HOME | DD | Gallery | Favourites | RSS
| artistic-foolishness
artistic-foolishness
♀️
[18619370]
[2011-08-11 16:40:24 +0000 UTC]
"everlasting evisceration"
(United States)
# Statistics
Favourites: 851; Deviations: 226; Watchers: 48
Watching: 93; Pageviews: 10357; Comments Made: 1827; Friends: 93
# Interests
Favorite visual artist: GodFavorite movies: Secret window, Transformers, The music never stopped, Beautiful Mind, Rango, Pirates of the Caribbean...
Favorite TV shows: House, Law and Order: SVU, Adventure time, The regular show, Spongebob
Favorite bands / musical artists: Rush, Tool, Seether, System of a Down, Pink Floyd, Cold play, Led Zeppelin...
Favorite books: The wasteland and other poems by T.S. Elliot, Under the Dome, The Series of Unfortunate Events, The City of Ember, The House of the Scorpion, The lightning thief, The world in 6 glasses...
Favorite writers: Edgar Allen Poe, D.H. Lawrence, Jim Morrison, William Blake, TS Elliot, Ava, myself at times, Emily Dickinson, Tool, Neil Peart, Lemony Snicket, Stephen King.
Favorite games: hangman
Favorite gaming platform: Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
Tools of the Trade: any paper i can find
Other Interests: viewing the world through a thoughtful lense
# About me
all I am and all I do iswriting...
I am 15, and I'd like to think mature for my age.
I remember when I was four I would analyze my teacher's body shape and face structure, and concluded that your face shape is similar to your body shape. Pre-k was fun.(:
...................................................................................................
Traveling Bohemians-Charles Baudelaire
The prophetic tribe of the ardent eyes
Yesterday they took the road, holding their babies
On their backs, delivering to fierce appetites
The always ready treasure of pendulous breasts.
The men stick their feet out, waving their guns
Alongside the caravan where they tremble together,
Scanning the sky their eyes are weighted down
In mourning for absent chimeras.
At the bottom of his sandy retreat, a cricket
Watched passing, redoubles his song,
Cybele, who loves, adds more flower,
Makes fountains out of rock and blossoms from desert
Opening up before these travelers in a yawn—
A familiar empire, the inscrutable future.
~
The Kiss- Anne Sexton
My mouth blooms like a cut.
I've been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby, you fool!
Before today my body was useless.
Now it's tearing at its square corners.
It's tearing old Mary's garments off, knot by knot
and see - Now it's shot full of these electric bolts.
Zing! A resurrection!
Once it was a boat, quite wooden
and with no business, no salt water under it
and in need of some paint. It was no more
than a group of boards. But you hoisted her, rigged her.
She's been elected.
My nerves are turned on. I hear them like
musical instruments. Where there was silence
the drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this.
Pure genius at work. Darling, the composer has stepped
into fire.
~
The Beekeeper's Daughter
A garden of mouthings. Purple, scarlet-speckled, black
The great corollas dilate, peeling back their silks.
Their musk encroaches, circle after circle,
A well of scents almost too dense to breathe in.
Hieratical in your frock coat, maestro of the bees,
You move among the many-breasted hives,
My heart under your foot, sister of a stone.
Trumpet-throats open to the beaks of birds.
The Golden Rain Tree drips its powders down.
In these little boudoirs streaked with orange and red
The anthers nod their heads, potent as kings
To father dynasties. The air is rich.
Here is a queenship no mother can contest ---
A fruit that's death to taste: dark flesh, dark parings.
In burrows narrow as a finger, solitary bees
Keep house among the grasses. Kneeling down
I set my eyes to a hole-mouth and meet an eye
Round, green, disconsolate as a tear.
Father, bridegroom, in this Easter egg
Under the coronal of sugar roses
The queen bee marries the winter of your year
....................................................................................................
Favourite genre of music: rock, techno
Favourite photographer: my mind
Favourite style of art: effortless
Skin of choice: goats skin
Personal Quote: Rebel in Silence
# Comments
Comments: 872
Thank you very much. It makes me feel nice when people acknowledge my work
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
Hello there, lovely person! 
You've just been featured in my journal: [link] 
It would mean the world to me if you could favorite the article and maybe even find some pieces worth faving as well? 
Thank you so very much for your time!
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
oh man thank you so much! of course i'll favorite it. you are the lovely one (: <3
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
so very welcome, sweetheart!
nu-uh YOU ARE!
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
we? no idea. ihave no idea what is going on ugh.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
we should do something eventful.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
YES! i think you should come and we should hang out in a way that my parents won't call the police.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
no, you are special.
most welcome (:
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
hello! (:
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
hows you?
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
super good but i just lost my flashdrive with like my whole life on it
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
I love your writing, when I read it, it just feels so.... real...
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
ohmygosh thanks <3 c: you made my night/morning
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
you made my night/morning by saying that i made your night/morning if that makes any sense lol. could you please check out my deviantart? *puppydog face* if you looked at/read the one called forest view it would be really appreciated
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
Do you ever feel unexplainable? I feel unexplainable.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Yes. All the time.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
of course(:
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
of course(:
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
I think what we forget about people’s shallow words is their shallowness. But it’s so easy to be shallow, so easy to wander without constantly to establish yourself, and the easy path is the one most traveled. They can’t help but be shallow because shallow is how they want to be.
there is a lot inside a empty coke bottle
like someone’s dream
leftover of sugar and salvia
and sodium benzoate
when my skin is cold
and my blood stops running
will they fill me with sodium benzoate too?
(i am implying that not only am i full of sugar and salvia, but also
important to someone)
Throughout my entire life, I have never felt that I was important. In this huge, never-ending story of time, I felt I was merely the size of a period and my life and actions did not affect anyone. You changed that Nicole. You are amazing and deep; your thoughts must fill up the entire world with their energy.
You made me sound so much cooler than I am. Ever read Brave New World? If you take AP Lit, you will. Often, I feel like a Bernard, not a Helmholtz or a John; I feel my hatred of the society stems from its inability to accept me for who I am. But unlike Bernard, I refuse to conform. So, perhaps, I really am a Helmholtz. You though, you are a John. John rejected the perfect society because he wanted emotion, true existence, even if that costs us old age and disease and the chaos/pain of living.
If you would have known me four years ago, you would have hated me. I just wanted to fit in. But nobody would let me.
Nicole, you are one of the few people in this place that refuses this conformity, and you don’t refuse it to be different, you refuse it because there has to be more to life then what other’s believe. Your strangeness (oh golly, that sounds slightly mean, I promise it isn’t) is what makes you somewhat unable to be completely understood by a Helmholtz, but makes you the one who truly strives for life.
A lot of people fill that shallowness with religion, and I’m not saying religion is bad. It’s just, you have to discover all of this yourself, I get so tired of hearing that I should push my faith on others.
Do you think, perhaps, when we’re older, we’ll be like the adults in our lives? When do we have to grow up? Why do we have to? Why can’t we embrace our childhood self instead of reject it by corrupting our innocence?
Innocence is a stupid word. Not really. It’s just a stupid concept. Maybe. I don’t know. I just like to….I don’t know…
Like Alaska, like all people, you are more than yourself. In literature, you learn the concept that every story, ever, contributes to every story. It is this never-ending chain of ideas and symbols that constantly recycle and reuse themselves. You are not alone in your self-discovery, but some part of it is original, and that will contribute to someone else’s existence. WE are the never-ending chain.
Scientists believe, and have proved, that every human is aware of every other human’s existence. We are all connected by our subconsciouses. Isn’t that amazing? To think, while I’m gone, my inner being will know what you’re doing, how you’re doing?
Also, doesn’t that mean everyone’s self journey is actually the world’s journey.
People say hating is easy, loving is hard. People are just stupid are wrong. Hating and loving are both very consuming emotions that can drain your entire being. So never love and never hate too much.
Nicole, no one compares to you. I have seen, talked, and dealt with a lot of different people these past four years, and they all seem to be the same. When you write, you’re expressing your true colors, but also when you talk. You aren’t shy, you embrace yourself.
Sometimes I feel like you don’t like me.
Someone once told me, (It was Charlie Murphy, about a month ago) that we are not as special as we like to think. That we aren’t as irregular, abnormal, or unique as we believe ourselves to be.
What is so sad is that it is mostly true. But I don’t think that applies to you. You are Nicole, this impossibly exceptional existence that no one could ever become even close to.
If I were to take you apart, I feel I would know you better, but also, be unable to put you back together.
The worst part of growing up is forgetting. What happens, is your mind dumps information it doesn’t think important. All I can remember about high school is yearbook, Tyler, and how much it wasn’t like I saw on television as a preteen. I want to remember everything, but it is already forgotten. The moments have slipped through my fingers. But those moments also lead me to where I am today. So I’m not sure, not sure in the least how I became me.
What’s the worst thing that ever happen to you?
Isn’t that weird question?
But your answer will reflect what you value most.
Think about it.
There is the whole huge world out there, and we’ve been stuck in LaBelle. Will I change? God, I hope so, but I still want to be me. You though, I want you to stay exactly the way you are.
Will you come to Boca with me? I’ll keep you and Jose with me always, in a suitcase.
Nicole, I don’t want to forget you. Please, don’t let me. I love you. Truly. I do.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
yeah, anytime(:
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
You have an old soul.
Keep writing and never lose yourself.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
Yes. I will, and won't.
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
| Next =>