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About Me Official Beta Tester General Writer Waiting-For-A-MomentUnknown

Recent Activity Deviant for 1 Year
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Given by *Robinu-wolf

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Ode to Becca Curtis or Ode...Ode to Becca Curtis & Ode to Judgment
Beautiful things are the truth in motion, the sweet sounds of complications rising up from the passive grounds, through the cracks in the concrete. Grave vultures often shadow through this opaque sky, miserable flowers loose in the air, clouding vision, judgment, and moral, they hold my hands steady and strike my tongue; useless. I wait for the sweet sounds of church bells to remind me the hours. The view? There is not much, save for the quiet contemplation of the brick walls, or the conversations of the weeds and birds. & Ode to Becca Curtis or Ode...
by =Waiting-For-A-Moment

DeskTop Capture 1
by =Waiting-For-A-Moment

An Argument for SatanArgument for Satan:

What, in truth, is the breath of the world?  Is it truly the wind?  Or could it be that driving force which moves through every living creature that walks the cracked surface of this sphere.  In and out, air being drawn into the lungs of the world.

I think perhaps, the breath of the world is the latter.

The word of Satan is indulgence, but this is also the word of Humanity in general.  Satan represents the indulgence of all things, truthfully, the indulgence of all things.  Drugs, drink, joy, laughter, sadness, pain. &nbs An Argument for Satan
by =Waiting-For-A-Moment

Ode to CheatingOde to Cheating on Your Girlfriend, or Ode to Breaking Hearts:
There is sorrow: Sometimes, the sky is dark, the clouds are heavy. She sits underneath the old trees, wringing her hands, her spit is venom.  When she talks her tongue falls uselessly out of her mouth, her words are heavy, lead. She sings, her voice is a terrible beauty.  How many men has she drown?
There is lust: What a violent, breathtaking aroma! Oh!  The feel of her vipers hand, her tender lips, the subtle curves of her body. She could swallow you whole, that vicious murdere Ode to Cheating
by =Waiting-For-A-Moment

Browse Gallery

The Cloak

-1

I used to bury my head in my arms, when I thought it helped to keep the demons away...

The first time I met him he was sitting on a stump, a burned out oak, not far from our house. The sun was dipping behind the mountains that lay beyond the Waste. He was queer. I was such a little girl then, and he frightened me, but he had a great comfort to him. I was too young, and I just did not know the way the world could work sometimes.

I thought he was smoke, so black in front of that fiery sky.

'Sir...' I ventured. I was so young, and so nervous, 'aren't yo

The Darker Angels, 01

The world is naught but a trinket; she survives solely for the pleasure I gain by reaching my twisted fingers into her heart and altering it. I color the light things dark with my very touch, and claw deeply at the souls of men, to scar their desires and turn them instead toward disgust. Hear my voice now, ye Fae, for I am your God, and to you my words shall be as important as water, and as forceful as the seasons. __
Even now, when the deepest shadows have been beaten far back into The Barrens, and the Wraiths have become as rare as the Fae themselves, there is still an unmistakable stain on the Liberated Nations. We see t

The Darker Angels, Fantasy Story.

From the Life of Doug Larson I

Chapter One:
Doug Larson sat behind his desk, fiddling with his stainless steel pen. He rocked back on the hind legs of his chair, a dangerous risk to take considering Doug's weight. Doug could easily be compared to a short, fat, balding attorney with sausage-like thighs and arms. In actuality, this comparison was made at least once by most of the people who met Doug Larson. Skyscraping towers of paperwork dominated the entirety of Doug's desk, and it bowed under the weight. As usual, Doug completely ignored it and amused himself instead with the infinite e

The comical story of a middle aged lawyer. Chapter One. (Prose)

7-2-09

Thu Jul 2, 2009, 1:39 PM

"Look at all my trails and tribulations...
Sinking in a gentle pool of wine.
Don't disturb me now I can see the answers!
Till this evening is this morning life is fine..."

The end... is just a little harder... when brought about by friends.

-

Dear Reader,

You would not believe it, but life has been kind to me. Life has been so kind to me. How could I ever judge life? I look at sadness and I see joy, and I look at ecstasy and I see despair. How can I ever be beaten now?

How? When the wind moves steady through the leaves for me, and the rain cuts down from the sky to touch me? When the grass bows under my feet, and my hands have wrought so much. There is none who can harm me, or belittle me.

I am free.

I am happy.

I am creation.

Oh! Reader! Through sorrow there is so much joy and creation! Embrace all emotions, I implore you. Do not cast aside one, it is fear that leads you to do so.

All my love, Reader, all my love
_WFAM_

5 Comments | Previous Journal Entries

Mood: Artistic

Comments

~Azazel-Fade

Jul 6, 2009, 1:48:09 AM

Thankyou for the favourite on the Array, I appreciate how rarely you do any the honour. <3

And thankyou for seeing it just to perform to another! THAT speaks FAR more than a favourite.

--
"Why should the son of fire bow down before a son of clay?"

~Azazel-Fade

May 25, 2009, 3:01:05 AM

A thousand thanks for the watch. It has been sincerely returned.

--
Being illiterate isn’t being incapable of scribbling shit on paper.
We all do that when we wipe ourselves anyway.
Yeah, we’re civilized.

(2 Replies)

~ProdigalArtist16

Apr 26, 2009, 11:51:49 PM

What a gorgeous lit tag. Damn, that is nice.

--
I don't care at this point. I'm tired of being judged. I'm tired of having to care what other people think of me because they hold the goddam key to my freedom in their ignorant little hands!

dA is for the literary arts, too.

~ProdigalArtist16

Mar 30, 2009, 12:29:11 AM

You've just left me behind in the pageviews race that we weren't really having.

--
I don't care at this point. I'm tired of being judged. I'm tired of having to care what other people think of me because they hold the goddam key to my freedom in their ignorant little hands!

dA is for the literary arts, too.