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you fancy yourself an artist when you're really a half-heartist
at >best<
and at >worst< you're just blowing kisses on the asses of
the rebloggables
the retweetables
& the shareables
fraternizing w/ them so they can invite you into their club
here's the thing though
nobody's labeled an artist by association
(oh lookie here, we found an accomplice to this masterpiece
shower them in gold dust and moon glitter)
at >medium
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Literature
The Cop and The Prosecutor
Professionalism didn't afford them the freedom to know each other beyond their roles. He was the Cop; she was the Prosecutor. Together, they formed a two-pronged force of law and order that worked outside of the usual channels. Some called them the clean-up crew, the janitors that would cover up and bury any bad incident necessary.
Their clients were typically pretty boy celebrities trying to get off scot-free for DUIs, politicians caught in prostitution ring scandals, and, on occasion, businessmen who wanted to crush their competitors. The Prosecutor's skills lied in shifting the blame to unsuspecting third parties. As the daughter of the city's most ruthless attorney, the blame game was in her blood. What she wasn't so good at, however, was scrubbing out the Cop's supposedly fake dragon tattoo.
"Are you sure this ink isn't permanent?" She pressed the wet towel to his back for the twentieth time that hour.
"Maydoni said it wasn't." He kept his arms crossed so she wouldn't see how much
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Literature
scrap mettle
got mettle like i gotta scrap
something together on the fly
choosing 80 or less
to convey the meaning of what i must say
the bottom of the bottle's
the closest i can get to spiritual
while the swing of this cat's arm is just enough
to fool me into thinking that i can reach
nouveau riche
and the luckiest strike i'll ever get
can be found in the 99 cent store
taxed up beyond its bitter heavy hearted value
that i burn up like chainlinks in the bitterest smokiest way
fortunate? mis(s)fortunate
as i black tape up a glass view
that was never supposed to break
the door's been closed a long time
and the window doesn't work the way it should
now what?
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Literature
freedom.
freedom is as freedom does
bound in an intricate belt system
that loops under the arms and restricts the knees
it goes through the valleys that dip low and
runs close to the "whoopsie
don't look or touch there" space
masquerading this co-creation as a masterpiece
when it's a fistful of petals and desecration
with the colors squeezed out to accelerate the
pale yellow that functions as flesh beneath the bone
the binds are too tight
grip the rubber harder between the teeth
bitter material imprinted on the tongue
flakes off when the molar grinds too much
the binds are too tight
chafe the rope wound around the wrists
rough strands scratching one level below surface
leave marks redder than the inner thigh
the binds are too tight
room enough to wriggle and unwind
into the vanilla headspace that functions as a place of comfort
when Mister/Mistress claims the bound as Stockholm'd Prey
freedom is as freedom does
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Literature
decided to become an artist
"I've decided to become an artist"
but that's not something you decide
to try + strive for.
it's supposed to spark ALIVE in you
not struggle and writhe in you
like some broken snake
all out of slither and
choked up with withered leather.
meandering in the crook of the cranny,
you can't uncover creativity from the spaces that don't {exist}
hodge-podge a collage with your fingers half-glued to the table
bent over with a fork in the leg to activate null-spiration
perspiration when you recoil
from the burn that subsides when you rinse out your eyes.
unfinished dreams bounce out of a throat
filled with tinsel taffeta wratheta take your pick of itta
with glimmer and gloss on the lips
saying, "try me buy me
TWO for the price of ONE
season's ~best~ special
"YOU BREAK IT
YOU BUY IT"
(buy this used up piece it's only good for weak nights and late afternoons
it's never sold before and it won't sell now)
{two} for the price of the {ones}
who are
overly fascinated with the ones
whose
artistry comes
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Literature
The Meaning of Arnold
define: Arnold
traitorous Benedict,
piggly Ziffel,
poetic Matthew,
golfly Palmer,
precocious "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?" Jackson,
terminating Schwarzenegger,
but no Arnold means as much to me
as the boy with the cornflower hair.
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Literature
Body of Art
Your lofty goals have made you complacent
with meek eyes to the sky rather than to the foreground
inspiration's hard to come by
but you've found a source in this listless girl
Irreplaceable gifts full of fingerprints...
huddled inside of the secondary compartment;
touched more than seen. touched more than felt.
I liked you far better,
that time before we stripped our shadows bare -
nothing
more than a pile of clothes crumpled in the corner -
something
except not anymore.
We skipped the hand holding and the merry wish-making,
preferring to cover ourselves in shiney-eyed artistic uncertainty.
(I can tell loads of stories about the scar on your back,
but nothing about the movies that make you laugh.)
cloaking yourself in misery shoving me off to the side
you're more [hack] than Plath
depression and detachment doesn't improve talent that wasn't already there
but look at me
I've bought into this stranger x stranger arrangement
I'm invested
despite what we've already agreed on:
no attachment
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Literature
Hong Kong
Steph had her back to him, as if to block Geoff out entirely.
He wished he hadn't said anything; he should've kept on talking about the weather, instead of admitting he had taken the offer.
The painful sob that escaped her broke the silence in the room.
Geoff reached for her shoulder.
"Leave me alone," she said, refusing to turn around.
"Listen to me."
It was ironic how the darkest moment of his life was taking place in the brightest room in his house.
"I had to take the job. We need the money." Geoff tried to reason with her. "You have to trust me."
"Don't you dare tell me what we need. We don't exist." Her words cut through him.
He had to look at the hard wood floor to keep himself strong enough to handle the rest of the conversation.
They'd saved up for months to be able to afford that floor - it was so smooth that they could roll coins on it.
Somehow, her quarters always passed the finish line before his.
How phony would Holden call me right now?
100%.
And, he'
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Literature
One a Day at 10 AM
Life as she knew it was over.
One risky night rendered her dreams of stardom aflame. She'd been fighting so hard to get out of the Podunk town she'd grown up in, and now the test in the trash bin would tether her to the world of PTA meetings, frumpy clothes, and dull hair. Escape wasn't an option anymore.
It had been her boss' fault. He had to talk to her about misplaced papers alone, after work. She kissed him first. If it hadn't have been for the look he gave her, she wouldn't have ever done anything more than that. She wasn't that kind of girl...
except she was and the stupid pills didn't work the right way. One a day at 10 AM. She happened to miss one freaking day and look what happened. Her Hollywood dreams were gone.
This little thing inside of her was going to grow and when it did, it would take over everything. It'd be like weeds in a garden, covering over everything. It would creep into every facet of her life. Every single conversation would revolve around it. Her wardrobe wo
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Literature
Beyond the Train Tracks
Jack's mother warned him to never go beyond the train tracks. He asked her why.
"That's where the welfare trash lives," she said. "They're not good people."
He wrinkled up his nose. "Trash? What makes them stink?"
"Because they're free loaders who accept hand-outs instead of working for a living," she answered as she scraped bits of meat loaf off of her son's plate and into the trash. "Don't you dare go over there."
Jack didn't listen to her. He figured if they stunk, that meant they were cool enough to get away with not taking a bath. His mom never let him go anywhere without one. He had to meet these people! Instead of going straight home after school the next day, Jack went beyond the train tracks.
Their neighborhood was different than his. The houses were built in cramped rows. They were all in need of another coat of paint. He could only describe the area as tired. Tired cracks in the road. Tired roofs that leaked too much. Tired dogs lazing on porches.
"Hey, what are you doing ov
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Literature
Hurl Yourself Off of a Bridge
Bridges are much like cliffs in that you can hurl yourself off of one at any moment.
Skyscrapers draw too much attention from crowds. You can't die peacefully when everyone's watching you. Helicopters will be sent. Traffic will be stopped. And when you fall, you'll make a dandelion-shaped splatter that'll take months to scrub out. Way too messy.
Airplanes are just about impossible. Don't even bother trying. By the time you're trying to pull open the emergency doors, a hidden security person will be on you, calling you a terrorist if you're brown enough when all you really wanted was to crash land yourself.
Ophelia might have thrown herself in the river, but that route's painful. It's not going to work for you. Drowning ain't easy. The water forces all of the oxygen out of your lungs. That sensation burns more than you realize and, worst of all, your body's instincts will fight against your wishes and force you to struggle. You'll bloat.
Cliffs are alright. The problem is that no one wi
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Literature
The Thrill's All Hers
She did everything for the thrill. Laurie couldn't do anything unless there was a sense of danger involved. She lived a never-on-the-side-lines-always-cross-on-the-red-light kind of lifestyle, which made it a wonder why she ever bothered having me as a friend. I think it might be because I'm always chasing after her with a first aid kit.
Laurie had several friends before I showed up. There was the guy with the poofy hair who left her after she swallowed candlestick fire. Compared to the other things she's eaten, that one was pretty tame.
The redhead girl practically ran away from her when she demanded to have a full-contact sword duel. The guy that was so thick that he had no neck rolled down a hill to get away from her. I have no idea what made him do that, but it had to have been awful. The six foot three dude with the beard couldn't even handle her.
I worry enough for the both of us...not like that's a feat when Laurie cares more about thrill seeking than life preservation.
We were
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In This Dream of Ours by kaleidofish In This Dream of Ours :iconkaleidofish:kaleidofish 14 3
Literature
Fine, Fine, Fine
Fine, Fine, Fine
Nothing changed in the classroom when Maria Diaz went missing. It was as if she'd never been there, sitting in her spot in the corner where the teachers couldn't rescue her from the other kids. Whoever said words never hurt was a liar in denial. Maria would have preferred the sticks and the stones. A broken psyche doesn't mend as cleanly as bone.
"Yo, Clarissa, wake up." Before she could turn in the direction of his voice, Sam punted a paperclip right into her forehead.
"What was that for? I was totally awake already." She whined. Mrs. Benson wasn't even finished her lesson yet. The fat witch was still writing math equations on the blackboard, oblivious to everyone snickering about how her ass was so big it didn't even look connected to her back. Mrs. Benson was gross; math was stupid. Clarissa was bored. Typical school day.
Sam grinned that imperfect grin of his. He needed braces. "If anyone would have invented a way to see through their eyelids, I guess it'd b
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Literature
Building Bridges
"What's a little money passed between twins, eh?" Rick's smile was hopeful, if not desperate. "A couple of twenties won't hurt nothing. I'm clean."
"You know I can't give you any more money." John stayed steadfast in his resolve.
"All I need is a little something to get me back on my feet." His green eyes were shaking. The movement was minute, but Rick had seen it. They were doing that side-to-side darting motion, just like they had when they were...
10 years old.
"You love the beach, don't you, Johnny? We can live next to the ocean. If you stay with me, you'll get to play in the sand every day." Option number one: a lifetime of sunny sandcastles with Dad. Option number two: continue on with this miserable life, the one spent with the chores, the nagging mother, and the clueless brother. The brother that clung to Mommy. He didn't know any better. "You want to hide behind your Mom's dress your whole life like him?"
Johnny never hid. That's why he pulled himself out of his mom's arms
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Literature
Gasparilla's Loot
"And, you dragged me down here for what exactly?" Siana peered over Thomas' shoulder.
"Take a look at this, it's absolutely amazing." His eyes lit up brighter than she'd ever seen them before. Whatever he was reading, it had to be something special, maybe even magical.
"You know I hate reading." She said, aloof as ever.
"Do you remember the legend of Gasparilla and how I was looking all over for his book?"
"Yep. Five hundred books from a whole lot of creepy men and lots of our money later..." They had made themselves an entire library looking for José Gaspar's journal. He bought every book that seemed to have a clue in it, no matter how unrelated it was.
"I got this one from Randall's auction. He's not that creepy." Thomas replied.
Siana laughed. "Oh, Randall's not creepy? Randall, the guy you let hit on me just so you could buy a dusty ten dollar book. Definitely not creepy."
"Hey, I couldn't let a good deal go by, especially if it's one that's going to make us rich. Sorry you ha
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Journal
Writing Tournament 2014 ~ Round I
Come one and come all, raise your pen take part in this grand literary battle! There are subscriptions, points, art, features, and more to be won! You all have until February 12th to enter.
The time is nigh for the Fourth Annual Writers--club Literature Tournament!
This is a tournament for all writers welcoming prose and poetry! :la: It will be a grand competition spanning three rounds of literary challenge! :typerhappy: First of all, you must be willing to write for each of the rounds over the coming months.
There will be judging at the end of each round and those who progress to the next round will have to write a new piece for the next round's theme. A new participants list with the surviving writers will be released upon the announcement of the new round.
To sign up, join the group as a member and add this blog entry to your favorites. From there, feel free to submit your entry to the Tournament Round 1 Folder.
:spotlight-left: :bulletred::bulletre
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Journal
DLD to DD for December 17th, 2013
Guidelines | How to Suggest a DLD | Group Administrators | Affiliation | Chatroom | Current Staff Openings
DLD to DD December 17th, 2013
Featuring these Special DLDs is an honor!
You can show your support by :+favlove:ing this News Article.
Every so often a DLD is featured as a Literature Daily Deviation and displayed
on the deviant ART front page. We would like to give special recognition to those
that have received this honor. We would like you to r
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Literature
handmade love
write me a letter,
not emails or tweets.
blue pen scribblings
on sheets of paper crisp.
in five hundred words,
two pages and a half -
tell me you thought of me
on cigarette breaks.
go on foot to a post office,
paste the stamp yourself.
i shall be clouds away
expecting the mail truck.
© 28.February.2012 :house:
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Literature
Lion Heart
It is building up deep within her fragile body like a heaving monsoon forming over the dry, cracked, heavy heat of an African savannah; an unforgiving and all-consuming storm desperately willing to drown out its less than fleeting welcome. Flickering with ceaseless coils of skin-searing energy like a grey-faced fugitive's adrenaline stricken heartbeat, it is not a bringer of life, but a threat to it—and even the most reckless are hardwired to take flight in the face of such a colossal and uncompromising foe.
          Beyond these white-washed walls, the world would have her believe that she is brave, a lioness, an exception confronted by the inevitable; but outrunning the storm is no longer an option, and she has never felt more betrayed. Slowly, it is emanating from her heart and through the pulmonary artery—there, free to roll and crash, it engulfs her lungs in a terrible thunder that rattles the brittle bones holding her together. The ominous feeling that has settled into
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Literature
Thrill
She felt it every time. The rush. The adrenaline.
The thrill.
It was an accidental discovery. She hadn't meant to... it just sort of worked itself out. There she was, cramped up on the tube with everyone else, when Jane noticed the neck of the girl in front of her. It was beautiful. Such clean, soft skin, lightly peppered with hairs, snaking down to the secrets held underneath her pinkish collar.
No-one was looking. And they were all packed in so close together. So she just gave it a little lick.
Just a light brush with the tongue. A dab. She barely even made contact - just the faintest of pecks.
And it was beautiful.
The lady barely even knew it had happened. She looked around, absently rubbed the back of her neck, but continued flicking over her iPad as if nothing had happened.
That was when Jane realised that people didn't expect the unexpected, and as such they didn't react to it. The rush she'd felt.. that fleeting intimacy, that slightly salty taste just tingling on her tongue. S
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Literature
The Barrow Rider
The thing had eyes like embers, arms like ash boughs, and it carried itself in a wheelbarrow. Liam had heard it before he'd seen it: that one creaking wheel echoing plaintively through the trees. Then had come the eyes, twin sparks that did not shine so much as suck away the dark. Then the arms, lanky and rotting, drawing the rusting chariot ahead. Reach, squeal, stop. Reach, squeal, stop. Caught momentarily in the glare of the campfire, its image was the only thing he could see as he turned and fled into the darkness.
Fear became his compass, the needle swinging wildly as he couldn't tell which direction to make his escape in. Without his flashlight, all he could rely on was pure instinct shooting him further into the woods. He tried going right, but the monster's lurching became louder. Going left nearly caused him to fall over an exposed tree root. The diagonal path seemed like Liam's best bet.
He ran so hard that he had to spit when he finally stopped. His lungs were burning; hi
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Journal
July Write Off - Debrief!
We're very happy to report that our third Write Off was a huge success! It was our busiest event yet with sixteen submissions (two from our admins), five rounds, and an awful lot of literature! We'll start judging each piece shortly in order to produce a five piece shortlist. That shortlist will go to a public vote and the winner will receive a three month premium subscription!
Points donations are still open at writeoffentries, so if you can spare any points help fund the prize, we'd really appreciate it!
Here are all sixteen entries, saved to the writeoffentries account and completely unedited. Each of these pieces was produced in twenty minutes from a random prompt word, so they're all impressive acheivements!
'Creep and Trapped' by InsertEpicName-here by writeoffentries 'Thrill' by Stingtings by writeoffentries 'Bridge' by miserabel by writeoffentries 'Beyond' by theORIGINALartKat by writeoffentries 'Bridge' by LetThereBeApples by writeoffentries :thumb316310
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Journal
Weekly Round-up and Community News!
The Round-up is here, jam-packed with four top literature picks from the gallery, news from around the community, and celebrations for the big winners amongst you. So prepare a culturally appropriate beverage, make yourself comfortable, and enjoy!
This Week's Highlights!
:star:
Who gives this woman? by wh0rem0ans
A short poem about being free.
Here's a gem that inspires, educates and liberates all at once, featuring a great mixture of strong, simple imagery and a killer repeating hook.
:star:
Complicated by Drakard-14
"We were Lavoisier, Mendeleev and Boyle all at once, discovering the pillars of nature and reveling in their enormity"
The author takes an everyday scene from the world around us and brings it to life. It's a short piece, but packed with wit, suspense and keen observation. And don't worry - you don't have to be a chemis
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Journal
Daily Literature Deviations for July 14th, 2012
                                                                                                                      
Guidelines | How to Suggest a DLD | Grou
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Activity


Figured I should finally update my journal because I haven't updated it since my "Fine, Fine, Fine" story got a Daily Deviation. My aim this year is to get more involved with Lit things around DA. I'm also using this space to practice my writing, since lately my writing's been limited to business things at work, roleplaying, and VN writing. I miss traditional story writing!

Thanks for visiting. This journal entry is likely to stay here for a long while. The best places to stay updated on me are listed below.

~~~
Other places to find me:

www.ouroborosconnect.net - My website (my VN making devblog is there too!)
www.twitter.com/kaleidofish - My twitter
kaleidofish.tumblr.com - My tumblr

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kaleidofish
kaleidofish
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Aspiring writer and visual novel developer. Here's where I keep my writing
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:iconelohcin111:
elohcin111 Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Welcome to :iconwriters4life: :hug: If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask myself, the co-founder, or refer to the group page.

-elohcin111 (Founder of Writers4Life)
Reply
:iconcheerymoya:
CheeryMoya Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
hey hey get on skype i have things to say
Reply
:iconkaleidofish:
kaleidofish Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I'll be on~
Reply
:iconcheerymoya:
CheeryMoya Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Get over here guuuuuuuuuuuuurl
Reply
:icongricken:
Gricken Featured By Owner Aug 18, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the watch. :happybounce:
Reply
:iconkaleidofish:
kaleidofish Featured By Owner Aug 18, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
And thank you for the watch back. :)
Reply
:icon0hgravity:
0hgravity Featured By Owner Jul 31, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks for the watch! :)
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:iconkaleidofish:
kaleidofish Featured By Owner Aug 1, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
No problem. :)
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:iconxpantherartx:
XPantherArtX Featured By Owner Jul 22, 2012  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Thank you very much for the watch! I really appreciate it! :heart:
Reply
:iconkaleidofish:
kaleidofish Featured By Owner Jul 23, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
No problem! Your work is beautiful.
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