After reading Samuel Beckett's 'Neither,' by Resplendent-Dawn, literature
Literature
After reading Samuel Beckett's 'Neither,'
Cracked the knuckles of my toes.
Some people paint with them.
Walk memory.
Little snap crackle pops of raindrops outside.
Voices in inner and outer voice and room.
Pretend to eavesdrop. Cicadas
Moaning of central air.
Falling crystals illumine the outside and
unceasing voices.
Rise, stretch, flex.
Feeling returns to returns to unheard foot.
Gray and floral noise where there is no shadow.
Frozen yogurt topped with pop rocks tonight.
Death throes of a fly.
Turning pages,
dusty old pages,
words written before
your grandparents were born…
If you're not careful,
the pages will crumble;
the ideas will fall away
and become dust.
Hold on to the words
as long as you can
before your memory grinds them up
(into tea.)
I look up into the magnificent ocean
and imagine.
This aquarium of stars and planets,
of black holes and CBR–
–who can appreciate the shimmering coral nebulae?
Who can comprehend the farthest reaches of existence…
Who but the Lord God,
He who created the currents,
the bending and expanding space-time,
He who bridges the gaps between parsecs
with a love that makes
hungering to cease.
Tides wax.
Tides wane,
But the Word of the Lord remains.
Praise the Lord.
Clouds unperceivably tall and wide veil the moon and stars from sight. Rolling, seething within and without one another, plotting for turmoil to descend upon the mirrored obscurity; a chilling, forlorn wind whispers secrets the sky would rather wait to reveal. Words preconscious — scolding the cobblestone laid wide, a cruel caressing of the street-chasm. Emptiness. Vast, open darkness. Not a single light from a window. Will-o’-the-wisps. Only staggered orbs of lamp-flame provide waypoints on the street.
Footfalls fall silent. Left, right. Left, right, one after the other, metronomes contemplative
Small flame in a hastily made pit by Resplendent-Dawn, literature
Literature
Small flame in a hastily made pit
Small flame in a hastily made pit,
a lonely flickering on the great grass tapestry,
answering the call of innumerable stars
in the moon’s absence.
Crack, crackling,
warm light illuminating its makers
who both watch the leaning pillar of smoke
meld into the darkness – the distant sound of crickets,
an indifferent ostinato.
If fire could see,
it would see the two
sitting near but apart
with faces full of longing and grief.
If fire could know,
it would discern them
introspecting fear of the unknown,
awaiting the fate of all and the Second Coming,
feeling like a small flame under the vast moonless sky.
The tremorflame dances under the midnight sun. by Resplendent-Dawn, literature
Literature
The tremorflame dances under the midnight sun.
The tremorflame dances
under the midnight sun.
Spinning, twirling
within
the descent of snow
and cooling cinders,
moving to the beat of static
throughout
a collapsing skeleton of wooden beams
that shake the ground on impact —
—in its fervor,
the tremorflame destroys
that which it cherishes the most.
1
Gothic spires twist upward, forming a grotesque forest fading into the white-blankness. Many as tall as skyscrapers, each pulsing with veins of melancholy’s blue set against the polyglot granite. Walking underneath and in-between the arched walkways where everything is the same shade. No shadow. No night. Just a stable yet vivid sourceless illumination. Each step. Each painful, agonizing step – they press forward in a calm determination. And as each footfall reaches the groundless ground, stones sketch themselves into existence as if to support Luke’s weight, only to fade away as they are left behind. But no, they do not
inference ne[ gate ]s the empirical by Resplendent-Dawn, literature
Literature
inference ne[ gate ]s the empirical
Time.
Time spl
i(mplicitness)
n(ears)
t(he)
e(thereal)
rzsssss
as does my soul fragm e n.t
into something less than human.
What is human?
Lines. I take
these Lines and
form from them
a picture:
you.
The sacrilege of this
sacrosanct advance,
of which I am its
s ole cause and observer.
i—n.
inte. interpret
interfereintermit
tent
intermittence.
You lie in my arms
and die
After reading Samuel Beckett's 'Neither,' by Resplendent-Dawn, literature
Literature
After reading Samuel Beckett's 'Neither,'
Cracked the knuckles of my toes.
Some people paint with them.
Walk memory.
Little snap crackle pops of raindrops outside.
Voices in inner and outer voice and room.
Pretend to eavesdrop. Cicadas
Moaning of central air.
Falling crystals illumine the outside and
unceasing voices.
Rise, stretch, flex.
Feeling returns to returns to unheard foot.
Gray and floral noise where there is no shadow.
Frozen yogurt topped with pop rocks tonight.
Death throes of a fly.
Turning pages,
dusty old pages,
words written before
your grandparents were born…
If you're not careful,
the pages will crumble;
the ideas will fall away
and become dust.
Hold on to the words
as long as you can
before your memory grinds them up
(into tea.)
I look up into the magnificent ocean
and imagine.
This aquarium of stars and planets,
of black holes and CBR–
–who can appreciate the shimmering coral nebulae?
Who can comprehend the farthest reaches of existence…
Who but the Lord God,
He who created the currents,
the bending and expanding space-time,
He who bridges the gaps between parsecs
with a love that makes
hungering to cease.
Tides wax.
Tides wane,
But the Word of the Lord remains.
Praise the Lord.
Clouds unperceivably tall and wide veil the moon and stars from sight. Rolling, seething within and without one another, plotting for turmoil to descend upon the mirrored obscurity; a chilling, forlorn wind whispers secrets the sky would rather wait to reveal. Words preconscious — scolding the cobblestone laid wide, a cruel caressing of the street-chasm. Emptiness. Vast, open darkness. Not a single light from a window. Will-o’-the-wisps. Only staggered orbs of lamp-flame provide waypoints on the street.
Footfalls fall silent. Left, right. Left, right, one after the other, metronomes contemplative
Small flame in a hastily made pit by Resplendent-Dawn, literature
Literature
Small flame in a hastily made pit
Small flame in a hastily made pit,
a lonely flickering on the great grass tapestry,
answering the call of innumerable stars
in the moon’s absence.
Crack, crackling,
warm light illuminating its makers
who both watch the leaning pillar of smoke
meld into the darkness – the distant sound of crickets,
an indifferent ostinato.
If fire could see,
it would see the two
sitting near but apart
with faces full of longing and grief.
If fire could know,
it would discern them
introspecting fear of the unknown,
awaiting the fate of all and the Second Coming,
feeling like a small flame under the vast moonless sky.
The tremorflame dances under the midnight sun. by Resplendent-Dawn, literature
Literature
The tremorflame dances under the midnight sun.
The tremorflame dances
under the midnight sun.
Spinning, twirling
within
the descent of snow
and cooling cinders,
moving to the beat of static
throughout
a collapsing skeleton of wooden beams
that shake the ground on impact —
—in its fervor,
the tremorflame destroys
that which it cherishes the most.
1
Gothic spires twist upward, forming a grotesque forest fading into the white-blankness. Many as tall as skyscrapers, each pulsing with veins of melancholy’s blue set against the polyglot granite. Walking underneath and in-between the arched walkways where everything is the same shade. No shadow. No night. Just a stable yet vivid sourceless illumination. Each step. Each painful, agonizing step – they press forward in a calm determination. And as each footfall reaches the groundless ground, stones sketch themselves into existence as if to support Luke’s weight, only to fade away as they are left behind. But no, they do not
inference ne[ gate ]s the empirical by Resplendent-Dawn, literature
Literature
inference ne[ gate ]s the empirical
Time.
Time spl
i(mplicitness)
n(ears)
t(he)
e(thereal)
rzsssss
as does my soul fragm e n.t
into something less than human.
What is human?
Lines. I take
these Lines and
form from them
a picture:
you.
The sacrilege of this
sacrosanct advance,
of which I am its
s ole cause and observer.
i—n.
inte. interpret
interfereintermit
tent
intermittence.
You lie in my arms
and die
The Geek's Guide to Lit Groups by PoetryOD, journal
The Geek's Guide to Lit Groups
The Geek's Guide to Lit Groups Links:
:bulletblue: Groups with names beginning with A - H
:bulletblue: Groups with names beginning with I - S
:bulletblue: Groups with names beginning with S - Z
:bulletblue: The Geek's Guide to Inactive Groups
OMG it's DONE
What's done?! IT'S DONE. I have spent days and days and days collecting a list of all the lit groups I could find (1901 groups to be exact!), then I went through each one and moved all the groups that had no discernible activity in the past 12 months to the Inactive Groups list (see links above). Then with the groups remaining (568 groups :faint:) I looked for evidence of things peopl
I've learned to love the weight of your palm by daybreaksmiles, literature
Literature
I've learned to love the weight of your palm
Your hand rests lightly on my shoulder and
I cannot decide whether to shake it off
or curl my body into the hollow nest of your side.
I wait. Stare ahead. Think -
I swear my thoughts are so loud
you must be holding back a million smiles
a hundred chuckles, soft and low,
to know my trip-tumbling mind.
I cannot though I want.
I will not though I could.
I do not though I would.
And so it eats at me - your hand,
the whorls of your fingertips dissolve
the thick cords of my sweater.
I am still as new-snow driveways
afraid to tilt and send the instant teetering,
but I can feel the heat of your palm
melting my resolve.
So I pin my quiver-slip lips s
Dream in Color artbook ~PRE-ORDERS Closed~ by DreamInColorArtbook, journal
Dream in Color artbook ~PRE-ORDERS Closed~
Finally after months of preparations and work, we are happy to announce that the Dream in Color charity art book is officially OPEN FOR PREORDERS!!!
GET YOUR COPY HERE:
:thumb331662041::thumb331662041::thumb331662041::thumb331662041::thumb331662041:
The Dream in Color charity art book is a non-profit project featuring over 75 artists all over the world from countries such as Malaysia, Australia, Poland, France, Germany, Finland, Mexico, Hungary, USA, Canada, Japan, Russia, Indonesia, Vietnam, China, Chile, Sweden, New Zealand, Thailand, Spain, Ukraine, Netherlands, Singapore, and etc...! The list continues on and on.
The book contains ove
The music and literature of Traix Heiden reflect many interests, including Japanese poetry and court music. Consequently, Traix’s music often involves expanded musical gestures that manipulate time and timbre, and his literature shows the influence of narratives originating from Japan. His output includes works for small and large instrumental ensembles, choral music and keyboard music. Much of his music is directly or indirectly related to his creative literature output. An ongoing project is the composition of a large multi-movement work for wind ensemble and narrator, based on one of Traix’s original stories, a novel in progress, which is part of an umbrella project codenamed “Saralied.” This project seeks to encompass many genres of both music and literature, often intertwined and cross-pollinating. Myriad styles and genres influence his work, notably the Western and Japanese classical traditions, metal, and literature from the science fiction, fantasy, and horror traditions. Traix has studied under Warren Gooch and Mara Gibson, and is currently studying composition at Truman State University under the tutelage of Charles Gran.
Favourite Movies
Schindler's List
Favourite TV Shows
The Blacklist, NCIS, Haibane Renmei, Shinsekai Yori, Steins;Gate
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Supercell, Demon Hunter, Gustav Mahler, Franz Schubert, Arvo Pärt, Karel Husa, Dmitri Shostakovich, Olivier Messiaen, John Corigliano
Favourite Books
We by Yevgeny Zamyatin, Evangeline by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Night by Elie Wiesel
Good news. In the time since I posted the last journal, I was able to purchase the plane ticket for my study abroad trip. On that note, I've mentioned in passing a couple of times a blog I've been looking to start (I mean, writers have blogs, right?). In light of my plans in Japan, I've decided to use it as an opportunity to open the blog with a series of articles I'll write during my first trip to Japan. The article subjects might vary from discussion on a word, grammatical construct, of other aspects of Japanese; various places I will possibly visit during my stay; etc.
In other news, I am making good progress on the draft of my first nove
Hey, everyone! This is rather unexpected, but I am in need of funds to buy a plane ticket to go to Japan for my semester abroad. The program is KCP International, a language school where I'll study Japanese in a full-immersion environment. http://www.kcpinternational.com/about/
If you can help out in any way, I would be very grateful. The goal is $1,000 (USD). Thank you!
https://www.gofundme.com/2hp399rj
And if you're curious about anything, send me a note!
It has been an interesting few months. I've had workshop classes in fiction and screenwriting, not to mention composition lessons and a music research group exploring Pure Data.
Some works I''ve written this semester are "Yuugen," a short story; "Means to an End," the first act of a screenplay; and "Refracting Avalon," a one-act opera for Lyric Baritone and Piano, for which I wrote the libretto (a collage of excerpts from Goethe's Faust that I translated into English) and music.
Of particular interest is a blog that I've been wanting to get off the ground, but until now I haven't found the right time to do so. Seeing as I have fewer obligat
Hello my dear! I wanted to drop by and say "thank you" for the deviantWATCH! I very much appreciate it, and will do my best to continue making kanzashi you like to look at.
Also!! if you are interested in making this kind of silk-hair-flower, please do consider having a look at this deviation, because I'm involved in a group of artisans making a book describing how to make tsumami zaiku/silk hair flowers. If you like, have a look: and share with friends who might be interested, if you have time?
I have an account on SoundCloud. The pieces I have on there are in a variety of styles, but only "Tarantella" is a live recording. If you want to see sheet music or some of my vocal works, I can send you an email.