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Literature
The Gargoyle
The Gargoyle
It hangs upon the ancient Gothic church
and glares in angst below at passersby;
a fanged and wingéd stare atop its perch
as ever watchful as the starry sky.
The gutter water courses through its stone,
that rain that stutters down the orphan's cheeks
and seeps into the ground to parents' bones,
that turns a heart to stone and stone to beast.
The passersby declare it ugly still;
it torrents from above the starry sky
from wedding bells through final rites and will,
so how could it look well? They curse it; why?
Without its monstrous wings, inhuman teeth,
then who's to say that monster isn't me?
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Literature
Letter to the Babylonians
What was it then, before hanging flowers
and soaring towers, but pining lonely men?
Where the dust runs in the burning sun
is the wanting Babylonian.
One tongue of flame in the air,
and the glare of sunny streaks.
When the gardens reach
that flame in the air
and bear forth fruit
from the branches of trees,
the tongue, now forked,
begins to speak.
Two words flourish and flower
through the halls that gird
a young Babel's tower:
birds are nourished
among its strung cables
like a hallowed, rusty bower,
and the tongues disperse
in a dusty shower.
As the spire starts to rise,
through the fire from dust
to the heart of the sky,
a bust is carved
for admiring eyes
and inspires tongues
to ire, truth, and lies
towards the art on high.
To chase the burning sun, and build along
the dusty run, be spoken of and looked upon,
and flourish like a flower, with something to grow on:
behold the tower of Babylon.
:iconPeribyss:Peribyss
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Literature
Rats
Gnawing on the scraps
of the shining ballroom table,
down to the roots, rotting food,
the pining mood for a chunk of maple
from a horde of swarming rats.
Bringing with a haze
of filth to hardwood and marble,
all of the soot, could or should,
with or sans guilt the ripe goods a cart full
of swill for the vermins’ graze.
Hanging on a tree
Like an apple or a ripe fig,
they grapple, inevitably crackle
no matter how wise or big;
the eyes around never let be.
Tow’ring tall, an oak,
poplar or long lasting pine;
up farther small wood carvers,
on all the rats chew and gnash and grind
to dust, caught in their fur coats.
Sprawling beneath,
in the dirty rivers running,
all the critters, they skitter
to cities bigger and more cunning
than they, to sharpen their teeth.
Lasting to the last
of the steel towers of Babel,
such power, many had cowered
before they lowered like dying maples
to a horde of swarming rats.
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Literature
Bird's Eye View
A caged bird,
looking down on the stage
with a script, but no words
but chirps, caged bird.
A new face,
lovely scent, curving plumes;
what makes your heart race
caged cockatrice?
A white cloud,
missing the passing flight
behind bars around
you, a caged bird:
losing words, never found
or learned, who has left
you tied and bound?
A caged bird,
looking down on the stage
with a script without words
but a caged bird.
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Literature
Vitality
Wand'ring through the forest dark,
Where shall I be to lead and breathe
My new vitality?
The lonely sky, so high
Above the forest bark?
Or prowling low
Beneath the dark undergrowth?
Winding the sinews of my heart,
What drink of love or burning blood
Shall fuel my new mortality?
What fire scorch my life force
Bubbling in my sprawling veins?
The night's dark insight, or
The golden sun's mane, so bold and bright?
My soul inflates my chest;
What vessel is best to begin my quest
For true immortality?
Will the great tyger's fearsome fire
Bestow me fearful symmetry?
Or will the albatross, with
Wings of frailty, carry me across?
But if I'm the one who sits and asks
And I'm to make the mold and cast,
What does that make me?
:iconPeribyss:Peribyss
:iconperibyss:Peribyss 0 0
Literature
The Black Horse
The Black Horse
The sparks along the spine,
The ripples along the skin,
In this you're kin to all you find
In travelling to the sunlight,
Drowning 'neath the Western line.
The black inside Its eyes,
The black across the sky,
Apollo's flight is out of sight
And we've all said our last goodbyes
To the morning sunlight.
The fearful howl-melody,
The booming thunder bass,
The conductor's face is far too foul
For mortal hearts so oft in place;
Life demands the heart to race.
To feel its stinging leer,
And all the ringing bells to hear,
Hope is out of sight, but never close your eyes;
To carry the Eastern light
Demands the steed of Fear.
:iconPeribyss:Peribyss
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Literature
Time Charges
Time Charges
In gentle frame of time atop
My shining guarded tower,
The waves are still and soft
In every frozen hour.
The sun remains so still on high
With lovely crystals suspended,
For clouds themselves refused to cry
While such a joy is apprehended.
I stand atop my obelisk,
Behold the dream that I live 'round.
Encased in cordial ice adrift
The times gone past and not yet found.
I stare into the thin divide,
By which the sea and sky confide
The secrets of peace's demise.
The edge of my desired foresight,
Like orange trim of warming firelight,
Conceals the shadows of a fortnight.
That edge, the horror of my eye,
A dreaded precipice, off I dare not fly.
But so it comes, for every time is nigh.
That edge, door to shadows foul,
Erupts a primal, vengeful growl
While dreaded winds begin to howl.  
At once there was a searing flash, that split the sky in twain,
So heralds doom with heavy rain, and with a thund'rous crash.
A violent ruthless saber-tide, a rushing water buzz saw.
From loomin
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Literature
Interim
Tree after tree in a haze of green
Still pass me by, almost unseen.
Always been so far it seems
From where I've been
And where I'd like to be.
Concrete thins and headlights dim
To meager glimpse as I come in.
Somehow missed the interim
Just like all else since.
All this time I've moved inside
Saw nothing on the outside
Still content all the while.
Fear my hopes will pass my flash
Behind me as I crash.
:iconPeribyss:Peribyss
:iconperibyss:Peribyss 0 0
Literature
Intersection
Dare I extend my hand
Into the lovely night?
Tender night, all so close in sight
Yet reaches beyond my fire's light
So bright, stay I hope I can
Away from the lovely night?
Dare the lines intersect
Into one so fine?
Lines, lovely curves entwined
And binding, so hard to find
Unparalleled; dare I neglect
The function of the line?  
Dare the shadowed, blurred lines
To cross so close in sight?
Hyperbolic, curving heights,
Irrational night, dark is light
Inverted; dare the fine
Recalculate what is right?
Dare my hands to count
Hairs on a head so fine?
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Literature
Ringwraiths
Ringwraiths
Lying silent, wrapped in meager sheets, the biting cold prevents me
From my lovely sleep, prolonging haunting visions left from tales of old.
Feeling through the darkness, grabbing books and tomes to ease the foulness
Creeping through the darkness of my heart: the fears that were untold.
Howling winds that chill and sear the bones are tearing through the cold,
Bitter, burning, biting cold.
Finding light to read the ancient words, the fear that goads me forwards
Halts my progress through the text, but pages and pages do still unfold.  
Tales of myth and legend tell of Nazgul leaving none unrended
Speak as though it were but legend, but truth is ne'er left to cold.
Truth is never left to freeze, for fear of truth remains it told,
Never left in bitter cold.
Men consumed by rings of power, now to bring the darkest hour,
Leaving home and loved behind for the dark of bitter and biting cold.
Shadows skitter 'round the corner, scaring many meager mourner,
What they found aroun
:iconPeribyss:Peribyss
:iconperibyss:Peribyss 2 0

Favourites

Literature
Wii Would Like to Play
Little Susan B. stood staring at the thing before her in disbelief.
"Fat," she said. "I'm fat?"
"I'm a machine. Machines don't lie."
"But I'm ten."
"Ten and fat."
"But how can you tell? There's gotta be some mistake."
"Okay, kid, listen up. I've got your goddamn height and BMI right here. Right here inside me.
And according to my records, you suck at boxing, you suck at running, your physical age is that of a 48-year-old male and you suck at Brawl."
"Hey, you're being mean!"
"I'm not mean. I'm a machine. Can't take playing with me? If you don't like it then take yourself somewhere else and maybe go and play with the other babies outside in the sandbox. In the sun. With other actual humans. Like a sissy. Go ahead. You're obviously not man enough to play with this."
The Nintendo Wii puffed out his chest as little Susan B. ran away crying to the sandbox.
A short distance away, PS3 and 360 frowned disapprovingly. PS3 sighed.
"Man, I don't know what
:iconIn-The-Machine:In-The-Machine
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Literature
God Is Dead
God's robes flapped around him as he looked over the edge and onto the street below.
"Don't do it! Don't do it!" cried the security guard behind him.
God said nothing, climbing onto the raised edge of the building. Five storeys below, people were beginning to take notice.
"Jesus Christ! Look!
"Oh my god!"
"Where's my camera?"
He turned and faced the security guard, who stopped walking and gazed upon the face of God. He'd been crying.
"But... why? You've got so much to live for..."
God gave a wan smile. "So have all of you."
He spread his arms wide, closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh, falling back and off the building.
*     *     *
A crowd was gathering around the black, sticky mess that remained of What-Once-Was Our Lord.
"Is he dead?"
"Who is it?"
"Where's my camera?"
The bystander effect was operating at maximum efficiency, causing everyone to just stand there and looked at the mangled remains. Presently, however, a fine upstan
:icondeviantkupo:deviantkupo
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Literature
Paradise Lost
I watched the taste of Shangri-La
bring strong men to their knees
and felt the wasting warm grow thick
like sylphs among the trees.
A languid poison, rich and sweet
filled each and every glass
it kissed their lips with want and left
its bruise upon the grass.
It moved like lovers, so wanton soft
in heavy, tangled sighs
and held them willing prisoners
betrayed with whispered lies.
Desire, like a living thing
crept forth to steal their breath;
it stilled the blood within their veins
in shadowed blooms of death.
They slipped into a coil of dreams,
pale visions brushing skin
that plucked the hearts from in their chests
and broke them from within.
And now, deep lost in lethargy,
they wait with stricken sighs,
to know their world has now become
the ruin of paradise...
:iconPoetrymann:Poetrymann
:iconpoetrymann:Poetrymann 155 113

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Well. Here I am.

I like to think I'm a writer, one who writes, though whether or not I'm a good one remains to be seen. Honestly, I don't think I really could be anything else, so let's hope this works out.

I've always wanted to find some way to express myself or use my imagination, and pretty early on I figured out that writing was the way that I wanted to go. I haven't made many attempts to put myself out there, so here goes.

This page used to be devoted to a single project, but I've changed my mind. It's just going to be whatever I decide to put up here now.

I probably won't be using this journal because I'd like this page to be visible to all who view my profile. Besides, I'm not the kind to share my life on the internet anyway.

I hope you enjoy my work if you decide to read it, and happy writing/drawing/photographing/underwater basket weaving to the rest of you.

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Peribyss

Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States

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:iconpianocanival:
Pianocanival Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2013  Professional General Artist
Hey, welcome to dA. Hope you having a great time. If you need some help, or simply want to chat or discuss ideas, send me a note. Gladly I will try my best to help you.

Cheers. :wave:
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