BlueStanza

The mind is everything

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To be honest by BlueStanza, literature

Literature

To be honest

This pain is like dumping water into empty lungs and trying to have faith that it is air. Painting the Mona Lisa in the dark, blindfolded, seems more feasible. This mind shakes at the soft, pattering quiet that whispers nothing is worth being happy: rears its head on the best days. "Hopeless" is the vicious heartbeat mantra -tied to my translucent pulse. Choking on droplets and begging the water to birth oxygen. Slowly drowning, praying the whole damn ocean will swallow me if it's not going to let go.

Psychic by BlueStanza, literature

I admit I'm the problem: what next? by BlueStanza, literature

Literature

I admit I'm the problem: what next?

What comes after rainstorms and car wrecks? If I am ashes and water, then there is no phoenix end to this. Only a breath of life in a whole new world; only if it exists. What do you do with writer's block in life? How do you cope when you cannot see any longer? Who guides the blind that hide in caves? What light is there for anyone to see? What shadows are recognizable? I can feel the smooth seams of a body-bag prison as I run my hands down shifting walls; There is no shaking up of a solid foundation; There is no shattering when my fists break against stone. So, what comes after I admit I am the problem; if that was the first step, th

What were you running from? by BlueStanza, literature

I can see right through you by BlueStanza, literature

Time is up by BlueStanza, literature

Saudade by BlueStanza, literature

Restraint Is An Alchemy by BlueStanza, literature

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To be honest by BlueStanza, literature

Literature

To be honest

Psychic by BlueStanza, literature

I admit I'm the problem: what next? by BlueStanza, literature

Literature

I admit I'm the problem: what next?

What were you running from? by BlueStanza, literature

I can see right through you by BlueStanza, literature

Time is up by BlueStanza, literature

Saudade by BlueStanza, literature

Restraint Is An Alchemy by BlueStanza, literature

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MechanicalPencl

JosieKittyy

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AT A LOSS TO GAIN by RJBG, literature

We were not meant to be forces of nature by Drakard-14, literature

Literature

We were not meant to be forces of nature

Typhoons storm my bones Rock my foundations More frequent than the tide And my mind is lightning And my heart is fire And my soul is a hurricane This is not an ode or sonnet I am an ecosystem of destruction Bringer of death with no rebirth A howl of pain into the void Echoes which shake the Universe Fire and lightning and storming oceans Are poetic in theory Beautiful in song A gripping narrative of strength and power The reality is Strength needs weakness Power needs a gentle hand My hands are iron forged in fury I cannot hold you I cannot calm you I cannot love you Although I tried, oh God I tried.

EXHALE by RJBG, literature

Wildwomen by ejeans7, literature

Literature

Wildwomen

I borrowed a horse last Thursday to hunt the Wildwoman. He was tall and painted hungry; She’d borrowed time, then disappeared. I could not bend to pick the rocks. The horse kept kicking dusty circles. ‘Round the barn, the Wildwoman crept in boots that used to be mine. We didn’t see Her till the last three barrels, where She sprouted from the grit between my fingers to silence shouting hands. Winding down sore muscles, drawing ankles to earth, She traced my body before darting up my spine - straight line from heels, to hips, to Crown. And in the half-breath the horse spied hay and tried to throw me from the saddle, She

Blanket Fort by kilkegard, literature

Literature

Blanket Fort

In the early days of the war blanket forts dotted the battle field. Built in the southern portions of the sofa or in the rocky corners of the recliner they offered protection against mom when she made broccoli or Lima beans with dinner. They offered cover when the hordes of aunts and uncles swept thru the halls pillaging forth of July parties. Filled with hot cocoa and books read by flashlight, they were a refuge from cold rainy days. But after a long war of attrition only a single blanket fort remains. And in the early morning hours a sole survivor, a single hushed grey figure can be seen huddled in front of the flat screen. Two feral d

love by 13khaleesi, literature

Literature

love

Everything in his room told a story of her presence,her charm,her thoughts.his room was less of him and more of hers. The curtains dyed in her favourite colour,the table on which only her photo was kept. The folds of the untidy bedsheets told the story of her passionate love for him.everything was just perfect for him. He himself was a story that spoke only of her. His thoughts would onlyplay the sound of her laugh, his eyes would only see the messy hair tucked behind her ears, and her eyes closed in absolute calmness. His eyes ran through her golden brown hair to her face having a pinkish ting, his hands following the course of his eyes. The

Deviation Spotlight

What were you running from? by BlueStanza, literature

What were you running from?

BlueStanza

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About BlueStanza

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

Mar 14
United States
Deviant for 10 years
They / Them

Badges

Delicious Cake: My, that's a delicious cake (1)

My Bio

I love pondering the world and asking the questions that help others think. I believe that we cannot gain anything without losing something; we cannot become who we want to be without losing who we are--and much of my writing focuses around that theme.

My art is weak. I'm not a great writer, but it comes from my heart and helps me to escape my never-quiet mind. That's enough for me, and if others benefit from the stories I try to tell, then that's great.

I'll just be a quite fleck of sand in a kaleidoscope of stained-glass art--ignored, but happily beautiful in my invisible little way.

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Drowning Pool, Florence and the Machine, Lana Del Ray, Blue October, Ra, RHCP, Stateless, Jason Walker, Ludo, Halestorm, Kittie, Evanescence...

Favourite Books

I'd sooner choose a favorite star.

Favourite Writers

Sylvia Plath, Toni Morrison, William Faulkner, Ellen Hopkins, Aristotle, Eugene O'Neill, Sarah Teasedale, Oscar Wilde, Frank Peretti, C.S. Lewis, Emily Dickenson, Christina Baker-Jones, Neil Carpathios...etc.

Favourite Games

Chess

Tools of the Trade

The pen and the mind; what else do I need?

Other Interests

Dance, guitar, studying, debate, philosophy, pyschology, quotes, literary theory, and anime.

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BlueStanza

Oct 22, 2017

Imogen Heap <3

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BlueStanza

May 18, 2017

Alone isn't the absence of people. It's awareness that the few thoughts and dreams you wish to share with others are of no consequence to the surrounding world.

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BlueStanza

Feb 9, 2017

Feeling Happy-Sad

0 min read

I went to a Bible study tonight.  And keep having various trails of thought in my head.  I always struggle to find meaning in life.  I mean, even accepting all founding principles of Christianity, I have to question--What exactly is the point of a giant game where I'm asked to live a life I didn't want in order to save souls that were probably better off not existing for a dude that is supposed to be all powerful and could do the same himself--without all the misery in between?  Something about the way the speaker worded things tonight made sense in my head.  They used this metaphor, of a city being built.  Talked about Washington, D.C. actua