~RoseTintMyWorld
Lana
Newest
Thrashkick GodThrash-kick God, come fast in your peace: for your stillness I will eat of locusts, feral honey slow my tongue; For your motion, wild and slow, I will lay down my arms and lift up my voice--- I will set up an altar in the earth of myself--- I will offer up incense, draw up holy waters, I will slaughter fatted calves and drape them in flame in the caravan of moments, in all the days of my life.Thrashkick God
by ~RoseTintMyWorld
FiestaThe swirling of skirts rushed and twirled like the eddies which spiraled down the whole of the dirty river during flood season: long spindly spines, broad circles patterned like lace pushed alongFiesta
a broad-stepped waltz down the river's length the steps quickening, each turn harder, each spin rougher white foam thickening around each circle’s edges.
Spinning and circling, waves of linen, cotton, dyes. Four women danced
with one leg split in eighths: four flowing skirts, four wide, wet smiles. Eight eyes, glinting and deep, dark smoldering embers.
The pe
by ~RoseTintMyWorld
Scavanger of Texts “…including mute, Illicit girls cowering under eaves Where the books are stacked and which they Pillage, hoping to find not events but response.”Scavanger of Texts
-from “Psyche’s Dream”, Ann Lauterbach
Sometimes, I
by ~RoseTintMyWorld
Johnny and Jobmy younger brother is eleven years old blonde hair, restless feet, freckles. he talks on the phone, shufflingJohnny and Job
his hands, to his friends from school about anything: or rather, nothing in particular. right now he’s standing in the room down the hall from this
one, and because this house has thin walls I can hear
that he is talking about Job to his religious friend, and asking why god did all of that
to one guy, for no reason.
He dismisses it quickly and the topic shifts to baseball statistics and upcoming field trips.
by ~RoseTintMyWorld
Favourites
Raiponceby ~petitpoids
Reading Red to the BlindYou're sitting in an armchair. Any soft recliner and it feels old in the room with the television. The dig ridged cyprus is slowly building in the sand paper stone and mother is making pastries in the oven. Outside it is cold. Outside it is the color of a broken heart. Outside is the color of a spirit world sleeping and dreaming ofReading Red to the Blind
divinities in the wind.
Still inside. Soft blankets and the blood running
through you is warm and when it hits the air the artist in your mind paints it then, a woman rubbing your arm. An army of fingers sliding along your ba
by ~kvc
Devious Journal EntrydeviantID
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: in the pulse of this earth. and boston. and new york.
- Interests: love, living, breathing, creating, moving, surging, exploding
- Favourite movie: ask. many. i heart film.
- Favourite band or musician: see above.
- Favourite genre of music: LONG LIVE PUNK CABARET!
- Favourite artist: Max Ernst, & others
- Favourite poet or writer: Marques, Tzarza, Breton, Ernst, Kaminsky, Stein,Cummings, Plath, Goethe--among others
- Favourite photographer: Diane Arbus, Man Ray, among others
- Website: http://pvc3.mindsay.com
- Email: *Lana*
- AIM: TheGothicRose696
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electric
green
harps
YES!
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speak the words i wanna hear, to make my demons run
i heart white noise!
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make money from home
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Unlike Death Time moves on.
These who stood still with Time move on also......unless they are dead.
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Toronto Printing | Chicago Printing | New York Printing
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First--Chill--then Stupor--then the letting go--
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RIP Chris
Hello! Congrats on your DD!
Keep up the good work!
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KAWORU DIED FOR YOUR SINS!
Click here to watch me!
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I'm so goth, I have a fishnet umbrella.
Still will put pink wig in front of wang and take photo for sex.
Anyway, hope you're feeling fine and still writing. Do send me a note letting me know how you are sometime.
Cheers!
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"The great occupational hazard for an art critic or art historian is to let words come between the viewer and the experience of art - to substitute a verbal encounter for an aesthetic one." - Roger Kimball
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