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About Deviant Artist vires intusUnited Kingdom Recent Activity
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Literature
Summit
What went wrought
                                     
                                     When wit went in it
What wild tongue
                                     
                                     With words wrote wrong
Wise whilst written
  
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Mature content
Roofless, and view :iconautumn-cannibal:autumn-cannibal 1 2
Mature content
17:38 :iconautumn-cannibal:autumn-cannibal 2 4
Mature content
Freckles :iconautumn-cannibal:autumn-cannibal 2 27
Mature content
Profile_deuxieme :iconautumn-cannibal:autumn-cannibal 3 6
Literature
Some Devil, Some Angel
The last night has fallen
When all of the thoughts fade
Away. And suddenly you find
The rays are cast
In a bleaker light, for now
You see your once proud comrade
After all his pride and tone is lost,
You finally look upon him, and
When the world around you stops spinning
You focus upon the brightest thing you see.
Amidst the chaos you fall and
Weep upon the mud, then
You realise there is no time to
Live anymore, and at that moment,
How can you find the passion to
Write, laugh or love?
When did you last hear your brother cry,
I ask you.
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:iconautumn-cannibal:autumn-cannibal 12 221
Literature
Demisphere
What if Jane, whilst writing at her desk
Had closed the hearts, opened the chasm
And sold her soul. How many eyes would the breeze
Slam shut? How many girl's hearts would soften?
What code would they follow? A ring?
A ring around the rosy flesh and murmured breath,
Lessened by the wooden frame. Caught short, cut off.
Settle down. Just settle. She wrote the book on love,
Now we can do better, we can suck it up,
And swallow.
Twice a day. Just pass the water.
Or have you heard the one about Arthur?
A fatal young man of the time they say.
Oh a Cambridge man, well I wouldn't know.
All very holier than thou I'm sure
He didn't have to go to all that trouble,
That time would be a blessing for men of articulation.
I've seen services before, a nice little send off
Or message would do. But that's the way of the soul
I suppose. I wonder, what will people will write about
Me? A luscious romance perhaps?
Everyone has a place, but no place can have everyone.
And now I'm a child, young and empty, who
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Literature
Rosebud
I sat beside       A solemn tree
Aged and blackened       All through winter
The roots anchored in       By a rusting crust
Now all that blooms       Out beneath it
Just a rosebud       Rising gently
Encrusted with       A crown of ruby
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:iconautumn-cannibal:autumn-cannibal 4 17
Mature content
Daylight :iconautumn-cannibal:autumn-cannibal 4 13
Literature
Whoever
Of course, I saw him only yesterday;
Some time, same place as I always do.
How did he look? How did he look,
Well his skin was positively shimmering.
Granted a few creases and ripples
Here and there, but no more than you'd find
In a plump orange perhaps,
Or in your most comfortable sweater.
But how could he look any less glorious
With two magnificent suns, giving him
Such warmth, such glow.
And I have followed his growth long enough.
Enough to be called an obsession, can you believe.
Or adoration, one or the other.
But look at me, I would look past him,
Through him, beyond him within my first thought or second.
If he would only disappoint me. Any would do;
A look of disgust or idle punishment,
And my view would shatter.
Leaving only the cobwebs of a smile.
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Mature content
Beautiful Darkness :iconautumn-cannibal:autumn-cannibal 3 21
Literature
Truth
Where does one seek truth?
    In the mystery of faith
       Or a stated fact?
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Literature
Echoes of Wittering
On the worn down route to Wittering,
Which is no small feat for a worn out wreck
On the southern gravel channels,
I found the long lost and forgotten
And most queerly discarded of promises;
One made to a fearful son
In the wavering echoes of twilight
By a father, weary and furrow browed
Tearful at the foot of his bed.
Or given to the bed ridden
As they face a tiresome rest
Or a troubling sort of blade, sharpened by experience
To nothing short of imperfection.
It was promises such as these
That I found, blessed, and loved
In breeze and tide of Wittering,
As the cities and smoke fell away
Fading to the brochure pastures
And the hideaway getaway hovels
Whose dusty mounds troubled and smothered the secrets
That left ancient truth to be found on the coasts
That even now draw back to me.
And I hope for many more to see
The wrinkling clouds descend
Beneath beams of  the smothered dawn,
And feel it once more; that chill in our breath
That keeps its promise of the coming day.
A promis
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Literature
The Terror
The villagers ran in futile desperation up the rural path from their settlement. The rain that night was of Biblical intensity, obliterating the earth beneath it and forcing any wanderer who stepped into its downpour to cower in defeat. The rainfall had left the path as a mud-spattered marsh, leaving belongings, carts and even struggling villagers submerged in the panic. Nevertheless, every man, woman and child abandoned their world and took to the path in a hopeful attempt to escape from the terror that had descended upon their once serene existence. However, many feared that they would only prolong the inevitable demise that haunted them; this monstrosity had crept out of nothingness, as if it moved by the wind. No omen preceded it, no elder could explain it, and no manner of strength could stop it. Any moonlight was smothered by the bleakness of the thunderclouds, leaving the villagers to scramble blindly out of the village, directed only by the flash of lightning bolts above them.
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Mature content
I write as I live part 2 :iconautumn-cannibal:autumn-cannibal 1 38
Literature
Barstool
“May I have another?”
The fellow asked as he followed the rim
To the heart of his glass.
Savouring the sharpness in his throat;
On his fickle tongue
“Refill the glass son”
And he loathed the clarity
As they all did, the lost men
Who sank into their seats,
The same old seats, to wallow
In a stale, gin-soaked mellow.
“I'll have one more before I go”
As he looks for wishes and reasons
To repose into his chair once more
And save himself a bloodshot belting
From whoevers waiting up tonight
“Time for you to get home”
You hear a groan as he searches
For an exit
In the dimness of the room,
Praying for a sign
Amongst the breeze and the lamplight,
To find his way.
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Favourites

Literature
One Night Only.
Resonance, beating through my body
Vibrations tearing through me, from foot to head.
Shocking the system, mid diastole
Lungs stretching, gathering air from a frozen moment
Bound like a spell.
Youth returning from its travels –
If only for an hour or two,
Memories flooding backstage,
Behind the spherical curtains fashioned of iris.
Pounding, travelling like the jet-propelled blood flow
In my ears,
Joining the snare drum's snap on the tympanic membrane -
Swallowed in a haze of darkness,
And sharp inhalation.
Exhilarated by the temptation –
Given into to feel alive,  even if indefinite.
Staring through the soul-less windows
At a spectacle leaving me awestruck –
Ripping the breath from my lips,
Leaving me aching for more,
Throat ragged from screaming in unison with the almighty chant,
Burning with each new repetition,
Quelled by wonder,
Seen only after whipping around
Transfixed by the collective "we" –
Formed for this moment.
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Literature
Flames igniting
A love is but a candle
its the lovers who build the fire
stroke by stroke
we consume each other
as we consume the world
our hearts led together
by a simple kiss
A gentle kiss in the night
sparks igniting a numbing flame
that threatens to become a raging inferno
it swayes softly
                    slowly
                       tantalizing the flesh
                         burning the mind
as I slowly secumb to your touch
Hearts worn on sleeves fall too quickly
for I fell before I ever stood by your side
as an awakening of understanding
of confliction began
and in a moment i was yours
your innoncence unshaken
by my brazen ferocity
a man of unbending tr
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:iconlobena:Lobena 3 17
Literature
Nightmare
The sooner this night ends
The faster I realise the mortality
Of eternal nightmare
I lay awake and yet asleep
Eyes fool my preceived mentality
That I refuse to share
Dreams swim around my head
All while question social morality
Returning answers unfair
Dawn breaks distant shawdows
As I realise the ultimate fatality
Of this dreamed affair
Try to open heavy sealed eyes
As the last of enclosed vitality
Leeches from stagnant air
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Literature
The Smile
He hurt me,
And he even makes me feel guilty now,
We seem to have gone above and beyond just misery,
He makes me feel like I’m not good enough for happiness,
For love,
For trust.
He chose nothing and now I have nothing.
Except, I was given a gift today,
And it made me happy for a fleeting moment.
It was a smile from a boy.
Hey, I might even like this boy,
But no, I can’t.
I can’t betray him, though he hurt me.
I try to run away but I just get pulled back,
I try to run to the smile,
But should I trust the smile?
It’s been so short a time, I don’t know I can trust anyone.
Especially not myself.
Besides, that smile has burnt before,
I’ve seen what a smile can do.
But no, I can’t blame the smile, it’s not the villain here.
It deserves all the happiness it can get,
A good smile for a good boy,
A sweet boy.
A boy who deserves better than a broken, guilty girl.
That smile is too good, too pure, too real.
Too charming and loved. And too deserving of love
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Literature
One of the Broken
I figured something out the other day.
A peculiar theory, I admit.
I realised that breaking,
Well, it isn’t a sharp pain.
You imagine it’s like shards of glass through your chest.
Or maybe a hammer tenderising meat.
But no,
Turns out that breaking,
Well it’s something different.
Breaking is a mostly senseless, timeless realisation that something is missing inside you
And then, over time, you realise what that something is,
Your heart,
Your soul,
Your love.
Sounds rather melodramatic, I admit.
But perhaps not as melodramatic as broken glass or hammers.
Not as dramatic as your heart being cleaved in two.
Or ripped out of your chest.
No, it’s more subtle than that, more devious.
Breaking is dull sensation,
That wears away at the edges.
It nags at your potential, slowly unravelling it like a piece of cloth.
It’s like your world is shrinking and fading in the reaches, it is getting smaller and weaker.
Duller.
Less noisy, less bright, less human.
More like you’r
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Literature
Shooting Myself In The Head...
Shooting Myself In The Head Could Only Make Me Smarter.
It’s always the same when you’re here,
I can’t enjoy myself at all.
The onus is always on me to leave,
You never bat an eye.
It’s silly to even think you’d notice me...
I’m not sure I’d want you to, regardless of what difference it would make...
Meanwhile, on the other side,
You are asking if everything is alright –
Lucky I know how to silence you with just a look and a word,
Ironic that that word means as much as you to me right now,
Nothing.
Nothing is wrong,
Not now, not anymore -
I’ve found the pair for you,
Whom you can follow indefinitely, and who never questions your motives -  
(Hidden behind that childish glance and stilted smile) –
You’re both more than perfect for each other.
Wish I could make more use of myself than
Wasting my time trying to meet your eyes,
But when have I ever learned before?
If I’m not careful, my twisted bitterness toward you coul
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Literature
I'd like to try out dying
I've been told I should be dying,
Like to test it out one night.
I'd like to suffocate you,
I'd like to put out your light.
Just this one time.
To see what it is like.
Without this life of mine.
So I'd like to try out dying.
I've been told that i should be flying,
Been told by the winds passing by.
I've been told that i should have feathers,
That I should be soaring in the sky.
Spiralling all around.
Forever I'll be free.
Never touch the ground.
So I'd like to try out flying.
I've been told that I should be sad
Tears on my face tell I've been crying,
The pain in my eyes shining
As all your words show me you're lying
Your touch turns me away.
Helps me make decision.
In life I shall not stay.
So I've been told that I am sad.
I've been told I should have emotion,
But you've taken it away from me.
You showed me truth from fiction,
And the person you helped me be.
I stopped feeling long ago.
Stopped myself from pain.
Wiped you from all I know.
So I've been told I have no emotion.
So then I
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Literature
Lying Dead
The delegation of the nation
Keeping the litigation flowing
While the masses keep showing
Their faces display false knowing
Which turns the head of state
And helps them create
The coalition of the willing
Yet the blood keeps spilling
The innocents keep tilling
The fields with their bodies
And their souls form the basis
Of a permanent stasis
To lead to inevitable end
So they no longer defend
The rights they once had
Then it all leads to this place
With the poor lying face down dead
For a cause they never knew
And the liars keep lying
While the poor keep dying
For a cause thats not true
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:iconiac:IAC 2 13
Literature
Inane
The inanity of this statement in only matched by the boredom of the reader.
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:iconiac:IAC 1 12
Literature
I Love You
There’s a sweet little story
        behind every “I love you,”
Because I’ll sit down to write
        a special little poem and
                find that words just don’t do the trick;
                        after all they’re only words….
They cannot show you
        the depth of the ocean,
                the height of the sky,
                        the reaches of the universe, or
         
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:iconjdla:JDLA 4 11
Literature
Care Shovel
Care Shovel
Listen, to the shovel.
Can you dig?
I see the dirt you throw.
Where will this hole go?
Am I to never know?
Cigarettes and crackpipes,
metal bites glass,
tearing through the grass.
Another dispiriting night
delves past.
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Literature
The Rabbit
Flush me out of bushes
Got the pedal to the metal
Heart leaping, lungs of sand
Everything is larger than me
Slip me away unseen
Running in front of a train
Almost on empty but
I just have to get away
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Literature
Shadows Lying Under Your...
Shadows Lying Under Your Bedraggled Eyes.
I can’t seem to believe what I’ve just heard – there must be a buzzing in my ears
Yet, it seems oddly fair that one of the best times of my life would coincide with the worst.
I have been given the ultimatum to match all ultimatums –
But, I’d still sell my soul to the devil if he could get me out of it –
And I’m not one for shortcuts.
It feels like a slap in the face,
Even though I thought my childhood was over – the punches never stop.
I’m sorry that you had to lose a night’s sleep over this
But it’s not going to take away from the fact that I won’t sleep soundly again
At least not for the foreseeable future,
Put the coffee on.
You ask this of me with such ease, but you don’t know how much this will take out of me
And I’d just begun to refill the tank.
Guess I’ll be running on empty now.
It’ll be the hardest thing I have ever had to do yet –
Salt over my left
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Literature
Socialize the Losses: scene G
Shoney's-Town Hall
A few hours later, mild disarray.  JUDD is on the table tearing down bunting, GILL, sitting is taking advantage of the situation.  He sings the last verses of “North to Alaska” beating a rhythm on the table.
GILL
George turned to Sam with his gold in his hand
Said, “Sam you're a-lookin' at a lonely, lonely man.
I'd trade all the gold that's buried in this land
For one small band of gold to place on sweet, little Jenny's hand,
“'Cause a man needs a woman to love him all the time.
Remember Sam a true love is so hard to find.
I'd build for my Jenny a honeymoon home
Below that old White Mountain just a little southeast of Nome”
A Beat.
GILL
A hell of a party.
Judd looks down and smiles nervously.
GILL
Jenny is really quite the forceful and executive speaker.
I'm sorry we couldn't get Perdita here;
we—
...There was a situation.
A too firm tug from Judd.
GILL
Can I ask you a few questions, Judd?
With tr
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Literature
Socialize the Losses: scene F
Shoney's-Town Hall
A few tables have been aligned with perhaps too many chairs surrounding them.  Patriotic table covering and bric-à-brac.  JENN is standing on the table hanging bunting, JUDD is arranging placements and taking advantage of the situation.   Jenn looks like a high-end prostitute for America!   Judd wears his hockey jersey over a shirt and tie.   They try to whistle Sousa's “Washington Post March” but it turns into “The Liberty Bell” and/or “Semper Fidelis”.  
JUDD
You're right. “At least it isn't mono.”
JENN
And she's going to be such an asset.
Nobody can attack me on this.
I could drown puppies on live TV,
No one would dare go after a young mother.
JUDD
Unless they're stealing from the Government.
Jenn finishes decorating, Judd assists her down.
JENN
Exactly!
You know, Judd,
I sometimes think you're the on
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Literature
Perfect Partners In Crime
“You investigated this guy before, right?”
“Yeah, back in 2005. He was a nutcase then too.”
Aryn nodded. “Quite an impressive record. How thick is his latest case file?”
“Let’s see… Mr. Warren Peese….” Shane reached over to her bookshelf and pulled out a binder. “This looks like… two and a half inches, to me. And you can bend the cover backwards to write on the papers more easily!”
Aryn gave the investigator a look, but it was an amused one. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The investigator flipped through the binder. “Some exhibits downstairs in custody… reports back from the lab… plus copies of his phone bills and internet searches….”
“Are you going to present these?”
Shane pulled a face. “You know I hate the cross-examinations.”
Aryn tapped the desk absently with a finger. “You’re good at what you do, Ms. Sherlock.”
“Well bei
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Activity


deviantID

autumn-cannibal
vires intus
Artist
United Kingdom
Current Residence: Wherever I wake up (england)
Favourite genre of music: Rock/Jazz
MP3 player of choice: Sony Walkman
Favourite cartoon character: Who's that speedy fellow in the sombrero?
Personal Quote: Luck is a blessing, misfortune is a test
Interests
By the grace of the tide, i am upon your shores once more, if you'll have me. i have 4 new poems and one on the way. i have missd you all, and im ready to write again                                                       vis vires ex
  • Listening to: muse
  • Reading: darren shan
  • Playing: bass
  • Eating: rainbow drops
  • Drinking: diet coke

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconfantasybabe:
fantasybabe Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2010
Welcome back my friend, it has been too long since your penned words have graces these parts.

Have fallen in love with your writting all over again, forgotten how well it is written, how much effort it takes.

Am awaiting your next enstallments xx
Reply
:iconlobena:
Lobena Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2009
your faves are always at the ready arent they

thank you so much
Reply
:iconautumn-cannibal:
autumn-cannibal Featured By Owner Nov 29, 2009
Sorry do you think i'm playing too fast and loose with my favourites?
Reply
:iconlobena:
Lobena Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2009
no not at all, I think you are great for being there for me <3
Reply
:iconautumn-cannibal:
autumn-cannibal Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2009
Aw come one its my pleasure, you're the one writing the amazing work so i should be thanking you really :D
Reply
:iconlobena:
Lobena Featured By Owner Oct 13, 2009
;P thank you soooo much for the fave :heart:

gratefully yours,
Roben
Reply
:iconautumn-cannibal:
autumn-cannibal Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2009
You're very welcome, I'd hate for amazing work to go unappreciated.
Reply
:iconlobena:
Lobena Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2009
amazing *ghaaa* :blush:
Reply
:iconautumn-cannibal:
autumn-cannibal Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2009
Is that an embarrassed face? Or is it a face that's realised that it may have left a bottle of milk out of the fridge?
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconlobena:
Lobena Featured By Owner May 10, 2009
thanks for the fave :w00t:
Reply
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