|DDs that I have had the pleasure of featuring as a Community Volunteer.|
Twenty Ten FourWe never notice.Twenty Ten Four by Beccalicious
Our alarm doesn't ring, it sings
Pharell beating our mornings
till we remove from our snooze. We
forgot the tink-tinker or
and emerge the same.
The same commute to work:
Heads sunk, tired eyes drunk by
thumb movements. Our ears dumb
locked into a Will-I-Am trance. Not
a glance of the changing scenes;
the only birds we see are angry.
The same office echoes with
of emails blaming others and smack-talking.
instead of actual talking. We fall for
the hype of Skype and only Siri’s
voice drones narrow answers
we accept as truth.
The same playground, huddled corners;
Children pick a blackberry instead of
picking blackberries, for their late-night
Facebook fights. Words will always hurt see:
no kids to hit with sticks and stones. Unless
there’s an ap for it.
What do we do when stop?
Orwell you're too late
took thirty years to demonstrate your
doublethink and we all cling to
The Beard of intrigueHis beard was fascinating.The Beard of intrigue by Beccalicious
It was a loom, woven with intricate detail and so long it would put any wizard to shame. Each pattern in the coarse mound of hair seemed to share a secret. Perhaps they were memories- I’d heard others collect memories in such ways- etchings on their bodies, collecting objects and even journal writing. Maybe this man was his own journal.
The rest of him seemed positively ordinary. He rested in his chair in a blue business suit- albeit a little outdated for fashion, but suited the character I had begun to form in my head for him. His sorrowful eyes narrowed on a frustrated brow of greying features, illuminating a sense of tiredness. Perhaps the beard in all its might was weighting down. His skin was as rough as sandpaper, blotches and scars etching his hands and face with no revelation to the puzzle of his beard.
I wanted to move closer, debating whether it was rude to ask. The very notion excited me as I built up theories as to why his beard had the
Shopping and Wizards.A thousand bagsShopping and Wizards. by Beccalicious
shuffle down the high street between
clasped hands, scrunched with new purchase.
They’re buggy-dodging the determined mothers,
the rushed businessmen-- a pinball
machine shopping centre.
A green-robed man, tall with wand and hood
must be a wizard. He’s happily
procuring sushi and sparkling water
whilst his companion;
short with her piercings and jeans treats him
as if he wore the same.
Down the high street,
two track-suited parents
zoom past on their children’s scooters—
half-smoked fags between fingers yell
how fucking amazing this is.
spotted teen raps
his love for Jesus on a muffled
He raps for the Father,
He raps for the Son
and Holy Spirit.
He raps for peace, for hope, for you.
In a corner,
Brown eyes, hefty tears,
a snot-ridden face--
four years old.
A train runs through the mall toot-tooting
as grumpy shoppers move out of the way.
Napo 8- SusanWhy did you lock her out of heavenNapo 8- Susan by Beccalicious
and throw the key
into the lions land?
A beautiful girl enjoying
a new fantasy to live.
She'd stopped believing, but
faith stays in a heart longer
than a head.
"She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now,
and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age"
Napo 7- Teen of the 90'sI wanted to be Posh Spice because myNapo 7- Teen of the 90's by Beccalicious
hair was brown bobbed and she dated David
Beckham; I wanted to marry him. I
had no internet and recorded songs
on the radio to tape, daring to
pause and knock out the DJ’s droll. I sang
to S Club and thought I was the coolest
in my smiley faced top and my yingyang
friendship necklaces. You had to know the
Macarena not just for weddings but
school discos too and then every steps routine
to fit in. Slow dances with boys made me
wish again that they were David Beckham
and not greasy teens with bad curtains for
hair. They pressed themselves against you before
travelling to the next girl in leopard
print skirt. Viva forever was merely
a fantasy ; one I’d dream the whole of
the nineties, hoping my teenage self could
find her inner strength, her true girl power.
! Came, I dAmned, I Founded In this ongoing series of articles, we probe the minds of some dAmn's channel founders to find out what makes them tick, how they've made their room a success and what tips they can provide to budding channel owners.! Came, I dAmned, I Founded  by shuttermonkey
This month we have Jio-Derako and :#ArtistTree:
1) First off Jio-Derako, can you tell us a little bit about yourself!
Well, I'm your fairly standard 22-year-old male, hah. I've been doing art in various mediums since an early age, and nowadays my focus is on digital art in various mediums (3D and 2D alike). I've been homeschooled my entire life, so that's given me a good deal more free time than most to work on art, writing, and of course internet.
2) When did you first discover dAmn, and can you remember the first room you ever chatted in?
I didn't actually start using dAmn until three years after I joined dA. Once I did, I jumped rooms for a very short while until I stumbled upon :#DAcademy:, and I pretty much stuck there once I found it.
Consolidating #MNAdmin and #helpIn an effort to simplify your experience on dAmn, we will be consolidating the #MNAdmin and #help chatrooms.Consolidating #MNAdmin and #help by Tachy-on
You can now join the #help chatroom if you have chat or forum related issues that require immediate assistance from someone on the MN@ Volunteer Team or you wish to report a forum thread to be locked.
waking-cat's morning reflectionyyyyywaking-cat's morning reflection by Adagiobunny
-ning to wake up
J'AI VU TOMBER UN EMPIRE - I SAW THE FALL...(English version below)J'AI VU TOMBER UN EMPIRE - I SAW THE FALL... by lombregrise
J'ai vu tomber un Empire.
Cité désagrégée par les vents de la guerre
Murs d'airain éventrés
Coeurs froissés à la peine un espoir comme cendres
Par-delà les tertres froids
Dialogue d'un être et d'un néant
Soi contre moi
Te bercer dans les bribes balbutiées
Fils d'argent d'un discours sur l'or de ton coeur lourd
La feinte du fantôme
Comment voguer ton orage profond
Troue les abysses épais d'éclairs vifs courroucés
Tes yeux sur les frontières sacrées de l'Ouest
Farouche Impératrice au
Runner's DeathRunner's Death by RiparianVeins
In other words, the time of the year my parents put their everything's-alright smiles on and Anabelle fills the toilet with puke so that she can pretend to be filling her stomach with food when all our relatives come over--the time of the year we all pretend to be normal.
It's also the anniversary of Runner's death. But, like they always do, my family has covered the events of December twenty-fifth, one year ago, the same way they did the cracks in our living room wall--in a layer of bright paint and wallflowers.
Like usual, my mom will make an excuse: when my beautiful Aunt May asks in that discreet way of hers why the space in the corner of the dining room beneath the three-pane window is empty, my mother will reply, "Oh, poor Runner contracted kidney disease. We decided to pu
A game of dice'There are more cats than tables in this café.' I remark.A game of dice by maarvin
He tilts his head in his characteristic brisk nod, 'Aye, well, there will be no rats in the cellars.'
I brush off the crumbs from my napkin; he lets his drop into a crumpled ball of cloth onto the table. I step off the raised pavilion, past the bougainvillea and onto the road. I hear a chair grating, someone shouting something to me in a high pitched voice, and tyres screeching.
I twist my head and see a sedan speeding towards me, its burning tyres shrieking curses at me; in slow motion, I register the type of car a Honda accord -, its registration number a couple of years old at most and throw dice in my head.
I stand my ground.
The car screeches to a halt inches from my knees. In the distance, an old lady is screaming; in the vicinity, someone is shaking my shoulder, asking if I'm OK; the odour of burning asphalt and rubber assault my senses.
I look down at a cat looking up at me, pawing hungrily at t
|DDs that I have had the pleasure of featuring as a Community Volunteer.|
eclipse.my eyes well-up constellations for you,
they shine bright. though my tears aren't precious anymore,
far too common for the tormenting night.
whoever told you about those squinting stars?
they strain to see those in this world;
gifted yet challenged by the sun and the moon.
and if all of earth's paradoxes were to stand up like soldiers,
we would be out of place.
try not to cry about such trivial matters
and live life as if we will not die.
and if such aspects are set in stone,
why does our molten flow so smoothly as
we seep out venus' volcano of infidelity and trust?
and they tell us that lust leads to consequences.
our brightness attracts those moths who perish in our heat.
we give a warm welcome to everything that we
untitledThat guy thinks he's heartless;
I watch him as he buys coffee
and gives it to everybody he passes
on the street who looks sad, and
his lips curl into a smile because
he made a joke that gave someone a laugh.
He holds his mother's hand on top
of hospital sheets, pressing the button
to pump morphine into her system
before he signals a nurse. Tears cascade
down his face when he watches
his mother take her last breath.
And his lips curl into a sneer as he walks
past a cloud of lung choking smoke,
thinking of the fume filled air
his mother suffocated herself in.
He thinks he's heartless, but
his heart is bigger than anyone's.
| I am running 5k for Cancer Research UK on the 14th July 2013. |
This is my 5th year participating and this year I am teamed up with CurvyLemon!
Cancer sadly still affects for too many people, and the work Cancer Research does not only funds the science, it also supports more treatment centres, nurses and support for families.
Every Pound counts, even if you can just sponsor me just £2 I would appreciate it!
Click on the button to be taken to my page!
Together, we CAN beat cancer!
I am a 29 year-old mother of one who has been writing since around 9 years old. I have a keen interest in scriptwriting, and write plays for commission for local schools and theatre groups. I have a BA in creative writing and theatre studies and currently studying for a Postgraduate certificate in Business Management. (day job!)|
I love dA because you can see what others on here have to offer. I appreciate any artwork simply because I could never do half of the amazing work I find on here.
As a writer, my main focus is on Scriptwriting and Writing for Performance, most of what I produce doesn’t appear on dA as it is used professionally. I also enjoy writing prose, and poetry and have participated in several “wrimo”s over the past few years.
If you ever want to chat, come find me in #CRLiterature, or any of the chats on the dAmn network. I am also active in the literature forum and don't be afraid send me a note! I am always willing to help answer any questions you may have or say hello.
Ye Pirate Tales (Talk Like a Pirate Day!) Entries are starting to come in now and will be stored in the contest folder for all to see! Can't wait to see the entries roll in!
| Or just confused?|
If you are new to the Literature community or don't know where to start to get involved, then adding CRLiterature to your watch is a good start! The group is the central cub for the literature community relations team, and we encourage community interaction!
CRLiterature chat room
Lit Community Volunteers
These sexy people are so full of awesome you won't know where to go first!