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About Deviant 14/Female/Seeking father figureMale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 11 Years
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Ginsberg in the Park
And now I’m that little lame balloonman,
all knobbled feet and goat face.
I twist balloon animals from discarded condoms to make
a Durex poodle and a Trojan horse.
I offer them freely, hoping for nothing
more than a smile to steal, but no
one smiles anymore.
I steel at autumn, the winter-come-lately,
and lounge stiff against a light-and-ice pole.
I see him there, Ginsberg, shivering man of rags, and he
leers the old man at the chessboard, the one playing with no partner,
the one tasting the king and swallowing a pawn.
Who is waiting for whom, I wonder?
They both look hungry.
I startle as the Great Figure rolls a quiet, ruby line by.
The emergency is over or not yet begun.
In the humdrum silence of the crisp air,
I tell secrets and secrets.
To the expectant ducks I give away
the last of you, the little bits held between youandme
that I have no place for in myself.
I speak your secrets like an ancient religion,
something beautiful and forgotten. I say to the trees
how you told me yo
:iconvix0r:vix0r 99 63
Tonight by vix0r
Mature content
Tonight :iconvix0r:vix0r 2 8
Ginger Bread
Cook ’em ’fore they’re fully grown—
Sucklin’ pigs and tender meats—
’Til they’re fallin’ off the bone.
Curst, that wicked, evil crone,
Who hexed my foods, breads to beets.
Cook ’em, for they’re fully grown;
Stare as each one shifts to stone.
Roast beef ashes and depletes,
’Til they’re fallen off the bone.
Left to live on sweets alone—
Cookied men, my fav’rite treats.
(Cook ’em ’fore they’re fully grown.)
Years find me glycemic prone,
Boilin’ sores from toes to teats,
’Til they’re fallin’ off the bone.
Slowly, my true figure’s shown.
Snare some kiddies with deceits—
Cook ’em ’fore they’re fully grown,
’Til they’re fallin’ off the bone.
:iconvix0r:vix0r 19 44
are content life leave...
You everything,
the in my.
If you,
and am and.
me up.
:iconvix0r:vix0r 3 8
Angry ID by vix0r Angry ID :iconvix0r:vix0r 3 19
another untitled
:iconvix0r:vix0r 5 17
I imagine
your touch,
a tender skin only barely
hiding cold, jagged glass.
I exult in your caress,
though you shiver
and draw away.
I hearandtasteandsmell
the saccharine on your voice,
the kind reserved for
confection and antifreeze,
as you apologize yourself
away from me.
We seek in sames and opposites,
like Orion chasing Scorpio
chasing Orion.
You fear me your poison,
but I want you to sting me,
to drain that toxin and empty yourself.
Fill me to the eyes with it,
that you might again become Pisces,
become Virgo,
become Gemini.
collapse this world between us;
we’ll compact it,
crush it into nothing,
no one, nowhere,
just us,
hearts in hand,
already let go and reeling.
:iconvix0r:vix0r 12 28
Untitled Haiku the Fourteenth
an old rhythm—
red rain-slick bench drips
on a fallen leaf
:iconvix0r:vix0r 3 15
Headstones for Humanity by vix0r Headstones for Humanity :iconvix0r:vix0r 5 23
To the Women who Loved me
To the women
who screeched ancient and invented curses at me,
who broke open my brain and crossed every wire,
who clawed out their insides and pitched them at me,
who snapped off their nails deep under my skin,
who tackled and bit and
                                  wore me out like a double-sided condom,
Thank you.
                                  Thank you for showing me
that love is never simply
a matter of the heart.
:iconvix0r:vix0r 7 8
The Sun
“It went well, I think,” I said, almost breathless as I hurried down the sidewalk, precariously balancing my cellphone in the crook of my neck as I tried to fish the bus schedule out of my briefcase. My girlfriend was talking excitedly in my ear, barely audible above the din of schoolchildren shouting and playing around her. I told her I’d call her after my other interviews were over, and quickly stuffed the bus schedule into the crook of my arm. I reached the bus stop, set my briefcase down on the bench, and said “I love you,” and “Goodbye,” before snapping my phone shut and slipping it into my pocket.
“Nice day, isn’t it?”
I suppose I jumped a little, because as I turned to the girl who had spoken, she was giggling. She was obviously still school age, and was wearing a somewhat bastardized school uniform. Her top two buttons were undone, revealing a pentacle hanging around her neck. Her sleeves were rolled up, and although her hair wa
:iconvix0r:vix0r 6 17
To Dionysus by vix0r
Mature content
To Dionysus :iconvix0r:vix0r 5 9
Another New Desktop by vix0r Another New Desktop :iconvix0r:vix0r 3 0
Here There Be Monsters
He springs and soars above the sea,
Soon marks his zenith, fails to fly,
And dives down where the monsters be.
In a depth so dark he cannot see—
Made deaf to his own muffled cry—
He springs and soars above the sea.
He greets the sun with heady glee—
A spin and flash, so sleek and spry—
And dives down where the monsters be.
His racing heart demands he flee—
A dart and slash, his will to ply—
He springs and soars above the sea.
Another rush and jubilee—
He tries to grasp each shorter high,
And dives down where the monsters be.
He knows, in truth, he can't be free—
A mighty push, another try:
He springs and soars above the sea,
And dives down where the monsters be.
:iconvix0r:vix0r 5 24
Like the Winter's Snow
I came to think of her love for me
like the Winter’s snow.
The first flakes, just after the fall, were beautiful,
and ever-present.
As our romance went on,
the snow kept falling,
and was soon oppressive,
I began to long for Spring.
Spring came, of course,
(Although she says I had nothing to do with it)
and I felt as a beast relieved of a light burden,
selfishly pleased
despite the care and attention afforded me.
Yet, as the snow melted, I didn’t notice
the water beginning to seep into my walls,
forming great tears behind the wallpaper
or paint
or plaster.
By the time I noticed,
the damage was done.
Now I sit at my window,
the seeping water all drained and disposed of.
The damage to the walls is severe,
and cannot be painted over,
if I ever desired such a thing.
Through my window,
I hear the Spring birds singing,
but I feel no joy.
:iconvix0r:vix0r 6 32
Gods Revamped - Chapter 2
Chapter 2
The life of a confidence man is one part thievery, two parts charm.  Some consider it an art form, but lately I’ve been more inclined to think of it as a profession.  Just like any other skilled labor, you go through stages—amateur, initiate, journeyman, adept, veteran, expert.  Some people never make it past the first stages.  Others are born with some sort of primal instinct for it, and are swindling like a professional before they even realize it.
Of course, there’s no one monitoring your progress and giving you titles like that, but there’s still a hierarchy—on the rare occasion that two con-men run into one another by chance, the more skilled of the two can spot all of the other’s weaknesses.
That kind of situation is rather rare these days, though.  The true con-man is falling out of style, I think.  It’s the thug lifestyle that draws ambitious young people anymore, and
:iconvix0r:vix0r 2 14




14/Female/Seeking father figure
United States
Current Residence: Iowa
Favourite genre of music: Electronica
Favourite style of art: Literature
Operating System: Vista Professional
MP3 player of choice: iTunes
Favourite cartoon character: Colossus
Really, I've been hovering around, reading and watching other deviants, but haven't been making any updates myself. It's been hard making time to write with a full-time job and part-time social life. I still think about my projects fairly often, but it's quite rare that I get around to sitting down to start writing something.

Anyway, in a bizarre (but delightful) series of events, despite my absence I've been treated to a DLD for Ginsberg in the Park on December 25th, 2010, and a bona-fide Daily Deviation for Binding Threads on December 26th. What an odd treat!

So let's see. I've had a lot of adventures and misadventures in the intervening year or so, and while most of it is not especially exciting or interesting, I'll just give you the Cliff's Notes:

In October of last year, I was hired on with McGraw-Hill in an official capacity, and I now spend my days calling professors around the country to see if I can help them with their teaching needs. It's a great job working with great people (and selling to interesting individuals), and I really couldn't be much happier. I've learned a lot, and I've got my foot in the door of the publishing industry, so no matter where I go from here, the time so far has been good.

In March of this year, I had a special visitor from across the pond, none other than the prosaic and always delightful ThornyEnglishRose. It was great fun to meet her and show her around my neck of the woods, though it's hard to know what to do when you've only got a week to squeeze in all of Dubuque, Iowa, and America in general. I think I did an OK job, though. Passable, at least. :)

My life these days is mostly just work, gaming, and occasional socialization, though I'm currently enjoying the beautiful views and crisp mountain air in Colorado. I took some vacation time to visit my aging grandparents, and while it's frigid and snow-packed in Iowa, it's unseasonably warm and dry here in Colorado. It's been a wonderful visit, and if anything, I'm just a little disappointed that I'll be back on the road to the midwest tomorrow.

Anyway, that's all that's really fit to print in my life, but I felt the need to bump that journal that was nearing 2 years of age off the front page if I was going to have some unexpected guests visiting my homepage. To everyone old and new, welcome, and thanks for such a fun end to my year!
  • Listening to: Amateur Acoustic Guitar
  • Eating: Brownies


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PoetryOD Featured By Owner Aug 3, 2013
oro-elui Featured By Owner Sep 13, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks for support :bow:
forgive me late reply :stupidme:
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I really like what you do. *o*
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Thanks for the fave :)
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Thanks for the :+fav: :)
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