|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
The Optimistic PessimistPart 1: Who Am I?
What’s the point in asking me that question? What’s the point in you reading this? What’s the point in anything? It’s more convenient to look towards the inevitable, the bleak nothingness that will rain over this reality turning it all into a cacophony of scattered lost thoughts, ideas, transactions, discussions and realities. Dust even. Sentences flattened and lack of expression. Light extinguished. Colors will again be only forgotten fragments as vision disappears. For there will not even be a tool capable of even remembering again.
Why is that evil? The antagonist? Maybe the end is the true home. The only hero. The only thing that cares. Maybe we should be careful of what we care for.
Part 2: Who are you?
You read this quite confident in your wisdom that this depth of the thought will surface or find its way to more shallow thoughts, less mystical, more pragmatic. Maybe
Let's Hope Now and Pray LaterI entered an abyss but only saw
Not falling but rather starting over,
The cold wasn't chilling
and the worries unwilling
While I lay defeated
staring at a black ceiling
I saw every shade
and only saw the beginning,
I entered the edge of my existence,
didn't want it to end
and when it did
I realized that I was
and all I saw was the possibilties
all over again
a virgin again
a sophomore again
making every silly little mistake
in front of another horizon
and it occurred to me
that I was at the end
of my journey
and the horizon
still waves hello
as if I'd never
embarked on anything.
Too Late I GuessHer shadows bend,
Or is it just my head crashing to the floor?
I'd tell you how you turn a straight line
in an intersection of infinite possibilities
I could tell you how your hair makes me forget
about my impending doom and feel like a
flower that blooms and never wilts,
Like how water carves a mountain into a crystal glacier.
I'd could say how your voice
is felt by every pore that is touched by your breath
or how my forehead melts
away all my hidden tells.
I'd say I love you if love had any meaning
But I'd rather dance my way
to the madness farm
and plant myself
so far away
as you pull at me
as if now could never
come to pass
could never be lost.
This Celophane RiverWhen you've eaten a wormhole,
Your stomach becomes a black hole,
Time utterly useless as you are
spinning into the whirlpool river
flowing into and out of consciousness
Into the room
next to the grim reaper
next to the realization
that all that you are is
why you are nothing.
That which you love is
merely that which you
choose to create.
That what you feel
is but a path to your
That which you claim to be
is but why your purpose
has always been
That which you deny
is all that you've become
That which you fear
is all that you must
The VentNever really thought about where I am
Or how I came to be
I do subscribe to you and
all that is written on your face
And how you hold yourself together
when I'm like ashes sprinkled
about a desert wind sky
Like a kite,
You hold me close
Even when I am far away
Like a switch
I turn off the lights
and imagine you right next to me
A Touch of Failure (A Culinary Experimentation)Add to the blender a touch of humility
Sprinkle in some doubt with a pinch of bitterness
Shake well until sorrow drops to the bottom
Add 1 cup of filthy longing
Two tablespoons of lucidity
Then tear out her eye contact
and mix it with the sweat
trickling off your forehead.
Blend thoroughly and place
on a square plate
about 8 inches round
Fundamentally place on
a torn bible page.
Spin around 6 times or
as you possibly can
Because it will be the only chance
you have in the failure that
you have created.
Dear Maria, I am SorryDear Maria,
I thought you'd be happy to hear
What you read and how it sounds
coming out of your ear
I barely knew you and you never
knew me at all.
However small this tall mispereception,
Walls of fear that bordered you from me
Was there ever a chance when
You and I are nothing more than
Zero's and one's?
We were programmed to come into contact.
And the organic entertainment surrounding
Us was but a distraction
a reaction to my own inactions.
I apologize for never giving you a chance.
Now that I think about it, as you continued
south past Copenhagen Central Station.
I was the one who rejected you
By letting you get away from me.
12:30PM on a SaturdayI stood atop a ridge,
Dead hay golden hills vulnerable
To an overcast and cold unappreciative wind.
I placed my guitar next
to stripped black trees, branches
dripping, crying profusely
a subterranian weather system
amid the foggy backdrop.
I walked up and back saddened
by the beauty and all its splendor.
How the trees waved and danced before the sky.
It occurred to me that I was in heaven
and that heaven was nothing more than
every facet of life being relived, retold
endlessly until it became perfect only
to come to the realization that perfection
The nightmare occurred to me that
this perpetuity would never resolve
ever. and life would only improve
with each retake and restart.
All combinations revisited over and over.
Every execution, every momentous discovery,
every painful death, every emotion, every
moment of eternal ectasy.
My counterpart assured me that all that I loved
was nothing more than my own ego and that not letting
it go was nothing more tha
EpitaphYou're the smile
that stands out in front of a million
You're the star on a map
in the middle of a thousand places
and the curl in the cloud that
makes the blue depths deeper.
You're the howl in the wind
that signals the shift in direction
And your the memory that erases
the remaining of all my other significant reflections.
You turn upside down into right side up
Make the ending to any twist that
much more colorful.
You're the reason the bang was that big
and the reason why I am sat in corner
lost staring into my impending death.
You're the epitaph that no one opted to
write on my grave stone.
For no tombstone would have the space
to phrase what you meant to me.
it perches on my rounded lips
as a bird prepared for flight.
I will fill it with my soul
until it's bulging - days stretched
so thin they hardly separate
and butterfly mornings blur
into strawberry eves.
In a blink it will be gone,
a breath too hard and
beneath the harvest(ed)
in pleasing arrangements-
to be laid
upon the flowerbed
Mother NatureThere is a soul,
That seems to flow,
Beneath the gold,
Of the suns glow.
It flows within,
It floats within,
You feel its breath,
In the wind,
You feel its death,
With every sin.
It does not think,
It does not hate,
It only loves,
It doesn’t berate.
And her breath,
We have a peaceful death
SeptemberThe page hasn't turned
The sun tilts on the edge
Before it falls
You have caught it already
Trees with a hesitant shudder
Shake leaves that aren't ready to die
The breath passes
But when you look up
The clouds are pulling back
They have smelled it
They are leaving the thick air
Near the ground
To escape it
But you have to stay
And when you feel it again
There will be frost
Cigarettes and AutumnsAll these cigarettes and autumns are piling up
on me. Dead leaf at dusk from a
hoary apple tree.
Eden's falling with each
tick of the tock, measured by periodic
fingers counting down an imaginary clock.
I can nearly see the golden leaves
dancing on the breeze while the
incense smell of burning fronds
waft tenaciously through the trees.
It's a good time to be alive.
Soon enough the frost on the window's
going to hide the impending
autumn happening outside.
So presently I'm exhaling stale smoke
on the window, lamenting summer's
passing with a clear view
of each hue of a burning bush,
of each push towards doom
already intent on being reborn.
Fascinated by the symmetry.
Fascinated by the symmetry.
Last Days of AutumnDays grow shorter, the air more chill and crisp
Sweaters will be replaced with coats in a matter of days
Awaiting the final leaf of autumn to fall
Cool breezes shift gears into frigid winds
Gray clouds blanket the once blue sky
The sun hiding its shy face behind the the dyed cotton puffs
Rakes and leaf blowers emerge from hibernation in their garage dens
Wildlife gather the last of their food for a three-month slumber
Soon rain will be substituted with snow
As the last days of autumn come and go
Opening welcome arms for Christmas, for school holidays, for New Year's
Bidding farewell to autumn and good day to winter
Everyone Forgets the RainThe lightning tore into the clouds
Their pale, innocent faces darkened and their eyes shut
Their eyes shut and their blood turned to water
The water, their blood, their tears, poured down upon the earth
The thunder cried, loud wails echoing across the sky
And the lightning grew brighter, prideful in its massacre
And as the lightning swelled with pride, the thunder
That poor, poor mother, cried for the loss of her children
She cursed the lightning, cursed the man that would dare take her children from her
And the clouds, those poor children, those happy, innocent children
They withered as they cried, as they bled out in the sky
And as I looked upon the spectacle
As I stared up at the sky
As their tears hit my face
As their blood drenched my hair
My own tears joined in the mixture of their blood
Their sorrow became my own
And as the clouds finally dissipated
As the thunder quieted, her grief stealing her voice
As the lightning vanished, having stolen the lives of his children
I was blind
Beauty, Concerning a Spider WebDew drops catch the first light
From the rising sun, still stretching
As it awakens for another day,
It’s routine tasks unchanged.
The shadows shrink as the new day dawns,
The heat of day lighting up everything.
Not much is hidden from its scorching rays
As the day burns on.
The web, now devoid of moisture,
Is hidden from view, remaining
Invisible to all who pass it by,
Its beauty unrecognized.
As the sun starts it's eventual descent,
The world becomes restless as the
Light it adjusted to for vision
Starts to fade.
Shadows stretch across the ground,
Darkness slowly taking over as
The moon graces the sky, taking watch
Over the world below.
Soft white light bathes the world,
Dancing along the surface and
Adding a sense of wonder.
And the spider web, forgotten during
The day, now catches the moonlight as it
Dances along it's threads, bringing it to life.
Nature then readies to repeat its melody.
Negative ParticlesHeaven upside down
How cool bliss flakes
shiver into rotting coal
wrapped, intertwined in a coil,
withered a storm and flicker,
land and become tar and feathered
to know that every story
shines, flows, and rusts
to trust this injustice
is to appreciate the lair
the only direction to which anything
can at all--> fall
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More