Daily Literature Deviations - Apri 15th, 2009

Daily Lit Deviations for April 13^th, 2009</u>

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Prose

_{featured by: CaronCecilia}
Chapter One: Call and AnswerThe deep-throated booms of leather stretched across the shells of drums vibrated through the air and into my chest. Just darkness and drums, I was fear stricken. My mind’s eye dilated revealing a dimly lit dwelling. A group of dark, exotic men surrounded something, but I couldn’t see it because smoke veiled my vision. The drums grew louder, disorienting all my senses— my sight saw nothing again— nothing but night. Grunts and scratchy howls accompanied the pounding. Suddenly, silence. Then static filled my ears, as if I had been plopped into the sea.
My eyes blurred the sun-flooded tent as I woke. My heart shook feigning molestation from the brutality of imaginary beating drums. In that brief twilight between life and chaos, I knew without any uncertainty that deep past a thistle swollen wood within myself was something evil and I, for the first time in my life, was truly afraid.
I stepped out. Pine straw crunched under my feet. Fires from last night were being tende
"Call and Answer Chapter One by mistressadore


_{Featured by tiraldan}
InsomniaTick.
It is mocking me again.
Tock.
Every second that goes by…
Tick.
Marks another second that I lie awake…
Tock.
Unable to sleep…
Tick.
Shifting…
Tock.
And turning.
Tick.
Echoes of thoughts.
Tock.
I wonder whether she still thinks of us?
Tick.
Why won’t that cat stop mewling?
Tock.
What if I fail my exams?
Tick.
Should I take tomorrow off?
Tock.
Am I at fault?
Tick.
I will be eighteen in five months.
Tock.
Why are people like this?
Tick.
Am I significant anymore?
Tock.
My head burrows deeper into the pillow.
Tick.
I am so tired.
Tock.
"Insomnia" by shadowsofmoonlight


_{featured by: poisonedapple312}
Writing Assignment 9Overstatement
As I half-turned to look back at my companion, I smiled broadly, loving the all-encompassing glory of the forest that encircled us. My teeth flashed brilliantly in the noonday sun, which was so bright that its rays bounced from my pearly whites into the surrounding trees, scorching them and starting small fires. I didn’t notice, though – I was so enamored with our environment that I frolicked on my bank of the river, yelling, “C’mon, Pedro! Now you cross!”  
Pedro’s poncho bounced and wavered against his own whooping form as he pushed the sombrero from his head; it hung across my amigo’s back, held fast by the twine that secured it at his neck. “Dame un momento!” he called back, carefully making his way down the boulder that would eventually take him to the water’s edge.
And that’s when it all went wrong.
I can remember watching his right foot slip from the narrow rock ledge that had held all his weig
"Writing Assignment 9" by GoodSirDavid


_{featured by: paintedbluerose}
colour blind.She saw him at the park once. He was the colour of dirt; with bird eyes and white, mapped palms. Her little forehead lined as she felt the bile force its way up until her saliva was acid. She counted her toes and bit the inside of her cheek, should she run? Are they fast runners? She figured this one must be if he kept himself out of jail. The dark man flashed a mouthful of pebbles and held out his hand- which would have swallowed hers.
'Don't touch me.'
Her hands were all knuckles and her baby eyes tore into his. He faltered and stepped away, a half mouthed sorry. He looked upset, a grin spread like fire between her dimples.
Suddenly she imagined force-feeding him barbed wire and then tearing it back out- the way a clown pulls coloured cloth from his sleeve. She imagined tying the left of his limbs to a heavy tree trunk and the right to a truck. Dragging and pulling until his joints sang high with dislocation and his arms snapped like twigs. The way she likes the crackle of dea
"Color blind" By Pretty-As-A-Picture


Foreign Language

_{featured by: Tap-Photo-and-Co}
:thumb111237856:
"Cedeaza" by mnnvfuuj


Poetry

_{featured by: ColonelFitz}
finding neverlandI.
It begins with a flicker
of colour, of --of something
indescribable and colourful
and wonderful and lovely
and -
you feel yourself flying away, far far away
to neverland, to mermaid's lagoon,
where no one can ever find you.
II.
But somewhere between
the rainbow and the pot of gold
and the second star to the right,
you lose the treasure map,
that penny that brings luck rusts
butterflies turn to moths,
and everything seems like
someone's turned off the light;
and hit fast forward---->>
III.
because its all
rushrushrushing away
so fast that its right
before your eyes and
even your breath cant catch
itself and you just
want it to
all just
stop.
IV.
have   space
to breathe
and
hear yourself.
see the butterflies, rainbows
and laughter echoing off the clouds -
find your neverland again
and return to the
light, light, lightness.
V.
I do hope you've made yourself a spare key.
"finding neverland" by fragments-of-a-dream


_{featured by: musicalgenius321}

"Cult Classics" by Panda-Vision


_{featured by: Permanent-Insanity}
SecretsSecrets
Do you have deep dark secrets hidden in the depths of the darkness of the vast foreboding oceans of your memories?
How Long would it take an educated man to correlate the measurements of your absences and calculate the coordinates of the precise trajectory of a tiny white lie sinking to the bottom of a not bottomless abyss?
What if I told you that I am not easily impressed by the brilliant white of perfect symmetry and flawless human purity.
Maybe I would be lying out of my extreme love for you.
Nevertheless I think I am capable of forgiveness.
I want you to know this but I am not capable of sharing the burden of your secrets.
I want you to know this not because I want to know but because I want you to know of the simple honesty of my love.
But these words can never be spoken.
(Jan 09)
"Secrets" by i-sit-in-silence


_{featured by: underworldriver}
Daddy is an artistDaddy doesn’t need water
For his bloody knuckles
To color pretty pictures,
He'll exhibit with pride when the work is done.
All he really needs
Are his eight red markers
To help him express the anger
He keeps bottled up inside.
Daddy is an artist and I am
Living proof of his ability
To cause pain.
My skin is a canvas you can use over and over again,
Welcome to the museum of horrors
Where you can admire the beauty
In every bruise, scrape and blood stain.
"Daddy Is An Artist" by Jaime-kendrick




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