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About Literature / Artist Senior Member mohawk menaceUnknown Group :icontransliterations: transliterations
from one world to another
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Deviant for 8 Years
Core Member 'til Hell freezes over
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Random from DDs I Featured

Literature
Rock Me
autumn blunders in, clumsy
stiff fingers frosted still
by early winds, rocking trees
back and forth
red leaves splatter the ground
paint drops, hanging from drooping
branches, rotten fruit still litters the sidewalks
i head south for the fall with the ducks.
the train creaks like aching joints
there's a crow on
my windowsill, ruffling his feathers
the trees flash by
red -yellow-red
my ticket's got a hole in the middle
from being folded over and over
the crow says "summer ain't that great, Peach Girl."
i watch the sky and ignore his clicking black beak
"the autumn's gonna follow
right behind ya
'n turn the whole world red-yellow-red
at yer heels."
i know in a week
the only green left will be my sweater
holes in the elbows, stringy cuffs
but i waddle like a duck
towards the leftover southern summer.
"i'm not ready for jack frost yet."
i tell him.
he laughs.
"get ready. the autumn storms are a-comin'
an' there ain't nothin' on heaven or earth to stop 'em."
:iconSugarHeartedGirl:SugarHeartedGirl
:iconsugarheartedgirl:SugarHeartedGirl 141 47
Literature
Poetry Self-Edit Checklist

Poetry Self-Edit Quick Start Guide and Checklist

Introduction
The idea behind this is to give newer poets a way to better edit their poetry themselves, without having to rely as much on an external editor.  It can be frustrating, especially for new poets to request feedback from a friend, or worse, to post a poem, and have all of the responses be about grammatical errors and other details.  We write poetry to convey ideas and emotions, and when something is off technically about the poem it distracts the reader.  When a reader is distracted enough to notice an error or other problem it means they might spend the time they might otherwise have spent glowing about your poem to post a comment correcting you instead.  
After this introduction is over the checklist will be as brief as possible while retaining its utility.  The idea is to serve as an organizational tool and a reminder rather than to educate on effective
:iconMahi-Fish:Mahi-Fish
:iconmahi-fish:Mahi-Fish 217 56
Literature
The Farmers Son
We sat sipping grappa as the storm clouds rolled in from the ridges
like the smoke from some great unseen inferno,
the wood walls and shingles of the house complained to us
in low groans,
of the wind coming up hard, through the valley,
and there was flickering light from a candle,
and she told me how light from a prism dissects into different colours that correspond
in some way to our bodies and that all of life was a rhythm
and I believed that part,
and I believed there were stars beyond the sight of man on any grey day
and that they might hold some greater secret than prisms or rhythms
or any question a farmers son could ever mutter,
   
and the wind slowed to a stillness
and the rain moved in and our voices gave way
to what my Father would call The Lords Music,
the pitter-patter of water
on the dry and flaking earth.
:iconbrassteeth:brassteeth
:iconbrassteeth:brassteeth 104 79
Literature
Senryu Series 11
1.
election day
choosing the devil
I know
2.
first date
her parents question
our future
3.
road trip
the kids unpack
a squabble
4.
massage therapy
another old knot
of heartbreak
5.
deep recession
I add more spice
to the ramen
6.
televangelist
available on Itunes
salvation
7.
job well done
from the boss...
blue moon
8.
18th birthday
a postcard
from the army
9.
cemetery
even here
the poor section
10.
midnight diner
everyone feeds
the jukebox
11.
haunted house
we let the youngest
go first
:iconLaurence55:Laurence55
:iconlaurence55:Laurence55 134 0
Literature
On conversations
I
have upset the order
of things, birds
fall fast and featherflappingly from
shaken skies, and leaves
curl backwards into trees
which snap
from frost in summer, my heart
is a bell that rings until
glass shatters and frost falls
fearful on the ground and I
just do not know how
to tell you.
:iconrober2:rober2
:iconrober2:rober2 161 44
Literature
An Apple for the Teacher
Her name was Miss Mills.  She was twenty-two years old and fresh out of college, and my son was a student in her first ever kindergarten class.  He fell in love with her on the first day of school.  He never told me this, of course, but a mother always knows.  He came home that first day and he sparkled as he told me everything that had happened, how Miss Mills had read them a story from a brightly colored picture book and how he had hung on her every word.
"And I want to get her an apple," he announced.
"An apple?" I asked.  I was peeling grapes for his lunch the next day.
"Yes," he said, "it was in the book we read today.  The kids, they gave their teacher an apple, and I think it would be a nice thing to do."
"Alright," I said, "we will get some apples.  Any kind of apple in particular?"
He thought about it.  "A big red one."
The next morning he marched off to school with his big proud apple held delicat
:iconErlebnisse:Erlebnisse
:iconerlebnisse:Erlebnisse 558 311
Literature
Soft
The rain comes in
from the mountainside
and the musculature
quietens. The birds, the beasts,
the slanting cliff,
the light, the restless
hollowed emptiness,
the bits of lava and bits
of heartbeat and bits of
racing animal mind.
It quietens.
The rain comes in like a slow blink.
:iconsaartha:saartha
:iconsaartha:saartha 161 61
Literature
The Trouble With Homonyms
I suffered quite badly from Medical Student Syndrome in my first year of studying, to the point where I no longer trust myself to diagnose even the common cold when it comes to my own body. Not that it was ever the simple ones I thought I had - it never works that way. The rare ones, the ones that are hard to diagnose, the ones that have such few outward symptoms that they slip past professionals time and time again, those were the ones I obsessed over.
That was twenty years ago and I still don't trust myself to self-diagnose athough I'm sure I'd never make those mistakes again. I've devoted my career to those rare disorders that had me so hooked before and I've treated enough patients that I'm completely one-hundred percent confident in my ability to find the most seemingly insignificant symptoms of the rarest disorders and not be fooled ever again.
There is, however, one of those conditions from my student days that I've not yet had the good fortune of encountering in a patient. It's
:iconTheSkaBoss:TheSkaBoss
:icontheskaboss:TheSkaBoss 156 73
Literature
Fold Over
i.
across the vaults estimated by every milky tone
the curious whirl in old friends gather a surface
wholly between each divide of behavioral light
cones bend to placate our amass combustion
that is
until her legs uncrossed absolving my repetitive
nature to forget what conditions a truth has also
to submerge and share in upholding closely
the uniqueness of love we each must extinguish
our self
to then
ii.
across
the vaults
estimated by every
milky tone
the curious
whirl in
old friends
gather
a surface
wholly
between each
divide
of behavioral
light
cones bend to
placate
our amass combustion
that is
until her
legs uncrossed
absolving
my repetitive nature to forget what
conditions a truth
has also to
submerge
and share
the upholding
closely
against the uniqueness
of love
we each must
extinguish our self
to
then
:iconlasagnabomb:lasagnabomb
:iconlasagnabomb:lasagnabomb 75 17
Literature
The Holograms
Before Casper we were a quantum band,
an act that only happened when unobserved.
Our drummer maintained we'd split
the world, then took a full-time position
in PR. Auditioning his replacement
round our Crouch End front room,
with his white vest, buffed All-Stars
and holographic principle patter,
Casper shone. 'These,' he said,
nodding at his drumheads,
'are my event horizons;
it's where the beat really happens.'
To prove it, he worked up an almighty storm,
while we puffed on our cigarettes.
Short of a singer, Casper made a call.
Yume Shirakawa, he explained,
would beam in her performance. Jay,
sliding milk down his thin throat,
looked pleased. Dispatched to Budgens,
strangely, no complaints. We jammed.
Matter grew vague, the days came and went.
First gig, a full house, but no sign
of Yume, whom we'd still never seen.
Plugging into our amps, tweaking
Volume, Gain, she appeared, silk-clad,
like a switch had been thrown. Turning
our three dimensional selves to the crowd,
who thought we we
:iconventurus:venturus
:iconventurus:venturus 53 29
Daily Deviations I featured during my time as a volunteer and staff member.

52nd Street

Sun Apr 22, 2018, 10:58 PM

Listening to:


Toshiki Kadomatsu - 52nd Street

Skin by ginkgografix


22 days in...
I've been keeping up with NaPo just fine so far, but I think the ultimate reality that I'm coming to is that I still don't miss poetry, basically at all. I definitely feel like what I've written this month by and large isn't great compared to what I used to write when it comes to poetry, but also I'm not invested in it. The only thing really keeping me writing more poems at this stage is the fact I said that I was going to do NaPo this year. When I write stories, I want to write them, I want to put more effort into them, and I want to make them as good as possible, but I feel pretty passive about poetry, even now.

I guess the bright side is that having done this should make writing stories more fun, but it's weird becoming aware that you don't have passion for something that used to be routine. Someone asked me a few days ago if I missed playing clarinet, and the honest answer was that no, I don't miss it at all. I never enjoyed performing, I always found it stressful, even when I was as prepared as I could have been. 

It's really been a month for recognizing what I want and what I don't, I suppose. Outside of here on DA, there have been some unusual personal developments in my life, but I think things have finally started to settle down some, which is good. The two job thing has finally started to pay off in a big way, so even though I went a long while with horrible sleep habits, financially I am finally, officially afloat, at least for now.

How are we all doing?

Music corner:


deviantID

ikazon
mohawk menace
Artist | Literature
Hi there! I'm a storyteller of sorts. Here on DA, I was a gallery moderator from 2010 to 2011, a community volunteer from 2011 to 2012, and a staff member from 2012 to 2015. Feel free to say hi, I don't bite!

Deviousness Award

Deviousness Award
A deviant for nine years, ikazon is a monumentally influential member of DeviantArt. A champion of DeviantArt’s literature community, he’s contributed his own writing and journal skins to the community since he first joined DeviantArt. In 2011, ikazon became a Community Volunteer, shining a light on undiscovered pieces in both the DeviantArt related and literature galleries. His dedication to the community quickly made him a beloved figure on DeviantArt. Soon after, in 2012, he was hired as a full-time staff member, where he ran multiple community projects, such as the 2014 and 2015 Valentine’s Day Exchange!

However, ikazon’s contributions to the community extended past his time as a community volunteer and a staff member. From contributing journal skins to the CalendarProject to leaving encouraging comments for his fellow community members, ikazon’s supporting presence has been felt all across DeviantArt.

We’re proud to name ikazon as the Deviousness Award recipient for March 2016!
-awarded March 2016

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:iconelicoronel16:
elicoronel16 Featured By Owner Nov 5, 2009  Hobbyist Digital Artist
:iconiseewhatyoudidthere:
Reply
:iconikazon:
ikazon Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2009   Writer
:ninja:
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:iconsparrowsong:
SparrowSong Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome. It was a last minute pick (been busy tonight), or else I would have noted you about the change.
Reply
:iconikazon:
ikazon Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2009   Writer
It's alright, I'm just glad you featured her at all. :)
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:iconladylincoln:
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Aug 24, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
:heart:
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