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The WalrusWhen you think
about it – don’t
think about it.
I think about these things, babushka, but
don’t forget the walrus eats the fish. O
the mind’s eye knows them, the hound-basset
snout mouth, those fanger-bangers, turdy flubs
a-blub and with passions
unknown, if you’re lucky.
And who are we to judge.
Fleshy spools, pink and brown and blue,
Containing within multitude.
Neurons stretch electric fingers to fugue
And you, too -
Toe in Water
words that i have learned writing this book:
ontogeny: the evolution of an organism
phylogeny: the historical relatedness evolution of organisms
heuristic: refers to experience-based techniques for problem solving, learning, and discovery. Heuristic methods are used to speed up the process of finding a good enough solution, where an exhaustive search is impractical. Examples of this method include using a "rule of thumb", an educated guess, an intuitive judgment, or common sense.
stochastic model- a mathematical model involving random variables in order to estimate probability distribution of potential outcomes. (This is the sort of model prizbaum etc were applying to biotic systems?)
(examples: quantum physics, brownian motion) not a deterministic but a randomized model
A tropism is a growth movement whose direction is determined by the direction from which the stimulus strikes the plant.
A teleology is any philosophical account which holds that final ca
A horse snorting wildly at the slightest slither;
we are natural enemies, ankle-biting snake against
fetishized freedom, all hair. You pepper-eating poets
seduce me every time. Against my character, might
I add: My nostrils are as dilated
as they've ever been, to detect the slightest hint
of movement from you, a stirring and then
the anatomy of the thing will emerge.
Laundry List: Please buy
Tide, the catalogue of the human soul,
self-cutting. You might crumple up the writing
and swallow it like a spy,
but burning toast is no career, my friend. Perhaps
that bitch poetry is a necrophiliac, never letting dead
archetypes sleep. Yes, I know that Helen has launched
ships from: Vietnam, world wars, the Midwest,
which is landlocked. But you cannot kill the
fat-fingered fairies, the delicate forms. Rapunzel,
Rapunzel, let down your standards! I will give you
a dose of your own medicine, and like a cancer
himBefore I lose my life in this town, I'm looking for a pebble
that smells like anything - the ocean, soil, you - that shit.
Symptoms include an obsession with clocks and a dismissive anything
towards her, the bleak old buzzard who watches with gauze-eyed cataracts
as we walk by, - -we- menacing in white sneakers and suntan lotion - - she -
has been so long above it all that there is no longer any difference between the declaration of independence
and a newspaper article that goes:
Everything was terrible and the people died,
but really she was just having a bad dream.
Really she's okay.
And it was all just make-believe,
and you feel kind of stupid for ever having cared at all.
And the pebble would be shaped like a clear, healthy lung
and burned into it, it would say,
I would follow you into the dark.
In sans serif font, flawless, nothing-eyed,
lining my palm like mouthful of pulpy orange crush,
only stinging where the cracks show, and through them come
the old theo
The first thing you knew about me was
the time I kicked tom out of the house
for wearing an orange shirt, that something's been wrong
and anyway, I have that old photograph of you.
Yes, the surreal one that shows just how many piercings
you paid for by the mouthful of ouch.
But you see, in this kingdom of squalor, I have remained,
as always, devout. And if you were to rot,
pushing up daisies, I would get tenser,
like a muscle, but until I ascend to the kingdom of -
Oh, I don't remember, and there's no need for you
(to ask.) I have learned to do without
None, Zip, Sink
On breathless heights where trees, having been so long above it all, begin to eat their own
my sun-scorched face, once red, gives up the ghost
and, without affect, I press my nose against the mirror until I only have one eye.
This shit is beautiful, I'm telling you -
but you can't take it with you. Not onto a plane,
and I eat some more paper to get through the day
with a great hiss of steam, my pupils grow bigger.
Now, now, now, it will grow dark enough to see,
thicker and thicker, the plot is congealing,
and I have told you this to make you grieve.
You Were Not An Aquarium BoySea-glass became your bones,
brine your blood, and seashells
melded into your skin.
You were not quite an ocean
when you said "This is your sign to love me."
My body was like a building;
tall, cold, almost unbreakable.
I was metallic and sharp,
towering over your waters.
I remember taking your hand in mine,
conch and coral shells scrubbing
my skyscraper wrists, and laughing
about how one day you would
submerge every last bit of me.
Your lips, riddled with argonauts,
found my cheek and I cringed
at the coarseness.
You asked if they bothered me
and I finally told you "I
think I love you."
The Heavenly DanceThe stars fell around us
And settled on our shoulders
As we stared into one another's eyes
And in that moment
We understood eachother
The stars then swirled anew
Creating a magnificent dress for you
And you took my hand
And led the dance
Weaving in and out of time
Like the threads connecting our minds
You told me we could never
And I believe you
It's NotIt's not the lipstick gloss
that makes a kiss
the warm pulse beating through
It's not their size
but the words they whisper,
It's not the color
nor the length
nor the glint
of her hair
that makes her special
it is her smile
in the falling rain
reflecting the joy
of yet another Spring,
It's not the time
she spent getting beautiful
that makes her so
but in fact
it is the hours
she was besides my bed
when I was sick
and in fact
it is the minutes
I could hear her breathe
in my embrace
AND in fact
it is the seconds
I saw her cry
(out of happiness)
Because she's beautiful.
It's not the clothes,
nor the jewellery,
nor the colored nails,
nor the drawn-in brows,
nor the words she says
to other people,
and neither it is
It is her mind
that entertains my poems,
it is her charm
that paints my cheeks
and averts my shy eyes from her
It is her soul,
that I love.
SIRENNeath the woe of Ulysses' blood and toil,
A sea of heavenly-fury once awaken'd
Her gaze clad in honey’d delirium ablaze
Of such beauteous prize, he shall yield;
For her tongue hath seized mortal desire
And lo the Moons’ glory shall weep in vain!
Journey’s of madness sung with promise;
— A rising tempest hurl'd to Hades reign
Oceanic rhythms untwine love forbidden,
Breaking the mists of insatiable dreams
The Sirens call ebbed like darkness falling;
Her lust bleeding into the mythic abyss ..
His anguish bestow'd the folding tides,
Unto their lips would perish in mystery
Deeper jewel'd the haunting of his soul,
Forsaken to the ink of Orpheus' muse.
And ghostly twilight shone low and pale,
O’er the hum of those ethereal seas
Long wherest his heart shall forever sail
— Arthur Crow © 2014
You Are My AngelYou came to me in my dreams
When I was below the surface looking up at the sunlight filtering through water molecules
Your hand took mine
And you let me pull you down to lay beside me, where we looked up at everything floating by together
You came to me in my dreams
When I thought about how not worth it this life was and convinced me of otherwise
Your heart sat down beside mine
And I realized I felt alive.
SixI am weak
And I am cold.
You are strong
And you are warm.
I am incomplete,
But with you
I'm made whole.
I am dirty
And covered in mud.
You are clean
And your heart is pure.
What is my world
If it doesn't include you?
I am harsh
And I am rough.
You are gentle
And you are smooth.
Without your love
I am nothing,
And life has no worth.
I am broken
And I am bent.
You are right
And you are true.
And this is why I'm loving you:
You're the beautiful one
Between us two.
FiveWhen the wind blows,
It speaks your name to me.
When I stare at the clouds,
I see your smiling face.
I watch the people passing by,
I see them wave and say hello,
And I think of you all the while.
At night I look up towards the milky way,
And I see the glowing stars,
And my eyes meet your gaze.
The grass beneath my feet
Is soft like you are to me.
The sunshine on my head
Is warm like your heart.
Everything I do
Makes me think of you.
In everything I see,
You're looking back at me.
In all that I say and feel,
I know you'll always love me still.
For you are my everything,
And my everything is you.
The Safety of Familiar Objects
Splinters puncture membrane-covered clouds
time and time again her yellow breath
of smog and fog and ink on wet newspapers
sticks to black asphalt covered with May-colored sprinkles
and geometric daffodils unsnapping necks.
A condom wrapper defies the suckwhirl tide and clings to driftwood
and bangles of sky glimmer in a rainbow collapse
of oil. There's metal in her nostrils and linoleum in her eyes;
she slips piles of nails and bloody slime down my throat
along with percussive bells and a flower like stained napkins.
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