dantespoet

This is Virgil's Circle

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Looming by dantespoet, literature

Literature

Looming

There it hangs, looming. They say an artist's work is never done. If it stays in his sight, he will keep tinkering, meddling. To complete, you must let go. The thread unravels only as far as it spans. In the other case you are writing a diary. Constant recollection. You're art must not become you, after all it started as part of you. Like the child we all once were. We were once simply a sewn-on elastic band in mom's jeans. We all grew up though. It's in the eyes. Before them, you were a child, little awkward hands, messy face. You stood before them, in the T-shirt they picked out. Your eyes went hard. Went stone. Wet stone,

Sandman's Sonnet by dantespoet, literature

Literature

Sandman's Sonnet

A simple rhyme as night confines the time. My thoughts to you held in the arms of sleep. A dandelion sways as a pantomime. As each soft breath escapes it's grace you keep. A sparkling moon rests as a twilit jewel. A fitting crown above the brow I love. This queen adrift in darkened sheets, my fuel. For weaving a delicate nest, my dove. Tumultuous waves of breaking morning. Take fading dreams and light them to glimmer. A chorus of grackles hold night to mourning. Mirages of rolling seas they shimmer. As your eyes lift, deep amber, they see. Could you know the one in your dreams was me?

Red Wine by dantespoet, literature

Literature

Red Wine

Her eyes glow, drink it in like Merlot. And the words pour clear, as you swirl the glass slow. Feel your chest tighten up, like the stem to the cup. As the silence finally spills, "This will never be enough." You saw it all drip, from her vine-ripened lips, where the red hung thick. So you take another sip. She shimmers through the bar, like a fickle little star. With the wine in your mouth, turning slowly into tar.

The Ticking Hands by dantespoet, literature

Literature

The Ticking Hands

I'm a story teller with no words on his plate, just picking his teeth, because he already ate. And the, lids of my eyes lay flush with the lashes down, pennies facing up, heavy lies the crown. Laid to rest at the bus station where the devil stays. He grins slyly as he quietly palms my change. A heavy heart isn't his whole entry fee, without the cash he requests that I take my leave. I need you love, but I don't need this. Every word is just proof that the bullet missed, and every period marks the strays. Monet at his canvas, dots of gray. And if my feet keep dropping, I could make it home. Like a feather smoothed down,

Tin Man by dantespoet, literature

Literature

Tin Man

Her eyes dart, like the moth into the flame when the boy mutters out, "was it really just a game?" And his hands draw tight like a fiddle with it's strings when a devil makes a bet it's a demon band he brings every heart is a lion they're just waiting to be tamed you just put them in the ring and you cut a couple veins He looks down, and the angels place the crown on the top of his head, and the rain is running red as the crowd draws 'round like his hands stuffed down through the holes in his jeans she's still grinning somethin' mean and his throat gets raw as the words start to gnaw at the back of this teeth it

Eden's Promise by dantespoet, literature

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Looming by dantespoet, literature

Literature

Looming

Sandman's Sonnet by dantespoet, literature

Literature

Sandman's Sonnet

Red Wine by dantespoet, literature

Literature

Red Wine

The Ticking Hands by dantespoet, literature

Literature

The Ticking Hands

Tin Man by dantespoet, literature

Literature

Tin Man

Eden's Promise by dantespoet, literature

The Dancer by dantespoet, literature

Literature

The Dancer

If each thought filled a page, you'd be more than a chapter. It's the book I won't write, because there is no life after. And if you too, were a constructor of tales, I fear that, my dear, I'd be hardly a nail. You're makeup was heavy, from playing onstage. The phosphorous lights, set your eyes all ablaze. We sat on a set-piece of Romeo's past. An omen perhaps, that this thing couldn't last. Was I nearer to age, I'd have taken you than, past the world of our stage and the classroom's within. And your plain white dress, simple stitching aside, would have followed your hand, come along for the ride. And that last humid night, when

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Melting Point by LadyLazrus, literature

Literature

Melting Point

Oil spilled, child killed, ideology distilled, You are your own kryptonite. With wolves at your door, Go buy the biggest gun you can find On the black market—but don’t fund terrorism. Look—up in the sky that is growing dense With pot smoke, CFC’s, and your denial— It’s a bird. It’s a plane. No—it’s the government: Save us. Be our king. We’ll graffiti your name Over our gospel billboards and metro buses, Draw squiggle hearts around your name In our planned parenting classes. Eyes gouged like Samson, You become its grain slave, Pushing the very grindstone That you

About dantespoet

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Artist // Student // Literature

United States
Deviant for 15 years
He / Him

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My Bio

Favourite genre of music: Acoustic rock
Favourite style of art: creative writing
Personal Quote: "Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."

Favourite Movies

Pan's Labyrinth, The Departed, Taxi Driver, The Big Lebowski, True Grit

Favourite TV Shows

Breaking Bad, Sons of Anarchy, Freaks and Geeks

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Bayside

Favourite Writers

Kurt Vonnegut, Twain, K.A Applegate, Michael Crichton

Favourite Gaming Platform

Tools of the Trade

blue ink, ballpoint pen

Other Interests

writing, music, reading, analyzing,

Posts

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dantespoet

Feb 20, 2013

Wow

0 min read

It's kind of crazy how some of the desktop customization stuff took off.  Thanks to everyone that uses it! I have a whole Zelda theme I never posted as well... maybe I'll upload that.

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dantespoet

Sep 21, 2011

Checking in.

0 min read

I know this isn't really new for me, but things have been pretty rough, and I've been fighting off some mental block I have with my novel. I can use all of the support and well wishes you can muster, in the meantime I'll try and produce some work.

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dantespoet

Jun 27, 2011

bit of a letdown

0 min read

Well, I got one reaction to "the ticking hands." Which means I'm not feeling terribly motivated to do anything else with da right now. Thank you for the support however, as I do appreciate every little bit I get.   I'm feeling kind of down that my gallery consists of all literature and one rainmeter skin, and that one skin, only recently posted in completion accounts for half of my page views. Oh, of the 400 people that have looked at it and the nearly 20 that have downloaded it I haven't received a single comment. So no love at all for my writing, and this is my dream? I don't know, it's kind of hard seeing a point past my own will. Who k