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About Deviant Artist Karen Elizabeth McMichaelFemale/Canada Recent Activity
Deviant for 12 Years
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Literature
The Wreck of Troy
Out of the darkness comes illumination:  a flickering streetlight, sick fluorescence casting its glow across the wreckage of my being.  Bruises and black, dried blood stand out against the stark, white scar tissue, the raised lines like walls, dividing my skin into territories:  little broken countries in the aftermath of vicious civil war.  What the fuck was ever civil about war?  Helen of Troy must have felt like this, watching the city burn around her.  Powerless.  Men killed and died for her perfect body, but her mind, her soul, meant nothing.  Her heart was just a bloody piece of meat, to be ravenously consumed as the spoils of conquest.  Disgusting men licking their greasy, dripping fingers, and complaining when there isn't any more left to be had.
I gave you everything I'd promised, and you kept demanding more.  Demanding as if it were your right; as if merely wanting had made it yours.  You lied to me and to yourself, belie
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Literature
Farewell to Stardust
There is a body
lying
on my living room table
in a shoe box,
wrapped up in gold tissue-paper.
Little lizard,
the warmth in your cold-blooded veins
has all faded,
but I am reluctant to give you
gift-wrapped
to the earth.
You were always so beautiful.
Why must the frost-covered ground
take your body?
This box,
like the egg
to which you have returned:
leaving me.
I am sadness
and you are my tears
flowing out of me,
into the universe,
becoming Stardust.
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Mature content
The Broken People :iconstrangechilde:StrangeChilde 0 0
Mature content
Sex on the Altar :iconstrangechilde:StrangeChilde 0 0
Literature
The Desperate Journey to Forever
I call to you from this place above
the city where we used to love
each other in a million places,
whispering from lips, and hands that touched
closed eyelids, knew each other's faces
by their lines and hollow spaces –
marks of beauty, scars of pain.  The past:
we run; it always chases.
Live for me and through me; make us last
forever, breathing in strange gasps
and choking, suffocating noises.
Hold me until this dying's passed.
Dear lover, with your thousand voices
scream my name into the night.  Your choice is
me!  It always was me, only me!
Abandon your devices.
Follow me above the surface.  Breathe,
and in your breathing find need,
hard and absolute: unbreakable.
Fall into something beautiful.  Be.
I know that you are capable
of finding me.  I'm traceable
and left paths to be followed
up this mountainside.  Don't fail me now!
Believe in us.  Remain unbowed
in face of all we're told is not allowed.
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Literature
Just Numb
Where is my fear?
The fear that once consumed my
every waking moment: fear of
love, and fear of loneliness, and
fear of being touched.  Reach out and touch me
with your hands, with your emotions,
make me feel that there is
something in these words besides the
emptiness of being.  Being me.
And I, alone, am the most terrifying thing
the world has known: am I alone?
Have you forsaken me, my love?
I do not want to know that all of this,
this fighting, was in vain.  What were we
fighting for, again?  I have forgotten
where your heart was.
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Literature
The Spider
I want to crawl under your flesh
like maggots; breed beneath your skin.
I will consume you with my ever-
lasting lust.  I will betray you.
Closer, lover.  Let me dig my
nails into your back, now, dragging
gasps of wet and choking pleasure
out from lips that long to whisper.
Never.  Never could you learn to
walk away from all my soft and
rotting words that come to bind you,
find you, seek beneath your writhing,
bruiséd epidermal layers.
Lay here.  Stay here in the garden,
letting vines grow o'er your body:
roots grow down into your veins and
take what's left of blood and beauty.
Love me, even as I kill you,
parasitically consuming
flesh and bone and lust and even,
yes, I'll even eat your heart out.
Your destruction is the balm to
wounded pride and dark addiction;
decompose and I will use your
black remains to feed my body.
All the insects of my being,
screaming.  Come inside of me.
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Literature
Snake Eyes
Her name is a sickness behind your eyes:
a swift-crawling viper, spreading poison.
If I could crush your neck, cut off the flow,
would it let your body linger?  Stay here.
Stay in warmth and comfort; stay here in my
devastating body.  Stay, with all my
safety.
          (is it safety, trapped in me for-
ever?)
           I would not destroy you, only
take away your freedom, only trap you
in my thoughts and breath and every waking
moment.
              (it would kill you.  It would kill you
to be mine, forever.)
                                 I don't love you
in the ways that you have loved her:  total
dominatio
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Literature
Dawn Invocation
Sunrise:
entangled in each other, lying
naked in the day that breaks
over our shattered selves like
waves of ever-dying pleasure.
Hearts are beating/ broken/ breaking
all at once and in a moment, and I
kiss the tears from off your lips,
the blood from off your fingers.
We will salt the earth with all the
waters of our love.

And what is love, that it should find us
here, imperfect and impermanent?
The words that we had spoken fall
between us: empty bullet casings,
evidence of all our deepest wounds
and all our deepest sorrows;
all their powder spent and damage
done.  It's all been done.
O, breaking day, break over me,
and wash away the emptiness.
Lift up my head above the waters with your
holy, cleansing light.

At night I lose myself in you, in
hair that falls upon my breasts
as if my own; in questing
fingertips that seek across my secrets.  Life –
my own or yours, I cannot tell – is
only in the moment, seeking
pain and pleasure, both: release
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Mature content
Necrosis :iconstrangechilde:StrangeChilde 0 0
Hexxus :iconstrangechilde:StrangeChilde 0 0
Literature
Quest for Olympus
Go:  burn yourself in effigy
in search of immortality.
Cut out the parts of you that are
most human.  Beautiful.  Imperfect.
Lust for blood and glory in a
death that goes on, everlasting.
Cast aside the hindrances of
love, and shame, and human pity.
Learn the hard way: even gods must
bleed, and weep, and slowly suffer.
Immortality is not the
cure for all your inner hatred.
Blaming your mistakes upon the
humanness of your condition
only works so long as you are
human:  after that it's your fault.
Those who seek Olympus learn
that flaws will tend to follow you,
from form to form, from life to life,
until there's nothing left but anger.
Cast aside the past; try to
forget it – it will not forget you.
Trail along your suffering as
you become a god.  And blame me!
Blame me for my sad foreknowledge,
call me "witch", and "jealous demon".
Try to cast me off with all your
former lives; you'll not forget me.
Burnt into your mind will be the
f
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Literature
Sonnet 11.10.11
Blame not the cagéd dog that bites:
his fear, and not himself, to blame.
Hate not the bird that taketh flight,
though you lack wings to do the same.
Curse not the child that speaks the truth
although that truth has brought you pain;
aim not to win that others lose,
or conquer only to bring shame.
Do not grow angry or obscene
though ignorant minds do surround:
'tis not their fault they've not the means
to meet your thoughts on equal ground.
On all life's paths, it must be seen,
patient forgiveness is the key.
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Literature
Seasonal Frost
        The blades of grass upon the lawn were tipped with frost – green, lined with white.  The first, cool breath of winter had descended in the night, lending the air a certain sharpness and clarity that had been absent in the many months before.  The sun had not yet risen, but the birds were singing in the trees, heralding its imminent arrival.  The frost would soon dissolve; the air heat up and grow heavy again.  It was only September, and this but the first light touch of the snowy months to come.  The months of darkness, and of cold – not only externally, but within.
        Within the house behind, her husband lay asleep beneath the thick comforters on their bed, as yet unconcerned with the day and all its beauty and dark promises.  Her husband.  How happy she had once been, to call him that:  she'd said the wo
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Mature content
Long Titles ... :iconstrangechilde:StrangeChilde 1 0
Literature
First Kiss
The roughness of your fingertips
speaks whispers all across my skin;
soft promises of pleasure slip
from places touched to deep within.
Your eyes are not as bold, just yet:
they glance away and are unsure.
Still questioning if I will let
you carry on, they seek the floor.
Between these options lie your lips,
which tremble with anticipation,
reaching in to find a kiss
that hovers on the edge of reason.
Beckoning you come inside,
I take your hand; you meet my eyes.
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Random Favourites

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Journal
Poetic Allusions - Call for Submissions!
Poets and poetry bloggers, we want you!
Poetic Allusions is a brand new project based out of Toronto, Ontario, and we're looking for contributors.  Preference will be given to those from the GTA, but we do want to represent people from all over the world, so don't let the fact that you live in Australia instead of Southern Ontario keep you from sending something in!
The first issue of the zine is planned to go to print on July 15th, and so poetry submissions must be received by July 10th at the very latest in order to be considered for publication in the first issue.  Submissions received after that time may be considered for the blog or for future issues of the print zine.
Submissions must be of your own work!  No third party submissions will be accepted.
Check out the blog at http://poeticallusions.wordpress.com for all of the details.  Happy writing, and thank you for your interest!
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Literature
Someone Has to Die
It's been years
since the gravel
ate your face
and my chest
still crackles
with bonfire.
The vertigo of
pills and fresh flowers
sewed its mystery
as you taught yourself
to fly.
Baby bluebird-
wings too small
to hold air,
bones not hollowed,
hallowed-
and I cried
down ten flights
to find
gnarled wood
on the pavement.
You burned yourself
from memory-
left a black stain
in the form of
a broken,
antiseptic man.
I gathered
the feathers,
life support,
tulips,
and buried them
among your
lightning frazzled bones-
the speed
of the earth's hours
turned up tenfold.
:iconschriftsteller:schriftsteller
:iconschriftsteller:schriftsteller 7 6
Skull Fairy :iconironshod:Ironshod 4,088 191
Literature
building with the broken.
by now you’ve become just another name in my address book.
seven letters used to jump out at me when i flipped through the h-i-j-k’s;
your four syllables leapt to my tongue
and i blushed as i tried to spit out your consonants.
your vowels tripped over my teeth.
and you used to know me so well you could name every freckle on my body.
now i’m afraid you don’t even notice the smudges under my eyes
where insomnia pressed his wretched thumbs
to hold me still as he
kissed me deep and stayed the night.
if you never wanted me, why didn’t you just tell me so?
i still remember the night you squeezed me so hard my heart popped like a bubble.
you could have fashioned me a new one out of liquid soap and a plastic wand,
but you said you had no air left in your lungs.
“you take my breath away,” you said.
and i guess that last breath-stealing kiss was a punishment of sorts.
if i took your breath, shouldn’t i have twice as much?
:iconErlebnisse:Erlebnisse
:iconerlebnisse:Erlebnisse 33 44
Society's Puppet :iconaizrihdhel:Aizrihdhel 51 17
Literature
A Clockwork Orange
Tick, tick, tick
I'm dangling on your eyelashes
That steady me like branches
Of foreign plants and eiffel towers
Tock, tock, tock
What reason have I to climb
Upon your brows
And walk the tensed wrinkles
Until infinity
Tick, tick, tick
Except to drink in the nectar
The swims in all those shades of black
And feel the citrus pump into your little
Veins
Tock, tock, tock
You hands are counting minutes
Your feet are counting crows
Tick, tick, tick
I think I'll rest awhile
And whisper daydreams to your nose
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Activity


deviantID

StrangeChilde
Karen Elizabeth McMichael
Artist
Canada
Current Residence: Underneath the in-between
deviantWEAR sizing preference: smallish
Favourite genre of music: METAL of many varieties; goth-metal might top the list.
Favourite style of art: When darkness collides with intellectualism and makes a delicious angsty soup.
Shell of choice: This is me in a nutshell: Help, I'm in a nutshell! Get me out of this crazy thing!
Favourite cartoon character: Marvin the Martian, anything of Jhonen Vasquez's, Kim Possible, the Turtles, Eeyore
Personal Quote: If the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off.
Interests
September again!  Another year older, another scorchingly hot summer gone by.  Yay fall!  I love that the weather is turning.

I haven't been doing much writing lately.  Some stream-of-consciousness poetry, and some erotica, of course, but nothing really worth cleaning up and posting.  I do have a script in the works that I want to write another draft of and finish up properly, but it's been sitting around for a few months now ... needs some time devoted to it.

I have been getting back into jewelry design, which is nice.  I had to let it go for a while after Bead Heaven closed and that whole fiasco left me rather burnt out on the whole business ... I'd missed it, though, and creating in that way again is happy-making.

And there's theatre, of course.  "February" opens tomorrow night at Alumnae Theatre alumnaetheatre.com/1213season.…

After that is diving headfirst into the Panfish New Play Contest www.panfishproductions.ca/upco… ... so much to do with that one.  The producer's in the process of confirming a venue for us this week, and then submissions close on the 30th of September and we have to pick the top 3, get info out to directors, get our judging committee finalized, and get all the tech arranged for the event (which happens at the end of November).  I'm really excited about this because the winning play will get produced by us next year, so we get to find out where the next year is going to take our fledgling company.  Yays :)  And I love thinking of it as "our" company, too ... having something to really take ownership of is pleasant.  I'm not just creating at others' whims, now.

Now I just need to find a way to make money at all of these things that make me happy.
  • Listening to: Our Lady Peace - In Repair
  • Reading: "The Underpants", Carl Sternheim

Comments


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:iconelfanatic:
ELFanatic Featured By Owner Oct 10, 2011
I'm going to read the rest of your writing to get myself out of my writer's block so all of your works better be diamonds in the rough otherwise you're in big trouble little lady! :)
Reply
:iconstrangechilde:
StrangeChilde Featured By Owner Oct 10, 2011
Heh ... I won't claim they're all of particularly high quality. I write a lot, and they can't all be gems!
Reply
:iconelfanatic:
ELFanatic Featured By Owner Oct 10, 2011
nope! I'm not allowing this. I'm betting all my money on you. so if you think some of your works aren't gems, then quickly edit them into gems before I read them. I'm starting with gearbox. the rest have a chance but it's too late for gearbox. :)
Reply
:iconb1gfan:
b1gfan Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2010  Student Writer
:glomp: Hi Karen. Dropped in, loved everything, watching you now like a hungry zombie :)
Reply
:iconstrangechilde:
StrangeChilde Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2010
Thank you! The praise of other skilled writers is always most appreciated. I hope that you continue to like what you see. :D
Reply
:iconhumanalog:
Humanalog Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2010
Happy Belated Birthday!
Reply
:iconstrangechilde:
StrangeChilde Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2010
Thanx!
Reply
:iconalterego1629:
AlterEgo1629 Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! :heart:
Reply
:iconstrangechilde:
StrangeChilde Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2010
Thank you!
Reply
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