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About Literature / Artist NaomiFemale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
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Literature
Church Fete
In those horror movies,
On the silver screen,
You can see the faces of the terrified fixated in one direction.
Too afraid to glance backward,
Too afraid to see what may become their fate.
Too afraid to be seen, perhaps?
If you were face to face with fate,
Good or bad, expected or unannounced,
Would you stare it in the face?
Or simply pretend that the inevitable did not exist?
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Literature
Double Glazed Windows
My mind is addled because of you,
I cannot see.
Blury shapes move about my mind,
Not coming into focus.
I can't read you.

Hostility and iron barricades
Hide you from me.
I can't pass.

You look me in the eye,
And they flicker,
Marred and mossy,
Panes shattered over time.
Here and there,
I can't get through.
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Literature
Bump
Go go go.
Pushing me over each step.
Bumping down on my heels,
Childlike game? Making me ache?
Simple things, I think.

With each jolt of every step
I can feel the knot within my stomach change.
Moving around my body, affecting every part.
But not loosening.

Will the steps you can push me down ever finish?
Or will I have to take some action
Making me completely broken,
Severing everything inside of me?
To make you stop.
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Literature
20-20 Vs. Perspective
It helps- it just does.
Never lets you down.
Never surprises you.

Predictability.
I'm still undecided
About the benefits, really.

They say that there's no excuse.
I think there are excuses.
There are always excuses,
Only familiarity and predictability
Allow you to find them.

If I had a photograph, perhaps.
But only then.
I don't trust my mind,
My eyes don't see.


They elaborate.
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Literature
Trap and Home Again.
If I had some silence
I think I'd understand.
But I'm seeking crowded places,
Sweaty buses,
Fast trains.
I seek what I run from.
But this way I control my own environment.
It becomes perfect,
A natural habitat in which I thrive.
I can choose what I see,
I can pick what to ignore,
But back at home there's a trap.
And the longer I stay, the more stuck I become.
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Literature
Fractions and Decimals
Maybe the brighter lights
Will be the end of me.

In the dark- I can control where I am.
I don't see the mundane, the misery that causes it all.
I can see the world.

The whole world, and I'm at the centre.
It's like fractions- without one you have no whole.
But I'm only a tiny fraction, easily replaceable.

And we usually only round to two decimal places.
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Literature
Gin and Tonic
Your petrol spills out into this clear blue lake,
Skimming the surface for seconds
Before mixing and merging.
Creatures within choke and suffocate
As this poison pollutes their lungs and veins.
Struggling to survive,
Will this rescue attempt be just that?
An attempt?
Or will these gasps for fresh air be victorious?
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Literature
Murder or Suicide?
These hands shake,
So cold I cannot feel one upon the another.
Shivers are sent down my spine
As these fingers are run through my hair.
Corpselike and frozen,
Is this all I amount to now?
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Literature
The Tadpole
Comes of spawn, and slimy beginnings.
Rots in peace beneath the surface.
When you're underwater, a babe, you hear echoing glugs
but with a trained ear you become a wallflower.
Following streams of life to your cobwebby downfall,
a trap to ensnare the mind and flies
flies away. With regret- you pounced from your wall all too Soon,
Not following that percentage of this earth's continuum that
your actions rely upon.
Frogs are cold blooded creatures and what we are never
Changes.
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Literature
The Stationary Train
Just as in my head,
my deepest nightmare,
alive in front of me here;
no-one to speak to,
no-one to listen.
Like I'm a stationary train.
Waiting for the others to come.
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Literature
The Long, Long Speech.
No voices there,
overcome by silence,
nobody notices,
as if she hates to be
around.
                              No less.
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Literature
The Journey
As you sit on a train,
Staring out of the window,
Not being able to see what is approaching,
You suddenly become plunged into darkness,
Which comes as a bit of a shock,
As you're used to having cows stare at you.
It's like life-
Unpredictable,
Quite frightening,
And there will always be the knowledge
That there is a light
At the end of the tunnel.
You,
Along with a few others,
And the guy in the sky,
Are that light at the end of the tunnel.
You can brighten up the darkest situation.
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Literature
The Hole
"Not the usual way I would put things,"
Or so I would say,
Secretly wishing the old me would stay.
I couldn't be new, not then, not now,
all I wanted to be was one of the crowd.
So alone I was, digging that Hole.
A Hole with no meaning, but a Hole with a soul.
A soul with a purpose from those in my head;
who'd led me to believe all but they were dead.
"As if they is anything out there but us,"
So foolish I was, to do what someone else does.
I should have stuck to being me,
people say to 'do things right'.
Oh how stupid I was to go and put up a fight.
Why couldn't I just do as they said?
Why didn't I just let go?
The Hole was getting deeper, just how was I supposed to know?
It took a hold of me
and would not ease it's grasp.
I was now down on my knees letting everyone just laugh.
Yet you helped me up,
got me to my feet.
Led me to remember there's someone we're still yet to meet.
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Literature
The Consumer
My knuckles go white as I clench my fists.
That thirst for revenge sweeps over me like a giant wave,
about to consume it's prey.
To do something would be something in itself.
If only I could,
but I can't,
not without help.
Someone help me.
Will he? If I just ask?
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Literature
The Beautiful Dream
I hear them sing
from the place where I stand.
Unheard sounds
never heard before.
Like a mirrored world
at peace with itself.
What a dream.
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Literature
Special
Exactly what I have needed
a friend
who'll slip their hand into mine
when I feel afraid.
Someone who will always tell me that I can cope.
Someone who will listen when I need them.
Someone special.
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Random Favourites

Literature
The Tempest
Embrace me
I'm ready from the storm
No more looking back
i have no desire for the norm
This world has brought me sorrow
and unfathomable pain
now i'm found a chance to leave
a way not to go insane
save me tempest
let your waves take me
thunder claps and static light
thats the last this i wish to see
no fear clouds my eyes
only the ones in the sky
so i see the chaos
and i feel the high
leaping from a platform
become one with the hale
i'll die with the rain
with no regrets as i turn pale
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Literature
Headlights
The M25 at night.
In the passenger seat
I take off my glasses
To see flowing fireflies,
And glowing streams.
Circular motion;
Blurred headlights;
Fuzzy solace.
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Mature content
Valentine's Day :iconsharnia:Sharnia 7 38
Literature
Gravedigger
The man's face is covered with shadows,
And, wiping the dirt from his hands,
(but unable to loosen the dirt from under his fingernails)
He stands solemnly-
Knee brushing against the harsh denim
For the first time,
As he sets the splintered wood to the ground,
He feels suddenly...ancient.
Like time has pierced him through shards of wood from the
Grimy tool he had held
He feels the phantom action, the digging of the dark and muddy trench
As the wind penetrates his bones
Warm air hitting his face,
Dry heat in his hair as he feels
One drop of rain fall,
Following a muddy trail down his sweat soaked cheek
Leaving a clear mark of its path
Wiping his brow with the back of a firm hand,
Before again returning to the denim
That he knows so well,
He picks up the old shovel, places it
In the dark hole and slowly
Follows it home,
Lying in the darkness--
With the smell of earth around him
He waits...
Waits for the storm to come
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Literature
I Promise
My heart falls, falls to the floor and shatters
while the time continuum stands compleatly still
to torture me, making sure I feel the pain
the pain of knowing that I hurt you so
I've burned my journal, my past is gone
and though I've learned from my mistakes
I'm starting fresh, Im staring new
no lies, no secrets, or decieving stories
Nothing in the dark I promise you this
With all the love that I have for you
I'll never disrespect your trust in me
And I promise to be true to the end
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Literature
Just Another One Of Your Plays
"In my heart, where we lay our scene..."
You're writer, director, leading role.
Backstage, they're scurrying about
Frantically finding the right lighting ques
To set the mood.
Darkness, split by fireworks
Exploding beneath my ribs.
Fastforward though the first few acts
Skip the ones I long to play slow-motion
And suddenly, we're at the final scene.
A dramatic fight.
But the sword doesn't even look real
And your stage-combat leaves a lot to be desired
Especially when you don't even know what you're fighting
And keep expecting me to run onstage
To save the day.
But you're the playwright
And you didn't write me into this
So all I can do is watch from the wings
In hope.
Suddenly, I can't take it.
I rush onstage too soon
And ruin your gallant scene
As you spin towards me
And watch scarlet roses bloom
From the front of my dress.
There's panic backstage:
The fake blood's been left with wardrobe.
Confusion.
You play the victim,
Scraping out all the sympathy you can get
From under the nails of
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Literature
Weak
From across the stairway
your eyes glare right through me.
They tell me to quit the arrogance;
finish the intolerance
towards your falling dictation.
Inside the brick walls
you recite your own flaws
applicable to my personality;
hypocritical, to say the least.
Radiant nuclear reactions
explode through my eyes;
heat steaming from every gap
as you fuel the flames.
I'd rather be anywhere but here,
instead to see your insecurities
leaking your deepest greeds;
your endless desires
breaking from your strongholds.
Twat =].
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Literature
SOS
Why is it that when I cry my eyes are more than blue
And when I think about my lord, I always think of you?
I've never before been able to talk, but now, thank God, there's you.
I love you like a father, but do you love me, too?
Am I interrupting something?  Should I call another time?
'Cause I really want to talk right now and leave my stress behind.
I know that I can pray to God and that He's with me when I cry,
But that's just not enough for me.  I need you to reply.
Can you be there for me?  I just haven't been the same
Since that long weekend when I first opened my mouth.
Are you still there?  Why do you care?
Am I really important like you say or should I up and walk away?
When will you leave?  God, I hope it isn't soon.
I've got so many questions I want to ask, but I think that you'll just laugh.
You told me I could call you anytime that I need to,
But my mind just says you'll get sick of me.  I just pray that isn't tru
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Literature
Jeremiah 17:10
Don’t cut me open.
I’m not dead yet.
My blood is fine.
It’s my heart that has a problem.
Don’t even bother.
A biopsy wouldn’t show anything.
It’s not in my brain.
But please look at my mind.
“I the Lord search the heart
And examine the mind.”
I’m waiting, arms outstretched.
I want to know what’s wrong with me.
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Activity


deviantID

naomiTERROR
Naomi
Artist | Literature
United Kingdom
Current Residence: North England.
Favourite photographer: My Daddy, David Bailey and Sarah Maingot.
Operating System: Mac OSX 10.5.1
MP3 player of choice: iPod.
Interests
I'm sorry that I neglect this account so much. Writing is definitely a secondary thing for me on deviantART.
I don't have a subscription on this account which is a horrible transition to make and I find the messages and my watch list harder to navigate.

It's not really just that I've been favouring my naomiHORROR account either- I've not uploaded anything to there in long enough. I've got exams at school. Final ones. And just a lot lot lot going on.


So I am still around, just not all the time!

:blowkiss:
  • Listening to: Death Cab For Cutie- What Sarah Said

Comments


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:iconb1gfan:
b1gfan Featured By Owner Jun 26, 2008  Student Writer
Ahhh naomi...rock on!
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