|October Is For Members Self-Portrait. If You Have Not Submitted A Self-Portrait, This Is A Good Time To Do So. For Our Benefit, The Self-Portrait Does Not Have To Look Exactly Like You. It Can Be An Image To Represents You. It Can Be A New One Just For Us, Ore Something You Already Have.|
You Can Read The Self-Portrait Literature From Our Writers In The Members Self-Protraits Folder, HERE:humanconditions.deviantart.com…
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|Welcome to Human Conditions! I see it as a combination of the two groups which inspired it, #So-Often-Bled and #Emotions-in-art. The edginess and imagination of #So-Often-Bled with the basic premise of #Emotions-in-art, capturing the range of emotions we experience as human beings.|
We are not for everyone. We are for serious artists of any media whose work deals with emotions and the condition of being human.
We would rather be a small, interactive group than a large group where everyone dumps their latest deviations. We want quality, not quantity.
~Original Founder Bark
Find The Rules And Group Standards On The About Page.
19 swim in painted rivers ascetic like starved, pink fish19 by lakednunch
screaming through panic fat a seized organism with a cold, yellow halo
still bitten by the soul stink of a broken whore with contradictory periscope eyes
i have grown ravenous with rage an idle searching for convalescence
deadlocked and paranoid hung up on a Nembutal drip
A Season of Winter1. and so it begins. . .A Season of Winter by jade-pandora
their death poems
2. senses awaken. . .
I open a melon,
its green perfume
3 . across a field. . .
the Milky Way
casts a farmer's shadow
4. welcome. . .
shutting out the chill,
moonlight spills in
5. daydreams. . .
winter vegetables for stew,
thoughts of summer plums
6. snow angels. . .
the imprints you and I
left behind, fill with snow
7. comet-trysting. . .
new moon phase—
winter anointed with sapphires
from a nightly caller
8. solstice. . .
the same moon
you and I
the same moon
9. a homecoming. . .
milky way in deep winter—
his son's voice
no longer a child's
10. crystallized. . .
half dressed by a window—
frost on the cars
11. cold morning, hot tea. . .
he sips a steaming cup
watching from its edge
as I cut pears in two
12. a harbinger. . .
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill MeI kissed my best friend on the cheekHold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me by prettyflour
and she giggled.
I did too.
My lip gloss left sticky prints on her skin
that she wiped away
with her sleeve.
I wanted to kiss you before I knew what kissing was.
I watched you grow into something
more than just another boy.
Tracing my lip with my fingertip and wondering…
Are yours dry and hungry like mine?
Or soft and sweet?
They were warmer than I imagined,
brushing hot breath across my palm
and my wrists.
Your quick pecks tickled,
your eyes wide and playful,
your smile set me
Flushed cheeks and heartbeat gone frantic,
I didn’t kiss you back...
Not like I wanted too.
I nuzzled nose to cheek,
inhaled your honeyed scent
letting my lips linger
and yet not long enough.
blackberries, bramblesthere is a resentment buddingblackberries, brambles by toxic-nebulae
in my gut
as something from a swallowed seed.
dormant and deadly,
a steady outdripping of poison,
thick as a sap to be tapped,
to be harvested.
I fear it will overrun my
will corrupt the soil it grows in
with its violent outshootings—
it will turn every bit of me
into its grisly garden.
it will make you feel
I'm not afraid of the darkIt was peaceful in the dark, quiet and calm in the night. Slumber was easy until the screaming started. It was the weirdest mixture of a shrill baby cry and my mother sobbing, and it was terrifying. I thought it was a dream- a reoccurring nightmare where I was trapped in a shadow and my heart beat in time with flashing red and blue lights. I would become paralyzed by the howl of sirens in the distance.I'm not afraid of the dark by prettyflour
In the light of day it was easy to forget the dream; the playground beckoned and swallowed any residual fear.
Until I heard it.
Wailing sirens disarmed me. Strobing red and blue demolished the sun and I was pissing myself in the middle of the sandbox, crippled with anxiety but I wasn’t sure why.
I knew what the sound was. It was an ambulance. A fire truck. But underneath the noise was something deeper- darker- something that could block the sun and freeze the blood in my veins. Every time I heard it I was completely arrested by fear- tormented when my dreams
DickMaybe someday I can love Dick CheneyDick by jimfleming
Some day enlightenment might be attained
I've been told all things are possible
Most of those misguided fools are
nothing more than grist for comedy
But, Dick…. Dick is special
The Buddha tells me to see myself in the other
To eliminate the artificial us/them construct
To see myself in Dick Cheney
Could Dick see himself in me?
I don’t think I like the sound of that
Would the “me” Dick become contrite and renounce
his affiliation with darkness?
Would the “me” Dick return to all those talk shows
on an Apology/Confession Tour?
Would the “Dick” me continue to rationalize
the soul deadening crime of war profiteering?
Would the “Dick” me "do it all again in a minute"?
Someday I might see myself in Dick and
Dick might see me and realize
that we are all one...
When pigs levitate.
Mistake MakingDakota's nephew is a week oldMistake Making by Nichrysalis
and he has already cast the infant
out of his life and he tells me
how his mom was in tears with him,
that he's just a newborn needing family
and I understand how it is hard to forgive
when they want him to forget.
The fact that someday her child
will do the math and find out his mom
was sixteen when he was born,
ask what his father was like,
to which his mom will say "a mistake"
and direct him to hipster selfies.
I never was a horny teen
thinking in terms of sluts and studs,
but I've still had that conversation.
For four generations my predecessors
got pregnant before they could buy
the alcohol to go through with it.
Now I have passed the threshold,
can walk up to that corner-store counter
and proceed to drown sorrows
I don't have.
I don't want a child in my life. Yet.
But my parents made mistakes.
I want to make them too.