Retrospect - Nostalgic Seasons by QuicksilverTruth, literature
Literature
Retrospect - Nostalgic Seasons
Summer
Faded colours like poison
infecting the modern pace.
Stuck to an old world companion,
from a simpler time of waste.
Drinking from taps
in young cupped hands,
getting lost in the trap
of mundane plans.
Long summers and sprinklers,
laying and watching heatwaves
baking till night, and staring to Aquila,
to nostalgia we're still all slaves.
Autumn
Warm coloured leaves
dropping to the face
listening to police and thieves,
wrapped in music's embrace.
Hiding in purples and reds
browns, oranges
all soon to be dead,
autumn in all her tinges.
The season without smell
always chasing nothing
personal, lovable hell
slowly d
MY coffee I have ground
Thankful for the time found
Else I be driven into the ground
This coffee I have ground
By of which my teeth be ground
These beans of wonder I have found
My coffee I have ground
Thankful for the time found
Birds of a Feather by QuicksilverTruth, literature
Literature
Birds of a Feather
Poets pretty birds of a feather
Does make one wonder
Would they rather leather
After all being coated in feather
One must assume they are
Always forever totally together
Just like birds of a feather
Yet again what of leather
Nothing is more fashionable then leather
And its hardy protection
Shows on reflection
That one may be together
Without wearing a feather
Copper and Iron,
Lets prance along a thin line.
Forever spoken softly,
A heart taken loftily.
Tie the heart to a line,
And let our blood resign.
Prance along and sign,
Your name to a blood dotted line.
Birth hate and spite,
A little flicker of a future light.
Dance along the line,
Watch the light, oh so bright.
Come hate, come spite.
Find here our compassion bright.
Delight in our fight,
We hate ourselves for we exist not, in the light.
I wrote this novel just for you,
I wanted to be one of us,
I read a book about our song,
But now its gone,
Those mother fuckers got us wrong.
And I want to know,
Who wrote the last page,
I need those words to be known,
Are they true,
Just yet who,
It was you.
I wrote this novel just for you,
A party and dance,
To cake and lies,
When do we spread,
How do we fly,
Spared death by a page.
Run away from all the words,
All it takes is one movement,
Close the book and run,
A waste of paper,
I wrote this novel just for you.
I was never faithful,
never one to trust.
All ways broken,
never left alone.
I was never faithful,
Borderline slut.
Made to create,
a beautiful fuss.
I was never faithful,
made of loins.
Controlled by desire,
made to be another liar.
I was never faithful,
a demon to myself.
Run me in the background,
party to our sin.
Every time I rise, I feel you falling.
Can we live together, without bleeding hearts?
Every time I rise, I feel you falling.
Can we find our space, can we live without?
Its in your reach, concentrate.
Ill be there, Ill catch us.
Its in your reach, concentrate.
If you deny it, then its gone.
Every time I rise, I feel you falling.
Can we bleed it out, or does it wilt?
Every time I rise, I feel you falling.
Can we find our place, or is this our fate?
Its in your reach, concentrate.
Ill be there, Ill break your fall
Its in your reach, concentrate.
Else it falls, falls apart.
Retrospect - Nostalgic Seasons by QuicksilverTruth, literature
Literature
Retrospect - Nostalgic Seasons
Summer
Faded colours like poison
infecting the modern pace.
Stuck to an old world companion,
from a simpler time of waste.
Drinking from taps
in young cupped hands,
getting lost in the trap
of mundane plans.
Long summers and sprinklers,
laying and watching heatwaves
baking till night, and staring to Aquila,
to nostalgia we're still all slaves.
Autumn
Warm coloured leaves
dropping to the face
listening to police and thieves,
wrapped in music's embrace.
Hiding in purples and reds
browns, oranges
all soon to be dead,
autumn in all her tinges.
The season without smell
always chasing nothing
personal, lovable hell
slowly d
MY coffee I have ground
Thankful for the time found
Else I be driven into the ground
This coffee I have ground
By of which my teeth be ground
These beans of wonder I have found
My coffee I have ground
Thankful for the time found
Birds of a Feather by QuicksilverTruth, literature
Literature
Birds of a Feather
Poets pretty birds of a feather
Does make one wonder
Would they rather leather
After all being coated in feather
One must assume they are
Always forever totally together
Just like birds of a feather
Yet again what of leather
Nothing is more fashionable then leather
And its hardy protection
Shows on reflection
That one may be together
Without wearing a feather
Copper and Iron,
Lets prance along a thin line.
Forever spoken softly,
A heart taken loftily.
Tie the heart to a line,
And let our blood resign.
Prance along and sign,
Your name to a blood dotted line.
Birth hate and spite,
A little flicker of a future light.
Dance along the line,
Watch the light, oh so bright.
Come hate, come spite.
Find here our compassion bright.
Delight in our fight,
We hate ourselves for we exist not, in the light.
I wrote this novel just for you,
I wanted to be one of us,
I read a book about our song,
But now its gone,
Those mother fuckers got us wrong.
And I want to know,
Who wrote the last page,
I need those words to be known,
Are they true,
Just yet who,
It was you.
I wrote this novel just for you,
A party and dance,
To cake and lies,
When do we spread,
How do we fly,
Spared death by a page.
Run away from all the words,
All it takes is one movement,
Close the book and run,
A waste of paper,
I wrote this novel just for you.
I was never faithful,
never one to trust.
All ways broken,
never left alone.
I was never faithful,
Borderline slut.
Made to create,
a beautiful fuss.
I was never faithful,
made of loins.
Controlled by desire,
made to be another liar.
I was never faithful,
a demon to myself.
Run me in the background,
party to our sin.
Every time I rise, I feel you falling.
Can we live together, without bleeding hearts?
Every time I rise, I feel you falling.
Can we find our space, can we live without?
Its in your reach, concentrate.
Ill be there, Ill catch us.
Its in your reach, concentrate.
If you deny it, then its gone.
Every time I rise, I feel you falling.
Can we bleed it out, or does it wilt?
Every time I rise, I feel you falling.
Can we find our place, or is this our fate?
Its in your reach, concentrate.
Ill be there, Ill break your fall
Its in your reach, concentrate.
Else it falls, falls apart.
The sweet air never did taste so as now,
the long awaited embrace in the shade.
She says her name is Spring,
But that no longer matters,
no more than mine own.
A faint recognition, though the rose is changed,
As the vines intertwine the sun grows brighter.
The fires roar and burn the everlasting fuel,
The heat scorns the joy it brings.
the melancholy of pasts great burden,
memories not of mine.
She meakly walks through the door,
golden leaves a sign of her presence.
Her darkened face speaks of hard times,
past or future, she darent say.
But I feel, shes ill at ease.
I lay her down, the reaper by my side.
I ask her where my s
I've over (7?) years been a member of this community. So, from the age of 14-15. Over those years I've grown up and then relapsed a lot. A reflection of this has been in the varied accounts I've made here and elsewhere.
As such, I'm coming home and setting down having, hopefully grown up.
I'm a musician, writer, dreamer, romantic, cynical, loving, hating person. I'm in no real definable way different from anyone else. Those fantastic small differences that make someone different from another to me, about me, are beyond me.
I'm back.
Sorting through things and applying some structure and form.
Deep emotional and personal reflection will have to wait... on an audience, after all, that's what those things are for.
~Irsh
Hello.
Hi, hows it going? -pokes tv-
Here you sap, put down that pizza and stare with lust at my ample butt.
=D
Silly stuff aside, I'm going to be updating this with more poetry, as I'll be writing it a lot more with school yelling at me, WRITE, WRITE YOU FOOL YOUR FINGERS ARE GOING TO EXPLODE.
-cough- >_> . . .
Anyway, I've uploaded about 4 things.
[//END EXCESSIVE EGO WANK]
*btw, don't forget to check out http://xunaeye.deviantart.com
Right.
I'll dive in, right to the point.
I'm starting at a new school at the end of the month, and it's my intent upon doing so to work as hard as I can on my art, with the end goal of doing a bachelor of fine arts.
So, I've set up a new account !xunaeye (https://www.deviantart.com/xunaeye)
It's my intention to use this account for personal dicking around, and writing.
NOW
This is important, if you go onto xunaeye, please. Do not leave silly comments, leave them on this account, that account is going to be used a lot for school reasons and is a more professional account, so please. No stupid comments ;_;
I've removed about half of what I had up, mostly due to moving