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Literature
The Tale of Etan the Bard
During the time of King Donnchadh, son of Domhnall who was the son of Murchadh, there was a bard in Kathlin in Northern Ireland.  Her name was Étan and she was the daughter of Buan mac Báin, who was a wise and educated man, and also said to be descended from Amergín himself.  Although it was no longer common for women and men to do the same jobs, she was proud and high-minded, and would pay no attention to the words of her neighbors. She was a strong woman in both body and mind, if not very tall and somewhat quick to anger.  Her pride and the quickness of her sharp tongue kept her unmarried, but also kept her from regretting this.  Nevertheless, it was the unusual situation that no one else in the region had any talent with words, so they tolerated her ways even as they called her wild-woman, for they knew the importance of having a bard.  
At this time, the chieftain of the district, Chulain ua Duibne, grandson of the mighty Donn Cuail
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Literature
Triangular Desire
If we ignore the fact that I have never, ever answered to Scotty,
The names even sound similar.
If only my best theoretical paradigm, my flawless Marxist criticism,
My profession of words would stop getting in my way.
Commodity and commodifier at the same time, that would be
Me.  Good 60s girl, right color hair and eyes
And a sense of class; I am also the good but damaged detective,
A scotch and nostalgia my bulletproof vest.
Dressing up my Judy boy, triangular desire a perfect metaphor.
Arcane, but perfect for me, the inarticulate writer,
The immobile hypsophobic cop.
I know I love the signifier rather than the signified.
I also know you, Judy boy, signify nothing to me,
So I have to make you my signifier in order for both of us to be happy.
Or something that signifies happiness.
Make the cruder commodity into something other people would want.
Into something I would want.
And I was dizzy when he kissed me and my metaphor
For love has always been getting pushed off a buildin
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Literature
You, Mysterious, Mercurial
I am haunted by the ghost of your smile;
Things remembered gone down to the grave.
For words unsaid, I stand on trial.
"Time heals," they say, so I bide a while.
Platitudes a battered wit might crave
I am haunted by the ghost of your smile.
Tossing hollow regrets into a pile,
The absence of sun tempting me to rave.
For words unsaid I stand on trial.
Of grief, I remain in staunch denial
Relying on a tightened grin to save
I am haunted by the ghost of your smile.
Whenever reverie I revile,
Without a steady hand, no longer brave
For words unsaid, I stand on trial.
And you, mysterious, mercurial,
Work with ghost-words the magic I must have.
I am haunted by the ghost of your smile;
For words unsaid, I stand on trial.
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:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 1
Literature
Light Enough to Move
Slow minuet, a Victorian
Garden party dance affair
Conducted at
A kiss a day,
A wink every two weeks,
A slow giddy wheel every month,
Then an elegant split and
Reformation
Into new sparkling pairs,
Rotating and dotting the
Parquet in new
Constellations,
The Heathcliff not Orion,
The Bennetts not the Seven Sisters (only three),
The Bronte not Cygnus.
Sparkling smiles, decorum, structure, formality,
Constancy.
And in the middle, the North Star alone,
Or perhaps one of the stars that
Goes down burning through the atmosphere at the
Rightest and most wrong posible
Moment.
Rock or
Ephemeron, I stand in the sky,
Breathing smoke into lace,
Holding your slipper bag,
Anachronistic,
Always.
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:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 1
Literature
suspici sidus
Some days I
Wonder if this will ever come straight
If the tangled yarn I
Call my head these days
Will ever unravel.  The answers
I give myself depend on
The time
The mood
The song in my head;
This is
Most days
I wear three years' experience on my skin,
Tattooed tire tracks race down my arms
Cranes and berries blanket my shoulders
Sheet music indelible on my lips
Pens for unwilling words on my hands.
I want everyone to see it too,
Because it's beautiful
Art
And we made it together.
:icontax-chan:tax-chan
:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 1
Literature
little sister's soliloquy
What's in it for me? always your first question,
Cannily concealed beneath outrageous shocks
That could still like grenades or wound like kisses.
How could I oppose, refuse a quick-tongued thief
Of cars and bodies?  To say no would be lost,
Swallowed by layers of quilts and strange dreams,
The same blankets that absorbed all the salt I
Would ever bleed from all unnatural shocks
Of salad days, appropriately colored
Green.  Green like candy bears, green like the pills.
I dreamed in green and woke in blue, cat
On my feet, no longer separating
Mad dreams whispered in my ear, duels unfought
For me, no man at my feet, save one dark
Feline.  Duels unfought- as I
Always suspected- for a calamitous
Absence of grace, charm, beauty.  Four years
Ticking on a clock with no hands, seconds
I will always have on glossy paper.
Chemical stops on despised love, spurned
Attempts at family.  Pressed time and pressed leaves
Collected when September ended, th
:icontax-chan:tax-chan
:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 0
Literature
munai
For every Africa I will never recall, every
Lion and mastodon held fixed by a wish
Instead of a spear point.  For all the
Loam and dragonflies that have come down to me degraded.
It's no use,
My fingers will always remember
The hardness of plastic keys before
The feel of pebbles.
All the devolution in the world- the
Imaginary pain of exchanging gills for lungs- will not
Make time run backwards.
At night, I will always see
Blinking jet lights, hear
Cars whispering past on the highway, and not one
Bone drum to still it.
:icontax-chan:tax-chan
:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 4
Literature
loa
the first half-hour after midnight,
lit by a moon or a monitor, showing the
shrunken-head voodoo priestess
(with apologies to grande brigitte and samedi, le baron cimitiere, the
legitimate graveyard denizens),
collecting platitiudes and drawing
figures in makeup like chalk; laying out
all manner of silver-plated platitudes and thin dimes
in front of a many-armed hoodoo figure that-
in the right light, or lack thereof,
of course-
might pass for an oracle, if you ignore that
that's not spanish moss, but a
skein of fishnet.
what would ogun have to say to you?
chances are those pretty stylized artistic skulls
would start chattering their mossy teeth like cowrieshell rattles.
:icontax-chan:tax-chan
:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 0
Literature
55 in a 78
so they say you love me now,
in your own
fumbling kind of way.
but i'm afraid of,
years from now, when you've forgotten their names,
waking up next to you
with that bike of yours turned into an acura sedan in the driveway,
and your face,
once defined by ivory-soap angles and steel rings,
now defined by weekends spent wallpapering.
and maybe the odd
suit-related food thing, here and there (of course costing
more than the clothes we used to wear)
and your hands that are now white and thin
have become the new face of company loyalty, unlike my grandfather's,
hale and hearty and altogether himself,
very much 20 at 82.
i won't say a word about myself, because right now
that looks worse than deth to me, superseded only by
the thought of you, one morning, hearing the neighbor boy play guitar
and leaning over the fence to say
hey i used to do that too, when i was about your age,
and then oh god no the air guitar and that poor kid
will look at you politely disbelieving like you look at c
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:icontax-chan:tax-chan 1 5
Literature
electronic diesel
ideally- and this is to say
that this is never going to happen-
i'd have a nicer machine,
and i'd paint it pretty with
fleshplants (isn't that
a nice word there?)
so you could watch them, largely unaware that
they have been known to feed on
star-crossed clerks and english majors.
they're carnivorous largely by accident,
which is what's going to happen
if i don't learn to stop watching smoke in mirrors
and keep my eye (also
accidentally
carnivorous, and guiltily so)
on the tire-treads i need to be following.
you know,
ideally, you would not
think that's kind of charming.
:icontax-chan:tax-chan
:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 4
Literature
broken phone booth
to the best undefinable i could ever have:
because you deserve it, i would like to write you something
that would make you cry.
not that i want you to be sad, or anybody else, but because
trite or not you are just that beautiful.
that and i have certainly cried enough
cranberry tears
over you, because you are unfortunately a shadow and
shadows are often just like what's casting them
but worse (and better) because they're un-haveable.
even if you're me,
aphrodite's shady cousin,
standing on cinderblocks and wrapped in tissue-thin paper
covered in mary rowlandson's indians.
also even if you're me,
and know that shadows
have eyes like velvet, and gravity, so that
after they've pulled you in, they cushion the landing
and make you- damn.  it.- love them for that nice, soft landing.
thirdly, even if you're me and wondering
at how
incredibly appropriate it is
that you've got a bright sunny candy shell now.
oh, hell, i don't have the heart to
make you cry
(or love you properly
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:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 3
Literature
inkblots
you were everything high school should have been,
damn it,
drinking rum + cokes by the creek,
chiffon dresses and smashed-up cars
driving onto the sidewalk left parked on a curb.
so maybe
you weren\'t \"the one,\" but
you saw the last day i smoked
and the first time i drank to forget.
skipping stones
and telling me about the need to play with something
when talking about anything important.
-i remembered that
when you spun your spoon on the tabletop
to avoid looking up, to keep brian\'s story going-
i could have been happy there
even if it were just a stop
in a parking lot
on the way to wherever it is i\'m going.
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:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 7
Literature
rant01- thankless
Responsibility is far overrated. Because it doesn\'t really come with privelige, or at least not privelige that you can\'t enjoy because the responsibility is taking up all your time, or making it seem like a pathetic reward. Sure, I\'d love to enjoy it, but all I ever do is work to maintain it. It just eats time; no reward. And responsibility is never easily taken on, or equally distributed. Some kids raise themselves, and others never have to grow up. And it\'s not very fun. Running around doing other people\'s errands, you know you hate it but you keep doing it and you don\'t know why. And of course you resent it, and come to resent and despise both the people who fobbed it off on you and the (sort of innocent bystanders) people you\'re doing it for. And you get bitter. If you say anything about it, the response is invariably a huffy \"Well, you didn\'t have to,\" or \"No one asked you to,\" or, \"It\'s not your job.\" But you did, and they did, and it is, even if
:icontax-chan:tax-chan
:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 0
Literature
nondisclosure agreement
you, you are the only ones who
in your spit-shined shoes,
could walk through a jungle- real or
concrete, i'm not picky-
impervious to sharp teeth and well-fed
jaguars,
you in your suit of armor, keeping you in a
professional sphere, being
a law unto yourselves.
you dream of memoranda, and on your walls in dull gold frames you have
expensive papers with latinate lettering; way to go, boys, a
million-dollar job....
maybe you can buy yourselves some
new eyes.
in real life, red pen on bond paper
does not correct what you don't like, and
waiting for a settlement
might shortchange you
because the rules are different here
(you don't make them).
but for now remain blissfully- or bitterly, see if
i care-
unaware.
:icontax-chan:tax-chan
:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 4
Literature
color theory
When I was a child
Words had colors
I. Gold
Saint
Treasure
Heaven
II. Green
Envy
Ireland
Gelatin
III. Blue
Summer
Ice
Rivers
IV. Purple
Harlot
Murder
Nightshade
And when I met you, I was wearing
A velvet dress
The color of violets.
:icontax-chan:tax-chan
:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 6
Literature
mathematics
At what point
On the
fa
ll
i
n
g
Graph of your affection for her
Did I become
The single diamondbright point
That brought you
Back from zero
And the girl (who reminds me of
My friend with the butterfly knives, my friend
Who I once
Turned to stone)
Down to it
?
:icontax-chan:tax-chan
:icontax-chan:tax-chan 0 3

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deviantID

tax-chan
Not Really Here
United States
Current Residence: 805
Favourite genre of music: most
Favourite photographer: shootingstar
Operating System: windows 7
MP3 player of choice: iTunes (baww)
Shell of choice: crunchy oo;
Wallpaper of choice: domo-kun by diane
Favourite cartoon character: ren & stimpy, spider jerusalem
Personal Quote: oh, the sharks and the jets are having a kilt fight.
Interests
Holy crap, I am never on here anymore.  I suppose that's what happens when all your words and energy are used writing term papers on subjects no one actually cares about, but that's almost over.  I'd like to be able to upload new things, but that doesn't seem likely as my focus shifts.  That's okay, though, I can use this to see pretty pictures and pretty words, assuming I remember to sign in and, y'know, check things.

Comments


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:iconartjoe:
artjoe Featured By Owner Jun 20, 2007
:D Sorry about the big delay, but thank you for checking out my wood works! I totally agree about the children's book influence..I have a book with similar style floating around somewhere..
Reply
:iconbirthdays:
birthdays Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2007
:w00t: :dance: :cake: !!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! :cake: :dance: :w00t:

It's 2nd January which means it's your special day. Hoping you have a fantastic birthday, get some nice gifts and generally get to enjoy it lots.

All the best and much love from the birthdays team to you :hug:

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Birthdays Team
This birthday greeting was brought to you by : `zetab
Reply
:icondoomed:
doomed Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2006
thanks for the message, I know what you mean :D
cya 'round
Reply
:iconlycanthropissed:
lycanthropissed Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2006
Gwarrrr Erin o_O.. how is life woman? Haven't seen you in way over a year XD o_o not since that Toga party I do believe >3 Fuuuu you should IM me someday woman if you ever get this.
Reply
:iconpreacha:
preacha Featured By Owner Jun 15, 2006
this place kinda just died in the arse didn't it?
Reply
:iconnny777slavelabor:
nny777slavelabor Featured By Owner May 23, 2006
love your dead bear icon :D
Reply
:iconshootingstar:
shootingstar Featured By Owner May 13, 2006
it five things not two :d
Reply
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