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~Sarcastig

Hedwig
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About Me Member Pseudo-Intellectual Sarcastig20/Female/Netherlands Recent Activity Deviant for 6 Years
Needs Premium Membership Statistics 50 Deviations
455 Comments
2,390 Pageviews

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Coffee MugsIt’s a man’s world,  you can tell  
from the dirty coffee mugs,  huddled together on the table.   
The lone water bottle stands above them,  imposing, clear and tall, as its owner,  Her pregnant belly precedes her like a shield:  a neon sign flashing “here I am”.   
 
In the elevator, two people dare a smile  while they talk of things they know  no-one else cares about.  They wear glasses and awkward clothes.   
 
In this place time hangs like tepid air,  which no fresh wind can ever disperse. Coffee Mugs
by ~Sarcastig
GrassI see and expanse of vast green grass  beside a streaming rivulet,  and always think it’d be so great  to just sit there and forget.   
I see a boy, you, beautiful and strong,  with lips to drown between  and I always want to lean on you,  stay forever in this wonderful dream.   
But the grass is wet and prickly  as you are in the morning,  and in it live ants by the million,  like you always grating and stinging   
I know I can’t resist the lure,  not the grass’s, not yours, not ever.  Always willingly fooled by illusions,  and wearing stained pants for Grass
by ~Sarcastig
DonorIt’s not me  streaming out  through that narrow tube.   
It’s not me  in that dark red bag  half a liter of life.   
But it is me  almost fainting  
from the loss of stream. Donor
by ~Sarcastig
Ticking awayA bomb warning at the station:  in the train I think of ominous  ticking under my seat, imagine  a small round black warmth pulsing.   
In my last split second  I’d wonder at how  
when the sun shines  the world seems to unfold.   
It will freeze tonight,  as the cold fragments  which once were me  will be sniffed at by  
lonely patched dogs   
Maybe I’d reincarnate  a tall elegant tower with three white wings.  And then another girl with morbid fantasies  would see me through the wagon window,  and smile, because not everything is rotten, &nbs Ticking away
by ~Sarcastig
Browse Gallery

Favourites

a time to fly 
 
 
 
 
The bird, an extended cremation,  its wings were thin coffins.   
Crushed from below  in all directions,  rotating through  each one at a time,  it has a stomach  full of dead seeds  and lead.   
It sang a sound like  splash, (not very pretty)  and fell.   
A ripple on the water said,  "I'm here," not was.  I liked that,  but not as much  as before.   
 
 
 
 
 a time to fly
by *nihilim
ReflectionReflection   
A tornadoing mirror image  
distorted in the black sheen of the window   
makes me look closer  and try to see only glass.   
Darkness has fallen outside  as I sit in my halogen-lit room   
as usual, summoned to  the warmth of sleep   
by fabric fingers  laying in wait.   
In bed I hide my head from the blinding light,  too scared to turn it off.   
The heat kicks in and I coast  like a bullet into nighttime.   
A sudden memory blooms  
of a recent and familiar imagined kiss.   
My head is pounding bu Reflection
by ~dragonfirefly
Milestone v2Funny,  how it can be pinpointed,  with the convoluted precision  
of a photo finish.   
Except of course,  this was a beginning,  signalled by something  akin to a starter’s pistol.   
Felt, not heard  And without the improbable  
intervention of a sixth sense.  Not by any stretch   
of an overactive imagination.  Up and running,  
no questions asked, blurring  
the scenery with speed   
And single minded tunnel vision.  Eyes only for the track  and for the breathless  
           Milestone v2
by ~flamemc
My Hand in His PocketI saw a car today that looked like Spiderman,  At first glance. We walked through leaves  And I thought of North Carolina and  
Shoulder straps digging into my skin.  My hand in his pocket after he took it  And placed it there, not feeling what I wanted—  A wallet yes, but not what I wanted.  
What makes their bodies so enticing?  Veins so prominent, muscles shift  
From such diligent observance, sheathed in  That velvety skin. Soft still, innocent boys  Striving to be men,  they only fall sweaty  
And breathless in our arms after dark.  For an instant in time their ea My Hand in His Pocket
by ~darknesfalls
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Cyber-scraps

Thu Mar 10, 2005, 11:16 PM
So, I guess I'm back. At least for now. On a night when I promised myself I'd be in bed by ten (it's quarter past eleven now). I'll just call it midnight disease (if you have no idea what I'm referring to, you have GOT to read Wonder Boys, by Michael Chabon), and make it into something artistic.

What's new? Well, I'm in LA, have been for more than two months now, and I'm loving it. I'm also writing fiction again for the first time since NaNoNovember and while I'm not very happy yet with what I write, at least I'm doing it again. Non-fiction I have been writing: I'm keeping a blog on my adventures and impression here at [link]

Speaking of blogs...I just went back over a blog I used to have (the modblog one) and read some of the poems I left here. How can a person change so much? I feel like a stranger to myself, and some of these things are less than a year old. It's me, but it's not, it's strange in any case. A boyfriend I briefly had here (I'm not sure if I can really call him that, actually, since someone in his home country already was) told me I should keep the blog I write now, print it out, read it again in a few years and I think I will. Who knows, maybe I'll find out that there's not just one Hedwig but and entire continuum, all living in their own assigned place of spacetime.

Glad to be back, and apologies to all those people who left comments I did not reply to.

Hedwig
5 Comments | Previous Journal Entries

deviantID

Devious Info

  • Current Residence: Westwood, LA
  • Interests: lots
  • Favourite movie: currently Donnie Darko, but it changes
  • Favourite band or musician: Goldfrapp rocks! But then there's Ryan Adams, Tori Amos, and so many more...
  • Favourite genre of music: Singer/songwriter; electronic
  • Favourite poet or writer: Eggers, Salinger, Chabon...
  • Operating System: I'm a microsoft slave...windows XP
  • MP3 player of choice: Winamp 3
  • Wallpaper of choice: Currently Uma in her yellow jumpsuit
  • Favourite game: Spider, Freecell, Hexic
  • Favourite cartoon character: Buttercup!
  • Personal Quote: "Life is strange", said Jeremy. "Compared with what?", replied the spider.

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Comments


:iconrwirtz:
~rwirtz Oct 5, 2006, 5:14:54 AM
Guess you don't come here much anymore ... it's almost 2007 :shocked:
:iconrwirtz:
~rwirtz Jan 1, 2005, 7:26:00 AM
All the best for 2005 :-)
:iconrapsodia:
~rapsodia Dec 7, 2004, 4:00:52 PM
Hey, great job with your gothic blog! It is soooo good! Really, the way the plot lines were done was fantastic (though I was confused at first b/c I started a few chapters in instead of the beginning.. funnily enough after that I was able to follow once I started properly:P), it helped alleviate some of the sadness that comes at the end of a good story, since there was more to follow, lol. Just thought I'd mention it, now that it's done. Good luck with your next writing endeavour! :)
:iconsarcastig:
~Sarcastig Nov 5, 2004, 10:33:33 AM
is a General Poet
is Female
is a deviant since Oct 7, 2003, 1:01 PM
has 1,234 pageviews
is located in Netherlands
is online
is currently
is an MSN Messenger user; hedwigvd

Hehe, Me just love cool numbers...

--
Hedwig

--As cool as a fruitstand in New York and maybe as strange--
:iconflamemc:
~flamemc Nov 5, 2004, 1:20:36 AM
DD? How cool is that? ;)

Congratulations.

--
if nobody speaks of remarkable things, how can they be called remarkable?
:icontdx:
~tdx Sep 24, 2004, 6:40:03 PM
Congrats on the DD :)

--
Expect nothing, and you'll never be disappointed.
:iconwtfook:
~wtFOOK Sep 24, 2004, 5:55:05 PM
boy you can write.

--
lisa: do you know about oedipus?
me: yeah.
lisa: he was one bad motherfucker
:iconp0etic-n0nsense:
~p0etic-n0nsense Sep 24, 2004, 2:56:08 PM
youve got an awesome style of writing.
+watch and ill check out more of your stuff :D

--
"Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything; it just ticks off the possibilities. Opens all doors. You can walk through anyone that suits you."
-Jim Morrison
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