjór: *feels rumbling belly* "Boy, all that snowball fighting is making me hungry. I know, I'll have those ice cream sandwiches I made."
She got to her bag that contained her delicious desserts. But SoarOut the corner of my eye
I see you, afar, happy
I feel myself rotting
From the inside
And clinging
To the past, so dead
So far and so dead…
I wrap my scarf like a noose
And without a trace, I wipe away
These unshed tears, and for once
I smile sand and saltMy head is a buoy bobbing
just above the brink,
and I can see for miles—
water: rising and falling
like chests of the comatose,
tossing me back and forth
like a sculptor with clay,
slamming fists against the shore
like an boxer champion.
When I was four years old,
I tried to make the sea
in a bucket, sand and salt.
It lay flat. I was perplexed.
Why weren’t there tiny tides
or smaller roars and retreats?
Now I know why.
The greatest things cannot be condensed
to 200 milligram painkillers
for pulling from purses or pants’ pockets
when you want or need a dose.
The greatest things aren’t convenient;
They are the sea, they are love, they are God.
I learned from the sea
to enjoy these moments
as I feel their electric currents jolt
through my fingertips
straight to my heart
because they can’t be felt again,
even if I’ve got a red bucket
full of saltwater and sand. :thumb497750456: :thumb497759044:

From the Tower of GilgesheThe rooster crows on every hour
To warn the peasants, who shrink and cower
From the black, forsaken tower
Where lives a wizard of malignant power
Who wanders forth and raises hell
With many a curse, a hex, a spell
And villagers wait where they do dwell
Until they hear the morning bell
At which point the said wizard falls
Unconscious due to many brawls
And pints of ale, his progress stalled
By stumbling footsteps and careless calls
The townsmen gather from their rooms
While the bell clangs and booms
Over hill and over dale
Ending the destructive trail a very epic read, although I feel that the lack of an ending couplet made it feel like a shortfall in my opinion.

:thumb500355822: :thumb497866605: Can true love really happen?She dances,
Delicately around him.
Engulfing him in flames of affection.
He is falling,
Falling slowly for her.
AS she smiles and focuses only on him,
He only focuses on her.
Fireworks engulf them as they fall,
Fall only for each other.
He falls for her,
And she falls for him.
Months later and they are still forever together,
She is the dancer,
And he,
The joker. :thumb502464058: :thumb498424474: :thumb498883554: Bygones There is a burned building 
at the end of the road
its hollow eyes,
loved once,
still guarding wishes 
of happier days.
You try to remember 
one of your forevers
and like waves,
like fire
they all come back 
all those always
sworn upon falling stars,
matching minutes,
tossed coins.
It's your history now
foundation of memories -
it didn't last,
surprisingly 
it doesn't hurt
and in the darkness 
of this dying night
your eyes are dry
for every other truth
still remains.
There is a burned building 
at the end of the road. The Dream That Could Not BeIt was a dream that I dreamed.
It was a dream, that I knew.
It was something about this dream, that
Could not come true.
It was something I said.
It was something I did.
It was something I wish I said, but
Never said at all.
It was this time I remember...
It was this time I was confused.
It was, you see, the dream I dreamed that
Really came true.
It was one thing I said...
It was one thing I did...
It was one thing I thought about saying, and
Now I wish I did.
It was a time, I'll remember.
It was a dream, that could not come true.
It was a dream that could be avoided... but
Instead I hurt you.
So there's something I said.
And there's something I did.
It was something I didn't want to say, but
That's what I had to do.
You're still very close.
Yet still so very far.
There is something I wish I could say now, but
That's what I cannot do...
I love you. visiting Melvillemy fingers feel the dents
of the boat's curved bed
puddled with mud water, nails
slipping through knots
like a ghost--
a landscape
with fishnet frames
and a barefoot sole
where the living used to reside.
it is here where he rests,
a cane on one corner
and a harpoon in the other--
sailor hands and a room
filled with smoke
as he waves his warm welcome. Generations (to and from)my dear,
who told you that it was wrong to love the skin that covers your bones. who told you it was wrong to love with a heart open, a mouth quick, hands strong, and feet steady? who told you that it was wrong to yearn for someone fill the cracks in you that the world so easily gave you—who told you it was even worse to seal your own cracks and heal your own bruises? who told you that your love was wrong, that people can’t love each other both regardless and because of their twisted hearts and battered minds?
my darling,
who told you that fighting yourself for your existence not normal? who told you that the only battles worth fighting are the ones we witness? who told you that people are the worse demons? who told you that only those who are weak feel broken? who told you that every hurt has a reason for its existence? who told you that your pain doesn’t matter because others have it worse? who told you that strength comes only from power? who told you that somet Hatred Threatened by your words and thoughts
Life is worth my beating heart
You can't destroy what I have left
Let me be happy through life's threats
You are nothing compared to me other then a memory
Dying deep inside I find your corpse of life is left behind
Save me from your hatred
your Depression
Save me from you
Your threatening eyes won't leave me in a bind
Die within your sorrowed mind 
Decapitate with your life's crimes
You are no longer apart of me which sooner or later you will see
I'm the better person here waiting for life's change
While you die and burn withering with rage
 

:thumb501140909: while this is a well thought out poem, in my opinion, I feel that the better poem is this:

:thumb503311510: I don't care if I sound like a biased prick for preferring the villanelle over the long poem, its well written, bloody heartwrenching, and damn its sincere. Well done in my opinion, Bloody well done. Honestly

:thumb502682974:

Now, onward to the journals:

:thumb501295688: :thumb497563839: :thumb498100002: :thumb501515080:

December Lit DD Round Up :iconIrrevocableFate: Features by HugQueen
words to say to your reflection by aprilwednesday
:icongrimface242: Features by inknalcohol
Show It, Don't Tell It by GoldenNocturna Joy by haphazardmelody The Husband by rsbohn Hometown Glory by sense-and-stupidity Birth Marked by betwixtthepages Lady Fey by PennyDiamond To Holden Caulfield and my grandfather by brokengod--veins 64. Frost by ViciousGalan Winter Intimacy by Breath-of-Nefertari Almost by MadamGuillotine
:iconSingingFlames: Features by SingingFlames
Oblivion Songs by TimtehGrey The Only Thing Missing Is You by marchingclock Verbatim by G-R-Fracassa The Writer and the Switchblade by RangerRed09 Not All Things Will Fade by Clockchat A Victim of Circumstance by SloppyDreamscape Ode to the artist by Kizin-of-kaplumba

ayeaye12.deviantart.com/journa… - Ayeaye12 has soundcloud.

forum.deviantart.com/art/liter… - which in my opinion is food for thought.

forum.deviantart.com/art/liter…

forum.deviantart.com/jobs/serv…

Right, now onward to:

Tags:

I don't have any tags per se this time, but I do feel that, I'll just write this big list of works I've read in general (:

Actually, I do have a tag:



By the way, I can't grant her wishes because they're really intense, in my opinion... Although there's no harm in a quid pro quo at the end of the day:

My wishlist:

• To go out on an actual date. And hope to God that it transpires into something worthwhile.
• To have four published works, through reputable publishers either here in Pakistan, or through publishers abroad.
• On that note, to have at least one of those works in a language other than English - be it Urdu or German, whichever is most feasible.
• To meet the friends I've made here on dA - which, in my opinion, does seem possible if luck and good financial standings bear with me.
• To actually experience... well, the better way to put this would be to have a legitimate experience of that which we all know, and I won't name since... well... its what soulmates do . Of course, I do mean it in the most morally acceptable form anyway.