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Onyx DreamsOnyx Dreams

Fluctuations of sound waves vibrate the floor,
While the lights of my room glow brilliantly,
But as time winds down and my energy starts its decline,
My vision gets blurry and listening becomes hearing,
And hearing becomes simple background noise,
While Palaceer Lazaro’s words become filmy intonations
Yet, still creating a motion picture full of abstract images,
In my mind full of words and phrases that do nothing but stay stagnant,
And Slumber begins to wrap her warm hands around my head,
As she sweetly begins to pull me into black depths of rest,
A state of unconsciousness that will take me on a journey,
Through the grey abyss we call the center of our nervous system,
And once I fall into the pit of nothingness, the pit of onyx, for those few hours,
I will transform into an atramentous being with aphotic wings,
Because “black is free……..”

I Don't Miss AdolescenceMy sister calls to ask me if I'll do her makeup;
Mami promised that she would, but she's tired
and screamed when Maria reminded her senior prom
is tonight. She says, "I have a hickey on my neck,
something she doesn't want to cover, and you've always
done a better job of highlighting the subtle graces
inherent to my bone structure, the angles we share."

I say, "That's okay, but I can't pick you up,"

so she arrives in a flourish of exasperations,
telling me all the family business, waving her nails
in my face and talking about the pain of her extensions.
She says, "Do you think we need yellow concealer?
I plan to take pictures, and the last

You were cold insideYour lips tasted of
summer, of warm days and
cherry-flavoured ice,
relaxing by the
pool side and
smiling against the sun.

You should have been too hot,
too sticky, too humid.
You should have
overheated, should have
melted into your bones until
they turned to ashes, but
it never happened.

I suppose I should have
seen it coming, but
I was so moonstruck over
the way you said my name, so
in love with the idea
of love, that I
didn't notice the way
your eyes bled
winter.

The HourglassWatch the hands go round and round.
Ahhhh, how long have I been sitting here,
Listening to the grandfather clock?
Watching him ticking away?
Watching the polished wood yellow and rot?
And with every sound he makes
More maggots eat his wooden flesh.

Every grain that falls is an eternity!
In the firelight you can see the glass.
The dust that coats the cracking bulb,
Listening to the sand that trickles down.
Listening to the passing hours.
With every grain that filters through
Another man sleeps eternally.

The sundial stands defiant!
From my leather chair I see it!
It stands defiant in the plaza below me!
Standing in the moonlit night.
Standin

7 - The Pet PoetI remember when Mommy bought you
a black-haired pet for your sweet sixteenth.
Its bronze collar said its name was "Poet."
You fed it noise from the out-of-tune piano,
intense moments involving flesh and razors,
and the occasional walk by the lake.

At first, he knew only the wolf's howl,
purging blood and flames onto the carpets.
Everywhere was a smell of extravagance --
like that woman's cheap perfume on the train to work.
But you cried a little less,
smiled a bit more.
And that was when Daddy stopped
trying to send it back to the shelter.

Soon, you even started watching T.V.
(and enjoyed food, dressed nice, made friends.)
But T

nothing specialthey tell you not to give up
because you have potential--
and to the ones who simply enjoy
you're probably fantastic
but to those who do
you're simply mediocre,
nothing to bat an
eyelash at.

you're not quite bad enough
to quit, but you're not
great enough to be
remembered.

unrequitedyou make my words
gather at the hollows
of my throat
until i choke on them.

my fingers ache to
hold you--
but my eyes ache to
cry.

you're nothing but heart break
wrapped in a bow
of something beautiful,
like the dust of grace from
fallen angels.

i drink a little faster and
cry a little harder
because the way whiskey and tears
mingle on my lips
tastes suspiciously of love.

VIIEncore un peu de cendre
Au coin de tes lèvres
Parolescentes

J'épluche tes souhaits
Tu laves le ciel
En vain

Et dans ce vent chaud
Des milliers de pétales
De peau

SeppukuA blue sky greets me as I kneel to the ground.
I hear the rushing wind and the sacred water sound.
The cold, grey stone upon my knee,
As I prepare myself for eternity.

I take a solemn look at my silent crowd,
Those cruel, dark faces scream so loud.
They want me to do the final deed.
I'll plunge the tanto in. They'll see me bleed.

I look for a while at my full rice bowl,
And prepare for the next cycle of my soul.
What shall I be? A man or god?
Shall my next life be lived in the mud and sod?

I finish quickly so we don't delay.
By now the light is fading away.
I take up the pen and start to write,
To put brush to paper is one last delight.

"

Equestrian StormEquestrian Storm

I was walking through Canterlot,
as rain beat my plot.
I just didn’t feel right,
before it came into my sight.

The princess of the night,
alone and broken.
What a pitiful sight,
out of my slump, twas awoken.

“Princess, why are you here why are you crying?”

“Because nopony loves our night, I would be better off dying!”

“No Luna no, now that you shouldn’t say!”

“And why ever not, what reason hath you that I should stay?”

“Celestia for one, your sister whom you love.”

“Right sure, the sister from whom to the moon I was shoved.”

“Lu

Thinking.Thinking without thought,
Not thinking about a lot.

Thinking about what it how it would be,
To have a thoughts as endless as the sea.

Thinking about the passing time,
About the mountains I have not climbed.

Thinking about a world gone by,
And about the big blue sky.

Thinking about love so sweet,
And of life crumbling at my feet.

To think about everything vast as it seems,
Would take as long as counting dreams.

So to think without a thought,
And not to think about a lot.

Would carry on an endless dream,
And let time unravel at it's seams.

No wordsI don't like to talk.
I feel that words cannot truly express what I feel.
When I am filled with emotion, I can find no word that can express what I feel to the fullest.
There is no word beautiful enough to describe this joy, no word horrible enough to describe this hate, no word ugly enough to describe this miserable existence.

a small dosage per daysorrow makes its way into my cup of tea every morning
so I add more spoonfuls of sugar into it,
hoping the sweetness will overpower the bitterness;

yet, this clever feeling still seeps through the sweet substance
and clings to the sugar's particles,
races through my veins
and scatters in my blood,

making an entire day feel ruined
already.

Left AloneYou want me to leave you alone? I'll leave you alone.

You want me to buy you a cake and a knife? Sure I'll do that.

So, what else do you need me to do? OK. That should be easy to do.

Here I go, walking to and fro, to unknown destination just so I can please you.

You hate my guts, huh? Well, to be honest, and I will not lie, I hate your guts too.

You see me and I see you, walking past each other each and everyday - We do not smile.

I often invision you surrounded by flames and you invision me drowning in the sea.

And here is my question to you: Why do you hate me so much?

You snarl as you echo my words: Why do YOU hate me so much?

Right Ulna and RadiusStill I remember the day I spent
lying, green, in a hospital bed
swaddled in blankets.

The afternoon I woke,
sprawled across the classroom floor,
my words slurring and arm
swelling,
trying to pick faces out
of the black spots in my vision
and begging eyes to tell me
what had happened
where I was
who I was.

The way the
two nurses rubbed feeling back into my
ice-cold fingers
and dripped my blood into a
tube, cell by cell by cell,
for fear that my basic structure would
hit the bottom of the vacuum and
shatter.

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for the chosen one

by *Deborah-Valentine, Aug 21, 2005, 10:32:31 AM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

when i was born my own personal carnage began
shocked into a reality i would never liken to
while others suck their putrid cigar air
swim poluted rivers, spawning in a gambling miasma
magnificent horses, their great bulk standing on fingernails
would run mile after single mile

at the end of their short lives
convelesce at the gates of a glue factory
or to be shot
or the lucky ones who were loved for more than a fat purse
would eat sweet grass in some peaceful field

i wish i was born one thousand years ago
to ride through the castle gate
dressed in velvet
scarlet as a setting sun
guarding my chastity
for the chosen one

for the chosen oneby *Deborah-Valentine

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

another grouping of my wacky sring of words
[link] Music by *divee

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!ra76 May 2, 2010

another awesome poem
I love the 1st section, you are aware of the ugliness of the surroundings of the race track and these beautiful creatures are there for are fat greedy selves and roman enjoyment.
Then the 2nd section- the end of the line for the horse- none of which are good-even the grazer lost it's spirit and just eats the rest of its days.
Then your empathetic last section, where you imagine yourself as the horse, as he or she should be. Loved, respected and made for legend.

*Deborah-Valentine May 2, 2010 Professional Traditional Artist

wow, nobody reads my poems

thank you!

[link]

!ra76 May 2, 2010

My pleasure
and thanks for your link

~yakiroba Dec 10, 2006

sweet!! I love your writing, and it's really cool to hear it put to music!!

*Deborah-Valentine Dec 11, 2006 Professional Traditional Artist

So you have heard from Ton's site!

~yakiroba Jan 4, 2007

yes!! I finally checked it out!! I can be a slacker at time!

*Deborah-Valentine Jan 5, 2007 Professional Traditional Artist

why did you delete all the corpses we made together?

~yakiroba Jan 5, 2007

oh I didn't! what had happened was that I put them in storage so they wouldn't get chosen for the show a couple of months back. the problem now is that I'm not able to get into my storage!! I'm hoping it's just some bug that dA is working on, cuz all of my collaborations are invisible

*Deborah-Valentine Jan 5, 2007 Professional Traditional Artist

weird! well I am glad you put some light on that matter. i was sooo sad

~yakiroba Jan 5, 2007

yeah I'm pretty annoyed about the whole thing because I was afraid this would happen, that someone would think I deleted my collabs with them
I think Victor Newman is waiting for you in Conference Room C

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