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About Literature / Professional Official Beta Tester Josh22/Male/United States Groups :iconsci-fi-future: Sci-Fi-Future
It'll be the future soon.
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Don't Give me a Reason to Sell My SoulDon't give me a reason to sell my soul, she should have said.
Instead, she just stared at the man on the screen in front of her, the man with his long, drooping skin, tired eyes, haggard face and balding head. He was hardly the admiral we had once known. She said "I don't have any desire to do it," and then quickly, "but I'll follow my orders, if you give them to me."
There was fright in her eyes. She gripped the edges of the captain's chair and bit her cheek, fighting off inevitable tears. But not here. She couldn't cry now. People relied on her to be strong. What people she wasn’t sure, but someone, somewhere, surely. She had to believe that.
"Those are your orders," the man said, sinking heavily into his chair. "I trust you'll carry them out."
She snapped off communications with ill-hid despair. Her blonde hair, thin and almost colorless, hung around her face like a fallen halo, fading with every sin. Her lips were tight, her cheeks drawn, and her eyes stared out of bru

Daily Deviation

Featured by neurotype

supernovae"Wouldn't it be great if we could watch a star explode?"
It was just like her to say that. The violence of another world's ending was, to her, poetic. If our own sun exploded, I think she'd open up her arms to embrace it.
"I don't know that I'd want to be that close," I said.
"That's the cool part. You wouldn't have to be." But she still didn't think we were close enough.
That was how we always ended up like this, sitting in a car, driving to nowhere, with nothing but the sound of the tires on the highway and the company of the stars above us. She couldn't sit still long enough to color in the details, so we never did. We just kept driving.
She leaned back in the passenger seat and kicked her feet up, staring at the ceiling of the car as if it wasn't there.
"When stars exploded a long time ago, they painted pictures of them and wondered if the gods were looking down on them. What do you think we'll do when we get to see one?"
"Take a picture."
She shot an expression at me that I

Daily Deviation

Suggested by hypermagical
Featured by Beccalicious

may as well buy another packcollapse, and breathe into the carpet:
sunday mornings are not
for falling apart, but damn
the amphorics, this
is not an atmosphere.
you fell in love like you always
wish you didn't, made all their
smiles replaceable, interchangeable,
fell asleep with shadows and kept
drinking, just letting yourself sleep
with blue pills
and tried not to scream.
(keep this image in your head:
fire and nectarines, a sudden jerk
of realization, inspiration
breaking your neck and leaving you forever
breaking bones is not so different
from breaking hearts - it's all about
the leverage, the angle, the mode
of attack
(and at least it wasn't personal; 
it can color in your own guilt
for starting lines and never ending

Daily Deviation

Suggested by AyeAye12
Featured by GrimFace242



New Weekly Standout! 

1 deviant said Feature is near the comments at the bottom of my page. (=
1 deviant said Really hope you guys have enjoyed these so far.
No deviants said Today from the awesome akettleofvultures!
No deviants said Also, monthly article about the last four that I featured is up!

Weekly Standout

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fetal   I don't think I have ever wanted the darkness as much as I do now. I want it to be heavy and dense as a woolen fire blanket. I want to be smothered. There must be no room to breathe in that pitch oil darkness. Oh and I need it to be hot, warmth seeping into my bones like whiskey tinted breath. I want to feel nothing else, I will let it close me off. I don't care if it starves me. Some people say that recreating the womb is a form of comfort. But mommy was a drinker, and look what I am now.
by akettleofvultures

"fetal" is a feat in short writing, managing to describe a condition and a person in just over a hundred words. akettleofvultures's strength of metaphor shines here, first creating a mood of close, sticky warmth before twisting the ending with an impressive and emotive shock.

(The Weekly Standout is a weekly feature of some of work that I find truly incredible from the literature community. Have a piece you think should be featured? Feel free to note me!)


.: Weekly Standouts Vol. 1

Mon Sep 1, 2014, 10:42 AM
Hey guys! Josh here, with a feature I hope you guys enjoy. 

Over the past month I've been featuring a new deviation every Monday all week at the bottom of my page. People who are watching me may recall the polls I've posted about them. 

These are pieces that I feel are especially worthy of your attention and that particularly drew me to them based on their crafting, word choice, and emotive power. I'm talking about pieces that I think stand above, or, you know, stand out. I hope that my featuring of them draws some attention to their strength and to the talent of those of who wrote them.

Here are the pieces I featured this month: parents took me to the hospital because i never ate
and so the doctors fitted me in a baggy mint green dining gown
and wrapped my fingertips in band-aids
('cause all i ever nibbled were my nails).
they prepared a pharmaceutical feast
with non-breakable plates and plastic knives.
calories gave way to milligrams,
but xanax and prozac don't mix well
with apple juice.
  Those Momentsthere is a moment in time
when the stars fade out
that i know you think of
me. it is dawn - the
second in time and space
where darkness doesn't
seem so terrifying, and
light doesn't blind us.
there is a moment in time
when the lights go off that
i think i know you, and
can trace your smile with
elegant ease. it's all
       so vivid
       so sweet
       so achingly-gorgeous
that all at once i can't bear
to see those eyes that shine
with mischief but see me as
nothing more than a girl.
but then there's that moment,
that millisecond in reality
where i realize it's all a dream -
nothing is as it seems. your smile
is nothing more than a detour
into woods unknown, darkness
cloaked with an inviting shine
meant to lure the daft and deaf
into a cacophony of laughs and
wind-chime soothing smiles.
all seems fine until the sun sets.
then, all i'm left with is a
(distorted) memory
of how i want you.
  scaling the irregular1.      my focus is a minotaur, lost in the patterns you repeat.
i covet the inconsistent slur of your lips on my neck,
and the orbit of you like an earth that’s just
been mooned.
2.      my gravid mind was once an avid unscholar.
these remarks were once marks of thought alone.
you surmount me in your sermon of unholy wisdom,
tying me with threads of your command.
i know it may only be tonight, so
pardon my naivety, my one night standing
in the way of brevity. my tongue
likes the way forever tastes,
no matter how ephemeral
the flavor.
3.      i sewed my mouth shut and you are pulling the strings loose.
i have always liked the way that the quiet tells
its own stories. let's not interrupt the scheme of things.
listen to the way nervousness unfolds like new sheets,
and, with idle mouth and mindful hands,
kill me with your opium fingers in small important
strokes. all i ache to know is the secret
in your lungs that makes your breath so
  The Answer is Noneplease excuse the crushing
  tense-air vice
  of this conversation
and i'll forgive the wheeze
as my mind's
                 and thumb
pinch your windpipe
all but        shut
watch my fading blur
   as i step like god
             pre-creation's fog
  and your heels drag
             beside me
   now you're the one
   whose able is unned
          dissed and nonned
your ghostlungs, my balloon
     floating and bumping
 against weather
 and the whether
                          or not
     of pressure differentials
  feels true, against
  hollow seizing

I'd love if you guys showed these pieces and these people some love. Lovely people and lovely words all.

Here's to another month of reading good poetry!


(P.S. comments, hints, or advice on doing this sort of stuff is welcome. So everybody knows, I did write short little things about each of these pieces when I featured them but I'm dumb and managed not to save them. I do have BlackBowfin's (note me or just comment if you haven't read it and would like to). If the other above featurees want me to write a snippet about their pieces for whatever personal use I'd be happy to do so. In the future, I hope to include those in these journals. I'm also not sure if tagging in the polls or in the feature box notified these guys or not.)

Journal History


creativelycliche's Profile Picture
Artist | Professional | Literature
United States
Hello! I'm creativelycliche, but you can call me Josh. I am a recent college graduate with a passion for writing and telling stories, as you may be able to tell. In addition to the hundreds of poems and pieces of short fiction available here, I am also the author of six (unpublished) novels and I am currently writing through my seventh. I self-published a digital collection of poetry in 2011 and a book of short stories in 2010. Both can be downloaded for free on goodreads. Writing is what I do. Thanks for coming by my page, and I hope there's something here you like!

And you, dear reader, who has stumbled upon my humble page in the vast hollows of the internet, I think you've got all the potential in the world to be who you want to be.

I wish you luck on all of today's endeavors. (and never give up the dream!)


Feel free to friend me: (I back-follow/friend/etc. in most cases - especially if you mention you're from dA!)

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(I can be terribly introverted and anxious about personal communication, but if you want to talk, feel free to send me a message.)

Literature tag by NotAGoddess

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:iconsci-fi-writers: :iconsci-fi-future: :iconclubofpoetry:


Add a Comment:
TheScorpionBoy Featured By Owner 1 day ago
Thanks for the fave :)
(1 Reply)
TheCreativeUserName Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the favorite, by the way AMAZING writing ;) 
(1 Reply)
muhmo Featured By Owner 4 days ago  New member Hobbyist General Artist
you are amazing. amazing. Charles Bukowski once said “ When I run my hand across a page of poetry I do not want oil and onionskin, I do not want slick bullshit; I want my hand to come away with blood on it. And God damn you if you are otherwise. ” You left me bloody. 

(1 Reply)
BlackBowfin Featured By Owner Aug 25, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Hey there, Josh.  Kind thanks for faving Falling Back into Place.  It's much appreciated.  Have a great week.  :)
(1 Reply)
WhisperedInsanity Featured By Owner Aug 25, 2014  Student Writer
Thanks so much for the fave on "Cosmic Battlefield!" I'm now watching you for your fantastic poetry.:happybounce: 
(1 Reply)
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