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About Literature / Hobbyist AlexaFemale/United States Group :iconthebounddeamon: TheBoundDeamon
 
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Deviant for 8 Years
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Newest Deviations

Literature
Mysticism of Early Morning
Striving.
Twisted and broken,
I watched you crawl
through the mud
in a memory.
Existence is a subtle thing,
that screams as loud as lungs allow
to be heard over
the noise of the world.
Your heartbeat is a drum that echoes mine.
Caked and crusted
by rust from the wounds of war machines that
tear through our city.
And the wind whips and howls
sharp enough to leave cuts in our souls;
but her tongue speaks in measures of truth.
As hard and soft as the breath that carved rocks
into valley and gorges
that was and is the breast and lungs of the earth.
Where I lay my head and watch for the star.
The one you promised that winks the boldest.
That got lost in the purging of the dawn:
an eye blinded to love lost.
Striving.
Twisted and broken.
I watched you crawl
through the misted brier
in the memory of another.
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 1 0
Literature
Isa
I bleed words.
They come from the marrow,
forged in fire and the cold breath
of icy gods long lost to the mires of time.
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 1 0
Literature
I am Hrafn
I am Raven.
Quick witted and keen eyed.
I collect words, memories, deeds;
like cast away buttons and
bits of sea glass.
I ride the winds: drifting
between this world and the vale
my forever-eye sole witness
to the terror, the love, the wise and insane.
I do not flinch or dip my wing to change direction.
In all these souls I see what has crafted humanity.
Forged in fire and burning bright,
until you return your bones to the earth.
I am Raven.
I speak in songs, signs, riddles.
In my black feathers I hide truths,
like stars behind clouds.
Mystery is my craft,
Cunning my cloak.
My blood is made of magic;
ancient as the bones of the Mother.
Malice nor virtue rule me,
I go where the wind takes me.
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 1 3
Literature
into a feather
I wanted to mold you.
Shape you like clay, into a feather;
That could take flight on the wind.
To give you the dreams
that you always shared in the twilight.
And the ones you kept hidden
behind your eyes.
It's cliche to say that you were beautiful and broken.
But nothing that is beautiful is whole.
It sprouts like flowers through the cracks in your soul.
New growth from the struggle
that the sky cries for.
I caught your name on the lips of the wind.
She whispered in my ear like a long lost friend,
Truth is never what it seems and
love can be found anywhere.
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 4 0
Literature
Spiraling
Spiraling.
Voice cracks.
Your heart beats like thunder in the desert,
Echoing like gunshots.
I can hear it in the wind;
The sound of silence creeping like a reaper
Between the seconds of a bullet’s release.
I can see it
And I can taste it
And I can feel it in my bones.
No one ever asks for this,
Subliminal messages from home.
Caught on a wire,
Caught breath in the throat.
Youth is a word best left to the young.
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 2 1
Literature
Untitled
différent des visages, impossible des visages
je suis seule en le des miroir
en le des miroir
je suis juste moi
perdu...
different faces, impossible faces
I am alone in the mirror,
in the mirror
I am just me
lost...
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 1 1
after Da Vinci by metalwaya after Da Vinci :iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 4 3
Literature
Angel of Small Death
The bar was dark and warm, like a cave in the desert. It smelt of alcohol and smoke and close bodies; though it was quite empty. In the corner of the back of the main room was where he found her. She was sitting alone, corn husk blonde hair and blue eyes trained on a half full glass of some concoction he was sure he didn't want to try. But he wanted to know her.
He made his way over to where she was, sliding into the open seat opposite. She looked up with her blue eyes and smiled without moving her lips. He returned the gesture and folded his hands on the table top.
"Hi." He said.
"Hello." She replied.
"What's your name?"
"Angel."
They made their way out of the bar, out to her Cadillac. It was mint green and vintage, the seats ripped up and a name etched into the dashboard. He couldn't read it. He didn't try. He settled into the seat as Angel began to drive. She drove into the sun, and when he asked where they were going, she only laughed and said to see a friend.
She pulled over to th
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 3 0
Literature
To the Stranger
The second time we met,
I was a little more prepared
But no less shocked by
The way the light caught in your eyes
Or the light breeze of passing strangers
Blew little whisps of your hair into your face
And cast shadow like scars.
I still wonder if it was foreshadowing
Or some kind of cosmic sign
Telling me that those shadows
Were actually the scars
Dug into your soul over the years
Of knowing too many people
And not enough love.
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 4 1
Literature
Lou
Even
Rock N' Roll Stars
Are Mortal.
But you linger on,
on the dirty boulevard
down in the heart of
New York City
with a cigarette
and a leather jacket
waiting for
the man.
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 1 3
Literature
Untitled
Who are you,
When you think that you are alone,
and aching?
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 2 1
Literature
My mind is the gun
My mind is the gun.
My thoughts, fresh bullets.
The trigger my tongue, already red.
Don't ask me what I think.
{suicide by thought process}
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 0 0
Literature
Lion Boy
Lion boy,
You roar in silence.
Your angry words none hear,
but you take it out on the pavement.
Invisible wounds.
You wear them like a badge of honor,
or a mask, or another sticker on your board.
Intelligent design,
but it wasn't enough
was it?
The pills and the papers.
Late nights and the wrong kind of friends.
You buried your secrets in between the neurons
In your head.
Don't let them pull you down.
You are stronger than you know.
Hospital lights only serve as temporary stars.
Once you're out, let go.
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 2 2
Literature
Jeff Buckley Is Best Played In The Dark
Getting dressed in the dark is easier.
You can't see the soul, then, in his eyes.
But the lights overhead flicker, and for a moment
There is a reflection of what he never said.
The keys are on the table by the door.
Along with the hastily written love letter napkin.
I left them there so that you could find your way
(home)again.
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 2 2
Literature
You Are Your Own Monster
I watched you devour yourself,
from the inside out; you
fed on your own self hate.
It's worse than cancer,
the pity found at the end
of a bottle.
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 5 5
Literature
They say that the revolution....
They say that the revolution
Will not be televised.
It will not be broadcast.
But there are too many people,
With too few eyes, and ears.
So who will see it, and who will listen?
Will they care?
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya
:iconmetalwaya:metalwaya 1 4

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Striving.
Twisted and broken,
I watched you crawl
through the mud
in a memory.

Existence is a subtle thing,
that screams as loud as lungs allow
to be heard over
the noise of the world.

Your heartbeat is a drum that echoes mine.
Caked and crusted
by rust from the wounds of war machines that
tear through our city.

And the wind whips and howls
sharp enough to leave cuts in our souls;
but her tongue speaks in measures of truth.
As hard and soft as the breath that carved rocks
into valley and gorges

that was and is the breast and lungs of the earth.
Where I lay my head and watch for the star.
The one you promised that winks the boldest.

That got lost in the purging of the dawn:
an eye blinded to love lost.

Striving.
Twisted and broken.
I watched you crawl
through the misted brier
in the memory of another.
I bleed words.
They come from the marrow,
forged in fire and the cold breath
of icy gods long lost to the mires of time.
I am Raven.
Quick witted and keen eyed.
I collect words, memories, deeds;
like cast away buttons and
bits of sea glass.
I ride the winds: drifting
between this world and the vale
my forever-eye sole witness
to the terror, the love, the wise and insane.
I do not flinch or dip my wing to change direction.
In all these souls I see what has crafted humanity.
Forged in fire and burning bright,
until you return your bones to the earth.
I am Raven.
I speak in songs, signs, riddles.
In my black feathers I hide truths,
like stars behind clouds.
Mystery is my craft,
Cunning my cloak.
My blood is made of magic;
ancient as the bones of the Mother.
Malice nor virtue rule me,
I go where the wind takes me.
It's a funny thing about muses.

You can go for a long time, and be bone-dry creativity wise. Then, something, or someone, happens in your life and it's like, well if clichés can be forgiven; a flower blooming after a long winter. It starts out small, a glimmer of rejuvenation, of possibilities, of new beginnings.

Everything sort of goes in a circle. This, shouldn't be as funny as it is. Do we just keep going in circles until we get it right? How do we know when it's right? I guess it's pretty safe to say when we know it's wrong.

Maybe that's the point.
I guess I'm rambling.

Questioning if this account is past the point of rejuvenation.

I've been working on different art lately. Not sure if I should upload it here or start fresh on a new account.
I'm not sure if any of my followers are still even on dA.

I wish I'd gotten your number.
  • Listening to: Hozier
  • Watching: Arrow
  • Drinking: ice tea

Wishlist

Rendez-Vous part one by werol Rendez-Vous part one :iconwerol:werol 1,984 169

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:iconroseofmyheart:
roseofmyheart Featured By Owner Oct 11, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Oh and thx for the fave lol
Reply
:iconvikingjon:
vikingjon Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2014  Professional General Artist
Thanks for adding
It's Up to You Not to Hear the Call-up
to your faves. :)
Reply
:iconmetalwaya:
metalwaya Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Most welcome, Jon
Reply
:iconroseofmyheart:
roseofmyheart Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Reply
:iconmetalwaya:
metalwaya Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
okay....that is too funny XD
Reply
:iconroseofmyheart:
roseofmyheart Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Lmao knew you would love it
Reply
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