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About Deviant Member Kriztian JohnsonMale/United States Groups :iconarts-shadow: Arts-Shadow
Where Art Meets Beauty
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CrumbledWings has started a donation pool!
2,210 / 5,000
I have no points and i want to create a super group and have points giveaways :)
For 5 Points , i'll comment/critique three of your pieces (i judge best on written)
For 10 Points, i'll comment /critique five of your pieces
For 20 Points, I'll write a piece with the topic and emotive feel of your choice
For 50 Points I'll do a collab with you or One written piece and five coment/critiques or Two written pieces
For 100 Points, I'll praise you like you're a king.
Credits : xCherryRilakkuma

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  • :icondahub:
    Donated 4 days, 20 hours ago


The picture on the pedestal
"Its so beautiful"
they always say
the picture of us
as we fell
so very far astray,
sometimes I wonder
what they see
if we look so far away
somewhere where "Its so beautiful"
could always be used
to fill the empty space,
I don't remember it
and nothing else
no other breath of that place
instead only the memory
of a long day
filled with quiet tears,
both of us
looking only at the ground
in abstract fears
of what we might find
in our eyes
in the setting behind
so instead
we look away
looking to find
something in the camera
rather than each other
and in some cowardly lull
we sat together
to get the picture
that's always been so beautiful.
scratch    scratch     scratch
the chalk scratches
against the board-they
cover their mouths  
but I never heard
I continuetotalk and
I'm sent away
sent running
to the Office.
tap                              tap                          tap
the pens tap
against the desks-they
see their test
but I never see,
I continuetotalk and
            I'm sent     away
sent walking
to the office.
the dust falls
against their souls-they
but I never felt,
I continuetotalk and
                                           I'm sent                     away
sent crawling
to the Office.
sent away
This is in NO WAY my style. No I instead copied one of my least favorite poet's style out of respect for them and the impact and hidden meaning such a stylized piece can have. Can you guess who i was copying?
He drowns
in visceral shades of gray,
in illustriously craved walls
with four defined ridges
allowing him only
a window to his soul...
a window without bars,
and yet it offers no escape
for it only allows
the gray to flood through.
He cannot swim,
the color allows him no such pleasantry
and instead he must sit,
in what little color 
he can find
as they slowly choke him
and as he dies
he screams repentant cries
and begs for salvation
with tears in his eyes
for redemption...
but his tears
only dye his skin as gray
as the filth which drowns him.
Shades Of Gray
Most of this alludes to book. Can you guess which one? Didn't know how to properly end it. It was far shorter, ending at the line "the gray floods through" but made it a little longer. Hope everyone enjoys :)

Edit: Ha perhaps i should've thought this title out more. Guys I'm not alluding to fifty shade of grey I'm alluding to a famous book with Gray in the title whom this poem personifies (Hint the author was a Wilde guy).
Delusion becomes me
it echoes with the listless duty
of confining me
within the horrid tyranny
of my own fiction.
There will be no coup
no revolution nor rebellion
no cries for reality
nor exuberance of freedom
only the echoes of duty.
The monotonous drown of forgeries,
atrocities, and apologies,
the dying screams 
of impoverished souls
of fancy and fantasy,
the rapacious shouts 
of fallacious joy over 
the births of new yet 
lovely children of fate and belief,
more loudly the gunfire
these shouts are meant to cloud
horribly loud in themselves
though they quiet some of the screams,
and finally the repetition 
of my own whispers
,my own words,
repeating the implication
and imagery of every sound
as is my duty.
My duty to know 
every tragedy and every forgery
for what they are
and still believe,
believe them to be something more.
Delusion becomes me.
Delusion becomes me
Delusion becomes me though I am continually affront with how little I believe, I come to always search for it .
There is a man
who wakes every morning
to the sound of ticking,
tick tock tick tock
as he rises
combined with the steady creak
of truly worn bones.
He continues on
drowning the perpetual noise
with his monotony,
twenty brushes
both hair and teeth
three splashes
twelve buttons
one zip
and two laces
with little bunnies of top.
He walks the empty hallway
to the rhythm of children's laughter
and closes the door
just as it turns to tears.
He arrives at work
brazenly ignoring the serenade of clicks
by a chorus of staples,
click click
cli-click click click.
He is hard to seduce
but soon succumbs to it
wielding his own instrument
just in time for his solo,
rasping upon the stapler
long and hard till
he's finally released.
He runs to the elevator
humming the "Star Spangled Banner"
abruptly stopping as he
and another victim
are barraged by elavatory cacophony.
She laughs at the novelty of it
and he hears wondrous wedding bells
that echo on till the 18th floor
where in her goodbye
he hears the cello
of a time
he'd rather not remember
played ,
by hands he wouldn't forget.
He would beg her for an encore
but its beauty render him dumb,
fumbling for the slightest word
as the ding of the elevator
warn him his time is up.
The sound of his own words
finally reach his ears,
as he continually repeats them
to replace the sound his radio
would usually encompass.
He unlocks the door
and finds the trickle of tears
is still echoing within the home.
He walks to the beat of haggardness
as he staggers into the home.
Monotony momentarily dims the sound
twelve unbuttons
one unzip
two unlaces
and six groans.
He falls into bed,
the tears' echo finally put to rest
by the melody of a voice
he'd rather not remember.
While the children's song of sadness
had ended long before
the man fell into a quiet sleep 
deafened by a parade of tears.
The Sounds Of A Day
A simple story of a day told through its sounds. thought of this on the train while this marta worker hummed while he worked
I got no time for poetryyyyyyyyyy. School is killlllllllllling meeee. My professor has given me nearly a project a week for the past three week and my lit teacher has given me insane amounts of work. sorry guys


CrumbledWings's Profile Picture
Kriztian Johnson
United States
I"m a writer and i just want as many people as possible to see and like my works. I know this is mostly an art site but i want to change that because since i can't draw as beautifully as them i will weave stories that will astound. Hope you like my work.

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pokemoncoffeecat Featured By Owner 4 days ago  Student General Artist
Thank you so much for the watch!!! :tighthug:
KuchikixRukia Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2014  Student Artisan Crafter
thanks for the watch~
Geebler-art Featured By Owner Oct 10, 2014
Thanks for watching me!
J-Skipper Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for watching me!
LunaticWinter Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the watch!!
TwilightPoetess Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you! :heart:
IrrevocableFate Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2014   Writer
Many thanks for the favorite. ♥
ButterflyBlaze Featured By Owner Sep 13, 2014
Thanks for the llama!
mIkeschwaRz Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2014
Thx 4 the :+fav:
Milk-and-Pie Featured By Owner Aug 30, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Oh my god, thank you for the watch, I'm so sorry I'm late, but thank you so so much, I really appreciate it! 

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