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About Literature / Hobbyist Christopher StainesMale/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
We silly billions
We risk what makes us human,
Squeezed and squeezing what contains us,
Spinning, forcing us to be what mold we remain in,
Giving in at first but changing
Based on feeling different when we are but all
These silly billions, flashes and reflections
On the stream, forming in swift current
Around the rocks left standing
As we push and bubble upward,
Into the air and where our source,
Of whom we are but mirrored,
Guides us outward,
Pointing us by darkness’
Great clarities toward where we come from.
And yet we remain these children,
Craving our motions made in moments
When time was but this allotment we could fill
With what we wanted, not what haunts us.
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Literature
about goats
the classifieds are so sad when read from
perspective of intention's goodwill; "They
need a good, safe home," rings so softly as
to be passed by reader,
but is the hardest line to write.
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Literature
Sunny Morning into Night
Enter:
Him, the lone surveyor,
His hands tightly clasping
an object of no significant
value.
Him:
Why do my hands
wrap so around this,
as though, through holding
this, I may somehow grasp
and grab and have and melt into
its stillness, its calm?  I cannot.
This object, this, in hands,
I know not its worth, outside
the monetary (momentary) gain from which
I have given another, and,
yet, I know its worth will, in me,
as I now hold this, steady,
with no means but letting go--
Perhaps, if I allow it to, it will
fall, or perhaps it will stay,
if I am falling.
Enter:
They, the jester's mimic, aping
in their motion, holding nothing,
that the air about them stills
without a movement, but their feet,
closely wrapped and tight, as their
body's garments cling and appear to be.
They:
What is this?  What is your foolish
bout with words, with those you speak
but know not their weight?
Him:
You know not either, you.
They:
True, though I know you.
Him:
And?  Many know me;
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Literature
the dream
the dream
áááof you in floor of seat,
ááááááááááááhaving said you lost ... something
áááááááááááááall in show of being level with me
ááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááas i sit infront of her,
ááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááthe one you brought
ááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááin hopes to push me off ...
áááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááájust a little regret/
áááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááa little action needed to reclaim me...
ááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááI am
áááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááalready Yours, for
ááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááYou are these eyes' focus,
ááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááshe merely a distraction.
áááááááááááááááááááááááááááááShake your head in wave of me,
áááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááááthe secret call
áááááááááááááááááááá
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Literature
i sit here,
i sit here,
motion'd but moving-not,
alone
but accompany'd.
who follows
guide-
lines hoping for a path
to per-
fection-- longing!
a knowledge
not of Quiet's retreat,
but of
water-walking.
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Literature
what a way when the wind
what a way when the wind w´nds waste of trees/leaves of 'phalt to shield of haste on painted path 'pooled and personal, the last bastion of freedom aside from field or forest or sky or sea or expanse/the last destiny we, the current, shall never see 'til day finds need of lighters' offerings, those reasons left to static rather than 'namic philosophies-- who rules the wind? whose laws abide the sea? who's serpent squanders serenity in sight of stability/the crutch of the complacent/humility's worst nemesis, idleness/the hands let wander body in place of Curiosities, true finders of the Sciences
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Literature
how to stop a smile from break
for all i've done, i know you wouldn't know
how many cells in this brain hold memories of
you and not of being there, not being able to
unlock these chains of in-security, obstacles i
never thought about all that much until you
brought freedom to this servant of thought
unlit and shining with reflections reflecting from
you,
    you,
        you,
i blame the sun for breaking one day as all;
i blame the moon for showing change can come,
go, come, go, wax, wane, wax, wane, rise, fall;
i blame the breeze for showing tranquilities are
commonplace, daily, forgotten until left or leaving;
still, i blame the trees for waving without welcoming
the birds, the squirrells, the nests unfurled and grounded
without hands around to clasp them closer to a beating
that drowns the world in
second-
           silence-
            
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Literature
eyes
how
round those eyes
the
roundest eyes
that arm
jerk-twisted and showing
those ribs
those ribs cleaned
and caving
those eyes
how round
those eyes
swollen and stationed
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Literature
out came the tide from her...
out came the tide from her swollen eyes
                                                        and there i was,
              hand over pride to break the surf
              and i just kept telling myself
                            "she'll forgive me sometime.
                             she
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Literature
un
on a cemented pathway
i walk, unabraded by carhorns
constantly stumbling to the left and behind--
a biker becomes a mailbox
with a newspaper slot underneath--
a single party-goer balances
before a doorway, on a step,
gesturing toward his feet for reinforcement
of ideas left weighted with solidarity--
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Literature
bruised
there are,
per-chance,
a million fish
sharp-plated with rich's lust
clinging to your undertoe,
finding their way
behind knees, the
untraversed land kept
nourished with shadow's
sweat, all to bruise
so stands refuse sale--
unknowing that
picked are softest for
their wounds are prior healed.
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Literature
simple breathing
there
you lay;
me down/
asleep;
from still
i glide
over/cover
you;
a throated signal of
your
acceptance
and we crawl
in place.
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Literature
if if only if
take your last swig
gargle, spit, repeat
i\'m not waiting
you\'re closing
in on me on me
rinse your hands in
in my heart
rip me out and
let me cry cry
cry along with tides
left forced from sand/
soul enchanted/
unrelentless/
unrequited/
go and come again--
i\'ll take you within my arms
smile
and repeat.
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Literature
maybe-
you want
someone to tell you
all the thoughts you think should be heard
without need of
expressing them
except in dreams left \'long side
for simpler times.
maybe..
for the time till then,
let your lungs stretch--
breathe--
i\'ll teach you with
your lips
and
mine--
together,
instructors
to our lives living left.
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Literature
crying within
you can tell me what i saw were
fairy tales
lost within the mind of a
child on bent knees
waiting for his father to return--
i know the truth
i know everything you wish i\'d forget
all the lonely nights
you wish the world would stop
let you off
and continue on with you on the side
watching everyone with everyone
just to see what\'s right--
when you can\'t
even stand straight in the stalls
look around,
blush,
lean forward
trying to hide what you were never taught
so who can blame you
when you\'re the last one out--
walking along the curb
you can cry to yourself
without the headlights seeing
and not have to explain
the hour you can finally dream
of waking
without crying
within.
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Literature
sketch a shallow smile
sketch a shallow smile
between the boundaries of my
eyes
without needle nor pin
it shall stay
as a reminder of our
\"once was\"
and today\'s
\"day after\"--
beneath it
stitch a hollowed tear
along the rift of my
consciousness
to replace the seasons
left weighing down my
wakened dreams of our
\"happiness\"
and yesterday\'s
\"goodbye\"--
pluck a deafened nerve
within the synapses of my
twitch:
all that acknowledges
the drowning my
apologies recite of our
\"could have been\"
and tomorrow\'s
\"will never be\".
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Christopher Staines
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Her poet.
Interests
I haven't been in this community for a while (actively).  I just read $spyed's spyed.deviantart.com/dArama ISSUE ONE - Love spyed.deviantart.com/art/dAram… and believe I belong here.
  • Listening to: The Secret of the Universe by Isaac Asimov
  • Reading: The Memory of Earth by Orson Scott Card

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mustafahaydar Featured By Owner May 8, 2010   Digital Artist
thanx for fav:)
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foe Featured By Owner Feb 18, 2009  Professional Interface Designer
i knew it was you paleo! my favorite paleontologist in the whole wide world. :D
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369Arashi963 Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2008
HOLY CRAP YOU BEEN HERE AWHILE!!!
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attila Featured By Owner Apr 26, 2007  Hobbyist Photographer
haha, sup paleo. the owner of 'deviant' logged onto the AOL for the first time in oh, 3-4 years to take his name back. Still using 'Scheme' :)
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RikusNobody Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2007
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youthBYTES Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2006
pozilla!!
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