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Literature
C'est la Vie
Whispers in the wind
that carry weight
fall to the ground.
Whispers in the wind
that carry weight
will topple the town.
Whispers in the wind
that carry weight
will drive me down.
Whispers in the wind
that carry weight
will drive me down
into the ground.
Murmurs in the stream
that cultures dreams
are seldom seen.
Murmurs in the stream
that cultures dreams
may never be.
Murmurs in the stream
that cultures dreams
will drift to the sea.
C'est la vie.
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Literature
Pop apathetics.
             Cerebral detox:
cleans the brain of nasty thoughts;
       leaves behind no stains.
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Auralsynthesis. by jsut Auralsynthesis. :iconjsut:jsut 5 2 Call me Urkle. by jsut Call me Urkle. :iconjsut:jsut 2 2
Literature
The glass orb.
What useless things they are,
    Love and Passion.
When unrequited, you swallow
    a glass orb that absorbes
the light of passion which disappears
    into its center void.
Unseen and unresolved, it churns
    the darkness of the soul.
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Mature content
Deja Vu :iconjsut:jsut 1 0
Cabinets and destruction. by jsut Cabinets and destruction. :iconjsut:jsut 0 3 A chair and the Duke. by jsut A chair and the Duke. :iconjsut:jsut 1 3 Silk weaver. by jsut Silk weaver. :iconjsut:jsut 0 0 Steel-enclosed spider. by jsut Steel-enclosed spider. :iconjsut:jsut 0 1
Literature
Tapestry of the Heart.
My world is unraveling, again.
The beautiful patterns that took
     pains in me to weave are now
          decaying and denaturing.
The tapestry is splitting and
     morphing into new designs and
          colors that are novel and unfamiliar.
No longer bound by my prior efforts,
     it has been shaped and seamed
          into something else, entirely.
I can no longer call myself
     the sole artesian, the creator of
          this tapestry of my heart; yet,
I cannot quit this weave for
     it is my own as it is much
          like the vessels under my skin.
It is a living, breathing textile
   
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Literature
The Past and the Ensuing Storm
There's something higher than here
above my hapless state of self
and the endless stretches of land is
overcast with the overwhelming wealth
I once felt in you.
Wind ravages the plains
and tears through the places
where I once held you dear.
Silver fingers furl and laces
through a cloud.
A streetlight forms a halo of
gleaming dots of yellow jewels,
like the sunlight through your hair.
I must look quite the fool
standing here.
Heckled by the thunder
through many threads of rain;
weaving oceans of ignominy.
I press ahead in vain
pursuing shelter.
The dirt from the many towns I've been,
once caked on the clothes on my body,
is washed from my person and
I wallow in the memories embodied
by this storm.
Trodden is the scenery
with its many shades of gray.
In the distance roars the past
and its resonance decays
in my heart.
That someplace higher than here,
above my hapless state of mind
and the endless stretches of land
is now azure and unconfined
by the fear of losing you.
The sunlight forms
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Literature
A haiku for suburban nights.
the cool breeze carries
hundreds of evening's whispers
over peaceful streets
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Literature
Writing is alchemy.
This pen is heavy
    and awkward,
and the paper
        is too small.
Words are difficult to write
when the physical world
    dampers productivity;
but creativity thrives
when the sieve strains
    the heavy ether in the brain
from the muddled emotions,
unscrupulous thoughts,
    or diffidence.
Condense that ether and,
    like carbon,
it will become
        like diamond.
What is left
    then
is pristine and clever
        simplicity.
Writing is the true
            Alchemy.
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Literature
Stench at a bookstore cafe.
A deadly aroma wafts my senses.
       Somewhere.
It must be from that old man
       reading the paper,
wearing white and gray New Balances,
sitting in the brown, faux-leather
       chair with brass-studded armrests,
giving it a comfortable,
             sturdy,
and worn look bookstores and coffee shops
                   admire.
He doesn't seem to realize that he
has made an impact,
       however small,
       or foul,
on a person's life.
       No one is invisible.
We exist to make our presence felt,
       whether we or anybody else desire to.
We'll do bo
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Literature
Reading the earth.
Upon a steep hill of anxiety,
a book of fiction is the sled
that will coast you down
to the bottom with a peculiar ease
and decent speed and you
will forget for at least a moment
that you were ever what you thought
was miserable beyond contemporary measure.
However, upon consummation
or satiation or restlessness of read,
you will have to scale that hill
you descended so gaily
and its sodden earth will tear the
literature you paved onto it
with every sole you dig into
each page you had read.
If enough pages are read
and that hill is encrusted
with enough books,
then each word will rebound
the sole of your shoe with perfect
resilience and the earth will
no longer be moist and fresh
or dirty your clothes with filth
and you will climb that hill
cleanly and briskly and you
will wonder more about the eternal
sky you gradually conquer with each
book you lay upon what was once
a soggy mound of little imagination.
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deviantID

jsut
Eat a brick.
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
I make music. I sometimes write. I often drink. I'm not on here a lot, but I try to do stuff.
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:iconjusteline:
justeline Featured By Owner Sep 7, 2010  Professional Photographer
:iconhellothereplz:
Came by for a hello and a :hug: and a very belated thank you for the :+fav: dear! Very glad you liked my work! :iconcocoloveplz:
Reply
:iconlilmie:
lilmie Featured By Owner Aug 25, 2010  Student Digital Artist
NICE GALLERY!
Reply
:iconjsut:
jsut Featured By Owner Aug 25, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you very much! I'm glad you like it.
Reply
:iconlilmie:
lilmie Featured By Owner Aug 25, 2010  Student Digital Artist
YOUR WELCOME
Reply
:iconkrazedkazoo:
krazedkazoo Featured By Owner May 31, 2010   General Artist
:iconhansenplz::iconsaysplz: So I heard you made a CD with songs that had questionable titles.
Reply
:iconjsut:
jsut Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
:iconjsut::iconsaysplz::iconjsut:

Chris Hansen must have been the kid who sat alone during lunch all through grade school. He wants so badly to sit with someone.
Reply
:iconshinobidragon:
ShinobiDragon Featured By Owner May 16, 2010
SPAM

Love you, A.

GONE AGAIN FOR YEARS BYE
Reply
:iconjsut:
jsut Featured By Owner May 20, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
WAIT. TAKE ME WITH YOU. THIS PLACE SMELLS.
Reply
:iconjusteline:
justeline Featured By Owner Apr 22, 2010  Professional Photographer
:icongwompplz: A HUGE thank you for the :+fav: dear! So glad you liked my work! :iconteamoplz:
Reply
:icontheravens596:
theravens596 Featured By Owner Mar 20, 2010
I like your stuff man, so I'm going to watch you
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