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`Drunken-Splice

Brett Larson
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About Me Senior Member General Poet Brett Larson21/Male/United States Recent Activity Deviant for 5 Years
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California, Liberated

My catharsis began here.

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Equilibria
by `Drunken-Splice
A Meaningful ExistenceA Meaningful Existence   
asdfsadfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdf  asdfsadfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdf  asdfsadfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdf  asdfsadfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdf  asdfsadfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdf  asdfsadfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdf  asdfsadfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdf  asdfsadfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdf  asdfsadfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdf  asdfsadfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdfasdf  a       & A Meaningful Existence
by `Drunken-Splice
The CigaretteHis father is asleep on the couch with the TV on—He finds his shoes by the light of the History Channel.  With the volume low, the creak of the wood flooring is louder than the guns of Iwo Jima.  The last time he had to sneak around the house like this was high school, back when he still lied to his parents and long before she had asked him to quit.   But she isn't here now, and a part of him knows this must be done.   In his room he is gathering his things.  The keys, his wallet, and a leash for his dog, who he loves too much to leave behind.     On his way out the ba The Cigarette
by `Drunken-Splice
Dreaming in Cardiac Arrythmia
by `Drunken-Splice
A Synesthete in Love
by `Drunken-Splice
New Theories of Relativitynew theories of relativity   
hypercathect cathexis  congested connections  cathartic corrections   
don’t dare doubt  perfections of prefected passions   
my nose in knots around your  
gaudy noosed necklace   
dress down  come down  come this can’t  isn’t home New Theories of Relativity
by `Drunken-Splice
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Daisy

My dog, Daisy :)

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FutureAnna has only just met Jacob, but already she knows what is going to happen.  
 
She can see her future, in brief snapshots: two empty coffee cups on a table; stale popcorn and romantic comedies; a shoulder in the moonlight; a rose on her bed; curtains closing. And then, as her mother often said, it would all end in tears.   
"Where did you go to university?" Jacob asks. "Heather told me you did an arts degree."   
"Canterbury," Anna says. "And I didn't do arts. I did law and commerce. She's always getting things wrong."   
Jacob laughs. "Yes, that's Heather for you. Would you like another drink?"   Future
by ~parentheses
MillHer name is Millicent, but no one calls her that. Millicent is a name for old aunts. And Millie doesn't quite fit, either; she was called that as a child, back when she was skinny and flighty and charming. Now that she has filled out and grown tall and strong, and chopped her hair off at the chin, they call her Mill.   
"You should move to the city," her oldest brother, Jacob, tells her. "Find a husband. It's what our parents would have wanted."   
But Mill's parents are dead, and that means she can do what she wants. And what she wants is to work on the farm, planting crops and shearing sheep. Her two brothers don't reall Mill
by ~parentheses
Sunburn SuicideIn the city,  I saw a pretty  Boy in solemn green   
He was drowning in the sun  Channeling my loaded gun  Saline tides so serene   
Took his aim  With unyielding shame  Oh, sweet, mystified, obtuse     Then, with grace so sublime,  I tossed to him my life line  In heat waves so abstruse   
Silly baby  
mistook it for a noose Sunburn Suicide
by ~FiniteIncantatem
Ginsberg to 50I have given you all and still you have nothing.  You have not found your lost generations,  
your beats, hippies, and pranksters.  You are void – empty – digressing.    Where is your cause?     
Once, you had punks but now there are no punks  or hardly any if there still exists a mohawked youth  and, anyway, they lacked a radical essence.    You’re devolving thru time.     
Burroughs is underground I don’t think he’ll come back it’s sinister.  
I again wonder if this is a practical joke.     
I Ginsberg to 50
by ~FiniteIncantatem
the fibonacci sequenceIn a bed              next to you        with the comic carcasses surrounding                                   our spinning stomping grounds -  with the bowl spent on the desk                     next to dean’s list notices         the fibonacci sequence
by ~FiniteIncantatem
Fictional Self-Portrait                    my girl talked in her sleep.  her skin the musk of men's cologne  cutting through that certain smell  of cunt                      (organic,                      like a sweet rot                       Fictional Self-Portrait
by ~elephant-ears
four boys and I.            There were four boys and I, back in London, and we'd run the streets after dark like the largest of owls, a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and someone's shirtsleeve in the other. We'd tear down posters from the lampposts on the corners and smash in headlights with our bare knuckles. We never stopped moving, my four boys and I; not back in those days, we didn't.              We didn't have much cash, hot or otherwise, and what we stole we spent on cigarettes and a bit of the stronger stuff. Our clothes we four boys and I.
by ~elephant-ears
MamilehYou married me when I was eighteen and took me to bed still warm and half-fresh. Baby, I was just a kid, and you sneaked into the dressing room and caught me smoking one last blunt as an innocent teenaged girl, a child bound to no man but her daddy: “Mamileh,” you said, “my little girl, what are you doing?”  I hated the pet name and blew sweet stale smoke in your face. “You talk to me like a little kid,” I spat in your eye, and then sucked another breath off the end of the spliff. Filled with all-natural, slow-dried courage, I told you, “You fuckin’ pervert, marrying a kid at your age, you make me Mamileh
by ~elephant-ears
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...

Journal Entry: Sat Jul 4, 2009, 2:37 PM
I kind of disappeared off this site for a little while now, dealing with some pretty crushing depression. I don't think I've ever reached this low before. For the first time in my life, I went to a counselor. Normally, I've always sorted things out on my own, but this was beyond me. Now, I finally feel like I'm at a point where I can get back into some of the things I love, but I'm still not anywhere near 100%.

All I can say is I'm not going to tell anyone what happened, and that includes even some of my closest friends on here. I've spent quite a few hours working on how to beat this, and the best thing I can do right now is to acknowledge it happened and know that if I tell someone, all it will do is make me relive it and let it win again. So please, don't ask. Nothing personal, it's just what I need to do to move on. About all I will say is that no one physically died, but it sure feels like it right now.

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17 Comments | Previous Journal Entries
  • Mood: Miserable

Have you ever bought anyone something on that person's wishlist?

30%
19 deviants said I've thought about it, but don't have enough money/other excuse.
21%
13 deviants said Yes! If I like them enough to buy them presents, I do!
21%
13 deviants said I wish someone would buy me something from mine!
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Devious Info

  • Current Residence: Tucson, Arizona (UofA baby)
  • Favourite movie: Edward Scissorhands
  • Favourite band or musician: Mike Doughty
  • Favourite style of art: Surrealism
  • Favourite cartoon character: Tom and Jerry I've seen every episode.....I mean seriously every single one!
  • Personal Quote: "It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?" - Bladerunner

Comments


=Lit-Twitter:iconLit-Twitter: 2 days 20 hours ago
Chirp, for some reason, we've missed watching you. Fixed. :)

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Hear lit tweet here
`Drunken-Splice:iconDrunken-Splice: 2 days 8 hours ago
lol, it's cool. It's actually the first news article I've published, so you probably wouldn't have known that there were others you were missing before (since there were none lol).

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Hello Toilet

*poisonedrose - thanks brett <£...ahhh brit love
`Drunken-Splice:iconDrunken-Splice: Jun 14, 2009, 6:24:00 PM
thanks sweetie. Hope all is well.

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Hello Toilet

*poisonedrose - thanks brett <£...ahhh brit love
*WickedlyLoquacious:iconWickedlyLoquacious: Jun 4, 2009, 7:51:15 PM
Hey there! We appreciate your continued support and hope that you'll drop by soon to take part in some really cool activities and poetry shares!

:heart: - ~WickedlyLoquacious

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No sword is mightier than a pen, fight writer's block with the sword of poets long passed.
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Join our club ~WickedlyLoquacious, express your love of the art that is poetry!
=Eggplantm:iconEggplantm: Jun 4, 2009, 8:48:52 AM
Hello Random Deviant! Have a nice day!

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Always looking for more talented anthro artists!
`Drunken-Splice:iconDrunken-Splice: Jun 4, 2009, 10:16:03 AM
:) Hello back!

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Hello Toilet

*poisonedrose - thanks brett <£...ahhh brit love
=ColonelFitz:iconColonelFitz: May 8, 2009, 7:47:40 PM
A belated congratulations on the senior-ship, by the way. :)

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I'm a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations. Gently drop me a poem or two (don't want any breakage)!

Stripping-I-mean-flashing since January 2009.
#FlashLit Five-minute doses of pure awesome.
`Drunken-Splice:iconDrunken-Splice: May 9, 2009, 5:02:30 PM
heh, thanks :)

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Hello Toilet

*poisonedrose - thanks brett <£...ahhh brit love
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