Faulky

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Our Daily Genesis by Faulky, literature

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.

Night Train by Faulky, literature

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 l

Autumn Sacrament by Faulky, literature

pearls o wisdom by Faulky, literature

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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Our Daily Genesis by Faulky, literature

Literature

Our Daily Genesis

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Nivine88

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TheActionIndex

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rahrahreplikka

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TheActionIndex

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Ghost by becesque, literature

The Mourning Demons by RailZombie, literature

Literature

The Mourning Demons

Two in the morning – The village festival had vanished Into ever ravenous time When he heard the drums Amongst the intertwining tunes Of a violin and a lute While in the comfort of his bed, From which he shifted off With carefulness worthy of a shadow And stepped out of the hut Matching steps with drum beat So as to not break any silence. Bathed in moonlight, crawling towards The disheartening melody ‘Till surrounding a dim, Blue fire he found them: There were several of them, And he distinguished the red Masks on their faces; and their Exposed skeletons. Tainted vibes, a putrid stench, And of course the foul memories Such as a

Where a Thousand Unspeakable by TheActionIndex, literature

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 inoffensiv

Move Move Move by Lindy-M, literature

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

parliment by rahrahreplikka, literature

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’

And the Albatross Sings by Blue-Bard, literature

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 le

Some Beards I Know by yellowpeppers, literature

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.

About Faulky

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Artist

Australia
Deviant for 17 years
He / Him

Badges

Favourite Movies

Closer

Favourite Writers

Oscar Wilde, Ian McEwan, Kazuo Ishiguro, Andre Gide, Truman Capote,

Favourite Games

Secret of Evermore

Favourite Gaming Platform

Super Nintendo

Tools of the Trade

quill, parchment

Other Interests

Writing, etc

Posts

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Faulky

Dec 30, 2010

Update

0 min read

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 http://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 ( http://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 af

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Faulky

Apr 21, 2010

Now available in plain white

0 min read

Those deviants also in the land of Facebook, I welcome you to follow me on my new page. http://www.facebook.com/pages/Faulky/111560868875276 My own creative work will be kept mostly here on dA still. on Facebook the focus is more on sharing thoughts/discussions on literature, so it's a perfect page for anyone who also loves to open a good book, get a whiff of the musty odour, dog-ear the pages and sometimes even read a few of the words :) yours Faulky

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Faulky

Apr 4, 2010

More poetry

0 min read

I've hit my first holiday period, after a gruelling 5-week first term (the horror!), and may be in a mood to inflict some of my repressed poetry on the helpless population of deviantart. I've written a couple that have a seasonal quality, so I'm thinking of making a quartet oriented around the seasons. just for laughs. and fleshing out some short stories I haven't had much time for of late. happy easter to all as well. this easter weekend, I am in the rare position of fending for myself. I am also sadly without chocolate, though I have been considering plotting a heist on Haigh's. any interested recruits apply within yours Faulky

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Profile Comments 36

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Penessence

Mar 9, 2010

Hey thanks so much for the watch

NotYourSteppinStone

Feb 16, 2009

Thanks for the watch!

Thanks for the

Thanks for the fav :-D...

no problem

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.

shichi-reifujin

Nov 25, 2008

Thanks for watching me! I promise to get some more writing up soon.