surferxrosa

jess sanchez

34 Watchers46 Deviations

6.2K

Pageviews

Latest Deviations

See all

Subway Poem: November by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

Subway Poem: November

In a cement cavern unraveled Beneath footsteps, crash, drip, steel, Iron grate, chin buried in collar; In a train that paces, hysterical, Never finding peace, Only one to whom it could be said: This track was not meant for you. His jacket, his bag, his ID badge, Plastic and real, but also: His braided hair, four braids, A face like a cliff, Eyes like animals – Do they see the fat that sleeps, heavy and damp in jeans? The thin glasses above the ink headline? The weariness that stares, vacant, The end of the day that slumps against the door? Or do they see a brightness, A light like I will never see, That hangs

we shall overcome by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

we shall overcome

I find it almost unbearably depressing that the Internet used to be a place where ugly people could take refuge until some narcissistic fuck came along and invented the webcam. What . The . Hell . Even the scanner has become ubiquitous, thanks to Epson and their delicious printer/scanner/fax combos. "17/f/ct sorry no scanner" just doesn't fly in the desert of the real anymore. Furthermore, such websites as HOTorNOT in conjunction with livejournal "rating communities" like hotties_only continue to perpetuate the concept of ugly people having no place in society and lend an even greater measure of power to the attractive elite. Non-uglies don'

tanka trucks by surferxrosa, literature

anochecer by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

anochecer

taking the path that crawls off Sycamore into depths of oak and elm crashing greenlit everything was life! renewed and life! unwound and violent the unwavered sun a whole note a sky bluekeyed symphonic rich and golden swelling swollen chromatic scales sent me shivering the grass all filled with gold rivers of california paved streets of the new world I smell a humming life a low and drumming repetition a rhythm can you hear it? but it's getting late says the dipping sun shy now in the shadow hills hiding in the blackstreams

pollen by surferxrosa, literature

how to write a surferrosa poem by surferxrosa, literature

observations by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

observations

I drive a car that is not very fast down a road that is not very wide but this is not a metaphor for something deep or terrible simply an observation of a road that is not very wide and that I once knew very well. It's a long drive across a small town. It's a slow dance in a crowded life. I've followed the indiansummer woodpole phonelines floating faceup downstream on the roadside current, it's a strange place I'm headed with a windshield flyspecked and the clouds rolling in from the west. I can feel the air that comes in still cool from the vents. I can breathe your fog into my dying season (we're not warm yet). This could be a good winter.

two dreams by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

two dreams

Last night I had two dreams about you: The field by the reservoir was covered in snow and the slopes of the hills painted with tree shadows. We stood among them, talking in circles like satellites. There was an icemoon and many stars and a cold wind. I could see no footprints in the snow, and wondered how we had come to this place. You put your arm around me in a way so sudden I had no chance to shift away. I thought about it for awhile and decided to let you hold me because I was shivering and because I missed you. The moon was very cold. I could see it shiver. There was a great noise in the trees and suddenly we're in a bright and crowded

wintersky narcissus by surferxrosa, literature

stormwatch by surferxrosa, literature

See All

Featured Gallery

See all

in dreams of aboveground pools by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

in dreams of aboveground pools

I did not want to get my hair wet It had just been washed and straightened In the morning at my bathroom mirror My legs slippery with lotion While the dusty sunlight dripped Through the cracked mesh of the windowsill The holes of which welcomed winged many-legged things. You asked me to come over And I promised you I would Go swimming in your pool and give you water-hugs All afternoon But I took a long time getting ready And you called my house as I sat in the car Still parked in the driveway The driver's seat was burning my legs Slippery with lotion You wondered where I was I was thinking about you. Once I was a mermaid A

alas, the table yet uncleared by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

alas, the table yet uncleared

The brown dust Of broken coffee cups Collected on the kitchen table Shimmered in After-noontime shadows Grown deeper still since helpless morning To see you Standing in the corner Would have the same effect on me as If the sky Burst forth in violet shades Had cre

peyote crossword puzzles by surferxrosa, literature

acadia response by surferxrosa, literature

interlude with the vampire by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

interlude with the vampire

count them in the evening (it is difficult to see) the flowers died in the solarium patient hands behind blue coattails dancing in the ashpits while the smoke crawls home to sleep the shadows fell to their deaths (close your eyes; it doesn't matter) count them in the evening fingers on the iron trellis collapse between cold bedsheets when the leaves drop in the gutter

intro. to casual goodbyes 101 by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

intro. to casual goodbyes 101

dropped face into the river whispers standing on the wooden future creaking and misleading to next Thursday or next year would a face beneath footfalls and falling leaves break the glass of display windows? a brick through this amorphous surface a giggle point and laugh at sonic long-past-tense pretenses like the last farewell of parting stones from fingers to the river whispers faces fell and slunk away- no one saw them disappear

on school photo days by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

on school photo days

if my hair trips and falls across my forehead and stumbles down my ears, spraining its ankles on my eyes, I won't try to dress its wounds with hairspray- it can sulk and lick blood off its kneecaps all it wants. if my smile grins cross-eyed in reverse from across that mirror universe, I'll punch it's fucking teeth in - it can spit its molars out like some grotesque vending machine. if you were waiting at my door (wristwatch glances at minute intervals), feet tapping on the gray slate steps, I would take a little longer here - but your feet tap impatient elsewhere and my clumsy elbows knock nailpolish in crimson puddl

untitled by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

untitled

The afternoon was paralyzed with heat, but she drove home with her car sealed like a coffin. No reckless wind would disturb the Sunday post-church peace of her virgin hairstyle; it would not pull in third gear into her driveway with an entourage of high-frequency radio voices like he used to do. The thought alone milked perspiration from scented palms that gripped the leather steering-wheel. It would have been nice if she could have stayed there forever: the salon from which she had reluctantly departed had flowers that bloomed in the same plastic colors and lilacs in vases that changed corners from time to time. There were magazines stacked

i'd ask you to dance by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

i'd ask you to dance

When rain tap-dances at September windows I want you in my silent house - I'll tell the sofa and the love-seat to use three-inch voices When they're gossiping about us, And if they disobey we both will scald the cushions With soup spilled out of yellow flowered bowls. I want to sit with you and watch the clouds move During long commercial breaks. There's a diner in town that everyone goes to - I want to take you there sometime. We'll say "Two, please," and the waitress everyone knows Will expose her wealth of drinking-straws and clinking costume jewelry As she leads us to a table. If we get two plastic menus colored in with sc

stack the deck for solitaire by surferxrosa, literature

Watchers 34

See all

acunderground

xfaithlessx

my-darling

catbat88

frozenferret

mySeity

punky-o

SophmoreIX

redsephiroth

xpetalsfallenx

duanya

Peanutbutterscabs

Watching 53

See all

kaujot

onewordatatime

xxxxxx

benevolentsoul

punky-o

mySeity

SophmoreIX

catbat88

my-darling

mibi

medusasmaid

xtape

festivemanb

carringtonxbear

wildoats

Collection

Favourites

See all

Canberra by festivemanb, literature

Literature

Canberra

Your cobweb streets are hung with plum trees, your cars wander down your roads with nowhere to go. Friday night your squares fill with restless youth who stumble the pavement burnt by gin. We are trapped, trapped in your gossamer, tapped in your slow and sleepy days. When winter comes you rest. When summer comes you get drunk off the wine of rotting plums. Finally, autumn sets each leaf on fire and they hang on the boughs of trees for months caught in your sleepy gossamer before falling like the easy night.

my old house by voices, literature

Literature

my old house

ma old house it's about 6 and my old man is back he sits down doesn't say anything and goes to sleep i look out my window see nothing expect for these dirty streets with the garbage cans overflowing i pack my blue bag with USA '76 written on it i walk on downstairs and my pa he's fast asleep my ma asks me what i want for my dinner my ma, she looks at me and wakes my pa he gets up and grips me i look at his hands they've become so rough i say goodbye and promise ill be back one day my pa sits in his chair and just stares my ma is crying her eyes out. i looked ma old house for the last time and got into my

Nerd by punkiebear, literature

Literature

Nerd

Hello… My name is matt… And I am a nerd. I'm that anime watching, Import game playing, First person shooter, Suburban bread nerd I'm that guy that works in a video game store Looking so much cooler that everyone else Until I open my mouth And spout about How the new mortal kombat is cool Even though shang tsung and quan chi Killed lui kang and sho kahn. But Kun Lao is going strong Or how I beat halo on legendary Or how Mario only makes sense If you're eating mushrooms too Or how old school gaming Is something you keep in your heart For instance Up up down down left right left right B A select start Contra motherfucker…WH

our maiden of the mistake by theunwarymariner, literature

Literature

our maiden of the mistake

if we could only lower the standard for the devils then we could all dance as dieties on the precipice of self-love as legions are drowning below in the waves of what was once ours :should they have no reflection: -let them burn- :and if they float with arms bound together: -let them hang... for surely they are of the third- or so we made them while we moved gracefully and ascended like embers

THE CLICHE HOUNDS by meic2, literature

Literature

THE CLICHE HOUNDS

THE CLICHÉ-HOUNDS Heard afar a hoarse hullaballoo of harriers tongue-lolling, straining at the leash, eager for the chase: the cliché-hounds gather. Allow me, if you please, a modest morsel of cliché I am replete from an esoteric gourmet feast of exquisite exotic verbiage served on precious platters of cunning design and intricate verbal decoration. Allow me, if you please, a common slice of bread. Permit me, if you please, a little piece of commonplace. I am lost among the peerless lofty peaks of high pretentious imagery fearful above the deep dark metaphoric chasms and the treacherous sloughs of similes Permit me,

an erotic massacre by doctorfunkenstein, literature

Literature

an erotic massacre

my face is stitched in several places and that bitch is screaming down the seams with a dullword hacksaw- and her boyfriend? that hack saw my side of the story. He saw the seams split, spitting little quips of life buthedoesn'tcare- that night she gave him head and he came in her hair (like all the other nights). but I digress: were that a scene on my television scream I would screen my calls while I spilled these words onto the page: ohfuck ohfuck ohfuck ohfuck oh- (FUCKpoets!weconform) and I sit here shitting on the best moments of my life, shooting my load into the abstract public grey- just waiti

Deviation Spotlight

we shall overcome by surferxrosa, literature

Literature

we shall overcome

surferxrosa

About surferxrosa

See all

Artist

United States
Deviant for 20 years
www.myspace.com/tigerbeats
She / Her

Badges

My Bio

Current Residence: Harlem World

Profile Comments 185

Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In

b1gfan

Aug 21, 2009

Scrumptious gallery my friend - a real treat

mySeity

Jul 20, 2006

Oh, gosh. I'd almost forgotten how sinfully good your work is. I can't imagine how much you've grown as a writer since your 2004 works, which is both astonishing yet almost believable. I flipping want you back here.

Please?

skybluegoodbyes

Jan 29, 2006

It would appear every comment I left you posted twice.

Apologies spilling like...uh, some wondrefully transcendent simile. Hey. at least it ups your post count (as if you cared

)

Anyway, I was enthralled with your gallery. I've got my eYes on you.

ey.

So, I finally got a list up and running for the Link of the Night. If you're not on it (as in, don't get this message, and you want to), shoot me a note, or leave a message or just somehow let me know. Same goes for the instance that you want off the list - please let me know.

Happiness, by

.
The Interview, by

.
Rusting Bridges of Suburbia, by

.

So, I did some peruzing, and earthed up these three pieces.
Happiness is beautiful in its own simplicity, and has a subtle kick to it that I find lacking in a lot of reading these days.
The Interview is an interesting little for-the-stage piece that I found myself cracking up over, all over the place. There's some great humor and dialogue going on here, as well as some great subtle toss-ins for the actors to experiment with. Something I would love to see performed.
While Rusting Bridges of Suburbia might be a little ho-hum subject-wise, the rhythm and control of meter that ~ honestbrutality has accomplished here is impeccable. It takes a lot of practice and a lot of control of vocabulary to get a good rhythm in a slam piece these days, and it's done beautifully here.

Get writing, fuckos. *jesusbite

one-and-only

Jan 23, 2005

No way- my favourite is Hey too...

We're chained huh?

~L~

one-and-only

Jan 21, 2005

is a General Writer
is Female
is a deviant since Sep 1, 2003, 5:16 PM
has 2,333 pageviews
is located in United States
last visited 7h 35m 19s ago

Well done!!

And cool... I finally found another Pixies fan!! What's your favourite song?

~L~