|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…
|More Journal Entries|
Searching for the SunI.Searching for the Sun by scarletbird
The day everything ended, she was standing in a parking lot, weary from a long day of departures and destinations, staring up at the sky. Clouds strolled west, their armfuls of grey dripping out of their grasp and spattering onto the asphalt, onto her upturned face. They rolled and crashed into one another, piling up high in the stratosphere like mountains of cottony stone. Once, they had been at war, and their arguments had sliced across the countryside with the recklessness of a summer fire. Now, though, something had calmed them. Perhaps they were tired from their travel like her, or perhaps it was the sun, gently wedging them apart with scalding fingers. Its light had almost gotten lost behind the celestial battle, but soon grey faded to white, white flashed gold, and the sun finally reached down to where she stood, there next to her father, on the last day he remembers before everything ended.
It was hard for her to imagine now, how she could have gotten lost so easily thos
Fiddle, DrumFiddle, Drum by HowellJack
strings play, grasses sway,
a crying girl fights the day -
through a door, push, smash.
A young fiddler paves her way,
through fields, chased,
eyes clouded with fear, doubts -
There! The tree,
a swish of hair alerts the three,
rush; run; hold; bang,
the air is split with the sound of a gun.
The fiddle ends, the tune stops,
shattered wood fall near legs of capri,
guilt seeps in the hands of the Three
as girl slept near the roots of the tree,
Oh why does my drum still belong to me?
|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.
Old WolfOld wolfOld Wolf by After-Eden
Do not you give up on me,
you with the bare teeth and raw breath
your fur that is gloomy wet beneath my hands
I slowly uncoil my large intestine and feed it to you
My beautiful one,
strange animal of the North
We sit in tender silence
the crushing rain parades on beyond the field of trees and
this place smells like green tea brewing;
a hot house of earthy feelings and mixed emotions
Your company as real as love
I wait for you
do not you give up on me.
Great mothGreat moth that I amGreat moth by After-Eden
my small black eyes bleary for the Moon,
holding you between my dew drop wings
I chirrup quietly to you
Moon, O' precious Moon
climb down from that untouchable sky
let my radio-wave antennas touch a glimmer of you
a crumb of the Moon is all I ask
beige and tan and buggy
all of my legs belong to you
demon Moon, honey Moon
Moon that God has deemed me too unworthy to taste
I am velvet, I am fur coats still breathing
you you you
Moon of my eyes
my minuscule, fleshy pink heart
this feather body that is pregnant with gold
please let my consuming want be enough for you
Precious Fishprecious fishPrecious Fish by After-Eden
that I ask for by name;
solidifying in my gut
helping me grow gills
I cry for you
my language a fit of bubbles
mess of sardine cans
I walk leg for leg until I crumple into fins
That I may never walk again suits me fine
if I might only spot your love torn face,
see the weaving of water lilies
graceful and dreaming of me
Unordinary OneChip away at me like barkUnordinary One by After-Eden
as the screaming sun burns through
Our song notes trembling
our evergreen put back on the shelf for a safer day
Must I swallow my affection
seek out the algae of my soul?
My legs where fish don't swim
the Unordinary One
the breaking egg upon my back
I keep trying
but you are all eyes and sinew
The tops of empires may be
higher and higher
...let me make a pity of myself behind working walls
Changing of the Guard I sat pouting and alone in the first meadow when I saw a deer run out of the woods on my right, cross the meadow at top speed, then go into the woods on my left. A moment later, I heard the dogs bark. It made me angry, but there wasn't a thing I could do to get those dogs away from the deer. So I was pouting, alone and mad when the first dog ran across the meadow.Changing of the Guard by xlntwtch
It was the Afghan, head up and silent. Afghans hunt by sight, I knew that much. The other dogs hunted by scent, and they appeared soon after, noses to the ground when they weren't barking. What a racket they made! And I thought I felt low before! I couldn't even sit quietly and feel sorry for myself. Now I had to worry about the deer.
I walked back to the dome and asked Diane if she'd seen her dog lately. She hadn't. Hers was the Afghan. She had a toy poodle as well, but it didn't count. That little bundle of neuroses rarely left her side. Neither the Afghan nor the poodle were well-t
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.