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About Literature / Artist Senior Member mindful coyoteUnknown 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

The Beckett Colcannon
CIAN, bowler hat, medium gray trench coat, old-fashioned sunglasses, a cane.
BEAG, bowler hat, light grey trench coat.
SET: Front center, a rectangular table, around 8 feet long. To its right, as seen by the audience, an oven/stove. On the stove, a pot with steam coming from it, and on the floor to its right, a small garbage bin. To the table's left, a simple armless chair, facing the audience. On the table, one pound of ham, in one piece. The set is lit in medium light, and the remainder of the stage is left in darkness.
Curtains rise. CIAN sits at the chair. He stares directly forward. Five seconds.
CIAN: Ready, yes, they must be ready.
CIAN knocks his cane twice on the floor. BEAG enters from the right immediately, looks into the pot. He makes to leave.
CIAN: Are they ready?
BEAG stops and faces CIAN.
BEAG: Almost.
CIAN: Good. How long have they been steaming for?
BEAG: Almost long enough.
CIAN: Good. (Pause.) And the ham?
BEAG: Sitting on the table.
:iconshedsimas:ShedSimas 50 23
today, i deposited the
contents of my stomach
into an open, wanting
porcelain mouth.
i, a liquid solid
am readily taken down
its esophagus,
into its belly
where i decompose.
my throat is a raw
i use to
sing off key
and vomit.
i have a fever.
my temples are
solar panels
and my skull
aluminum foil,
trapping the heat
it's like i have cysts
between my bones,
calcium build-ups
in my veins.
i lost my legs along the way
down into the abyss.
but i don't mind.
their muscles ached
so terribly
i'd often thought of
still, i am left with
206 bones,
and they all creak,
and clamor,
and they won't shut up
and let me sleep
that must be why i never
because unconsciousness
can never be deep enough
to submerge me.
tonight, i'll sweat
myself out through
my pores and
endure nightmare
layered over
always about the
same bones &
:iconartistic-foolishness:artistic-foolishness 220 157
Hello Now
I don't know how to greet you
I only know that I have always thought of you as something
I could hold in my hands
unnaturally as
a fistful of minnows before
they die
puncture their own bones
against me
and secrete the abalone glaze of their eyes
into a film on the dock
Until now I have since kept you as
a flighted likeness
of my mind
knowing too the cold of a multiplied sunset
ending in frost and space between rivers
the fragrance of a sweetly decomposing
salmonberry, telling time for reddening chinook to end
sweeping like a wind in the parts between birches
or of it's stain that I would palm and carry
thinking also of endings and beginnings
in such order
when gulls eat the cartilidge and fur
from animals put on the silted banks
of the knik
a place where the sun can fall deeply
and I
build fires
as I am no longer alone,
and we hear the chickadees being the trees
and the loons wanting to make night
could it be appropriate now,
while twilight is flaming
to finally know your name?
:iconsupersunshineagent:supersunshineagent 182 25
Ms. Fox
rummaging through the night;
I find her buried in a handsome coat.
the darkness softens her
trash-strewn make up
to lay bags under her eyes.
I have always thought to chase
a beauty like that; blow my
hunting-horn like kisses
as I saddle up.
I would wear her around my arm and
discuss the big-game
and the beasts at bay
with boys that brandish
scorecards into the hundreds.
she hid from the canines
lapping her neck with a head
buried in all fours.
I skinned her like a poacher
bearing my ivory smile
for her to unfurl
flushed and screaming
like a new born baby.
caught in my hooves the wrong way.
:iconichors:Ichors 141 31
The Door of Our Cottage in the Western Night
They began on the beach, and a fire was raging upon the waters.  A fire on one side of the world and one around the other.  The earth had been unbruised, like an apple on a string, and then two stones had struck within a month, and everything had burned, slagged by deep space arrows. The wind was terrible.  Everywhere was a howl with no direction.
There were a few lichen-like communities in damp places, where the sky had steamed by but seared little, lifted ravines and streams from the land, unwrinkled it, dragon braille revealed only in fire.  There were a few who had been underground, and a few in the inland seas and lakes, a few in the deeper rivers, a few on the moon, watching it go.
The moon was hit four weeks later, and there were no lunatic survivors.
Once again, we were alone.  The world had been smoked and there was a smell of it everywhere, and we walked on the remains of the crater's basin lake.  It was involute
:iconcreightonwrites:creightonwrites 84 11
We have been Seen
The sheets on my bed curl up around me,
unsticking from the mattress and kissing around my shoulder blades,
the line of my jaw. I'm just a drop of milk in this place.
Some thing out there gets to see into our houses.
Graces the block, seeing through our roofs,
past our clothes and sheets and ribs,
deep into the flesh of our heart.
Some one sees us there, laying quiet and unafraid.
He sees us, thinking we are naked, but he sees our shrouds
of secrets covering our private parts.
He knows what hesitation smells like. So do I.
He smells our hair. It smells like pine,
the longing of chimes
is wafting from our hearts.
And we have been seen.
:iconvinesofsilver:vinesofsilver 129 20
We swam through the sky
and when we landed
we felt higher
than when we almost reached the
You kissed my neck and your lips
still burned
and the fire in my hair went out
and you sighed.
I hate this part of the song where I can't hear you anymore.
When you woke me up
I remembered why I used to love you;
why the ash on your tongue
used to taste so sweet.
:iconkingmule:kingmule 149 33
I hear the cosmos collapsing against my soul.
Black space exploding, my imperfect face imploding
into a million skinless Stars, screaming into the
palpable Silence that has been touched less often
than even I have, into the abyss and the blackness
that beckoned me forward I stared, shapes realigned
the perimeters of my reality into a new glaze.
I felt the gravity slip away from under my feet.
Do you remember the time you poured liquor into my
virgin glass and made cocktails from the universes
spinning under my skin? I said "cherish me, please,
this gift that was mine" you said "why" and laughed,
you didn't see the tears I cried, multi-faceted like
the memories imprinted on my little piece of Forever.
I saw a familiar metaphor storming your eyes.
Do you remember when you traced constellations over
my spine? Andromeda role-playing her virgin unrest
and Astraea crying for Purity's sake, that's when
you extinguished your joint on my skin, I pretended
not to feel the sting-but I did, the sc
:iconheather-chrysalis:Heather-Chrysalis 241 115
Into a Congo
Shocks rippled south
realmed a loss and screened a track
stacks strung low and around again
She wanted the feeling of mica between her teeth
like lashes on a chiseled tree
totaled through and ruffled down
up and around again
Court and run south and
wrecked a home, she sat still
her knees knit together
unraveled over and into raw skin, over and into
she bloomed her hair into a Congo
It peeled like rose petals beneath her feet
a sheet strung high and low and around again
She said tell me why, but her fingers curled
around your head, around your neck, slowly
and then her shoulders
                                 like twine
:iconnefiret:Nefiret 79 13
Riding Bikes
Going off medication is like riding a bike.
The doctor holds tight to my handlebars and lowers my dosage. The training wheels are off, and oh hey, look at me go! It's like flying but not, and I'm doing so well but then there's a horrible accident and I'm somehow upside down at the bottom of the sea with both wheels still spinning.
"Help," I say, and my doctor pats my head, puts a band-aid on my knee, and writes a note on my chart.
I've balanced by myself for months at a time, but I always end up hitting a fucking tree or falling off a cliff or something equally catastrophic because I am a catastrophic person. Except that is an exaggeration. I am an exaggeration.
I like to compare mental illnesses to mundane physical activities. Also you should know that I am sick but trying to get better.
Sometimes I relapse and then write poems about it.
It's not even the kind of sick where people bring you soup in bed and soothe your fevered brow. It's the kind of sick where I'm late to work because
:iconestallidos:estallidos 718 397
Splinter helix
a derelict building shifts its swollen form
wire cage elevators moving carefully as it swallows
nestled in a womb of fragile concrete fibres
the child of paint and pastel colours stirs
searching blindly for that energetic outside world
it stretches its delicate arms like an earthquake
Tell me where you come from, what you remember
of the black ground. Talk in riddles only your kind
understands, talk in flowers, talk in thorny branches.
You crack the foundations in starlike patterns, and
you stretch the heart of you for the concrete above,
longing to carry the sky as a bed for the Sun.
the twisting flesh of the whistling tree
blankets the screaming mud with salt
in a lush park tended by arthritic backs
an old man sits with a young girl
as devils arc their spines within smiles
they discuss the taste of snow
They know the end grows high, grows nigh,
outgrows the star dome like parasite patchwork.
The invaders never came, they were the ground stones,
:iconneonxaos:neonxaos 101 65
My Other Name
My Other Name
Sometimes it is to set out forks
           beside each plate,
                                       or folding shirts first,
                         dryer hot in the A.M.
Less often, thirsty from cutting trees
    back away from the roof edge,
:iconb1gfan:b1gfan 168 95
This is how women walk away.
In broken heels
and secondhand jackets,
cigarette smoke in their hair
and no kiss goodbye.
Do not mock.
It is what it should be.
A girl in a car,
hanging a u-turn
on a glistening, empty street.
Her body is a road to be traveled.
A shipwreck to be plundered.
She does not know how she got here,
and she does not care.
And it does not matter.
This is how women smile.
Knowing, secretive,
though her cheeks are sore.
Though the wind
is blowing right through her clothes.
Though there is no good music
on the radio, and no food
in the refrigerator.
This is just an impression.
An idea of nirvana.
A slice of real, live ecstasy.
But do not give it a name.
Just show it, wear it like
designer jeans.
Tight against the skin.
She is ivory, she is easy,
and it is not love.
It is something better,
fermenting at the
backs of her knees.
Flooring her.
Bleeding from her fingerprints.
It is a devastation,
seven ways from Sunday,
but that is how she likes it.
It cannot hurt
:iconblood-lace:Blood-Lace 350 166
(you can't tell the birds and the snow apart in the sky:
the grand church of dizzying space - )
and the trees are yellowed in cowardice, raking the sky
to the ground and around and around.
listen to your organs: the almost grand piano of the
churches i'd never attend.
and never mistake the courage of the sky for the cowardice
of the ground. never frown, never frown.
listen to your palms: the salty swing of the old snow
burning up on silk and splendor.
and visit the dying snow birds in their graves of the
ground, and they drown and drown.
(you can't tell the birds and the snow apart in the sky:
a grand church of dizzying space will reply. why. why.
would my white birds die.)
:iconnighttimebeautiful:nighttimebeautiful 192 89
a memory
I remembered the afternoon I called you,
curled on my bed with someone's good book
in my palm, nestled softly in the waning light
and under my gently roaming fingers
the baby moved – not to my hand-touch,
but inside, an insistent flutter,
not like the swiftly beating heart
on the doctor's monitor, not like the slow
appearance of a plus-sign on a drugstore test.
I called you, my gently rolling daughter's
mother's mother. I called you like the woman
standing at my back while I held the kite string
on a pushy spring day, the diagonal shape so
far above us I could only feel the jerk of the
cord around my fingers, holding us to earth.
:iconsunshinegypsy:sunshinegypsy 214 96
Daily Deviations I featured during my time as a volunteer and staff member.

Hi Def Distance Romance

Tue Feb 20, 2018, 2:41 AM

Listening to:

Kimbra - Hi Def Distance Romance

Skin by ginkgografix

Here comes another late night call...
Hi all. It's been a hell of a year so far, hasn't it? I've been trying to make a point of changing my habits this year, particularly in the past few weeks. I'm making it a point to get up and exercise more, the eating habits are next on the list, and most importantly I'm trying to write again. Not just telling myself I want to do it, but actually making myself use free time to do it.'s something.

I feel like I've kind of been letting time go by without working toward anything other than surviving in the past few years, and I don't like that much. So, that's something I want to work on as this year goes on. For now, though, I'm trying to make small changes that are easier to commit to, in the hope that the big picture gets better in the process.

In lighter news, I've been playing D&D with a few friends, so that's been a fun and consistent social event that's getting me out of hermit state. It's also been good fodder for writing, as coincidence would have it. I think in the process of working on these various things, I've cut back on my time playing Overwatch, but I don't feel bad about that in the grand scheme of things, so maybe it's just for the best in general. I think that for all the fun I've had playing the game, it's also been a contributing factor to me not focusing on actual life goals and the like.

Anyway, it's pushing on 3 am and I'm rambling, what's new :laughing: How are we all doing?

Music corner:


mindful coyote
Artist | Literature
Hi there! I'm a writer and a former volunteer and employee here. If you've got site questions, fire away! If I can't help you, I'll point you toward someone who can. :]

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


Add a Comment:
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.
ikazon Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2009   Writer
It's alright, I'm just glad you featured her at all. :)
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Aug 24, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
ikazon Featured By Owner Aug 24, 2009   Writer
ChronoC-VII Featured By Owner Aug 24, 2009
Hi! Have fun here and make a lot of stuff :D
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