mariusanimus

Marius Animus

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Summer arrived and by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

Summer arrived and

Summer arrived and suddenly i couldn\'t reach my locker because of the older kids lounging in front of it, too ready to relax. Summer arrived and i had to smear sunscreen all over skin once porcelain, vainly trying to keep winter here by being like snow, and trying not to get diseases from the source of life, ironically. Summer arrived and school wasn\'t done and i went off to college i thought about college so intensely i went off to a college before my time, to learn. and to get away. Summer arrived and i had to fight not to shed a few tears because everyone was kissing touching, loving each other and i was slapped

the older sister by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

the older sister

i will always be the one who dad doesn\'t tell to do homework he thinks i\'ve done it. i am the one to ask, i must be the one who knows. i did it all before, i got all the attention before and it felt good but i always saw you on the sidelines. that\'s why i fell silent i expected the praise and celebration. you spoke up, i don\'t blame you for leaping onstage grabbing the spotlight. something had to suit you. but now i try to be the raucous one and i\'m hushed. i\'m older. i\'m mature. why should i want to be seen? your youth drowns me.

Bradley Takes A Walk by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

Bradley Takes A Walk

The world was black, many shades of black. Shadows doubled and tripled back on themselves until partitions between buildings could be seen and ominous windows viewed at a safe distance. Hours passed like this, in unending rain that froze at a brief touch and struck the ground like suicidal bullets, until the night decided it was time for Bradley's walk. It was not Bradley's choice, but he woke at the sudden sound of nothing beating on the windowpane of his unsettling room in his unsettling apartment, and he could barely believe his eyes to see that the dim green digits on his clock read two o' clock in the morning. Morning. Some twisted basta

with eternity on his shoulders by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

with eternity on his shoulders

after your departure do not bear too much on your shoulders. you wish yourself immortal— unbreakable bones— so do i, i know the sensations but remember there is a little joy that can be found. after your departure remember there are others with more delicate shoulders. they will cringe, wince whimper, even weep— and will you put your grievances above theirs, you who are weak as i but also as strong? after your departure i hope you may still lean on my shoulder and tell me what you pray for, if you can pray, and what makes you afraid or sad, if you dare say— after your departure there will linger in the lake of my mind

the one certainty by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

the one certainty

skull-like reflections of myself beat against my pricked fingertips, crumpled and snapped and scraping at the inside of my own grave. scatter your bleeding roses and wail your hymns from my lips hymns i trace onto burnt paper hymns i engrave on my own arms. that blood dries under its cobweb bindings, it is peeled away, words disappear, the world wonders at my blanched mirror of a face. here i will lie, broken forgotten, sobbing in the shadier parts of fading thought silver tears on my skull.

God is by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

God is

God is man and woman, light and dark, to do and to do not. God is strong, and God is weak. God did not test Abraham, did not cast out Ishmael, did not destroy Pharaoh\'s son. God did not need proof of faith. God shapes no destinies, no lands, no souls. God shaped once, and now watches. God has commandments, ethics, suggestions for happiness. God has these hidden. God has no borders, no churches, no sects. God has no chosen people, save humanity. God is Christ and Satan, Brahma and Shiva, sun and moon. God is all. God does not call for crusades or jihad. God i

Betsy by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

Betsy

so, i have to go there with Her you and Her, i have to be there because She will be there. yeah. i\'ve gotta talk with Her, be curious about Her. i have to like the woman— you are trying to replace someone who broke your heart with a woman that\'s breaking mine. i have to like the substitute. don\'t you know, nobody ever likes the substitute teacher? no. that\'s the word, i can\'t do what i would prefer i can\'t be where i want to be. because She is so important. don\'t worry, it\'s not like i have a real mother.

the depths by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

the depths

water plicks into its own puddles its own lake, plummeting from the high cavern ceiling— plick. plick. plick. every echoing ripple reflecting myriad times the face that is not a face. chalky, flaky, yet smooth— such is the mask he wishes he could tear that off— he wishes to God that he could tear it off. plick. tears from below the disguise abuse the lake as they fall. he goes back inside, silence near to being broken.

blamed by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

blamed

it\'s their own fault, you say, eyes flashing accusatively as if i am as guilty as they for taking their side. god— here i lie on the grass staring at a slab of granite with a sad sad name etched precariously on its cold face and a red ribbon pitifully fluttering upon it. yes, yes, but not all of them know what it is, not all of them could stop their attacker from spreading it, not all their fault! whisper lethally your response— what of those who knew and sinned nonetheless? digging up the grave wiping off the coffin i pull out a skeleton, yes a skeleton with the flesh remaining look into their eyes, i make you

apartment of reality by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

apartment of reality

i sit in a room of purest gleaming white surfaces, hard to tell what is floor or wall or ceiling, hear a sound it is not there. occasionally i notice a flash of steel but my eyes are fixed on the clear glass vase before me on that sterile pale table, eyes fixed on the immobile water in the vase surface broken only by a slim green stalk of life. the lone vermillion tulip is bound to the water by its stem and my eyes are bound to the tulip. it is in this manner that i while away the hours clicked out by a japanese clock i watch the tulip still, but the only living thing in the room, the room of existence.

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urchin by mariusanimus, literature

the last whale by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

the last whale

it won\'t be a matter of extinction and death; it will be a matter of knowing. for when the last whale heaves that last, final breath, the mind will cease its growing. the years, they fall down in the tumbling sea, where the whale draws his power and people forget ancient lessons; don\'t you see how smokier turn the deep hours? the records of all the old whales are singed with misuse and the wrong— in time only space creature\'s tales will tell of the humpback\'s queer song. yes i may yet be the last mariner. that thought is eternally close but as the free fall, other mariners i hope will keep Whale\'s ghost.

Daimon - part a by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

Daimon - part a

I. Genesis 1. En Archei In the beginning, what is there to tell? That is the meaning of a tale, to tell it as it happened, not to draw it into some dry synopsis and then follow it with a half-mad system of analysis. So there is no way to begin... it only begins with Daimon. Daimon was not alone, although he had locked himself in the cell. The light was with him. It was a pure golden shaft shining through the high window in the stone wall, and it illuminated his upturned face with a pale, fair hue, though the rest of his figure, crouched and fearful, was completely in shadow. There was a tremor in his low voice as he whispered words in an

fiddle by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

fiddle

the greeks are fiddling with their trumpets trumpeting on violins of brass something confusing abuse in a malotov cocktail... a flute is playing in my ear, a wooden flute to be certain to be sure tools hitting apples split them open, make them gnawed, eat raw fiddling on the greek trumpet i pack up to go on my way, the minstrel of damnation it all repeats in my mind, the over-analysis jumping for joy blue fades to white fades to red something is clear, the fiddle player trumpeting clearer than spring fields on a warm day when the sky is blue and the clouds are dead slain by the archangel himself i go to play my fiddle and

19 April 1775 by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

19 April 1775

\'Twas the nineteenth of April, and all was still, As the red, red Sun rose up with a will, And not a man could be seen, not a man could be seen, On the nineteenth of April at Lexington Green. Yet swift to the field the rebels appear In response to the warning of Paul Revere! Their bullets are few and their muskets are less; To what end they go to, e\'en God cannot guess. Their women are cloistered and huddled indoors, With eyes cast on shadows, on tables and floors. They look not outside, for the men bid them no— \"To hear a man die is enough grief and woe.\" And wordless these men stand defending a right To be joyous by day and

19 April 1775 by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

19 April 1775

April 19 - 1775 by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

April 19 - 1775

Song For a Dead Man by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

Song For a Dead Man

Sing del dally day, for the man in the hay, Who lies not with woman but death— Sing del dally do, his tale of woe Could be told in a few feeble breaths. Sing del dilly doon, he was marri\'d too soon To a lady, like he, passing poor— Sing del dilly date, he discover\'d too late The lady was rather the whore. Sing del dully dover, the whore and her lover Were found by this man who lies dead— Sing del dully dain, full swift were they slain And the man next burn\'d the stain\'d bed. Sing del dolly din, the woman of sin Had a brother who lov\'d her, naïve— Sing del dolly day, brother went straight away To destroy his reason to griev

but God is her warden by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

but God is her warden

she listens to the Night Music but God is her warden. she feels the soft sex of darkness daily but God is her warden. there is water in her veins, flowing tumultuously, making her tremble, the deep female inside rejoices i see her limbs tightening in ecstasy i imagine rapturous notes echoing out of her lips and all is a wild madness in her mind, masks being removed, mirrors turned insight everywhere, un-blinding her angel is near but God is her warden. her freedom is near, trancelike seduction in the movement of a cat but God is her warden. bind her up in a cage, tie pretty gagging ribbons about her middle and sell her to th

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Shes a whore -lady liberty- by crackedmirror, literature

Literature

Shes a whore -lady liberty-

spread lady liberty\'s legs w i d e shes a whore crimson lipstick adorning his flaccid cock. as he cumms down; her throat. intangible money, lust and greed. that becomes salted in flavor. he teases her tonsil\'s \"take it just a bit deeper\" he fucked like an accountant right down to his buisness stripes. born again in her mouth his lust ran cold to the taste- just a splatter of meticulous dominance. that announces. \"your mine\" a swallow heralds her submission. a torch run out of flames. presenting democrac

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the depths by mariusanimus, literature

Literature

the depths

mariusanimus

About mariusanimus

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Artist // Literature

Deviant for 21 years
www.angelfire.lycos.com/theforce/fearelda

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My Bio

Current Residence: Land of the chained, home of the coward.
Favourite genre of music: Music in spirit as well as in name.
Operating System: Macintosh OS 10.2 (Jaguar), by Apple.
Favourite cartoon character: Bucky from Get Fuzzy.
Personal Quote: This personal quote thing sucks.

Favourite Visual Artist

Maxfield Parish, daVinci, Luve, Tolkien.

Favourite Movies

The Fellowship of the Ring

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Band - Queen... Musician - Enya.

Favourite Writers

Tolkien, Hugo, Eliot, Le Guin.

Favourite Games

Baldur's Gate. Or Legacy of Time.

Tools of the Trade

Word processor, Photoshop and/or camera in the future.

Other Interests

The Word and the Light.

Posts

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mariusanimus

May 22, 2003

Hey, if you actually care.

0 min read

If for whatever reason you have stumbled across my page, or actually care about my work... I have a request. COMMENT, for the love of whatever is important to you! There -is- believe it or not a comment box underneath everything I submit. There is also a reason I submit stuff to get comments so that I will improve my work. If you think my work sucks, tell me why. I'll make it better. If you think my work could be better, tell me why. I'll fix things. If you think my work is amazing, tell me why. I'll be sure to remember what's good. Leaving a comment does not take more than a minute of your time, if it's concise and constructive.

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mariusanimus

May 15, 2003

I repeat, OH GOD YES!

0 min read

I saw Les Misérables on Saturday. It isn't too late, my friends the last public showing is May 17th! Well, maybe it is too late. The performance I saw was entirely sold out. I apologize for raising anyone's hopes unintentionally... But, my god, such an incredible musical... ... Bring him peace, bring him joy; He is young, he is only a boy. You can take, you can give, Let him be, let him live. If I die, let me die! Let him live... Bring him home... Bring him home... Bring him home...

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mariusanimus

May 10, 2003

OH GOD YES!

0 min read

No, I did not just have fantastic sex. But I -am- going to be seeing Les Misérables on Broadway tomorrow. ~restrains self from disgusting teeny bopper squeal~ On the bad side, though, my friend's now a registered Republican. Why, Paige, -why-???

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Profile Comments 30

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yeah, good stuff

I wish I could talk and read POETRY. Dumbass Lauren. Go die.

Lo Miss Kirianna. I'm sure you've discovered the problems with DevART by now right? Stupid yes? ^__^

loli

May 8, 2003

Been a while since I've been around the last time as well...

About the DevWatch - I really can't remember ;) (Wink)

Thanks for your comment on "If we were", I hope to find more time soon, so I can come back and return the favour. :) (Smile)

Take care

asunder

Apr 22, 2003

hey thanks for commenting on my artwork.. for some reason i thought of my friend, marius - ~submit , right away when i read it.. and saw your name was marius .. heh..
anyway, thanks again

dougbtn

Apr 18, 2003

Thanks for the thoughtful comment and the fav on Shh. What you said was music to my ears as the point of it was that power, SM, whatever people want to label it, isnt about black leather, chains and pain. It is about love and tenderness. Thanks again, its rare to hit a bullseye with anyone :-) (Smile)

aphroditii

Apr 14, 2003

Who?!

I will look through my garbage to see if I can find anything suitable. And thank you for pushing me...I do appreciate it.

I hope you have been well and enjoying life. I will write more soon...this is going to be a crazy week. I am leaving for Portland, OR on Thursday, back on Monday. I will make an honest attempt to write more...maybe on the plane.

=D (Big Grin)

spyed

Apr 10, 2003

Have you ever had a dream, that you were so sure was real? What if you were unable to wake from that dream? How would you know the difference between the dream world and the real world?

What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire deviant life, that there's something wrong with the story. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.

You take the blue pill, the story ends. Your browser closes and you believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland. And, I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.

I offer only the truth, nothing more.

Take: The Red Pill
Take: The Blue Pill

Fella

spyed, nobody has ever done this before.
Ninja

I know. That's why it's going to work.

Do not try and bend the spoon ...