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Sky Battles by RadishStick Sky Battles :iconradishstick:RadishStick 3 1 Bushfire by RadishStick Bushfire :iconradishstick:RadishStick 5 2
Literature
English
I have read written spoken analysed
Interpreted dissected regurgitated
Discussed too many English words
They are becoming foreign
Muddled, confusing conflicting
One another so that
Interrelated disgust directed
Hypertextually between
Syntaxes of hyperbolic
Cross-generic transmutations
Blur gently with hyperactive
Crosshatches of transpondent
Derigent authoritative
Contextualised butterlilies
Pancake their permeated
Skin with teeth of automethnic
Corrugations that hold relations
To municipality and cross-nar-
Rative  transgeneric hatchises
Transcribing death from a stringer
Of reflexive adjuncts on discursive
Rhetorical explosives expositionally
Analogising  pin-prick needles
No longer know
Themselves from a tigerfly.
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Literature
Four
Wake up. Song playing in my head.
Play it out. Heard it before?
No, made it up this time.
On repeat all morning, the same
Snatch of music, no origin,
No end. Repeat, repeat,
Repeat. Da-dum, da-dum,
Da-dum.   Da-dum. Has to be four.
Do it again.
Dadum dadum dadum dadum.
Boil the kettle, choose a mug.
If you don't choose the right one,
You'll feel like shit all day.
Agonising tension.
Breaks, I choose a mug.
Hope it's the right one,
it is it is it is it is.
(it isn't.) It is.
Pick a teaspoon.
Better get the right one,
Or you don't love your mum.
I do love her, I do love her.
Prove it.
The right one. There.
Now stir.
Four times that way,
Four times that way.
Shit, one extra. Have
to even it out now.
Four that way, then five,
Then four and four for good measure.
Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum.
All these calculations twisting around,
Constant give-and-take
Transactions with the other voice,
Bartering against a make-believe enemy
Who wants to control me.
But it's my stupid voice.
What i
:iconRadishStick:RadishStick
:iconradishstick:RadishStick 1 2
Literature
Train
Ticket machine - ding
Sit down, look down; things look up
Two coins wink at me
:iconRadishStick:RadishStick
:iconradishstick:RadishStick 1 0
Literature
Writer
Spinning words around
Sorting out pairs on a line
Need to wash my clothes
:iconRadishStick:RadishStick
:iconradishstick:RadishStick 0 0
Literature
Bus
Running on empty
Deflated tired germ box
Indicates coldly
:iconRadishStick:RadishStick
:iconradishstick:RadishStick 0 0
Literature
Kmart
You had baked beans for breakfast,
You’re starting to fart;
It’s getting stronger the longer
You stay in Kmart.
You can’t run away,
You must buy that cake mixture.
You look to the roof,
A quick escape you can’t picture.
You're offensively smelly,
But without cake mix there’s nothing
To have with the jelly –
Or could you try chicken stuffing?
Abandoning your shopping,
You race out the store.
To the loo you come hopping,
Thoughts of dinner no more.
It's funny how crises can alter your views,
Whittling life down to its core.
What does it matter which cake mix you choose
When your bowels have come to the fore?
Quickfire decisions -
You empty your load.
Sweet relief, holy visions!
You've cracked the code!
Spongecake it'll be,
With jelly delight.
Eat that, and hopefully,
Your bowels won't ignite.
:iconRadishStick:RadishStick
:iconradishstick:RadishStick 1 3
Literature
Separation
       One of my worst memories has always been the time when Dad came to visit us at Jonathan Street. I was about three, and my parents were about two years out of love. I mustn't have seen Dad in a while because I was scared, despite their encouragement, to cross from my position behind Mum's skirt over the neutral carpet to Dad's arms. I'm not even sure if I recognised him.
       There are some photos from my birthday that year - just my parents, three family friends and a big cake - in which I can see so much sadness behind the smiles directed at me. I am, of course, oblivious. There are two breathing tubes going up Dad's nose that I don't remember seeing at all when I was young. I guess they didn't matter before I knew what they were.
       Something I remember from before Mum and I left Corella Hill is building a fortress out of two wooden chairs in the lounge. I stalled the construction to stomp into the slate-floored
:iconRadishStick:RadishStick
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Literature
Birthday Sonnet
Today I have to write a sonnet
And since your birthday falls quite soon,
Seeking a subject, I alighted upon it.
But what to say, and to which tune?
To speak my heart with words will always fail
To grasp the wondrous truth: you simply are.
My lens of letters, lines and sounds only veils;
The vision in my mind can't see that far.
It's the anniversary of confessing love
And still there's nothing else that rings as true.
Perhaps I should study the purity thereof
And just say it again: I love you.
Nah, jokes are way better, greatest of all arts.
Happy birthday, you weirdo, fart fart fart.
:iconRadishStick:RadishStick
:iconradishstick:RadishStick 1 0
Hallett Cove by RadishStick Hallett Cove :iconradishstick:RadishStick 7 2 Hallett Cove Beach by RadishStick Hallett Cove Beach :iconradishstick:RadishStick 10 5
Literature
Yesterday
I strode towards my father over simmering gravel on a prickly spring day
He was pulling faces back at me, my contorted cheeks smiled against my will
I didn't ask myself if there'd be another school's out pick-up after this one
To consider endings and lasts was to bring death closer; I brushed over it.
We drove, parked, ate, bought, drove, talked, and came home, peaceful
A frill-neck on the driveway told us this was precisely where we should be.
But what about tomorrow, where then will he be
When the hospital waits to pounce on his last day
And he's gentle on their askings, his thoughts so peaceful
That he concedes to them, whatever they say, what will
Happen to him then? I only want my father, and it
Scares me to watch him fading, I don't get another one.
Hey kiddo, finished your snag? Wannanother one?
My friends tell me just what a woman you'll be
I know they're right, but I wish I could see it
I bet they'll be queuing for your stories one day.
On the way to school in the morning, we
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Bunyeroo Gorge 2 by RadishStick Bunyeroo Gorge 2 :iconradishstick:RadishStick 6 0 Bunyeroo Gorge by RadishStick Bunyeroo Gorge :iconradishstick:RadishStick 2 0 Australian Ringneck Parrot by RadishStick Australian Ringneck Parrot :iconradishstick:RadishStick 9 2
Poetry, short stories, photography, drawings, art projects/assignments... lots of quite random stuff! Take a look, you never know what you'll find :)

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Activity


Daily Deviation!!

Journal Entry: Tue Dec 10, 2013, 10:18 PM


I've just returned from the most awesome week in which I saw Muse TWICE, and stood in the FRONT ROW for the first concert, and PHYSICALLY HELD MATT BELLAMY'S RIGHT HAND, and MADE EYE CONTACT with Chris thereby becoming Wolstenpregnant, and SANG DOM HAPPY BIRTHDAY, and what do I find when I check my messages?
HOLY FLIPPIN' SHIT, A DD!!! AND FOR A SHORT STORY, NO LESS!!
This truly is the cherry on top of the Cake of Wonder that has been the last seven days.
A Daily Deviation is something I never expected to get, despite wishing I could. I am blown away by not only my selection but also the fantastic comments people have left on the deviation page. I was surprised that this particular story was chosen, as I don't think it's the absolute best thing I have ever written, but also thrilled that this story brightened so many people's days, with some even exploring the rest of my gallery.
A ginormous thank you to :iconneurotype: for giving me this honour!
I've been thinking of creating a journal compiling all the artwork I've done in 2013, but instead I think I'll make a little 2013 literature compilation. All of my stories and various other writings tend to differ greatly from one another, so hopefully there's something here to suit everyone's tastes. Enjoy!


I Belong To You  I hate rain. Not really, I love it. Just not when the most beautiful, perfect, wonderful, perfect, comfortable, waterproof, perfect coat in existence has been savagely butchered by my so-called friend’s Dalmatian. Every slap of rain on my naked arms is a stinging reminder of the irreparable hole in my wardrobe.
  Some people might try to fill the void with lesser coats but I can’t bring myself to betray Valentino, even after her death. Instead my slippery arms grapple with each other in wet shock as I stumble to the op shop, clinging to one last thread of hope. I know in my deadened heart that I’ll never have another coat like her. Yet here I am, blundering through the elements in my vain search for the acceptance and warmth I found wrapped in Valentino’s woollen sleeves.
  Thud. My body slams into the door, making the ‘open’ sign quiver and the bells tinkle in offense. I fight for entry, the door’s assault doubled by the stale funk of



Death of a Flight AttendantTo the check-in lady
Whom I met just now in Albury,
If not for you I just might
Not have missed the bloody flight.
I think you should know that with suitcase in tow
I was one of five people in sight
This morning, as you sipped your latte
And strode past me in the tiny cafe.
The young customs guy caught your beady eye,
Pointed me out, then hurried away.
I don’t blame him, really,
In your pose I saw clearly
That questioning you would be something quite new
To one so lifeless and dreary.
Nevertheless, I gave it a shot,
But of course you said you simply could not
Re-open the desk, you smelly old pest,
So I hope in an Indian sewer you rot.
And as I sit here irate,
While for the next flight I wait,
I admit to some pity, for your life must be shitty
To make you so smug when I’m five minutes late.
By now I’d be waiting in Melbourne airport
And the plane to Adelaide I’d easily have caught.
So please – as you pass, kiss my grounded arse,
Then prepare an occ. health


Healing the EarthA shiver runs along my skin as the Sun stretches its rays over the tips of the eastern ranges. I feel the coarseness of the soil sliding around my roots as they retreat back into my flesh, having taken their fill from the Earth. I know one day I will return her treasures and the thought, my first of the day, is as warming as the Sun.
It takes a while to wake living at this altitude; for a moment I lie still as my thoughts gradually gain speed and eloquence. Deep breaths refresh my cells and a sense of clarity runs along my body. In a rush of energy I leap from the damp ground, shaking dew from my limbs and startling a sparrow, who departs in a brown flurry. I take in my surroundings.
The forest I stand with is perched on a mountainside; sometimes I hear the rocks grinding and crunching inside beneath the surface, but today all is still. Summer has banished the icy north wind and greened all my fellows with melted snow and rain. My own violet body has shed its thick down in favour of a


Atoms       Everything is made of atoms. Air, metal, plastic, concrete, wire, milk, glass, tables, linoleum, microwaves, frozen lasagne. People. Groups of atoms making matter making cells making tissues making organs making systems making bodies.
       This is what Peter thinks as the microwave mmmmmmmmmms. The spinning pre-cooked meal is a hypnotist’s pendant to his vacant eyes, creating a trance in which he is free to explore the possibilities locked in his head.  
       In childhood, Peter was easily amused. Toasting, squeezing, stretching, painting and eating. These were his favourite things. He despised watching television. His mother said he was a born artist. Peter didn’t like being called an artist; artists only moved things around and put them back in different places. Something bigger called to Peter: the urge to change things. The bread became toast; the lemon juice separated from the lemon; the


And my favourite:
Collisions       We kiss. It's slow and tender and written all over our skin is 'I love you', but we don't say it; there's no need. And suddenly I want him, I want to know every facet fact fear feeling that makes him, I want to have known him for years and years. I push hard against the warm wet of his lips. I want to consume him. I bite him, and he groans -
       and he groans -
       and I'm a young mass of frozen nerves, terrified of the possibilities of the moment as he grips his skull like he wants to rip it open, tendons clenching against the hard bone the hard table the cold floor the cold air the PAIN. How can I help? 'Call an ambulance!' he grits out.
       I run for the phone but what's the number? What's the number what's the number what's the - phone book. Front page. Triple zero. How could I forget that? I've wasted so much time. And it hits me that this is an emergency, this calls for an ambulance, and I call for an ambulance. I stand next to him, too afraid to reach out


deviantID

RadishStick
Rowena
Artist | Student | Varied
Australia
Current Residence: the cupboard under the stairs
Favourite music genre: alt rock, rock, acoustic, roots, folk, anything with a guitar.
Favourite art style: Impressionism, Realism, Surrealism, Abstract
Operating System: Windows
MP3 player of choice: iPhone
Shell of choice: the ones that look like unicorn horns.
Wallpaper of choice: covered in posters, art, and pieces of my life.
Personal Quote: Not the snake!
Interests

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconsudor:
SUDOR Featured By Owner Sep 16, 2016
Merci, thank you for the watch !...
Reply
:iconoleg-bardenkov:
Oleg-Bardenkov Featured By Owner Mar 31, 2016  Professional Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday!!!!!!!!!:) (Smile) 
Reply
:iconpetrova:
petrova Featured By Owner Aug 22, 2015  Hobbyist
Thank you SO much for all the favs,
it's truly appreciated :glomp:
Reply
:iconforest-imp:
Forest-Imp Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2015   Photographer
Horny!           :heart: rvmp 
         Kitty Icon 
:iconpinkrose1plz::iconpinkrose2plz::iconpinkrose3plz::iconrose1plz::iconpinkrose4plz::iconpinkrose5plz::iconpinkrose6plz:
:iconsparklesplz::iconfuncakeplz::iconpink-hplz::iconpink-bplz::iconpink-exclamationmark::iconfuncakeplz::iconsparklesplz:
:iconpinkrose1plz::iconpinkrose2plz::iconpinkrose3plz::iconrose1plz::iconpinkrose4plz::iconpinkrose5plz::iconpinkrose6plz:
Happy Birthday Rowena !
.... hope your special day is beautiful !
May the coming year bring love, happiness and all you desire!

Kitty lick Icon
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:iconsenador:
senador Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Many happy returns of the day. :cake: :party: :hug:
Reply
:iconoleg-bardenkov:
Oleg-Bardenkov Featured By Owner Mar 31, 2015  Professional Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday, Dear Rowena!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Hug 
Reply
:iconsenhart:
SenhArt Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2015
Thank you kindly! Papillons by Digithalie
Reply
:iconlisalj76:
lisalj76 Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2015  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you for adding my photograph to your collection. :)
Reply
:iconradishstick:
RadishStick Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2015  Student General Artist
It was my pleasure! :)
Reply
:iconmusterkatze:
Musterkatze Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2015  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you very much for the fav! :aww:
Reply
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