[x]

the sound of gears and stoneborn in steel and clay
rising to press back the clouds
and scattering them with a wave
of hands and arms made for
other things

the sound of gears and stone
shifting and grinding
shifting and grinding
walking towards the edge
of the world

pocked with the mark of times
when hungry beasties fed
and took me to their bed
if only in their minds
not their hearts

the horizon is never closer
and entropy betrays me
but not yet, I say,
but not yet, I say,
and I move through the night

William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

SometimesSometimes, you feel like giving up. In your mind, you had given up all hope and all that’s left to do is to quietly disappear in a corner. Perhaps you didn’t have enough courage to continue moving on; afraid of failure, you stand still in the road called life, unsure of what to do next. Fear of being unable to stop what’s going to happen next, fear of being unable to prevent that same mishap from happening again, fear of falling again after that one thousand failures. Because of that fear, you’re moving further from me.
“Now all I want to do is forget this ever happened. Forget it all, go to sleep, and never wake

Witch's BrewBubble bubble
toil and trouble
eye of newt
its the witching hour.

Its the witching hour
where the witches
are in a gitty mood
making new potions.

A dash of frog's lips
scale of dragon
wings of a gremlin
stir them all into a cauldron.

Witches just love making potions
they got so many viels on their shelves
you can find all that you seek
at the witch's cottage.

Make your true love fall for you
there's a love potion that'll do the trick
want to be a few inches taller
there's a growth potion to help with that
just be careful not to drink it all
that is if you want to be a giant.

Witches love the time of hour
making their potions with wick

One Thing Leads To AnotherOne teachers bitterness
Can lead to this
Student that's struggling in the back row
A snide comment about a test score
And their whole world
Will take a blow

Little did that teacher know
The magnitude that their actions hold
That one comment, look or eye roll
Could tear that kids whole world

That kid leaves class
Without a second glance
At the teacher who was meant to enlighten them
But broke down their confidence
And shattered them

It starts with passing giggles in the hallway
To comments in the next class that their friends made
To their parents questions at the end of the day

To the very next morning that same kid
Is late to class becau

The Power of Wordsa gentle whisper on the wind,
carries across nations,
through homes and across cultures,
a simple play on speech pulling heart strings,
a gentle rhythmic lull in your ear,
even the sweet sound of silence calls to you,
"a pictures worth a thousand words",
yet a single word can tell infinite stories,
end wars,
bridge cultures,
and unite families,
a single word may change the world,
as can the neglect to say it,
a single word but once uttered,
can span the vast flow of time,
and carry on into eternity,
words speak to the soul,
and connect people in remarkable ways

Death's True KissYou fall in love with a ghost
And dream yourself an island
You take me for a home
But cast and torn apart

Fill me up with a whisper
Take me for a friend
Dead or alive
It all comes to end

Those visions I've seen
Oh, so many times
See me in dream
That only comes to life

You've known me before
So know me again
Like the diamond you once been
Light and inflamed

Slice me with silence
Shed tears of mud
Fill me my requiem
Take me for none

Outcast and dethroned
I will still hold my ground
Forbidden and alone
I too will brake down

No matter my saviour
Hold with dead lips
Those words that I whisper
Death's true kiss

With love there you fight m

Living :Conest Entry:To say man is sinful, doesn't seem to quite say it.
Because all that brings to mind is blasphemers, fornicators, God-haters--all of us.
But to say man is dead, is all the more accurate
Because a corpse can't feel sympathy, it can't hear cries for help.
It tastes not, hears not, handles not, it becomes as lifeless as the very idol it worshipped.
No, to say man is sinful doesn't seem to quite say
Because he who identifies as a cadaver can't hope to know who he really is.
That's why my endeavors are heavenly, and my ID is "Living Among the Dead" Because I know Christ gave me life so I could feel your pain even though find it pleasurable,
To se

Who I amWho I Am

&

Who I Want To Be,

are so far away from each other it hurts.

Twerping Birdies

I. not a morning person

Twerping birdies, chorping away at the day
As if I were supposed to be awake
At the crack of noon.

Cheerful construction workers obliterate
The restful silence, encouraged, perhaps,
By the bad example of the twerping birds.

There's plenty of rest for the wicked,
But none at all for me; let the early bird
Gorge itself on wormy guts for all I care.

II. insomnia blues

like unto the gentle, polyphonic susurration of the wind
through the leaves of the sibylline vuvuzela tree,
the evocative, resonant, goldurned whiny two-stroke
of the kargyraa engine of progress that powers
the early morning hunting call
of the ove

vengeance for injusticea mother she cries
cries at the war
now she waits
waits for the call
of the soldiers orders to kick down her door
vengeance she took filled with hate
for her husband and child who couldn't be saved
now she's locked in a cell
she buried her son
they put her through hell
but it's okay the rich man won

cirque de nuitanfangs ein rauschen am nachthimmel
so geschehen vom flattern der wimpel im

halbdunkel und dem klagenden streichton einer
singenden säge.

genommen und versteckt
verloren und gefallen

und ein riss der das zurückkommen
nicht möglich macht.

ein bild unter glas
getrübt - verhangen wie weisses Metall.

( hast du das licht vergessen- hast du?)

die leine baumelt mechanisch
am hilflosen arm.

ein atmen - stockend und menschlich fast
(etwas pocht herzähnlich)

ein raunen geht durch unsichtbare reihen
enttäuschend wie ein sprung ohne boden.

verlierst du dich verlierst du mich auch
und haben wir schon uns beide verlo

The Ugly TruthI'm not a miracle worker,
I'm not superwoman,
I'm a broken, 17 year old girl, who has no idea where shes going in life.

And I'm scared.

A Friendpeople change at a rapid pace
but i know that until the end
despite the problems we may face
in you i'll always have a friend
there's never been another you
and never will be, on this earth
so i will miss, that much is true
i love you, friend, for all it's worth
when the day comes that we must part
and we reach the end of this life-long endeavor
you'll always remain in my heart
and we'll be intertwined forever
so keep in mind as you go out
to do great things, whatever they be
that i will be here, without a doubt
you'll always have a friend in me

The morrow has dawned, crisp aThe morrow has dawned, crisp and clear,

A new medium on which our lives shall appear

I slept and dreamed of dreams unrecalled

Like faded memories lost in fog

But those faded memories do abound

Yet in your arms my soul is re-found

Washed anew by love's hot touch

Bless my heart, I love you so much.

The Song of the Dead (poetry)"The Song of the Dead"

The sands are falling one by one,
Can you feel them in your head?
Closer and closer the time draws near,
Can you hear the song of the dead?

A plague is due, they said;
Can you hear the song of the dead?
The sand drips faster and thicker than blood,
Don't dwell on it -- rest your head.

They eat time for breakfast,
Rest your head they said.
They'll snatch you up in your sleep,
Can you hear the song of the dead?

Gaping jowls of time,
Fears that julian and shred,
My soul may have left long ago, but
Can you hear the song of the dead?

There's too many of us, they said.
The hourglass is empty, they said.
All in which you

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how are you?How are you?

better than dead,
worse than alive.

eavesdroppingI considered telling my bedroom window
     to shut up

but
out of morbid curiosity
I moved closer

to give it a fair chance to amuse me,

outside
is my neighbor,

Wayne

he has
rotten teeth,

greasy
thinning hair,
like an almost transparent
pompadour
     draped over his large
          and obviously balding scalp,

and a naturally sour look
on his face
about everything

the kind of guy
who is always smiling
and looks miserable doing it,

there's something
disgusting
about him smiling

aside from his
teeth
being dijon mu

quarter life crisisskating across
the thin manipulation
on pens sick with the birthday jitters

hell-bent on spilling free
into the trials
of a torn tomorrow

I keep asking myself
when I will walk away

though I'm free of reservations

I sit wrong;
legs dangling

like my own
internal inquiry

is it wrong?

to tire of treading this water

this is bound to end
in me
carrying myself
toward a truth
that will set me

falling

I have no clever thoughts today
I have no urge to write today

drying out
like a thorn bush
or a tumble weed
in the sun

one spark away
from a burst of flames

watching
situations grow

elevator musicnight found me
in the strangest place;

like a plan I'm not supposed to be in,

or the day serendipity and synchronisity
eloped to a state where gay marriage is legal,
so the chips left behind could fall freely,

and as much as I'd like to
throw them under the bus they skipped town in,
I bare the blame all my own,
and the weight of such burdens
much like the obese carry themselves,
everywhere I hesitate to go,

only to feel out of place,
like a
glimpse
of a stunt double's face
amidst an action scene

truant

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[x]

Static Cling + Aching Heart

by ~oldest-boy, Aug 22, 2008, 10:51:09 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

I'm that static on a TV,
that just won't turn off;

with a broken heart on my sleeve,
so it hurts to take my shirt off.

tickling my bones as i have no more fat to work off,
I'm worse off than last year so i reflect as i drop ash,
from my cigarette
as i look into it, with a laugh.

stripping father time for every minute he has,
so I'm backing up the data and deleting my past.

my soul is a broken bone in desperate need of a cast.
my heart is beating so fast, i hum a drum and bass tempo.

with voices from up-stairs that keep encouraging me to let go.

I'm standing motionless
on a mound of broken bliss.

dissecting the open sore in my brain called "hopelessness"
the ocean is shaking,

I'm like a sea turtle without a shell,
homeless and naked.

hidden agendas,
lurking over my shoulders like suspenders.
swimming in the pool
until my finger tips are tender.

contenders lining up,
at a feverish pace;
I keep my eyes wide shut with a message written on my face.

as to open up my arms, and let down my guard,
so my moods can swing freely in this great big backyard.

where the children don't stop playing
and peoples actions underline and punctuate what they are saying.

attention is the only thing i can afford to keep paying.
and as my brain keeps decaying i watch the candle flicker.

my voice becomes a whisper
but my thoughts are loud enough to paint a picture.

all in front of you live.

my problems are a lock box
with the answers inside.

Static Cling + Aching Heartby ~oldest-boy

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

This is a poem i recorded into [ audio format ]
when i was about 17,
which was roughly 5 years ago.

big shout out,
and thanks to...

for featuring me on
[ One Night Stanzas ]

It has a bit of info about myself
and features this poem
in both text, and [ audio format ]

it's my first publication
of any sort, and i'm thrilled.

~strawberry-goodness Mar 14, 2010

Wow.

=luckylisa Nov 24, 2008 Hobbyist General Artist

i can definately relate and have felt this before

~oldest-boy Nov 24, 2008

did you listen to the audio version?

=luckylisa Nov 24, 2008 Hobbyist General Artist

yes, it's very good

*Garnet-43 Oct 24, 2008

Piognant images flow ever so smoothly.

Most enjoyable.

~oldest-boy Oct 25, 2008

thank you, so much

~ColonelFitz Oct 15, 2008

With a broken heart on my sleeve, so it hurts to take my shirt off.
I like that line.

I actually downloaded all 4 of your tracks a while back, I guess I just never said anything.

It's really interesting listening to spoken word poetry, well, spoken.
I have to admit I haven't listened to very much hip-hop (my experience is pretty much limited to your four tracks and an immortal technique album), but if it's all this full of...art, I could acquire a taste for it.

~oldest-boy Oct 16, 2008

thank you!

~wellwornwings Oct 15, 2008

Stripping father time for every minute he has.
So I'm backing up the data and deleting my past.

excellent.

~oldest-boy Oct 15, 2008

thank you

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Static Cling + Aching Heart

Static Cling + Aching Heartby ~oldest-boy

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