poetic-obituary

Kurdt

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Wasteland Chronicle by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Wasteland Chronicle

1 Wasteland hermit wasted away Floodland servant drowned in the wastes I take no breath to covet the day All sense of loss got lost along the way Hard felt beating named the new cause Heart felt feeling simply a flaw Make to take new breath from these lungs Misconductive truth to judge what we've done 2 Wasteland creature watching the skies Ash-land features greet the sun rise We waste no breath to wait for the rains Pray desert winds to take us away Solid soil cultivate earth To waste our labour, sorrow at birth So we toil to breathe with these lungs Ashen air filter death despite what we've done 3 Flooded circus a memo

Missive by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Missive

All I know is useless Unless I can catch The meaning Throw deceiving Glance the bullet meant for me Left for me Written but not spoken Scrawled On wall Fire away the line is justice Nothing left for us Left of us Calculate deficiencies Subjugate immunity The will to be an individual Hive mind tapestry Suck light throw darkness Fraction rule Thumb nor eye discern Forced change is the same Bullet hanging air time to think Nor blink before Impacted tooth decay A metal mushroom tumbling Sideways Strike heart cords keyed to locks Strike clocks an hour for change Abate obliteration Witnessed protection Planned fruition

Fruit of the Gloom by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Fruit of the Gloom

Part I: In every garden Bear this fruit of a womb Tainted offering In perfect gardens Growing fruit to bloom barren offspring With soil hardened Love the labour of the earth In vain toiling For perfect guarding Care averted a doom Fast approaching In every garden Keep this fruitful womb Sate with offerings To sow this garden With the fruit that has bloomed Yet still wasting Will ill attention Lost the labour of the earth In pain parting (but) for perfect guarding Keep the fruit of this gloom Perfect offering Part II: If heavy guarded Bears in fruits from a womb Fickle fostering If sparsely

Illumination by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Illumination

Holy power Unsettled ire vision burn Burn the world and consume with guilt Prejudice extreme Build a house no home for shelter Taking shelter during stormy weather Settling back to wind the evening down ticking Picking choices but no hope Left alone in the corner stands a figure In shadow dire like statues hallway Well lighted thought burning Illumination now gone, gone away

Left Alone by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Left Alone

Forget the rest, there will be time When we die And we cry for a river dried In the sun Object to test this Bitter affection Subject too tested for health concerns And she dies As I cry by the river that died In the sun Under weight bearing soul uncanny Resemblance to grief Just a mask, just a laugh Wind blowing cold winter shine World beautiful remembers not what happened When she died And we cry for a river dried In the sun And I cried for this woman who died And she cries… I have left alone the wealth of knowledge Bearing fruit from a tree No solace Found dimension, direction Cleanse spirit Impure burn away I

Discussed by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Discussed

I'm unfit to be the object of discussion We've discussed it And find you disgusting Why even try to resemble a natural figure Making decisions based solely on reason Autonomous in vision Envisioned of endings Caught up in side line bright light findings We've discussed it And watched with attention Division of nervous action Stopped in timeless make some sense of this Reasoning behind the lies Between these lines in my vision Blurred motion please forgive me darling I'm not my self And I object to the fusion Reject this discussion Protected for nothing Learn truth for better shackles fetter Diamond ring lost river bed to s

Phantasia by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Phantasia

Voracious aspect Swallow air, all the earth No guardian angel Uneasy vigil to betray A bitter peace Stay the languid hand To save primeval land Strange the feeling when you're Watched over, looking over (the edge) Restraining, taming This imperceptible heart of darkness… The whisper of a voice Screaming horror to the skies Waiting for a death In the darkness of the night Just a whisper of a voice Amending bitter life Wait for a death In the dead of the night Tranquil waters Uttermost ends of earth No guardian stranger Extermination of the brutes All secrecy Steady languid hand Depart this darkened land Loud

Shroud by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Shroud

Bleeding sunset drips fire from a hole in the sky Watch the ashes float on in the darkening sky Burdens heavy this weight a wasting disease Come to endings waged war on all you perceive (not so easy to please) Cripple making shed light stepping over the hole Worse for whether disdain weighs down on your soul (not so righteous you know) Caught close quarters bled dry and expected to lose Take a target now know which path you should choose Left forsaken no lies pass the tongue of the snake Left forsaken produce which the choices you make? Ashes falling soft witness to a terrible crime Harsh convictions plain truth of a miserable time

Past Touch by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Past Touch

We've passed but not died A collection of lies To deceive those whose seek To trouble our minds We've left too alone These wicked thoughts go Where only to grow Where bright hope never shows We've slept but not closed Our eyes to the world Vague windows to close To the soul to be closed Left open to view The pitiful few Deceitful and dire All met with a smile… We've passed but not died This unveiling of lies Upon this old altar Where magick resides A touch is what's needed To bring in the season Remember the old days Remembered in old ways…

Royal by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Royal

Paint a portrait of a queen Regal in this deathly scene Pose the woman so grotesque Flies will gather on the carcass God the flies that fill the air Breath in fumes Choke to death in here I know it's not alright To let the light Shine on her body Shun her body To the floor Lifeless whore so lifelike... Skin so pale in cold repose The fire in her eyes has died (forever) Not a tear we shed for her She just got what she deserved Paint a landscape on her skin Full of life and love and sin Paint the picture of her fears Drawn in blood and soaked in tears

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Wasteland Chronicle by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Wasteland Chronicle

Missive by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Missive

Fruit of the Gloom by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Fruit of the Gloom

Illumination by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Illumination

Left Alone by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Left Alone

Discussed by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Discussed

Phantasia by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Phantasia

Shroud by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Shroud

Past Touch by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Past Touch

Royal by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Royal

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Journey of a Coin. by Fineliners, literature

Literature

Journey of a Coin.

Penny's life started just like every other coin's long life: having been melted, flattened, punched and inscribed, she was finally born into the world in 1971. Along with her 1,521,666,250 sisters, Penny was introduced to a new life of travels and adventures and hardships, beginning in the bottom of a Tesco cash drawer. It was lonely there, certainly not one of the high points of her existence: none of the other pennies were particularly verbose and the majority of them were dull, rusted and squalid. However, as one of the newest coins on top of the heap, Penny didn't have to stay there long. On her first day on the job, she found a new hom

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Disturbed by poetic-obituary, literature

Literature

Disturbed

Fox chased hound No where to run Borrowed time a setting sun Damn wicked brood Not passing through Left them no where else to run Trap metal trees Replace the scent Offensive odor of cement Grave shallow walls The first to fall Designed self-immolation Assess respect Designed to protect And service with honor Fill us with horror I must suspect It seems to upset When value is cheapened Some buying reason? Time now hunt Soon chasing dreams Bleed disease and horrid scenes Death chase all No where to run Borrowed time soon setting sun Assess distress Discuss and project False prophet fake witness We have disgust this

Disturbed

poetic-obituary

About poetic-obituary

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United States
Deviant for 20 years
He / Him

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My Bio

Current Residence: Mein Haus
Favourite genre of music: the kind with sounds.
Favourite style of art: The good kind. (watercolour, ink, meaningful, digital)
Operating System: Mac
Shell of choice: bombshell... not the ladies (well, okay, the ladies...)
Skin of choice: mine. while i'm in it.
Favourite cartoon character: The Great Red Dragon; Drinky Crow

Favourite Movies

Anatomy, Izo, Koroshiya Ichi, Repo! The Genetic Opera

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Skinny Puppy, Velvet Acid Christ, Caustic Culture

Favourite Writers

Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, H.P. Lovecraft, Frank Miller. Jack Kerouac. Anthony Burgess.

Favourite Gaming Platform

Xbox 360

Tools of the Trade

Pen. Paper. Computer. Mind.

Other Interests

You, in the back... Yeah, you...

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poetic-obituary

Oct 7, 2011

Time for Change

0 min read

I propose dA gets to work on letting people upload music as deviations. I haven't submitted any work lately because I spend all my extra time working on music. Our project is growing in many ways. It'll be good fun once we get off our arses and stop dicking about. But that's not to say all is amiss. It's finally autumn. Bonfires and snow! But very seriously, is it a possibility to get that music uploading thing? Can it happen? CAN IT? Who knows.

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poetic-obituary

Apr 18, 2010

Oh no. I didn't. or did i?

0 min read

you tell me. and yes, I might be back. might. course, i always say that. but. look what might happen this time. something interesting no doubt. or maybe simply something dull. you tell me.

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poetic-obituary

Jul 8, 2009

Devious Journal Entry

0 min read

Uhh. Too little time of late. Too little energy. The world looks a little bit stranger lately. But why should you care. You shouldn't. But anyway, on with the show. Maybe soon there will be things to see, things to do, people to be around without the awkward silences and strange greetings. I hate those, you spend half the time trying not to feel odd, but you do anyways. Stupid really. Maybe it's just me who's stupid. I think so. Personally there has not been enough to calm me down enough to write or draw or create, just listless wandering, lost like little children in the city far from home. Yet I am at home. Here. In this loss. Wor