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About Literature / Hobbyist j.shay burmMale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 11 Years
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Newest Deviations

Literature
'x' and what it stands for
       The sands of a receding giant,
    hot with sun, bring no promise.
       Pink on the shoulders, forehead a beet:
Lordy, lord we ain't in Kansas anymore;
                ain't in the thick of it;
       lungs no longer pushed down by wave after wave
of "it's not the heat, but the humidity that gets ya'."
       Solemnity overcomes us (pale, nerdy as we are,)
          our sense of humor falls bizzarely,
          our thinking complicating the dumb, basic things.
       Ah, the flowers open, yes the stems turn
          and smile but, not a dew drop glistens,
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Literature
struggle or, 'how to quit?'
               i wish my hands
               could be sledgehammers
               into my ribs, that my
               lungs would cut off, that
               my blood wouldn't flow
               anywhere but out.

                   this is my nemesis, he
                   lives inside and i'd like
        
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Literature
soft ones
At night, I quarrel with sleep.  Time is spent moving the messes rather than addressing the trouble they present.  All the lights off and my eyes closed, but nothing is coming- no rest for the worried.
                                                   My head, it seems, must rest here to think and turn.  
                                 Mischief Mao bangs on the door to get out,
                           
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:iconjshay:JShay 2 2
Literature
to wind, to dairy
ah, see how far drive can take
you if you stick in one gear,
   keep your thoughts on the curved path
keep the margins in mind as you
               twist your will 'round
        the dirt paths
                       and even asphalt.
                        ah, see how high,
         how intensely wonderful one can
               move up?
                           see the wa
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Literature
wormholes
                                                              Last week, sometime, I set my feelers out
                                                         for all to see.  I let go the very
                                 &
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Literature
man and boy move past, slowly
     I had thought to move beyond him
                  as he flew east, back
       to my homeland
            across to that place where pine
             plucks up the youth
                 and leads them in revolt
    against the holy, once-forgotten
             men with their cold
                                   hands.
        &
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:iconjshay:JShay 2 3
Literature
maybe several cliches
                       Shivering  glass   moves toward
                       us. To hold out  a  coat,  we  try
                       and don't be rude!    But we are
                       not congenial enough, not quite
                       motivated       to     the &
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:iconjshay:JShay 2 1
Literature
recipe v. intuition
nectarine at clavicle,
   push and roll that
     prunus 'round and to get the
           juices flowing:
       peel and seperate;
        splash a little
  juice across the buttery
         insides of the alligator pear,
                                 to discourage browning.
                                          hold out your hand
         
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:iconjshay:JShay 2 1
Literature
before salt
                            brick of sludge,                 block of wonder,
                            ten tiny dots buzzing about my peripheral.  
                 You can't tell a camel not to spit, but
                                you sure as hell can run it to
                  &
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:iconjshay:JShay 2 1
Literature
the fall of judea
            A straight line through the woods, and that is the fox's eyes.
            Sharp and bright and keen, The fox with it's smile, with it's
                                                                                      teeth of knife,
                                 &
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:iconjshay:JShay 1 0
Literature
right, it's raining.
                     on a recent trip to the
          center of the earth,
                     i found magma in the form
         of your brutal huff
                            and stomp.
                                                    i didn't mean
      
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:iconjshay:JShay 1 2
Literature
now, it sleeps underneath me
                     and on those days, i chose to drink his spit.  
                                          pucker up and move on open into a
                           groovy little loveshack that was wood and
                                                      
:iconJShay:JShay
:iconjshay:JShay 1 2
Literature
for otto.
hurt my eyes looking into yours, that night.  
              every tear that falls is, i think, just another opportunity for me to smile
                                -
                              -
                     - and then there is you and i forget pain or i even forget that i can
               feel anything at all if i can't feel you, can't feel your spirit or your
        
:iconJShay:JShay
:iconjshay:JShay 4 2
Literature
a request
talk to me touching the tip of the
tongue to the nape of the
neck
    to ear
      to lobe
to nibble down and
           pull gently,
         swing arms around
   waist and push your
                     self into mine.
                             a tree falls
                  at the hands of
                   a lightening storm
          
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:iconjshay:JShay 3 4
Literature
Night was sister to Misery
Ten girls and a U-Haul truck - Mama called it blasphemy!  Mama said "Quit that shit; you know better anyway; Baby, you're old enough to where your wants won't hurt you."  I never returned.
                  Left my ankles on your
                           nightstand.
                    Never got 'em back.
    So she calls me up and says:
                  "Fuck 'em.  Don't see it if
                   you think it looks too
 
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:iconjshay:JShay 7 6
Literature
marge
She walks with dinosaurs down the streets of Burbank and Bohemia.  She salts the wounds of a lettuce seeking solace in a cottage by the woods.  Her name is Forever and her time is Now.  make haste to greet her and suddenly smile like diamonds.  She grins: the sun, and then some.
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Random Favourites

Literature
clucks the crow
the crow cracks his cry
against the dry
wind promising fire to brew a bowl of dust
ignition
spread in the blue, clouds hug metallic sheen
as, determined, he leans
forward, flies on will alone, it seems
not a muscle moving
prepare to fire
creaks in the belly, groans
look up and see the crow
changing, splitting through
down the ribs, opening in two
revealing blackness deeper than his gleaming coat
something clicks within the throat…
fire
in a capsule, a silver pill
compressed Armageddon wakes
the great genie, who festered like cancer
through long years of waiting
malevolent now, and tricky
“so, power is your wish…”
chuckles the crow
and genie explodes
shockwave s plin ters air and s c a t t e r s ancient oak
                      a kaleidoscope  
             fractured scenes
ripple the
:iconglassbreaker:glassbreaker
:iconglassbreaker:glassbreaker 1 2
Mature content
Dark Continent :icondanteholic:Danteholic 12 10
Mature content
X :icondanteholic:Danteholic 9 19
Literature
Honey, be
Honey, be pollen
to my desires, nectar
to this beast in love.
:iconDanteholic:Danteholic
:icondanteholic:Danteholic 8 6
Literature
Wedding Cake for Breakfast
I'm eating this cake
to put some sweetness
back in my life.
You done gone and leave me,
leave our childhood behind,
and is just me here,
eating left over wedding cake
and wondering where
the time gone
because I still feel sixteen
when everyone done gone
and grow up
and leave me with
a tasteless lump
at the back of my throat.
I'm eating this cake
to put some sweetness
back in my life,
but the sugar in the icing
makes the cake taste dull.
:iconDanteholic:Danteholic
:icondanteholic:Danteholic 6 20
Literature
Miss Palma
Miss Palma never walks
in her Sunday shoe,
Sunday shoe is for church
alone,
so is her old walking shoe
she wearin' when she come to ask
"you wan' Mac nuts?"
even though daddy dead and bury.
But death does not bother Miss Palma;
she pick Mac nuts and roast them,
an' have them set aside
same like always
in a old rum bottle,
and is not her fault daddy gone.
So yes, we want Mac nuts.
And mummy, forgetting what day it is,
reach for the old shoe box
she have resting 'pon she knee.
But Miss Palma fast,
grabbing she box with fright,
"Where you goin' wit' my Sunday shoe?"
And is so she gone, muttering about her
Sunday shoe,
because is Sunday, and she goin' church.
And is long time pass before
Miss Palma make a next pass,
so long mummy think she must be vex,
but she rest down the nuts
"look Mac nuts"
and watch mummy hard
"Don't give Nolly none!"
And is only when mummy nod
that she take up the money,
"Too stinkin' t'ief!  Nolly too damn t'ief!"
and she gone again.
Oh Miss Palma, with he
:iconDanteholic:Danteholic
:icondanteholic:Danteholic 2 8
three SSS by SuBTletY--DreamS three SSS :iconsubtlety--dreams:SuBTletY--DreamS 2 2
Literature
Vintage 1998
I opened your bottle tonight,
10 years of dust
shaking you free
of memory.
I smelled our year,
an Italian sun on your skin,
and felt the thunder
of late night storms rumble
up my throat.
I held you in my mouth,
remembering the warmth of your lips
pressed to my own,
the way your grapes
ripened on your fingertips,
and burst sweetness in my cheeks.
I held you there,
Tuscany on my tongue,
the music of a foreign language
bringing laughter up my throat,
and a shy blush,
like wine spilled on a tablecloth.
It warmed my belly,
like the touch of a first love.
You told me once
wine was a wandering word
with no roots,
like myself,
and had called my name
in an accent that tripped upon my heart
for a moment.
I wonder now how I wandered
so far from you.
I know that old expression
that the best wine is the one being currently sold,
but I must admit
I am partial to our year,
to this dusty bottle
with a faded, crumbling label,
Marcello, 1998.
:iconDanteholic:Danteholic
:icondanteholic:Danteholic 20 39
Literature
Droplet
I missed
the face I would touch like
Water droplets on a delicate leaf,
it sits and thinks that
if it moved it would destroy
a moment I could spend the rest of my life in
I’ve replaced your photo and
You sit in my garage, between an ugly colour of paint
and the doll house I made for my childish dreams
I can’t ask you to come back but
I still crave you too my fingertips
and back
:iconSutcak:Sutcak
:iconsutcak:Sutcak 3 3
Literature
Broken
It's not that
    you broke my heart
But that you
  didn't
       leave me any
Pieces
  to love
     myself.
:iconDanteholic:Danteholic
:icondanteholic:Danteholic 75 36
Literature
Echo
I can
hear you
across
the plain
if I tilt
my head
just so
to be
windstruck
by your
laughter -
the wind
has stolen
your voice
frayed the
edges
of sound
and hide
you
in trees
too tall and
delicate
for the
stormchaser
beneath -
they have beaten
you
breathless
a voice of
no words
through the
rain
but tilted
just so
I can hear
you echo
the night
and I stumble
to tumble
a pond
drowning
leaves
covering your
faded reflection
as I tremble
and tremble
your name
:iconDanteholic:Danteholic
:icondanteholic:Danteholic 16 18
Literature
Digging a Hole
Digging beneath dappled shade,
And a chorus of applauding trees.
Crunch.
A sharp-spade chewing sound,
Metal hum like plucked wire.
Aching back, muddy smears,
And not a blister; just
A certain hardness of the skin,
Cracking like a gourd
Across the wrinkles of my thumb.
                “Why were you digging a hole?”
                She asked me, afterwards.
                “It felt” I answered,
                “Like the right thing to do
                At the time…”
Mulch smell, wet and bodily.
The hole opens, organic;
A ventricle, it gasps.
Fist-sized nuggets
:iconPaul-Cooper:Paul-Cooper
:iconpaul-cooper:Paul-Cooper 82 94
Literature
yea, and?
You are my landscape;
        as far that I can see is the colour of  you
     it fills me with a silent
piece.
of your humanity.
   I cannot know you more,
   I will never know you less, I simply
know you, for the first time we are;
eachothers and
nothing could be more perfect.
:iconSutcak:Sutcak
:iconsutcak:Sutcak 2 3
Literature
The Sea
I dreamt you were the sea,
and hiked the long miles to your shore.
I hunted the fine bones of your coral,
but their fire and cruelty
made my skin burn for you.
Submerged, I felt weightless,
drifting on your secret currents.
You were everywhere, and I could not find you
Instead I found those whose hearts
you had flooded and sucked dry
to anchor to your depths.
I imagined I saw your eyes flutter, briefly
behind a seafan,
a geisha of the sea,
and found only the surprised look
of fish disturbed of peace.
I determined to fill myself with you;
I drank 'till I thirsted for more
and could not.
I was left rhasping your name.
A fisherman, I fished for you
with nets and tangled hopes.
I dragged your heaviness to shore,
and came away empty;
you were slippier than a fish.
I trucked you home in old lard buckets,
but you disappeared,
leaving a dusty film,
salt for my sorrow.
I tasted you on each breath of sea breeze.
I awoke to find you
grinning
over my sleep shaken body,
salt water dripping off skin
:iconDanteholic:Danteholic
:icondanteholic:Danteholic 2 10
Literature
ToNight
tonight I caught scent
of you on my windowsill
despite all these years
:iconDanteholic:Danteholic
:icondanteholic:Danteholic 11 19
Literature
The Veil
Sometimes I have to make them think
               that when I stumble on my words
      in a sentence,
it's really
                     nothing much to worry about.
           In all actuality,
                                          it's the thought
                                          of that vacancy
tha
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:icontiredpanda:tiredpanda 3 2

Activity


Generally, I try and be strong anymore.


So much for that.
  • Listening to: everything but the girl, sade, the xx
  • Reading: huck finn
  • Eating: whatever stays down
  • Drinking: too much

deviantID

JShay's Profile Picture
JShay
j.shay burm
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Current Residence: in the corner on the corner
Favourite genre of music: baroque pop
Favourite photographer: markus bollingmo
Operating System: i am flexible
Shell of choice: conch
Skin of choice: youthful, dark hair all along
Personal Quote: "you are thin and/or thick ice"
Interests

Comments


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:iconreturnofbob:
ReturnOfBob Featured By Owner May 25, 2010
there's something missing in my life and i think it's your writing. i eagerly await new submissions. :)
Reply
:iconreturnofbob:
ReturnOfBob Featured By Owner Nov 5, 2009
thanx for the :+fav: and :+devwatch:!
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:iconnicotinethoughts:
nicotinethoughts Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2009
i'm in love with your gallery.
Reply
:iconmode-de-vie:
mode-de-vie Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2009  Student Writer
Congratulations on your Daily Deviation! :) I've placed a link to it in the sidebar of my journal page.
Reply
:iconcorkymalorky:
corkymalorky Featured By Owner Mar 29, 2008
amazing poems! very unique compositions. would you check and critique some of mine?? : D it would be highly appreciated
Reply
:iconmarinociceran:
MarinoCiceran Featured By Owner Mar 27, 2008   Digital Artist
Your work is great!
Check out this deviation: [link]
What do you think about it? :)
Reply
:iconcloaks:
cloaks Featured By Owner Mar 26, 2008  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Just wanted to say, your poems are quite amazing, definitely well deserving of a DD, congrats!! :hug:
Reply
:iconbasmah999:
Basmah999 Featured By Owner Mar 26, 2008
congratulations on the daily deviation! the poem was really interesting to read x
Reply
:iconnurzy:
Nurzy Featured By Owner Mar 26, 2008
great gallery^^ compliments =)
Reply
:icondanteholic:
Danteholic Featured By Owner Aug 14, 2007
Nice to see you featured somewhere!
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