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About Deviant Artist Sean Jandle36/Male/United States Recent Activity
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Newest Deviations

Literature
'The Scorpion's Sting'
Atop the sodden sand the Scorpion sat,
Waiting undisturbed for time to pass
When suddenly came swiftly snaking by
The serpent sometimes known by name as Asp,
With skin that shone like silver in the sun
And eyes that seemed to glow as old stained glass.
The cadence of cicadas in the wood beyond the lake,
A battle hymn so ghastly grim for them did seem to make.
The morning air was dense and muscle tensed
When there the mighty melee did ensue.
The poison pair assumed a steeling stance,
Each seeking to, his enemy, subdue.
The serpent struck and must have missed his mark,
For then his fearless foe fought to pursue.
The potent poison present where the scorpion's stinger stings
Is as the sickly sound of solace in the song the siren sings.
With a final flicker of his forked and fickle tongue
The slightly sour snake somehow recoiled,
And straightaway withdrew for he well knew
His morning meal had certainly been spoiled.
So still the scorpion stood upon the sand,
While in the serpent’s blo
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Literature
'The Virgin's Allure'
Behind a cumulus veil
She bats a shy eye downward,
The twinkle there foretelling forbidden fruits
That lie beyond the cloudy curtain;
A wry grin, a glaring grimace,
Possibilities seem endless
Where mystery mars the honest truth.
A northwind blows and peels away the shroud
To disclose yet another.
The cirrus cloak is thin
But conceals her nature,
Revealing the reluctant radiance of the female form.
Her vestal visage casts coy glances
Across a thousand worlds
To a thousand pairs of eyes
Too far away to touch.
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Literature
'Leo's Mane Attraction'
Leo,
Lord of lions,
Saunters forth from his cage
Letting loose a right raucous roar
As he steps up to claim the center stage.
His keeper responds with whipcracks
To quell that regal rage.
The beast remains
Prideful.
Stately
He stands silent,
Sullen but hardly tamed.
The wreath of fire before him glows
Like the golden-orange tuft of his mane.
He takes a practiced pounce into
The hanging hoop of flame,
And emerges
Flawless.
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Literature
'Driving the Taurus'
The flash of scarlet banner seemed
As grey to Taurus’ simple eye,
And the chant the spectators screamed
Was as a thunderous reply.
The time to face the beast was nigh.
He drew a sword in his defense,
As courage lied in short supply.
A moment hung in mid-suspense
And raging bull took to offense.
“This stubborn man refused to die,”
This to himself the brave bull thought.
And with a hefty heaving sigh
He gave the man what he so sought,
A scar to prove that he once fought
As did Orion long before.
He too has reaped what he has wrought.
And to the crowd’s still rolling roar
So ended there the matador.
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Literature
'Battling Cancer'
Curious crabling scuttles ashore
By light of the fresh-risen moon,
A ripe sort of fruit no gull could ignore
Nor ever would find here so soon.
Old mother-gull has taught well her son
To fill the gaping hunger with his jaws,
While mother-crab knows battle’s won
Inside the gap between her claws.
Diving down to claim the fresh meal
The gull gives squawk as if to knell.
What tasty treats would he reveal
While rending open Cancer’s shell?
The turning of tides is a blessing
As crabling is swept out to sea
Leaving the avian guessing
What a fine sort of feast he would be.
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Literature
'Pisces' Dilemma'
Up and down the babbling brook
A pair of playful Pisces ran.
One the downstream path he took.
The other upstream swiftly swam.
The first fish said, "But this way's home."
The second, "Hear and understand,"
"Where you retreat there I shall roam"
"To distant destinies unplanned."
"If you must then go your own way,"
"For truth I'm quite content with mine."
"That land from whence I've gone astray,"
"I'll there my soul and self resign."
And so they played, but never left,
For truly neither could decline,
And leave his brother so bereft
Of company and peace of mind.
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Literature
'Twin-Speaks'
My menu is a mirror
And my breakfast in a bottle.
My life is lived in terror
And my foot has pressed the throttle.
I look upon my brother
As he stares at his reflection
And he doesn't even bother
To acknowledge my rejection.
And yet we stumble to the notion;
May we use our own discretion?
We will scramble up a potion
And devour our inception.
I seek to satiate the notion
That I'm trapped within the shade
Of that delicate devotion
In the games we always played.
"But we're tired of games," we said,
Concerned of messages we send.
Of all the things that we have prayed
We are the living end.
So brother take my hand unto
The darkness which we both must face,
Where we shall meet and there review
The difference in our common race.
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Literature
'Aquarian'
Most handsome prince of Troy was he
And idled, tending flocks of sheep;
That boy by name of Ganymede
Had fallen on the mountain steep
Into a dreary dreamless sleep
Within the shade of old oak trees.
So as the gods peered from on high
The one called Zeus did seek to ask
If he would join them in the sky
To there fulfill his holy task
Of filling flaggon, flute, and flask
Until the end of days be nigh.
For verily young Ganymede
Did possess a certain skill
And merrily performed the deed
Of bearing cups of wine to fill.
And in the face of Zeus' will
He knew he could not hope to plead.
There the eagle did descend
To bear him hence in hallowed haste
And from boy to god ascend
To cart a cup for Zeus to taste;
Among the stars his visage placed
With saintly flocks of suns to tend.
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Literature
Lux
Alone behind these vitreous lenses
I view the world before me painted in light and wonder
If I'm holding the brush
Or does some unseen artist place each edge and hue with purpose.
Do I see what I mean or what I'm meant to see?
Either way I'm looking, though I know not what for.
The clouds roll by to color the sky something other than blue,
Each puff or wisp reminding me of shapes I've seen before,
Some tinged with shadows of a storm on the horizon
Others tinted pink by the slowly setting sun.
I reflect upon a pool of rainwater gathered at my feet.
One by one the drops coalesced into a perfect mirror
That fades drop by drop into the waiting air.
The light bounces and bends around everything real
And even some things that are not.
I absorb a little, making it a part of me.
Every second I spend in the sun I become more luminous.
Every beam I cast off illuminates the world around me.
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Literature
Stargazing
Counting skyflies, one by one,
Where dusk has met its end.
The tyranny of father Sun
Is lost to even's wind.
Tracing shapes between the light
Where few but gods have tread,
I seek to crown new gods of night
To stand fast in their stead.
Orion's foot and shoulder
Form Volcano's fervid rim.
Orion's belt erupts asmolder
From the broad and blazing brim.
Skyflies dancing 'tween the clouds,
And twinkling here and there,
Where the cloak of winter shrouds
That eye of heaven's stare.
One, two, three, infinity.
I'll likely never know
The true and faithful quantity
Of stars in heaven's show,
But I'll gaze just the same
As the sphere will enthrall.
I will study the flame
And wait for one to fall.
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Literature
Infinagogue
The church of All is calling me
To witness out of doors
The flight of seagulls hungrily
Exploring distant shores.
Let the squirrels and rabbits lecture
Till the golden calves come home.
All the rest is pure conjecture,
Scribbles from some antique tome.
The church of All is beckoning,
A calling I must heed.
And now the time of reckoning
Is mounting steer and steed.
The fallen trees are pews to me;
Rotting stumps the altar.
Rainclouds serve as liturgy
And birdsong serves as psalter.
The church of All is well above
The highest steeple spire.
Well below the worm thereof
Is preaching to the choir.
Leave dogma to the howling dog.
Let flowers teach you mirth.
Worship this Infinagogue.
My church is Mother Earth.
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Literature
The Son of the Devil
In the year of the Lord 1460,
A tall man stands in the small doorway of a Transylvanian vineyard.
He demands taxmoney three times his share in a home where there is little to spare.
Ferenk Gynla Gandl, my great grandfather many times, refuses the price,
But the brute has persisted and grows violent.
The collector's tight-curled hands wave quick with intent,
But are met with only air and a banishing blow to the head.
Ferenk will not see his family harmed,
Though the taxman's coachmen and guard charge in to overpower
And carry him away.
The hurried hooves and wagon-wheels race him to a distant destination.
As Ferenk sits bound in the darkened cabin, a cold vapor creeps across his neck.
The stench of putrid flesh
And wailing sounds of the slowly dying
Fill him with trembling.
He fears for his wife and his children, still young.
He fears for his life and his soul, young yet.
He fears his Lord Majesty, hearing the stories again in his mind.
"The prince is mad," some say behind doors,
"But n
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Literature
Kielgade-to-English Dictionary
I know this isn't poetry, but there just wasn't another category that really fit it. Sometimes when I sit down to write a poem, all this apparent nonsense comes spilling out, so one day I decided to decipher and organize it. I've been working on this language for five or six years now and this is what I've come up with. The sentence structure is very liberal, but basically follows English rules. Feel free to experiment with this and comment with suggestions if you are so inclined. Vowel pronunciation is similar to Spanish/Italian (ah, eh, ee, oh, ooh). I've included word origins where appropriate and some Kielgade poetry at the beginning for examples of structure and word use (and to make it better fit the category). I will be updating this weekly with pronunciation guides, new words, and new poetry.
Updated: 12-10-16
Sample Poetry & Translations:
(note: rhyming in Kielgade is not very easy)
"Qes Sotan Malta Celtequa"
Qes sotan malta celtequa   = There is always hope
Kur
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Literature
The Power of the Pencil
Books do not hold truth.
Truth cannot be told, but rather it must be discovered.
Within each soul is the power to create truth and to sustain truth.
The power of the word is not to convey a message, but an idea.
The idea is the foundation of belief, and the belief is the substance of truth.
There is no meaning here; don't bother looking.
There is no purpose to these words except the booking.
Let your hands run free with ink and paint and clay and sin.
Stop. Let go. Make puppet-show, and never play to win.
There's more to see than you and me will ever hope to find,
Unless we look outside the book and search within the mind.
Let these simple words ring true in this and every age:
There is more learning in a pencil than in every written page.
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Literature
Midnight at the Wishing Well
Midnight at the wishing well,
I dropped a penny in,
Mumbling softly as it fell
And chanting now and then.
Is a penny proper fee
To barter hope from gods below?
Eventide encompassed me,
Ever begging me to know.
Midnight at the wishing well,
I let the nickel fall.
What I wished I dare not tell
Lest the gods refuse my call.
Is a nickel recompense
Enough to purchase shooting stars?
Are dreams aligned with innocence
As Jupiter aligns with Mars?
Midnight at the wishing well,
I heard the quarter drop.
What troubled fates had it to sell
While I was there to shop?
Tumbling down the rabbit hole,
I offered what I had to spare;
Just enough to pay the toll
But not enough to pay the fare.
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Literature
Mirror-Gallery
Come follow me into a world where daydreams spark desire;
Where the faces in the mirror can both panic and inspire.
If you give your close attention to the passion in their eyes
Then you will see the power hidden in the art of the disguise.
I'm passing through the mirror hall and see my self reflected,
And I'm clearly looking past to all the things that I've neglected,
Like the sickly sound of solace in the song the siren sings
That must be somehow resurrected from the bones of ancient kings.
Here I witness shapes of men and gods and beasts that long to be
Enshrined in lead, the scene unfolds. I stare at them. They stare at me.
Blood-stained ink and shadow shows will soon induce the dream
Of which the former and the latter are more equal than they seem.
While I'm wandering and pondering the meaning of the piece,
I feel the fear this haunting hallway must be those that never cease
Until the dreamer wakes to sweaty brow and clenching of the fist
But with the knowledge that the monsters i
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Random Favourites

Literature
Undone
Undone
Six inch Stilettos, kick off my silver stilts
my ankles are worse for their wear.
Slip out of my black corset, my body wilts.
The illusion was most unfair.
Bath of red water, I marinade in lies
as the color bleeds from my hair.
Reach for the container, and remove my eyes
whose green by nature none are heir.  
Filthy brown towel, I scrub off my skin  
till the tan is no longer there.
Acetone so foul, peel back my nails again
as I try to choke through this air
Then wash the whole messy rainbow down the drain
and stand in front of you, so bare.
My insecurities at your feet are lain
when I am undone, will you still be there?
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Literature
This viviparous day
This viviparous day
gives us pause to reflect
on so strange a thing
that the Fates did select
to plop out on the floor.
Afterbirth milkshakes,
caul chips and cord stew
that's roasting on slow bake
will create such a meal
as never before.
Did you not get the party
invite on your door?
We printed it neatly.
None could do better
than to celebrate your birthday
by chewing old fetters.
Your birth was all juicy
and my cheeks it did squish;
succulent babies
are my birthday wish.
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Literature
Coordinoration
In the middle of a
Trembling length of concrete steps,
There lies my voice and, on either side, your ears.
On the top of the
Plateaus of ash that hold me from oblivion,
I read mocking scribbles of white chalk that lead the way.
Quietly, kindly,
My voice walks unaware,
Smudging a new gray pattern onto the black steps.
Move along dear words,
One step, two steps, keep yourself clean
One word, two, two, one, two, one. Ah it's easy.
Your ears take them in,
And all is well on my little stretch of land
Over the abyss; the deep, dark venture to your heart.
But a stutter, then a shake.
A mistake in my words. A shake of your head.
Panic throws off both my footing and your thoughts.
My voice is lost
Within the dark web of your soul
And all I have are wishes and all I see is nothing.
Fear overcomes my own voice
And releases a wave of unintended words,
Ungraceful cries for both my survival and your sight.
Will my words reach your heart
Or fall only as echoes of lost opportunity
Into the deep pit ov
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Literature
The Alchemist
The Alchemist
A potion mixed of words,
conjouring up a mist
to softly wrap her shape.
Gleaming softly in dim light,
more words he sends across,
vibrating with promise:
"For you you you are beautiful!"
Applies sentences like reliable formulas,
watching as the brittle surface
of her self-trust starts to smooth.
Brushing off remains of gloomy days
that had covered her in beamless patina,
he sees his reflection in the shiny new skin,
eagerly searching for that last ingredient
that will give a spark and
light her eyes like a Bengal fire.
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Literature
this monster before you
we are not the mere model of this monster before you
i assure you
this isn't meant to bore you
ignore you
did i mention
this division is fiction
a prism that glistens
with false realities
the analogy is simple
the temples in your eyes are lies
we are only here before you to romanticize
and finalize the details of our evolution
the solution, it's easy
can we be more than people
a sequel to this evil
it's not what i'm living for
not what i'm dying for
i'm trying your patience
the way hence is not the way forward
dont ignore words that you heard
for the absurd holds great rewards
like lords in a castle
this act will lay before you a plan
a guide for man
to come to a realization greater than "am"
understand?
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Literature
Silver
i watched you move across the open ocean
white raging light dancing across the surface of your reflection
the mist rising from the crest of the waves that caress your moonlit beauty
you hung suspended over the silver of the stars bouncing from the water
not a drop of moisture touching flawless skin
you were naked like the light cutting through the sky
the water quivered as you whispered a word it echoed back as ripples
and sent a chill through my water soaked soul
it was a single syllable
barely recognizable above the gentle hush of the waves
it hung visible in the air
heavy it seemed but yet like you it hung between us
a word
it froze in the middle
threatening yet yearning
begging me to obey its simple call
asking to take me into its embrace
the moon turned as a lamp to focus on the word
light turing the glass of the fragile sound into a silvery brilliance
making my eyes see more clearly the power of the light
silver
it filled the night and clouded my judgement
i reached for it fumbli
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Activity


A hiccough in time designed to remind me or just keep me guessing I must assume. Is this a blessing? A boon? A view of my doom? I can't help but wonder if the sound of the thunder is drowned out and under by the tick-tock of clocks rending time asunder. It's the boldest of blunders presuming time has one direction, a common misconception since apes did first achieve erection, tossing a monkeywrench into natural selection. In letting loose the language of lore, why do I feel like I've said it all before?

deviantID

Dreaded1
Sean Jandle
Artist
United States
Current Residence: Baton Rouge, LA
Favourite genre of music: Electronica
Favourite cartoon character: Dr. Manhattan
Personal Quote: There is more learning in a pencil than in every written page.
Interests

Comments


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:iconiconred:
iconRED Featured By Owner Jun 15, 2010  Professional Digital Artist
Boo.

So, I finally created a new DevArt page... and here I am.

OH!

I'm touched to see that I'm your top favorite artist. Go to my devart page to see the new ICON site design. It has a royal–military theme. I'm doing portraits of you, Patrick, Dave and myself in order to display them in the center of the page. I need Ms. Lacey to take a good shot of you for refs. I'm doing in in a kind of Russian–Propaganda style, so try to pose accordingly.

I also created custom Facebook, DevArt, Twitter and Blogger button links.

...and I never received that email from you in regards to what you wanted me to do for your new book.

I love your personal quote.

—H
Reply
:iconkitkitsune:
KitKitsune Featured By Owner Jun 14, 2010  Professional Traditional Artist
I think I know who you are
Reply
:iconswfairy88:
swfairy88 Featured By Owner Apr 24, 2010
hey what up its sarah from work :D
Reply
:iconbeyondspirals:
BeyondSpirals Featured By Owner May 12, 2009   Traditional Artist
oh hai thar.
Reply
:iconphantomofthecorp:
phantomofthecorp Featured By Owner Jul 4, 2008
Hey long time no talk! Wanna chat right now and catch up? I'm here! [link]
Reply
:iconwabybishi:
WabyBishi Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2006  Student Photographer
hey im holding a contest.
come join in.
Reply
:iconstrayedmusician:
StrayedMusician Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2006
Hello :P


felt like stopping by. Anyhow, I look forward to your future deviations.

(:

Cheers,

_k
Reply
:iconsengirvampire:
Sengirvampire Featured By Owner Jul 22, 2006
YOU HAVE BEEN HUGGED!!!

Spread the DA love around! (you can copy and paste this message on their userpage!)


*dingding* RULES:
1- You can hug the person who hugged you!
2- You can't hug the person more than 3 times
3- You -MUST- hug 6 other people
4- You should hug them in public! Paste it on their user page! c'mon..don't be scared of public displays of affection
5- Random hugs are perfectly okay! (and sweet)
6- You should most definitly get started hugging right away
Reply
:icondreaded1:
Dreaded1 Featured By Owner Jul 21, 2006
As many of you probably already know, I will be away from DA for a few weeks while I get my life together. I broke up with my girlfriend/roommate and, as such, must find a new place to live. I also lost my job due to financial difficulties within the company which was recently my only source of internet access. Never fear, for I shall return.
Reply
:iconstrayedmusician:
StrayedMusician Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2006
Hello there Stranger,

we met briefly in the chat room PoetryPlease. I decided to browse through you work -- and I have to say, your writing is astounding. Worth a read, really. I definitely look forward to your future pieces and upon your return.

Take it easy.

Cheers,

_k
Reply
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