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About Deviant Artist Joshua DurouxMale/Australia Recent Activity
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Literature
M-i-L
M-i-L
No matter what, you always want to have control,
At everyone's expense,
You never listen to anyone whose views,
Are not your own extravagance,
You see the world in black and white,
Refuse to know there's any other shade,
And you expect that all around,
Should live within the boundaries you have made,
You must control, you can't let go, you'll never know,
You will never understand,
Just what it meant to hold her hand,
And how she always made me whole,
There's no room in your blackened soul,
Just stay away,

You locked your claws into her heart,
Before she ever had the chance to grow,
You tried to see your twisted view of life,
Was all that she would ever know,
You tried to crush that spark of light,
Whenever you say it shine in her eyes,
And to the world you kept your jealousy,
Behind a thinly veiled disguise,
It's in your eyes, behind your lies, that you despise,
You must destroy all that you see that you can't comprehend,
Your mind is closed to others' ne
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Literature
My Life So Far
My Life So Far
by Joshua Duroux
Series 1, Volume 1, Part 1, Chapter 1A,
Even though my spawn certificate lists Mars, strictly speaking I was not born on the planet's surface, but rather in an orbiting hospistation. To begin my story properly, one must go back before the beginning.
My father, mother and dutha were members of the Time Travelling Kidnap And Impregnate Future Generation Terran Human Beings Program, or BLXR for short. The Jovian Council, knowing that some future catastrophe would wipe out the settlements of several planets in the not too distant future, but unable to discover what the calamity would be, decided to experiment with the primitive life forms existing in the future on Earth, mixing Terran genes with those of various other Solar organisms.
I never discovered the entire story, as the information was classified, but apparently with my spawning something went horribly wrong. While I was raised by my father and mother, I never found out who my real duth
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Literature
Warning
Warning
If this you are reading, then I must apologise,
Because you’ll find that this poem is really nothing in disguise,
It has no story, has no plot, nor any inspiration,
In fact you’ll find just reading it a rather dull sensation,
It won’t get any better, it, in fact, is getting worse,
You probably would have more fun a-riding in a hearse,
It only keeps the name of “poem” because it has a rhyme,
Also the uncanny way it keeps itself in time,
It probably would be best if you just stopped reading now,
But instead you just keep ploughing, I can’t imagine how,
I tried to give you good advice but found that it was scorned,
I told you to stop reading, very well, you have been warned,
I must admit I really am impressed by your persistence,
This poem is only here to justify its own existence,
I guess that you’ve been waiting for a great display of wit,
I tried to tell you otherwise, oh well, the end, that’s it,
Copyright Joshua Duroux 2003
Written 16/0
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Literature
I Am
I Am
I drink from the bottle,
And eat from the box,
For several days running,
I wear the same socks,
I like my cars fast,
And my racing the same,
But don’t interrupt,
When I’m watching the game,
My ego’s important,
It needs to inflate,
When I’m having a drink,
Down the pub with my mates,
I couldn’t be bothered,
With trinkets and gardens,
And romance and thank yous,
And sorries and pardons,
I like action movies,
And fictional science,
And see nothing wrong,
With a good bit of violence,
I feel in control,
And I like to take charge,
(And I secretly wish,
Everyone called me, “Sarge,”)
Don’t treat me like you’re right,
And I’m always wrong,
Don’t stare at my beer gut,
Or at my old thongs,
Don’t think I can magically,
Fix all machines,
Or hate me for buying,
A new M-16,
I just like to keep my life,
Free of decisions,
And not have to make,
Any complex decisions,
I’d like to live life,
Like it’s all one big joke,
Just simple
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Old Grogan Tape Cover Idea by slyde23 Old Grogan Tape Cover Idea :iconslyde23:slyde23 2 5
Literature
Titan
Titan
She calls,
And the Titan answers,
Rising over her,
To stare down at her flesh,
Pulsing, waiting,
She has control over the Titan,
Which wants to delve into the dark and wet,
But not yet does she let it go,
The Titan quivers in expectation,
Eager to please her,
To bend to her will,
She knows the Titan waits,
She can sense its tension,
Feel its desire,
The Titan tries to remain tamed,
But its instinct strives to take over,
Eventually the Titan can no longer contain itself,
And, diving back into its realm,
She feels the salt spray upon her skin,
But still she knows she has control over the Titan,
That it will always come when she calls,
And still the Titan waits,
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Guitar by slyde23 Guitar :iconslyde23:slyde23 3 57 lickout by slyde23
Mature content
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Literature
What to Write About
I Can’t Think What to Write About
I feel like writing a new song,
That will make people sing along,
But when I try, there’s something wrong,
I can’t think what to write about,
I’d like to make it top the charts,
I have to try and use my arts,
But everything’s in fits and starts,
I can’t think what to write about,
I could just stick to tried and true,
And write a song of me and you,
But when I try to do that, too,
I can’t think what to write about,
I could be shocking, try my luck,
Controversy can make a buck,
But rhyming swear words, I get stuck,
I can’t think what to write about,
I’ll make sure I make each line rhyme,
And surely, it’s not quite a crime,
If I find that I cannot keep it all in time,
I can’t think what to write about,
And so I’ll put paper to pen,
And if I’m stuck, I’ll start again,
And who knows how I’ll go just when,
I find something to write about!
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Literature
Nightbird
Nightbird
For SW
A beautiful bird flies by in the night,
And alights next to me,
I reach out and cradle her in my hands,
She is unsure of my touch,
I hold her loosely and delicately,
So she can fly away whenever she wants,
She is at once dark and pale,
Fragile and strong,
Delicate and perceptive,
Lost and purposeful,
I know she is perfect,
I want nothing more than for her
To stay with me,
To give myself to her,
And for her to be mine,
Yet I cannot trap her,
I cannot close my hands around her,
She can never be caged,
She must always be allowed to fly into the night again,
I feel her heart beating,
And I know she is frightened,
But she stays within my hands,
I hope I can provide her the comfort she needs,
The care she wants but does not seek,
The love she deserves,
She looks up at me and – ah!
She captures my heart,
And enfolds it in her wings,
She buries deep into my soul,
And I know she will haunt my dreams forever,
She stirs,
The moonlight falling on her,
Casting her shadow upon
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Random Favourites

Literature
breathe again.
I can feel the tiny pinpricks of pain in my fingers
as the air starts to warm and there is thunder in
the clouds. They hang heavy above, waiting,
dark, and angry, and ready to burst.
The winter is melting in my heart,
I can feel the thaw of spring,
and can smell the summer approaching.
The world whispers to me,
secrets I cannot hear, but I feel them deep within,
and my heart aches and breaks and takes over.
The twilight fractures and I am human again,
with a soul that breathes and grows
and creeps into every hollow vessel of my being
and infuses it with life. I look to the skies
and all of a sudden I can see.
I anticipate the rain.
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Literature
The End.
Once upon a time
there lived a little girl
who loved the whole wide world
very much. One day
her heart stopped ticking...
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Literature
Disregard this Letter...
Antique dismemberment
   of your eye -
tell me what you see
          when I am bare;
when I have nothing left
    to hide behind, and I am scared
           you'll only ever see
           the weaker side of me
     that you will not see anything
                 through the darkness;
that you will only see what I see.
And it is only human to judge.
Yet when I have shrugged off
                                                    &
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Mature content
Stranger than Day :iconcaileagh-faoileag:Caileagh-Faoileag 1 14
_camouflage. by Caileagh-Faoileag _camouflage. :iconcaileagh-faoileag:Caileagh-Faoileag 1 139
Literature
You Despise.
Behind the scratched and defaced windows’ pain
Darkness presses its dirty face against the glass,
The vast, gluttonous monster sprawled across sleeping towns,
Preying on the innocent, consuming all light.
It looks in from behind the milky white sclera,
The train’s blind eyes, – murals that sightlessly behold
The fallen angels, the innocents society rejected, discarded –
Its nerves severed by disinterest.
Upon the tracks submerged in the ebontide,
The cadaverous sleepers, laid to rest
On a bed of jagged ballast,
The night mare rides through the murky expanse,
Rocking pendulously on the waves of night,
Time kept steadily, one, two, three, one two, three.
Slicing through the gloom, silently passing ghost towns,
Graveyards of carcasses that slumber,
Unfrequented by the wandering wraiths,
Pausing at the tombstones inscribed with names –
Canley Vale – for osmotic exchange, til the letting,
Travelling and arriving, with direction, without acknowledging
The tricks
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Literature
My Goddess
It's easy for one to take the road most familiar to them.
A vicious cycle can imperceptibly be made infinite when one walks in the footsteps they have always trodden in.
Carefully retracing the steps that have, thus far, been safe to shadow, without realising that they are experiencing the same hurt they have always felt.
One never really notices the tiny pains being made bigger.
They accumulate; these hurts you could never manage to escape.
The ones that, eventually, you dwelt in, simply because you made this path – this same, unvarying path – within the walls you built around yourself.
The walls you built, to protect yourself from more hurt (without recognising the fatal mistake of caging yourself in with the grief you have already suffered); fences and boundaries, to mark where you now live, and where the world begins.
You have made yourself a home to live in, and a bed to lie in.
But what of the world outside? A world that is varying and changing, unfamiliar and different
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Literature
_Refract.ure
I.
It seems I've thought them all away,
Mother, Me and She,
the ghosts that kept me company,
while I s[cr]ewed up my sanity.
The ghosts that kept me together,
when my world was slowly falling apart.
I've thought them all away,
Mother, Me and She,
and left myself by myself…
I miss the echoes.
Whose lap can I now cry in?
Whose shoulder will teach me bitterness?
Who will crucify me?
II.
I suppose I looked within and saw
a fragile rose among the thorns,
where ice still clung despite the thaw.
Then apathy took my hand
and worked my worries away
with her gentle, anaesthetic touch
that left me feeling like I was a
half-paralysed haze that refracted light.
III.
Let's chase the sunset
and bury the sun.
I have learnt to see in my darkness;
to melt into oblivion.
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Literature
Muzzle.
Sadness creeps in,
and She takes away from me
enough Care so I don't get too hurt;
so that the scars don't run deep enough
to sever me in two, and I thank Her,
but I wish I could have what
lack is breaking me inside;
where the scars run out
instead of in. But She doesn't care.
She took It away.
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Literature
Other.
I am...unnatural,
as I cock my head to the side, and trace
your movements with my eyes, so that I
can learn your dance, and imitate,
with my own awkward movements and
uncoordinated gestures, (and all because
I'm afraid of the stick you'd hit me with
when you knew I was not like you).
Left, left,
           right, right
      left
           right
      left,
///
Not why, nor gently glide, the dance,
nor those ungainly steps I mismatch,
but I sometimes stop to ask, a mistake,
when in my momentary lapse
of concentration, I receive a reminding
blow.
At night, in the peace of a moon-lighted room
I watch you dance in your sleep, the measured,
natural pace of life flowing in and out
and all around you, and I nervously caress my wounds,
and examine my scales and hope to gods
they don't creep out into the open.
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Literature
South
The wind runs her trembling fingers across my skin
and whispers in my ear South, South!
The rains are coming, she warns me,
and I must get myself gone, and soon.
Over the hills and far away, she hastens.
South,
        south!
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Activity


When you think about it, this is an exceedingly strange term. How can anything possibly be post modern? It's a contradiction!
Post modern must always at the least be tomorrow, and tomorrow never actually comes. Tomorrow is nothing more than an etherial ideal, a transient thought of future possibilities.

Tomorrow when the post began.
  • Listening to: The PC fan and the dog whining
  • Reading: Just finished Pandora by Anne Rice
  • Watching: Just watched Tomorrow When the War Began
  • Playing: Not with myself
  • Eating: No one at the moment
  • Drinking: Tea!

deviantID

slyde23
Joshua Duroux
Artist
Australia
Current Residence: Sydney
Favourite cartoon character: Daffy Duck
Interests

Comments


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:iconcaileagh-faoileag:
Caileagh-Faoileag Featured By Owner Dec 12, 2012  Student Writer
Thank you for the favourites ^-^
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:iconcaileagh-faoileag:
Caileagh-Faoileag Featured By Owner Sep 14, 2012  Student Writer
Thank you for the favourite. :P
:icondummydanceplz:
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:iconcaileagh-faoileag:
Caileagh-Faoileag Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2012  Student Writer
Thank you for the favourite :P
:heart:
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Jakndaxkingdom Featured By Owner Oct 28, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
hi :wave: thanks for the re-add :hug:
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:iconcaileagh-faoileag:
Caileagh-Faoileag Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2011  Student Writer
Thankies! ^-^
:+fav:
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:iconcaileagh-faoileag:
Caileagh-Faoileag Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2011  Student Writer
:P
:hug:
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:iconcaileagh-faoileag:
Caileagh-Faoileag Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2011  Student Writer
Thankies for the favourites
^-^
:heart:
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:iconslyde23:
slyde23 Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2011
No problemo! They is being my favourites! :)
xoxoxoxox
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:iconcaileagh-faoileag:
Caileagh-Faoileag Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2011  Student Writer
(:
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