Journals21
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Spoken Word and Hip-Hop
4 min read
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) journals I used to post so look out for those.Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Contest: Building a Better World (Finite)
14 min read
NOW, for the time all of the entrants of this contest have been waiting for: the results!
Literature:
FIRST PLACE goes to:
CrumbledWings
for his piece titled, Prayer for the Forgotten!
SECOND PLACE goes to:
hallosse for their piece known as, Dripping Red!Dripping RedHe was the perfect soldier, like a white
pawn on an inky board. Innocent fray:
'Unstained', they named the better man
Who swore to find the other side of Day.
He followed every order graven in
Cold stone. He never broke the dusty chains
Of honor, twisting close around his heart;
The iron singing thunder in his veins.
He dreamed about Tomorrow, the other
side of day. Tear-streaked morning never came,
Rain-washed. The only dawn was drowned in blood
And ringed in coiled dragons: rising flame.
The tide of blood that stained horizons, weep-
ing, splattered gently on his brittle face,
He buried, dead, in rushing water deep.
His hands were clean, without a traitor stain.
His men lie around him, dead at whispered last,
The light of life drains out behind their eyes;
(The clanging horrors of his dreams, cracked glass,
Were false. Despair in icy silence reigns.)
The only color left to him is red,
To mock brave, innocent and silent white:
An afterglow of symmetry he once
Believed could end the sc
THIRD PLACE goes to:
Satakuray for their piece named, destroying ourselves!:thumb357073623:
Artwork:
FIRST PLACE goes to:
shiny-emerald for her piece titled, who is the one exhausted now?!:thumb364287956:
SECOND PLACE goes to:
23MC-Studio for their piece named, good bye bunny!
NOTE: There was no third entry for the Artwork category so the third place prizes have been blasted off the tapestry (how many understand that reference?). Prize winners please look below for the prizes you have won and begin contacting the sponsors.
NOTE: As an apology for being such a poor contest host, I have decided to give 50 points to the first five contests to contact me.
The contest deadline has passed, any late entries will still be accepted though there will be penalty points deducted. To honor the upcoming twelve months, which will be better than the last twelve, I have decided to host a contest.
In the spirit of activism and prevention, there are three themes: Hunger and Poverty, Abuse, and War. Of course, to clarify some questions any participants may have, each theme have subheadings, which you do not have to follow, for guidance.
All three themes consist of the following topics:
Prevention Causes ResultsWhich sound…boring and rather clinical…but they simply say, how can you stop it, what may cause the situation, and what things (i.e. emotions, situations, friendships, etc.) may result from whichever chosen theme.
Rules:
All mediums are accepted
Mature content is allowed, however, be sure to place all applicable tags and warnings on the piece
No works in progresses Entries must be created after the date of this journal (no old deviations) One submission per theme, three submissions total, is allowed. An extension of up to 24 hours is allowed if, and only if, the participant in question notes me.Judges:
If you are willing to judge then note me,LightOverpowers58.
*NOTE: All judges are subject to review before being accepted
**NOTE: Judges that focus primarily on creative arts are welcome, if not needed.
Critieria
Literature:
Originality -/5 Mechanics -/5 Characters -/5 Creativity -/5 Grammar -/5 Cohesion -/5 Diction -/5 Theme -/5 Voice -/5 Plot -/5Total: -/50
Artwork:
Creativity -/5 Orginality -/5 Theme -/5*Total: -/-
*The other judging categories for the artwork section will be discussed amongst the judges.
Prizes
Literature:
First Place:
300 
from LightOverpowers58 Journal Feature from dawn181 Journal Feature from NotenSMSK Journal Feature/Interview from nosedivve 5 Favorites/Critiques from NotenSMSK 3 In-Depth Critiques from nosedivve 1 llama (if applicable) from LightOverpowers58 1 llama (if applicable) from Nullibicity 1 llama (if applicable) from NotenSMSKSecond Place:
200 from LightOverpowers58 Journal Feature from dawn181 Journal Feature from NotenSMSK Journal Feature from nosedivve 3 Favorites/Critiques from NotenSMSK 1 In-Depth Critique from nosedivve 1 llama (if applicable) from LightOverpowers58 1 llama (if applicable) from Nullibicity 1 llama (if applicable) from NotenSMSKThird Place:
100 from LightOverpowers58 Journal Feature from dawn181 Journal Feature from NotenSMSK Journal Feature from nosedivve 1 Favorite/Critique from NotenSMSK 1 In-Depth Critique from nosedivve 1 llama (if applicable) from LightOverpowers58 1 llama (if applicable) from Nullibicity 1 llama (if applicable) from NotenSMSKArtwork:
First Place:
300 from LightOverpowers58 Journal Feature from dawn181 Journal Feature from NotenSMSK 5 Favorites/Critiques from NotenSMSK 1 llama (if applicable) from LightOverpowers58 1 llama (if applicable) from Nullibicity 1 llama (if applicable) from NotenSMSKSecond Place:
200 from LightOverpowers58 Journal Feature from dawn181 Journal Feature from NotenSMSK 3 Favorites/Critiques from NotenSMSK 1 llama (if applicable) from LightOverpowers58 1 llama (if applicable) from Nullibicity 1 llama (if applicable) from NotenSMSK (Amended) Prize donators and may still enter the contest, as can judges; however, judges cannot place.Thank you for reading and I hope to see entries soon!
Please leave a link below with your contest entry. Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Shootings and Tributes
15 min read
Happy Holidays, I hope you all have been fairing well!
If you haven't received the news yet--most likely only those internationally located--there was a mass shooting in Newton, Connecticut, United States. As of 8:32 PM (20:32) EST, 20 children and 6 teachers have been declared dead. The gunman killed his mother at her residence a few miles away before driving to the school and entering the building. After killing 26 innocents, the gunman
United States President Barack Obama made a speech later in the day, weeping for the souls lost and lives broken. He urged the American people to join together and end the senseless violence occurring across the nation. One may only hope that we take his advice and stop the useless bickering.
This is the second major shooting in the United States in the last six months. [Aurora, Colorado being the first (July 2012)]
In honor of those fallen, both the teachers and children, the following pieces feature the beauty of innocence:
Small ChildrenThey annoy you to bits
They're stubborn to the bone
But they're cute little shits
Even when you want to be alone
They're noisy til the end
They're always around
So it's hard to pretend
That they aren't making a sound
They may be rowdy
They're better when they're not
Though it's worse when they're pouty
And you can't trade what you've got
Love 'em endlessly
It's what they deserve
Even though they have a tendency
To get on your last nerve
With the Strength of a Child His ripped shirt is barely visible in the dust and smoke. He kneels in the rubble, bloody faded jeans loose on his hips, tan skin lined with ragged cuts and bruises underneath. Long dark hair, now dusty white and matted with blood, ripples in the wind like a tattered flag of surrender.
He can't feel the pain.
Broken jaws whisper of sadness.
Broken voices scream of loss.
And his broken eyes turn toward the ground, shadowed with fear and weakness. He clutches his head in scarring hands, ignoring the sharp debris biting his legs. He stares vacantly at the cracked concrete lying in the dust.
He can't see it at all.
Young eyes glisten with tears.
Indigo ChildrenThe eager windblown children swept
through this world with a secret kept.
In their eyes laid the last bits of beauty in the world.
In their hearts was held delight just waiting to be laid unfurled
across the earth, to be dispersed for all men to enjoy.
Across its surface children flew, whispering of Xanadu.
“Beauty, beauty, there’s beauty in this place.
About it scampers, runs, and scurries
catch it catch it catch it, hurry,
before it gets away
before you learn to laugh
and learn to play."
As children soon matured, they very quickly learned
the nature of their new world and its devious ways.
Their bodies grown to fight off youth, their minds were soon complexed.
They fought the earth, unwilling to give way to their joy.
But children always came with simple hearts and souls naive.
Always teaching to their people truly what they had purely seen.
Always they would deny these truths so children simply went away.
Beauty took its leave with them--for all to seek yet onl
:thumb176218223: :thumb40438445:
The last childrenWords of many lost are eteched into the broken mirror
reflecting the action of the ball going up
and comming down
the steady gentle slap
that the ball makes upon the concrete
cooming back up into small innocent hands
can be heard everywhere in the ruins of the hospital
broken down by bombs and wars
deaths and many lost souls
another lays on the blackened grass
the only thing in an otherwise black and white scenery
of smoke and white bulidings
falling and crashing
silently
That would be sky
or ground
or simply air
all of it is white,
filled with the tears
of innocent lives lost.
Both pale milky white
with grey shaggy hair
both are the last
of the children
Their grey eyes follow
the ball`s slow
straight moments
Up
pause
down
Up
pause
down
repeating
over and over
Whipsering lullabies now forgotten to each other
lingering, almost like an echo in the ruins.
No wind or air to calm the lullabies away
:thumb273354878: invisible childrenwe walk alone
we march on
to the sound of
rifles, explosions
caused by shells
like bird songs
to wake us up
in the morning
we answer the
call to fight
and rush in as
blood coats us
like mud from
childhood games
our breaths are
stilled by wounds
and smoke, while
the memories
of our homes
burning in fire
don't go away
no matter how
much we squint
we are soldiers
we fight like men
but we die like
invisible children
Dare to DreamSo bravely envisioning goals within your mind,
those same goals that slowly change to dreams,
reflected in your eyes not just the aspirations
of a creative mind,
but of a dreamer.
The smallest of smiles,
as if to seal the deal...
already so eager to reach your destination,
with butterfly wings strapped to your back
and arms outstretched to soar.
The child in ragged shorts: broth and the beggarIt was getting late. The sky was dark while the orifices in looming edifices managed to leak some of the moon light they were withholding. The woman hugged herself with the porous shawl that she was wearing, pressing the twenty-two rupees note again and again on the counter.
"Please, just for today; I do not have anymore money. I beg you" she pleaded but the person at the counter couldn't care less.
"That is three rupee short. I don't care if you beg. If you have anything else to put forward then do or get lost" he replied harshly, spit flying from his mouth. The woman retreated, a disgusted expression on her face.
"What more can I put forward after I put my self respect on the line by begging you"
He laughed spitefully and loudly before replying with a smirk "Things like that don't tarnish self respect of a woman you know."
"Then you don't know what self respect means!" she yelled and turned away, her frustration clearly reflected in her eyes as she stared at the twenty rupee note and
Child's Ploy and death shall sing a child's song;
so simple in its measure.
and death shall have a child's eyes;
luminescent in their pleasure.
Child's Song by =deinktvis
a little messed-up lullaby,
whose poison's underneath.
its soothing tone is just a lie:
spit forth from jagged teeth.
the beauty is the innocence
stolen from those it's led along-
a sickly dissonance
of children's repentance
it captivates, which strikes you wrong
and death shall sing a child's song.
humans return from whence they came,
a known pattern of life;
delivered and taken the same-
into and out of strife.
and so the reaper, with haunting
knows that we must prefer
reminders of our upbringing...
his gentle way of singing,
the song of our childhoods' heard
so simple in its measure.
what is the reaper but a host?
comforting in deceit.
mimicking what hurts us the most,
it is no easy feat!
with trickery an
The Slaughtered Children.Why? Why? They were children! Children! How could someone strip a child, multiple children, of their innocence! How could someone strip them of life?
Children are one of the few good things in life. Always learning, not dispicable liars or haters or cheaters like the majority of adults, not able to commit horrendous crimes, not aware of the greater scheme of life going on around them. Believer's they are. In a child's mind, the characters of stories such as Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny are alive. Magic is real and all around us, commanded and cast by the fairies who were blessed by the mighty kings and queens from far far away. In a childs dream, there is no deception, no hatred, no confusion. There is only light and happiness and love, and their imagination is never as strong as it if in childhood.
It is for those reasons, and many more, why I believe children should be treasured. For their beautifully bliss minds and perfectly balanced ignorance. For their imagination, raw and i
:thumb215839513: For the children in UtoyaResting in the light of the ocean
lies the children of tomorrow.
Filled with mourning emotions,
we stand together in sorrow.
How could this happen, aren't we the same?
Is it political when a man goes insane?
A scared little boy is playing dead to survive
while a girl swims beside her friends who've just died.
Where is the war when there's silence outside?
What is the war when everybody cries?
I'm lightning a candle by the shore
while watching the water pour.
There's no one screaming anymore
and I wish I've imagine it all.
How could this happen, aren't we the same?
Is it political when a man goes insane?
A scared little boy is playing dead to survive
while a girl swims beside her friends who've just died.
Where is the war when there's silence outside?
What is the war when everybody cries?
Music stands as the focal point of my thoughts, the inspiration of my writings, and the motivation for me to do better than I am. As testament to the Connecticut shooting, the following songs feature lyrics about children. Hopefully you recognize a few of these songs.
"Small Bump" by Ed Sheeran "Vergessene Kinder" by Tokio Hotel [Forgotten Children...English Version] "My Oh My" by Macklemore "Inner Shakespeare (feat. Edith)" by Eppic "Make It Stop (September's Children)" by Rise Against "Concrete Angel" by Martina McBride "Wings" by Macklemore "Let Us Move On (feat. Kendrick Lamar)" by Dido (If no other, listen to this one)May all effected souls and families rest in peace!
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Updates and Features (#6)
10 min read
Happy Holidays everyone! Forgive me, I have no idea if it is holiday season yet abroad, but
when in Rome)I hope you all have been doing well and that school, work, and life and general has been moving along a pace greater than a snails.
In fact, if you manage to make it completely through this mammoth of a journal you are about to see, leave a comment. I want to hear from each of you.With that note, thank you to all of my new watchers, commenters, favouriters...each and everyone one of you are appreciated even if I can't find the time to tell you individually.
On to other business, I am putting a pause on commission until further notice; I have a rather deep backlog. However, the door is still open, if you want me to write I can and will, it may take a bit longer than the two of us desire, though [I will not be accepting points until I finish my current commissions]. So, feel free to note me or comment on my journal/profile if you are interested. Prices can be discussed! There may be a holiday discount coming up, comment at the bottom if you are interested.
Running along the same tangent: my poetry piece, "Untitled, has earned a place within the ranks of Daily Literature Deviations (DLDs)
. Suggested by the wonderful intricately-ordinary to SilverInkblot, the poem managed to pass the admins' of DailyLitDeviations inspection and is featured in this article. Thank you to all those who made this feat possible! 
Now, onto a much neglected topic, features!
ApparitionLittle girl,
You have out-grown
Yourself, and these
Childish notions of
Monsters in the closet.
Each morning,
She holds her breath
Until the sun rises,
Because no one taught her
How to sleep
With her eyes closed.
There is this
Delusion about you;
A belief that if
You stay awake,
There will be no darkness.
It is damaging you.
She lays,
Cold and silent,
With her darkened fantasies,
And remembers a time
When she was not-so-
Softly breaking
Into unrecognizable shards.
Careless drifter,
You have found your only
Escape
From all the lifetimes
You were
Too fearful to live.
Rest now,
Frightened child,
Too lost in your waking dreams
To see new realities.
It will all
Be over soon.
Leaving goosebumps on the readers as parting gifts, "Apparition" by SomethingOnceSacred stretches the reader's emotions in the way only a piece written with the clarity of those touched by trials yet strengthed by pain can.
UnfoundedI cram words within murky, hollow spaces,
replicating ways in which blood fills a wound.
I squeeze articles and adjectives—
supporting metaphors and similes—
into tight-fitting corners,
until that which is empty begins to bloat.
The ache of something missing,
the loss of one internal, now painfully unknown:
it finds no satisfaction within passion
and phrases so desperately created, upheld.
Why give transparent, misleading hope…
Does pleasure derive from humiliation—
the catalyzing of previously weakened hearts?
Where is the limit of cruelty defined,
if not in the cries and weeping of dreams:
Language wilts on my fingertips,
turns to ash in my mouth…
the gorge in my throat which partakes in
young suffering.
Yet...
how significant is agony endured within silence,
inside pitiful thoughts?
It is nothing notable of specific emotion,
only biting veracities upon repetition
and foolish belief:
"I am no poet of words."
It is with true pleasure that I feature Nullibicity's piece within this journal, her words rivet even the most obtuse soul and captivate the reader with a sense of disquieting truth hidden between the spaces of each character, word, line, and stanza. This is no less true in her piece, "Unfounded", which flows into the reader with the cool smoothness of a river yet paints the pictures of emotions with the skill of an untainted artist.
Waiting for her to come this wayThe breeze tousles through the night and his hair.
He sits in expectance for her to come here;
waiting for her to come this way.
Like that first time; her footsteps echoed so loud.
In a night as such not even the moon could be proud.
An ethereal glow she emitted, an embodying light.
The wind ruffled her black locks like an angel in flight.
Her breath was a sanctifying whisper of life
and her dress; oh a woven fabric of natures device.
Her soft traces upon the earth would have grown
the fruit bearing brushwood, piercing through a stone.
The hair settled; the wings retreated, her eyes slowly set
on a young boy tending tulips. Their gaze just then met.
He stared; what else could he do; she stood a little away.
The moon too curtsied to her outlining her portrait.
He stood tranquil, the tulip yet held in his hand.
She smiled and approached like a being with command.
She took the tulip, sniffing in its fragrance, sighing so deep,
the earth purred in compliance underneath her feet.
She smiled
One of my closest friends on this site, NotenSMSK continually writes with his patented flair. Although English is not his first language, NotenSMSK manages to overcome the language barrier and put pen to paper with beauty in a style unmatched and untamed. His piece "Waiting for her to come this way" showcases his skill in a distinct manner with the words of a storyteller and the mind of a man in love.
Oh NanaOh nana, Oh nana, why did you have to go?
Oh Lord, nana's gone, why'd it have to be so
Dramatic yet poignant, full of tears and woe
Oh nana, Oh nana, why did you have to go?
Oh nana, look nana, how much Zara has grown
She's standing, believing, planting the harvest you'd sown
Oh nana, I'm sorry nana, I was not taught so
To stay quiet over why, oh nana, over why you had to go.
The nights are so scarring, so grim and so cold
Oh nana, I feel nothing, like one distant and old.
Oh nana, I wish, oh I wish I was told
why Oh nana, Oh Nana why did you have to go.
Oh nana, listen nana, when we meet again
In Paradise, in His Eyes, I shall see you then
I will bring my poetry, the Rubiyyat and Gray's Ode
But on Nana, keep your answer ready, for why you had to go
"Oh Nana", a collaboration piece between NotenSMSK and Chezzy-Am, pinpoints the feelings of loss one feels when a close family member passes away. Not much else can be said on this piece but that its truth speaks for us all.
mrkemp's photograph, If walls could wisper, brings to mind images of the hauntd houses you always hear about in stories. Primary focus lies on the building itself while allowing the ominous background to work for the scene, not against it. The low cut grass, reminiscent of burnt vegetation, only enhances the landscape's haunted look. In total, mrkemp managed to capture a great scene in just the right way.
Contrast [literally] defines ashamandour's capture. From the lit top walls to the darkened brick pathway, Contrast creates a smooth, choreographed feel aided by a cloudy day's atmosphere and soft lighting.
Cup of Tea and a Story Maybe?, UntamedUnwanted's photo, sets the stage for a whimsical feel. Leaving the viewer with a sense of having sat at the Mad Hatter's tea table [and survived], the capture contains a rather wizened atmosphere, timeless yet mature.
Thank you all for reading, I hope you have enjoyed the featurees, be sure to check out both the deviations listed above and their galleries.
Have a great holidays.
By the way, I have a series of features coming up for the 4 winners of Arts-Shadow's contest, worthy winners they were.
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