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Deviant for 13 Years
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Literature
Cooking on bloodied rocks
.
I
His daughter's eyes
        never seemed to tremble
                -her mouth was a bloodless white line.
II
Charles and Emily cooked after the holidays had passed
and she laid down cutlery.
While he cooked lamb with rosemary, new potatoes and peas,
followed by
rice-water
and coconut milk through a quill.
III
Silent phone calls fall
on a litter, made of bamboo poles,
– calls about specimens and the skins and skeletons
of wicker chairs
that clutter up the spacious library.
Melissa didn't come quite as easily
the second time around
His name became sacrament,
the thrust, her atonement
and her voice came down from
under the bright circle of white light,
the spiral staircase, the request for further disgrace,
rootless with the furious gasping
of taking in the air,
of breathing in,
              
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:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 2 14
Literature
rime and ruin
Creepers sweep the arched roof
and the brick exposed walls
of a cottage,
becoming like a jungle temple in the sticky summer air,
moist and humid, it sinks into legend
autumn red now,
thick,
like veins,
they stretch
an exercise in constriction,
"we'll choke this creature dead!" each leaf whispers,
evil in the winter wind, as they sleep and dream of ruins.
and down at the lake, below thin surface tension,
(more solid now that at any time before)
fat slate fish glide, catching currents, holding on,
to be heaved, their dorsal fins like fanned tongues lapping arctic rime.
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 1 9
Literature
happy?
happy?
Life is a progression of severity.
A road of hairpin turns,
And cliff-top cartwheels.
Who would not want that drug called happiness?
Not I.
For it seems a ridiculous notion,
like making love,
because its all about
keeping your clothes off,
and keeping
your mind off of her.
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:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 1 11
Literature
grand central
Brought by scattered movements to his
attention: all at once passed warm and
cool, into a place where shadows
stretched their arms and rail-sparks
ceaselessly flickered, on-off, on-off.
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 0 10
Literature
to each side
My left a girl -
that works the while
on paper.
My right a woman -
so small, the books
she reads engulf her.
Each work on,
unable to stop inside
this dull but lasting
memory, each more
than had their
fill of such
futility.
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 0 10
Literature
untitled as yet
Coughing locomotives spit up soot, lonely tarmac now, that metal shells should choose to run down rails. Empty but for dollar drivers and rocking trailers that lag behind, full of bitter cooking apples swiped from unsuspecting trees.
Full divinity violated by harvest vehicles.
Shonee stands beneath shelter tin roof. Legs cold rigid. Sopping grey matted hair. A glint in his eye like violence, but altogether more entertained. Smoke lungs fogged up. Breathing out into cold air, he looks to time on his wrist, sucking life out from his arteries.
Piya, all black-tinted auburn hair and heels in high abandon, sits quiet. Having seen large stomached workmen sweat, she rests, the day a misadventure of unspent sexuality.
Shonee moves cheek sweeping fingertips, gracing warm touch to white pale skin. Each melanoma riddled form consoled by such meagre acts of sympathy. Though all the while, it strikes, for him, a different cord. Love much less known than fate.
Across the fall land; fields of dry dea
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 1 13
Literature
Love, time and a bird
Perched merrily;
                       a starling sings outside my window.
Love is caves of ice, corpses in dried mud, roses where eyes should be,
                           its twittering limbs, all a dance for touch, and
                                                  a kiss, left on the lips so long
                                                                             that it burns.
But Love is not just physical,
           love is a glance through shelves of books, something hidden amongst them,
                      breathing in the dark, inevitable and vast,
                              its fleeting, skittish and hides its face a lot, behind hands or napkins,
                                                       at best its tragedy, at worst left unrequited
                                    Now, frozen bird,
                                                          sing for us;
                                                                    why do you no longer
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 2 35
Literature
garden
*
compound safety, sitting lazily
in the heat of the garden sun,
she watches insects, insignificantly
swathing along the paving stones
of her patio, incising-out lumps from
dropped strawberries, and navigating
their peculiar way around deadly blobs
of cream, she reclines a little further, and
props her book on her chest, looking over
the brim of her leopard-spotted sunglasses,
she spots the outline of her husband, bent
over, weeding the borders, patrolling the
edges of his little hobby ground, looking
for elements of nature unwanted.
*
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 0 28
Literature
Newborn
***
its cry is a needle in the thick arm
of the night, plunged deep into
un-awakened minds, prompting soothing,
the biting of nipples, the familiar ache
when woken, the head begins to thump
swollen bags under swollen eyes
the red haze hidden below a smile
directed at the cot in the corner of the room
***
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 3 16
Literature
Erstwhile
***
unabashed next door the sound of a
gramophone at 3am, playing 'Bird'
jazz, that chaotic seamless thread,
the bedlam of blues tunes in rewind
this old man had style, now he has
no voice box, cancer another history
croaky electronic crackles, his sound
***
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 3 20
Literature
city observations
love is emotional blue touch paper
yet somehow our culture absorbs these seemingly radical ideas
austerely erotic chamber scenes
and the interweaving fates of a number of boorish blokes
as they stagger about
drunk on beer and testosterone
they punch and shout
I watch open mouthed
a melancholy exploration of male sexuality and abandonment
unaffected, at all, she walks alone
a vibrant young woman who possesses a bizarre gift
an immunity to stupidity
stuck between the second and third moment of ecstasy
every night with her man
their happiness constantly imperilled
by the cry of a child
a needle in the thick arm of the night
well-worn character types in a state of constant flux
outside, trying their best to change their destiny
emotional intensity and intriguingly blazing unashamedly
it'll never work
the barrier is ideology
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 1 6
Literature
ma vie en vert
ma vie en vert
My favourite dress was a worn, green, earthy and almost vulgar looking thing, in that it was worn thin and the colour was faded in places like patches of dry grass on a bowling green. It was natural looking and at the hem was a thin line of brown used as bedding for a pattern of small yellow and orange flowers, disappointment struck however from time to time as my eyes were constantly tumbling over gaps in the pattern where green thread jutted out like stems, flowerless due to uncertain accidents.
I had found the dress in a charity shop while it was in better shape, my mother often took me into such places in search of books of poetry or perhaps a well worn copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover. I remember seeing an old woman with a glass eye in Help the Aged and had ever since attributed a bitter connotation to such places. All full with dust and stained fabrics. They smelt of mothballs and the dark varnish that seemed glossy and new, even on the chairs that doubtlessly were
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 2 10
Literature
Grey Hound Bus Terminal
A look captured
In the liquid of the eye
Those probable tears
That somehow just moisten
This is the hook
On the fishing line of film
One black businessman turns to another
It's a cosmic joke
That could destroy their lives
Far-off the white man
Reads his white-man's paper
And looks over subtly
At the white-man woman in the corner
Strangely she's the only movement of the scene
Face contorted with the blur
Somehow her identity escaped us
Even in this stopgap time
This still serenade to sensation
There is an awkward moment being shared
While half-cocked hats jut upwards
And handkerchiefs peek out at the panorama
Ties are serpents of strangulation
Restricting and reciting scripture
These are necklines too warm for women
Who would burn their tongues too easily
And so the passing voodoo spell is lifted
All the while enrapturing and enticing
Revealing bare black chests to imagination
Noir nights in Chicago
Before the grey hound bus arrives
To beckon them back to reality.
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles
:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 2 10
Literature
Lovers in a cafe
Head flung far back dramatically
Her cigarette takes a drag against the air
Then breaths out a nicotine miasma
To compliment the hazy atmosphere
Her box of its counterparts
All lined up for the kill
A coffee cup and silver tea pot
Each perched on the edge of function
Sit on the table, turned ornaments
To a love scene of delectable desire
His hair is greased back lethargically
Like Humphrey Bogart or Gregory Peck
So she's transformed into Audrey Hepburn
Lips lingering crimson
The bitter taste of coffee and tobacco
His prompt to move in
Mirrored twice they are
Perhaps twice more again
Forever this scene will loiter
No longer will a moment pass
For these two tormented lovers
That will never reach a kiss
Or any movement more than this.
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:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 6 37
Literature
small escapes
From the moment we're born we are taught to be things we're not.
"As quiet as a mouse now." My mother said, cramming me into the under stairs cupboard.
"Ok?" She asked.
"Ok" I'd say, wondering when I could gnaw my first hole in a skirting board.
Then she'd walk away and leave me there, opening the door to a man that made her scream upstairs, while I cowered there in the dark.
I don't think it was a typical thing to imagine, being ten centimetres tall, skittering about on kitchen tiles trying to escape the frenzy of terrified stocking-covered legs, or, being small enough to fit through the gaps in the fence in the garden.
At the age of five I was taken to the swimming pool to be taught how to be a fish. For two years I would splish about, praying that at some moment I would grow gills and fins and swim with dolphins and guppies.
Dad used to tell me "You are a fucking guppy!"
A correction on my part got water in my eyes.
"and that mother of yours is a whore." He added indignantly.
I neve
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:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 1 27
Literature
round abouts
...
I'm not the person that you once put faith in
I'm subtle unreliable
- too far in-between to be useful on any side and the passive English gent in me also craves his evening pipe, and those things that seem to fit the ease of conscientious comfort
Yet i can't wait for those buds of May, lying on a reclining chair a straw hat perched on the bridge of my nose, all about me the eyelid warming sun that beats down like snowfall
Got to get on and enjoy the colours that sweep past my windows on the autumn winds, free-floating over fields of corn and the thick bushes that hang full with blackberries and children's underwear – placed there by their friends – cruel jokes played on those who value modesty least when at play
The lake in weak lustre shines like a 50 pence piece that been passed from hand to grubby hand, a thousand times and yet remains known as its value, still in circulation
Those sweet summer things in mini skirts look odd now, when long coats are coming back in droves to high
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:iconbetweensmiles:betweensmiles 1 17

Favourites

Literature
nova smile
6am:         Rising to crackled reception,
                I breathe,
                stomach rising
                and falling,
                this, the mimicked serenade to sunrise,
                performed the whole world over.
8am:         In the kitchen,
                stale bread
                and a coffee cup
                invite me to breakfast.
                Reading headlines,
                I count morning on both hands,
                four espresso ribbons,
                draped over the pages,
                filling where ink cannot.
12pm:       I lie on the small square of grass
                looking up into the apex of cerulean.
                Up on the gutter,
                sits a bird, still,
                below thick down,
                ticks suck out birdsong.
                This world,
                one of quiet tragedy.
3pm:         In the supermarket
                I watch people stocking up,
 
:iconBarnaby:Barnaby
:iconbarnaby:Barnaby 290 133
The Path by p0m The Path :iconp0m:p0m 223 88
Literature
Too Still
Emily sits across from her
watching the little woman's shaking hands
as they pour tea
hearing the words of her father,
"You need visit her
there isn't much doubt."
"She doesn't have
much time left."
Emily makes small talk,
looks casual,
pushes a lock of hair behind her ear,
thinks about her cat
as she searches for a subject
anything, anything at all.
The old woman breaks the silence,
"And what lucky man has married you?"
"Oh," Emily says, "none."
"Oh," the old woman says.
"How long were you married?"
Emily asks, sipping her tea.
The ancient woman sits
and pours cream
adds sugar
sips herself
when she says;
"Fifty eight years ago today.
Up until the day he died
we were married for thirty-nine."
Emily sees the little woman
in her bed that's too big for her
eyes closed
feeling him behind her
feeling him rub her thighs
holding her sagging breasts,
like he knows how she likes it
still.
In her bed Emily sits cross-legged later,
pondering her visit,
when she finally submits to the time
and pus
:iconwrittenlynn:writtenlynn
:iconwrittenlynn:writtenlynn 3 5
Tanka by side-of-orange Tanka :iconside-of-orange:side-of-orange 3 4 Piggy Bank - Bringing Home... by lukechueh Piggy Bank - Bringing Home... :iconlukechueh:lukechueh 279 71 autumn rain by soulfuric autumn rain :iconsoulfuric:soulfuric 1,302 339
Mature content
Paper Falls. :icondpsmistress:DPSmistress 5 39
Literature
synapse sunlight
synapse sunlight
lying here I soak up the morning
newborn as I am in sheets and sweat
my voice still broken like a rusting jukebox
standing I find slow release from my panic
on the floor a pile of clothes
reminding me of the night I melted away
the coming light wins all attention
and I let it in, thoughtlessly
warmth hitting skin at the speed of synapse
walk down stairs to reach caffeinated decimation
a bowl of apples drinking in glass and water
the vertical stream of the shower enthrals
and I walk in simplified, naked as untaught
lost in a magic place, growing colder every second
wetting my hair, growing as icy as a starfish
put on some decency and traipse to the store
pick up the latest lies and lechery
get back home with a bottle of milk
my second coffee implied by the action
flick on the television to watch reality
but find none
:iconCupShonee:CupShonee
:iconcupshonee:CupShonee 2 24
Literature
Love is a warm gun
Broken hearts and block slides.
Uranium rounds and irreconcilable differences.
You lock it, you load it.
Compassion and altruism at 60 rounds per second.
This is passionate destruction.
Your emotional scars imprinted on a tattered childhood flack jacket hued in a share o green named for the fruit that grows on the branch of peace.
This is too weighty for biblical birds to carry.
Fiancees and firing pins.
Time apart and trigger guards.
To this supposed ceasefire your violent cacophony of mixed messages and passive aggressive stances lend the ultimate juxtaposition
You don't revere, you recoil.
You don't admire, you aim
This is 158 grains of lead lined belief hitting your heart at the speed of a synaptic impulse.
This is life with the safety off
This is love.
Fire at will.
:iconsilenceinnumbers:silenceinnumbers
:iconsilenceinnumbers:silenceinnumbers 37 36
Literature
convection:salvation
before we see heaven lets go west instead-
                      there's a thousand accomplices working California's
fingers, making the rough murderish patches on her
sidewalks seem like naturally flaking skin.
        she's still quite crisp and inviting, arching
herself into landscapes, cresting against the heaves
of brown exhalation as they float from mouths
happily rounded by tingling cola.
                               cowboys
in black mohawks clutch the last expanses
of her thighs—they would cling to your leg
and chew on mine, curve themselves
into shackles (there is lots of
wide white flesh to squeeze anyway.) and
        sure, not many oddities to speak of but homo-prefixes are
                   certainly a perennial minority—
        so lets all burn in heaven,
        like under 12 watt sun
with crumbs of bacon, aluminum, men and women, (or
whatever gender gets hot this week)
                
:iconcarissima82:carissima82
:iconcarissima82:carissima82 6 16
The Biscuit Fire by skorch0matik The Biscuit Fire :iconskorch0matik:skorch0matik 7,485 1,969 feel so lonely by natallka feel so lonely :iconnatallka:natallka 7 15

Activity


deviantID

betweensmiles
is on the edge of a coffee cup
United Kingdom
Current Residence: Bath, England
Favourite genre of music: anything
Operating System: food, fluid and sleep
Shell of choice: a seashell
Skin of choice: human
Personal Quote: sit back and smile with betweensmiles
Interests
lo all

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconpsycho-film-freak:
psycho-film-freak Featured By Owner Nov 8, 2007
Why hello, betweensmiles.

We meet again!

I actually dont believe we've talked since 2005. Crazy...

Either way, I remember enjoying you and your comments, so I thought I would drop in and tell you that I'm back in the neighborhood. ;)
Reply
:iconmistressotorment:
mistressotorment Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2006
hi...long time huh? like a year!!! drop me an e-mail sometime...mistressotorment@yahoo.com
Reply
:iconmizzmarsh:
MizzMarsh Featured By Owner May 17, 2006
there is life out there... meh, i visited Bath a while ago - it is beautiful! You don't write of it?
Reply
:iconmusical-nymph:
musical-nymph Featured By Owner Mar 31, 2006
jeff buckley.

yes.
Reply
:iconxxempress:
xxempress Featured By Owner Nov 10, 2005
:lick:

Guess what......YOU HAVE BEEN LICKED! Spread the love around! Pick any of your friends who you think don't get much love and, LICK THEM! (you can copy and paste this message on their userpage!)
Reply
:iconxxempress:
xxempress Featured By Owner Aug 20, 2005
:cries:

I miss you.

please come back soon.
Reply
:icondpsmistress:
DPSmistress Featured By Owner May 17, 2005
I’ve been virtually dead quite awhile and just wanted to let everyone know I’m back and being alive again, please let me know how you’re doing and if you need any help with anything, especially writing. :)
Reply
:iconxxempress:
xxempress Featured By Owner Apr 18, 2005
Guess what......YOU HAVE BEEN HUGGED! Spread the love around! Pick any of your friends who you think don't get much love and, HUG THEM! (you can copy and paste this message on their userpage!)

RULES:
1- You can hug the person who hugged you!
2- You can hug the same person as many times as you see fit!
3- You -MUST- spread the love people! At least 1 hug!
4- You should hug in public! Paste it on their user page so they feel loved!
5- Random hugs are perfectly okay!
6- Please, don't worry about same gender hugging, it's a love hug!
7- You should most definitly get started hugging right away!
Remember, this is about showing love to your fellow peeps! Everybody should get a hug
*this da love was started by ~ lady-alessandra and ~ Godscrossingsandevil
Reply
:iconmattgallan:
MattGAllan Featured By Owner Mar 13, 2005  Professional Photographer
Happy Birthday! :D
Reply
:iconbetweensmiles:
betweensmiles Featured By Owner Mar 30, 2005
thank you so much - i havn't been online for a while but this was a nice surprise :D

i was ill on my b.day so i'm gonna have a late one ;)
Reply
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