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About Deviant Artist FaulkyMale/Australia Recent Activity
Deviant for 10 Years
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Newest Deviations

Literature
Our Daily Genesis
Every day the world begins,
Turns on me with eyes agleam;
Headlights on a country lane,
Dimmer than they seem.
Every day the world begins,
Sings its songs when no-one's in;
Shines like fire and smells like rain,
Says it's sink or swim.
Every day the world begins,
Turns to me with eyes agleam;
Talks of towns that have no name,
Never having been.
Every day the world begins,
Sighs and asks for whom I ring;
Mind is looking for a name,
Mouth says not a thing.
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Forgotten Afternoons by Faulky Forgotten Afternoons :iconfaulky:Faulky 1 3 Detritus by Faulky Detritus :iconfaulky:Faulky 1 0 Old Oak by Faulky Old Oak :iconfaulky:Faulky 2 0 The Cherub by Faulky The Cherub :iconfaulky:Faulky 0 0
Literature
Night Train
Train wails through the night
watched by plaintive faces of ochre
graffiti eyes on impossible crags
On it rushes through catacombs
Night is just a tunnel we pass through
the green lush hills can never be dark
I can't imagine a lost soul on them at this time
such a lost soul as we might pick up
from some lonely station
like a moth drawn to an oasis of light
one strange man sits next to me
waits for the light at the end of the tunnel
pines bow beside the tracks before their ranks
break and scatter into the hills
still the train sends its searchlight into the night
collecting those lost souls
like the one who I sit beside, who
looks at me all the while, and I
look at him all the while
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Literature
Autumn Sacrament
Time arrives awearied eyes
& jonquil blooms afade
As she sits side her loom and sighs
soft prayers throut the day
Fallen leaves of family trees
like spirits float in the parlour
In dancing, blow on their own breeze
In rustling, make their own laughter
:iconFaulky:Faulky
:iconfaulky:Faulky 2 2
Literature
pearls o wisdom
c'mere y'little urchin
lemme tell you somethin i was told when i were knee-high to a christmas beetle in july - if there were such a bug
every word o wisdom spoke serves no point but to betoke some ol hope that's now as broke as my ol gramma's urn
an if i should sit an harken (thinks I) to the pearls o some ol harpin bore who could not even sharpen pencils 'gainst his wit
i can see how i'd become a sodden, tatty, tragic bum with half a suit and all a thumb twixt me an a worm!
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Sir John Bumblelow's Dog by Faulky Sir John Bumblelow's Dog :iconfaulky:Faulky 1 0 Greening Over by Faulky Greening Over :iconfaulky:Faulky 2 0 Cages by Faulky Cages :iconfaulky:Faulky 1 0 White Cross by Faulky White Cross :iconfaulky:Faulky 0 0
Literature
Edwardian Mirrors
(under review)
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self by Faulky self :iconfaulky:Faulky 0 0
Literature
Joy
Oh I am lost in a hollow of snow
darkling mid-afternoon
And if I should not find my way out I do
hope the wind carries this to you
All of the times I've gone to bed
without saying a word, laid head to head
With you, Joy, and for all the things left unsaid
I don't know what to say for them
Joy! please understand that
Joy! please understand that
Joy, please understand that
All time is not long enough for me
Christmas on the peer, Christmas at sea
Harbours burn bright in revelry
Christmas on the peer, Christmas at sea
Your heart is a harbour to me
Joy! please understand that
Joy! please understand that
Joy! please understand that
All time is not long enough
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Literature
Ocean Summer House
Sky has a haze of empty old scotches
I have nothing to say                             I wait
Brains feed on themselves, as in blurs of frenzy
Sharks may devour their own tails
The silver is good, but the sky is dull
It wants polishing . . . ( You there – get a ladder )
I am fine
How are you. thanks  ?    How are the    kiddliwinks  ?  ,, how  i  s   t he   m rs    did you miss us?
You look a bit stooped yes       i understand
I too carry my desires like pails on a yoke, you see       not a drop spilt .   but forget all that .
Let's take you in and sit you down
letmetakeyouintomydepthsandcrushyou
Tea?
For years i have
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Random Favourites

vacant by Toadsmoothy2 vacant :icontoadsmoothy2:Toadsmoothy2 194 111
Literature
Where a Thousand Unspeakable
"Where a Thousand Unspeakable Things Happened"
The old loft all cleared out from when my mother had finally left home. Walls washed of their smoke residue, old rug hanging out the window showering marijuana seeds on the driveway empty.
Grandma had really spent time erasing the history from the vacancy. No more debauchery. No more empty beer bottles that Dad tossed at Mom's skull. No more droplets ingrained in the sheets--semen, tears, parts from the crystal meth concoction. No more thread count dropping rapidly from the sharp edges of pocket knives and broken guitar strings gone astray.
The place was almost human, in an innocent inoffensive 1945 kind of way. Fancy new-old Thrift Shop lamps on every dresser-top, lit-up for days on end to cleanse the room, even when nobody was around.
She was washing away the innumerable nights of theatrical moaning when I slept in the next room trying to decipher the difference between laughing and crying. She was washing away the nights when her and Gr
:iconTheActionIndex:TheActionIndex
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Literature
Move Move Move
Move Move Move
Keep it up up up
Dont let it stop
Dont let it drop
Because the action must keep coming
The distractions piling up
Push it to the back back back
No time for thoughts
No time for reflections
Just go go go
Move move move
Stop for no one
Stop for nothing
Miss your heart?
Miss your head?
No no no
No time for that
Move move move
Go go go
Besides
You can't miss what you never had
Raised like this
Trained like this
Maybe one day you'll grow a set
Maybe one day they'll grow back
But for now it's just
Move move move
Go go go
Stop for no one
Stop for nothing
Go go go
:iconLindy-M:Lindy-M
:iconlindy-m:Lindy-M 1 10
Literature
parliment
“have you ever heard a pomegranate rot?”
the woman states plainly, that spark in her dull eyes lost to decades of
her soul’s slaughter and her body sold per pound
“have your teachers ever put down their books and mentioned the wonder of those cities lit up like a flaming perpetually burning but slowly dying and still roaring star, the plastic men and the gleaming sequined women decaying so slowly?”
She grinds out her parliament
on the sole of her shoe
or the skin on her back, she’s never fully sure
and looks you in the eye and asks “have you ever been debased by your thoughts? Everything you’ve ever imagined sneaking up on you in every direction and violating you in ways you’ve never imagined until you can only breathe straight glamour and you’re left with a pair of rhinestone-coated lungs? a hole in your throat?”
but then, with a passion disarming,
she grabs your hands with a set of yellow fingernails, ,
and she opens her mouth wi
:iconrahrahreplikka:rahrahreplikka
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Literature
Land of the Fey
The Fey, they tiptoe softly across the moonlit lawn
Whilst angels hang in droplets, in the black before this dawn
Beware young sir in red-feathered cap
In polished boots, looped with leather strap
These ancient hills, and haunted barrows
Are not meant for your misguided arrows
“A stag, a stag , such sad words do ring,
An ancient lore you have now rescind
For animals that walk upon this soil
The fey; at violent death, recoil
So sit ye merry, antlers strapped to your pack
Unsuspecting of any malevolent wrath
That these small folk, to your life, may bring
With a tug of your golden-knocker,  “ding, ding”
“Enter”, you shout quite unaware
Of the mischief these unearthly creatures may bear
You feel a magick breeze whisk by your face
And rapidly fall out of all time and space
Now ye wake to such a sight unknown
With a head so sore, you do but moan
“For pity sake, where on earth am I”,
Yet a wizened elf laughs by and by,
“Why sir you but prisone
:iconPomegranate4:Pomegranate4
:iconpomegranate4:Pomegranate4 2 3
Literature
And the Albatross Sings
when this is all said and done
we will be given a chance to unfold
and gaze at our furrowed and worn faces
touching everything with the palms of our eyes-
your taupe measuring itself to match sticks
broken glass and the likes of so many scarred returns.
Yes, we were indeed rich;
-I drank you in like wine
spilt you on my breast
and poured more onto the kitchen floor
while fumbling for another bottle.
-I drew you in like smoke
sifted thoroughly with teeth and sighs
now face to leathery face
you showed me the whole truth in your eye
like reading the creases in a brow beaten hand;
-The man up against the rocks
eating led from pencils
wearing pages of books like a loin cloth...
I hold this statement underneath my tongue
     swallow its sweetness like candy cigarette
     without the albatross perched on the end of the ember
burning like an effigy to peace.
I miss you like that dire bird
feathers mottled with impudence.
your call dusty and s
:iconBlue-Bard:Blue-Bard
:iconblue-bard:Blue-Bard 5 10
Are you 'avin a laugh?? by ashr90 Are you 'avin a laugh?? :iconashr90:ashr90 6 4
Literature
Some Beards I Know
I have seen the pictures of your face
thundered and thick with storms
while whorls of satellite cloud banks
Churned across your jaw.
Another, older, wears a throne
sat upon his upper lip, gloriously trimmed
with cappuccino foam and bejewelled
by bits of rich tea biscuit.
This face meanwhile purrs for friction
and, like balloons towards static
hot hands are called to it
as it hums and is sung to by wordless lips.
A final childish chin has grown
a rough-plucked, naked chicken’s skin,
which crackles and splutters under thinking fingers,
now the strange rough grass of foreign parts
and no longer the smooth earth of home.
:iconyellowpeppers:yellowpeppers
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Literature
The Field
Children used to play in this field long ago, when it
wasn't devoured by thorns and weeds. It was a
remarkably happy time, when the sun shone mercifully
onto the lush green grass and the children played
without care.
One day, a child found an old man walking at the
field's edge.  He called to the old man, and he came
over to the child. The children liked the old man.  He
told great stories and funny jokes.
One morning, the children arrived in the field and
noticed something odd.  There was a hut in the field.
They had never seen it before.  They entered the hut,
and the old man was there. He explained to the
children that he came to set up a business, and would
not tell any more stories or jokes.
The children were speechless. They really didn't know
what a business was. The old man explained, he would
be giving things to the children that they needed in
exchange for money. The children liked this.
The next day, the shop was open for business.
:iconKreoche:Kreoche
:iconkreoche:Kreoche 3 3
Literature
Cemetery Flowers
The graveyard
was a vacant field
before we all died
and turned God's acre
into an evergreen mortuary
Headstones for tombs,
Vague epitaph for each --
Husband
Parasite
Fraud
we are ghosts
embittered by
the broken stems of flowers
left by strangers
ten years ago
and our children
who pray that we stand
on their shoulders
with our magic wands
and halos
waving away the black
clouds and toxic winds
helping seventeen year
old Molly with her
opiate addiction
our children . . .
our children
who never visit
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Literature
Inferno Slumber
    Rise and shine
to holocaust,
    Pyre in the chasm
            of sleep.
                Asylum for
                    coma
                and
                    quietus.
    Where eyes opened
    and closed since
    many moons past.
Flames extinguish
        dreamland--
            Arson in
            R.E.M sleep.
    Awakening eyes like
        orbs in panic.
    Requiem in the form of
     
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Literature
Can we rest yet, love?
All I want:
 To lie upon the lake shore,
Our breath in time with the slow boast of our hearts
"I am, we are, we live, we love."
To write
  sestinas on your skin
In the silence
As the sun sets.
To come home,
  To sleep soundly,
To find myself
Complete.
:iconrunfromthelight:runfromthelight
:iconrunfromthelight:runfromthelight 2 9
Bloc Party by TheseBlueEyesofMine Bloc Party :icontheseblueeyesofmine:TheseBlueEyesofMine 23 27
Literature
1954
Before soldiers
were baby killers.
When the world a giant stone
            never rotated.
Axis dormant in concrete
—ignorance a blissful
            stagnation,
flowers windswept
and swaying immortally through
the winter which never arrives--
        always sleeps,
        never looms.
Eyes blink for decades,
decadence unknown.
No need for a graveyard.
            Universe a
slumbering puddle—ripples
asleep at the helm. Tectonic
plates washed and dried
--standing dominoes in
the 1954 cupboard alongside
dime-priced dinnerware.
My grandfather in the park
adjacent from home,
stealing bases, throwing
        curve balls,
Pastime Americana.
Prepubescent
screeching cheers to
    celebrate the
          
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Literature
November In The Chair
November in the chair, the
       fire burning low as night crawls in.
Smoke rises, still and sharply fragrant,
       last of the apple logs that dreamed of being blossom.
The clearing is hushed, subdued.
The wood holds its breath in the gathering dusk
Between the huddled birches, the lingering autumn shadows promenade and
       skeleton leaves fall, sighing, like so many cigarette-ash coloured ghosts.
Drifting through the trees in sepia,
they call silently, chanting with the wind.
What else am I to do
     but follow?
:iconrunfromthelight:runfromthelight
:iconrunfromthelight:runfromthelight 1 3

Activity


deviantID

Faulky
Faulky
Artist
Australia
Current Residence: Podunk
Operating System: Windows '87
Shell of choice: jewel-encrusted tortoise
Wallpaper of choice: french hotel
Skin of choice: bare
Personal Quote: Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast
Interests
Recently (today) finished, after MANY stops and starts, the draft of my second attempt at a novel manuscript. I've opened a blog, my first true blog in a long time. you can find it here mindfaulk.blogspot.com/

There I'll be keeping updates on the work's progress, as well as a whole mix of other things: journals, observations, reviews, impressions, whatever else comes to mind. I'll largely be dividing my online time between that and twitter ( twitter.com/Faulky_ ). The facebook page I opened in April has unfortunately been closed due to a lack of interest, not least of all on the part of the creator.

No new poetry lately I'm afraid, though travelling overseas next month so I should muster some ideas up. Hoping, as always, to get back to this. Not sure when I will.

Lastly, hope you all had a good Christmas, and of course for tomorrow, to all a happy new year :)

best wishes
  • Reading: The Counterfeiters - Gide

Comments


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:iconpenessence:
Penessence Featured By Owner Mar 9, 2010
Hey thanks so much for the watch :)
Reply
:iconnotyoursteppinstone:
NotYourSteppinStone Featured By Owner Feb 16, 2009
Thanks for the watch!
Reply
:iconblue-bard:
Blue-Bard Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2009
Thanks for the :+fav:
Reply
:icondamnseagull:
DamnSeagull Featured By Owner Jan 13, 2009  Student Filmographer
Thanks for the fav :-D...
Reply
:iconfaulky:
Faulky Featured By Owner Jan 13, 2009
no problem :)
Reply
:icontheactionindex:
TheActionIndex Featured By Owner Dec 8, 2008
Sorry it's taken me so long to respond. Been a bit trapped in the flow of things.

Firstly, I greatly appreciate your kind words regarding my work. It's evident that you understand the purpose of poetry, especially through your own work. You're not a fraudulent abuser of the written word, nor a literary blowhard obsessed with concrete form and correctness, thus I value your input greatly.

In terms of your poetry, what I appreciate most is the imagery, whereas a great deal of poetry obsesses over the verbatim expression of certain emotions. I prefer narrative works of poetry over anything else.
Reply
:iconshichi-reifujin:
shichi-reifujin Featured By Owner Nov 24, 2008
Thanks for watching me! I promise to get some more writing up soon.
Reply
:iconrunfromthelight:
runfromthelight Featured By Owner Nov 15, 2008  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you so much for the kind support.

Much love from the UK =)

xx
Reply
:iconfaulky:
Faulky Featured By Owner Nov 16, 2008
You're most welcome :D thank-you for writing, I look forward to reading more of your work.

your Australian admirer :P
Reply
:iconcadynho:
cadynho Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2008  Hobbyist General Artist
thanx for the fav
Reply
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