Who's Who on dA: Issue 7

Hey everybody!

Here we are at the 7th edition of my Who's Who feature articles.

I enjoy doing feature articles, but I have realized more and more that a lot of features people do (and I'm super guilty of this) involve people that are more known in the literature community here. Or, in my case, it's a feature of people I'm good buddies with. There's an incredible amount of talent hiding in the corners of dA, and I want to give some spotlight to those that haven't gotten the recognition they deserve. We have all been there, and you gotta start somewhere right? Sometimes that's the push we need when we're new to dA, and just getting started. This is also for deviants who aren't new, but may be under the radar a bit. Either way, this is a good way to get some glimpse into who's out there in this big world that is the lit community on deviantArt.

Thus the entire point of this feature article series I'd like to call: “Who's Who on dA”. It will be feature articles spotlighting some lesser known dA writers. Hopefully, this will serve to get some views/attention their way. Or, at the very least, make their day for a bit.

If you have any people in mind that you think should be featured in any of the Who's Who Issues, feel free to note me privately with their dA name, why you think they should be featured, and maybe some pieces you think need to be included.

Onto the somewhat late Issue 7:

TheBakerandWriter

Tennessee Bluegrass~CollabFireflies sprinkle Tennessee fields,
bluegrass swaying
in a summer breeze,
Bluegrass playing
on the radio as we drive
Fireflies surfacing memories
of the city's lights
twinkling,
eighty stories high above
the hustle and bustle.
The city that never sleeps,
the opposite of these country roads.
Rockvale's water tower
disappears from the rear view mirror;
forty-three minutes from home,
I count the curves
in Scorpio's tail over the horizon
and remember the stories
Poppop used to whisper
about destiny
and lady luck
and peaceful goodbyes.
We'd sit on his knee
and he'd speak in that soft voice of his,
"It's where the road takes you,
you can't choose your path."
We didn't know what he meant at the time but as we drive
I think I get it now. SeafoamAphrodite rose,
From the depths of the blue sea;
Love was born within. Bronze EucalyptusYou make me dream of lands across the sea
where gods are rumored to roam
and Winter searches for Spring.
Your branches create the canopy that
the great Odysseus slumbers under
and satyrs frolic among the trees.
Your essence emerges from within your trunks watching as
the 'Queen's Glory' serves for freedom
and love struck nymphs gossip away the Sun.
Your leaves rustle in sympathy
for the beautiful Calypso
and the heroes that wash upon her shore.
You make me long for faraway lands
where goddesses are said to dance
and Spring has returned back home. Baby PowderTrembling hand,
Waits.
Thrust out in front of her body,
If that is what it can be called.
Her skin stretches
Over her sharp white bones,
Looking for escape.
Dilated eyes,
Scan her surroundings,
Waiting
For her best friend.
She takes the baggy
In her trembling hands.
Her thin lips
Twitch into a smile.
Unsteady,
She walks.
Rounding the corner,
She smears it
Over her rotting teeth.
Shivering,
Her bones collapse.
Her best friend,
Her worst enemy.
Around her,
Life continues.


ParalyticProcess (I highly recommend. This girl is amazing)

DogsongYou ripped me from my mother.
I was but a gnat, wholly insignificant
                a fly, caught in your web of displeasure
                but even then
                I knew how cruel this world can be.
You were a jealous god
      coveting, the gnashing of teeth
                       your apologies inconsequential
                       my voice too crippled to rise and
                       meet them.
But in this betrayal I am faithful
      licking the back of your throat
      until I sleep with the red fern
               roots deep in bone
               b CrepitusYou would kill them, slowly.
       Every slug on the wet sidewalk, a silent victim
                  to your salt revolver
                  and I would say nothing.
I would never stand up to you,
  my voice cowering in its box.
Maybe I was terrified, a slug myself
             or maybe I liked to watch things die as well.
But that would make me a murderer
       and I don’t think I am ready.
Not yet.
                Not now.
So I took several quiet minutes to gather my voice from the cobwebs
    and when I opened my chapped lips to tell you
            you cut me off at the knees.
-D.E.M ViolinI plucked so softly
 heartstrings and bloodied wood
                        buried in my jaw
and what of it.
My naked fingers wish to hide their faces in cold mittens
      the embarrassment of failure
             hot on my white knuckles
     the hemorrhaging of chance speckling my face
so I play harder
tiny strings
weeping beneath.
And one by one, they give way
       sickening breaks in my own hands
                       wailing panic
     
I stained my best shirt
         my only instrument, broken to pieces
               splinters wearing my hands as if they were pitiful masks.
I draw a deep breath,
 resisting the urge to sob.
I plucked so softly.
I will never play again.
-D.E.M FishboneI am a rhapsody in tiny painful pieces
    hinged delightfully in your throat
                  but you told me in so many gasps
                          that you wanted me to stay.
To stay.
You are bleeding from seven places,
        and you want me to stay.
I am speechless, a knife without a handle
       a heathen without a god
           a butterfly wing without dust.
I want to hate you,
  anger rising in my belly.
But it does not change the fact that I am
             splintered, buried
                        in your wounded intentions
            and still, you ask me
                           


Nerohal

Wrong Side of the WindowPeering over the verge is making my stomach hurt again,
Waves of adrenaline and melancholy ripple now and then
Through my arms, a sole reminder of my panicked breath,
The world is  tucking me in tightly, whispers of cot death.
I've set this up again, to lean on false fate,
A gust of wind will come, gravitate my weight,
With two hands around my throat, I'll not even try
To catch myself as I fail to fly. Making Dominos Of You AllYou wrap me up in cotton wool
More fool you, I'll sever your fingers
With a razor-edge attitude - you're complacent,
These wounds won't bleed until I say so.
Throw your chips into the middle,
Watch as blue and red towers crumble
And my cityscape is born of yours.
Misplaced faith tastes like the bones in my attic,
Ivory dust that I smoke as I scheme, my lungs' fuel,
I'll pick my teeth of regret and reach for the ink --
They're going to eat this up, friend,
A scandal for public digestion and I am cursed
By this iron stomach.
I'm an autodidact bereft of reason
Beyond the rise and the fall;
A mind enshrined with projectiles
And expanding borders. Placating the DyingPeer into me with the illusions of stained glass;
A translucent veil I use to shield, distorting,
Evading intricacies and unfurling silhouettes
And chalk outlines, clandestine meetings or
Crime scenes that sprawl across my metropolis.
Pretend you don't hear me stutter as I ramble;
That I don't divide into shards when the oration
Evokes an emotion, foreign, for which
I possess no antibodies to ward.
Pulverise what's left of these bones;
Skeletal dust to strew across the breeze
Into pastures and ponds, I'll concede
To the natural cycle under false pretenses --
That anything left within is worth
The justice of recycling.
Plead for my end like the epilogue withholds a twist;
Subterranean cliffhangers will dwell six foot deep,
When there are no nerve endings left, I'll admit that
Feeling wasn't so bad,
Yet it leads me to this. Dearest SocietyI’ve grown numb to this heartless traction,
Tears, bleeding, no longer my impulse reaction,
There’s more hope, I ambled across a fraction,
So park your arse, I’m never going to be of your faction.
Push me around and test my constitution,
I’m not fussed by your petty persecution,
Scar me as you like if it’s your solution,
But lay a hand on my mind, prepare for revolution.
Content without torment, thankfully cloaked,
Discovered unawares as you sneered and joked,
These years for you were easy, now I am evoked,
Come one step closer and in crimson red you’ll be soaked.
I’m not like you and I’ll never let myself die,
Regardless of my mess, I’ll never fake and deny,
I’m tired of your attrition so deep that I want to cry,
You may try to change who I am, but know I’ll defy.
So, you lost your soul and now you want mine,
Well, heed this well-meaning advice, sunshine,
I know you’re surrendering because I’m doing fine,
On


IvoryLascivire

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GhostOfTheEmptyGrave

FailureMy hopes were high
I expected a lot
The future was a dream
That never came true
All is lost now
Everything but the hate
The hate I feel
Burning within my soul
Hate
That I'll take to Hell
With me Your choice, UniverseThis cursed life
Never seems to end
So, to the Universe
I ask
Help me find happiness
Or kill me already The master of the deadThe moonlight paints everything silver
While the spells of darkness are cast
And the bodies of the dead are sunmoned
An army of corpses comes to life and rises
Marching towards the warmth of the living
To feed on their soft and bloody flesh
And their master laughs in his fortress
For tonight the world is his to conquer Frozen lightThe stars may shine
But their light is cold
It gives you hope
But you must take action
By yourself


Give this feature a favorite and pass it along These deviants deserve a closer look.

Until next week,

(And hopefully it won't be so late. Apologies for that. NaPoWriMo is now going to eat up all my time)

-M-