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About Deviant Amoral AntslideMale/United States Recent Activity
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Candy Shoppe
Oh how the fruit of the vine makes me unwind,
sates one curious hunger
only to replace it with another
O Madame, you look simply... ravishing tonight.
I am filled with fire
It belches forth from my belly
and seeps into my loins
How Delicious You are!
A certain salivation takes and loosens up
my tongue as my legs become undone,
unsteadily, faltering I am waking up to their scent
Come here my sweetling - I am yours.
Like a candy shop to me, sights and smells for free
On the floor shiny, colored wrappers on these flappers
Oh I just can't wait to taste that candied shell!
Gimme some sugar, babe.
It's a candy shoppe you see
all the looks are free
You try your to buy
for 'tis Candy's chooses guy
But only if you're Lucky
(and boy you best be plucky)
Let me see you in that baby doll, a minute,
longer before we unwrap you - Don't worry
Dear, rapture soon will be yours, ours, dancing
Your flavor's just the right thing that I need...
Take heed, Love, and
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 0 0
Flicker, twitch
Flicker, twitch
Metal clinks from hand to hand,
dancing as it sparks
flash, flame
flutter, falter
Crumpled, torn mass unfurled,
Smoothed.  a pause.
Memories catch in throat,
a shudder escapes,
Tears are denied.
flash, flame
flutter, falter
Page by page, remembers, reads
Pouring over every jot
And Her Smell – Damnit all!
a hint of Heaven on the page…
And garbage.
flash, flame
flutter, falter
Fist squeezes, leaves palm
imprinted, burning hot
eyes shut out rage,
see through to the End,
only that will suffice
Flicked thumb again opens metal maw
“My Everything, In Awe of My All,”
rush of fire unleashed in hunger
sheets afire, hands let feeling go
flash, flame
flutter, falter
an offering to heaven, the blackened hell falls.
a clink closed, back turned on the deed,
walks, exeunt stage right.
Now: how to live free?
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 1 16
Mature content
Hunger in the Museum :iconcoidzy:Coidzy 0 3
Hands of Words sans Images
Do you know, my artsy girl,
What makes a man’s face
Worth the remembering?
A woman memorable?

Curse these hands which have never wrought
Any shape out of fine line and form
Worth the effort of looking,
For how could they ever hope to do justice
To what mine eyes beheld here,
O! Would I render this Beautiful Frame I see
No option but to carve it in truth unwithering,
Using tools granted unto this world –
With ink, stone, the earth itself
How I would paint thee until your eyes were more than alive,
(More humanity shown than in human is grown)
And indeed, you stepped, nay, leaped out of the canvas,
Tearing the heart from mortal man.
(And if I’m good, woman too)
That I could render your Self, statuesque,
Put Pygmalion, Venus, to shame,
Not just Life and Beauty,
Will fill this homage,
But I shall show the Truth
That lies within the Eye,
And a Soul to honor your own
If I could work in song, hitting upon the minstrel’s art,
Passion to steal away Reason,
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 1 19
Sing me a Song
Sing me a song and I’ll show you one
Sing me a song and I’ll draw you in
Open the door, throw away the key
You won’t need it, now you’ve got me
Sing me a song and I’ll draw you in
Draw you in to the promised den,
The promised den for din-din
Sing me a song and I’ll wrap you up,
Carry you away for a little cup
Taste the brew, you’ll see why,
As we take flight, through the sky
Such mysteries you will see,
Through the doors, as I draw you in,
Fit you up with demon skin
Sing me a song and I’ll show you one,
Open the doors, let you in,
Unlock the gate, throw away the key
Into the face of Destiny
Into the face of Destiny
Open the door, throw away the key
O Mystical Delicacy
Sing me a song and I’ll show you one,
Sing me a song, and I’ll draw you in,
Sing me a song, let’s begin,
Now that you know the demon’s skin
Singing’s the key to the heart of me,
Keep it up and I’ll show you the way,
Lead you on in mystery,
Here where th
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 1 21
Set: a Play to Wright
Set: a Play to Wright
Let’s wright a play together,
We’ll call it “The Scottish Play,”
Just to mess with drama geeks
And their oh-so thespian lovers
For all that ado they do so well
About sound and fury with pomp
But meaning, slightly less than
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 0 8
On Parliamentary Debate
Do not Proposition the Opposition,
during your round it is unwise to try
to maneuver into such a position
as to push your counterpart
against the podium, to your Perdition
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 1 0
Electric Sex
Rock me baby,
Roll us in the hay,
inside, outside, arms around
You – squeezed tight as
our form is wrapped within the musky,
husky voice of Barry on love,
Sweeping us up in satined velvet,
Silken drapery to make art of lovemaking.
Or was it to make lovemaking into art?
We cannot care, cannot even form questions,
Sentences, words fail us,
Ideas and images devolve
in a crackling blinding whirl
into colors, hot, cool, cold as ice on _______
textures like cherry stained silk-lace,
whirl, churn, burn, yearn
for ecstatic, sensual touches
as we whet ourselves
and drink in eroticism, becoming
more and more insatiable, gorging
faster, faster, more furiously,
desperately as we reach the
The Crescendo and are OH GOD YES!
Away over the void,
White-hot star shoots off the cliff
carrying us beneath,
then the heat cools, light dies
the moment over, all is
the inky, cooling black
Of little deaths and sleeping times
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 2 13
My dearest Chica Artista
Sketch me a little ditty,
my dear demoiselle d'art,
a fun little tune to while away
whilst waiting for you
Fresco me arias, operettas,
prima donnas with swelt breasts,
flushed faces straining to send
song that cannot be sound
Let your brushstrokes carry me
as the staff carries notes,
brushy staccato thunderclaps
ala hits of the orchestra brass
doping me up for the smooth,
linear neoclassicist, dances
promenading in stately elegance
meets glazed, syrup-flowing grace
so thick you can stick a fork in it,
and then I'm done, down before you
Strum me Warhol and Liechtenstein
on that rhythm guitar in the corner
6-strings standing in for the 60s
Lay me down, with smooth jazz,
silky, sexy dancing notes in the air
as Lawrence's figures find that sweet spot
of joy in sorrow, blues-ecstatic where art
and sense meet in minds for
consummate matches of dancing skill,
whirling away on the sinuous breeze out,
out into that sweet, smoky haze
The nights of the Jazz Age reborn
with sfumato neon lights abl
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 1 4
Anthrocentric addiction
Teeth gaping like a possum yawn,
hunger groaning, fear moaning
so thick froth and bubbles form
Apostrophe on alien actions,
its never been so fun,
anthropocentrism is addictive, you know
But mainly I'm hungry
so why don't you and the kids
come over as dinner?
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 0 2
Short Fiction
He loved her, she knew, frivolously though the messages went on.  That is, he thought she loved him and worshiped her for it.  But she couldn't be content.  
Restless, like a wild beast, she paced his enclosing arms, licking her lips the while.  
It happened one day.  Her chance to escape his love, incarnate clinginess that it was.  To feel the wind of the chase and prey.  
Dazzling light blinded her quarry.  The sweet smell of fear was ecstasy to her, as she pounced, struck.  
A crunch, a snap, and now lips are once more wet and red.
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 1 3
Deathmasquerading Neoprimitive by Coidzy Deathmasquerading Neoprimitive :iconcoidzy:Coidzy 0 12
Eternal Valediction: Flee Me
You know I love you
truly, deeply
I've writ you of it
So many times before
Now it grudges me to tell you,
but my God and Honor push me more
For I must break this off,
and journey from here apace
And this, my God tells me
Do not wait for me my love,
neither in the fields we dallied
nor the songs we sang
I go to War, yes it's true,
but though my death is assured
to this mortal plane
I do not die this day,
this battle is but of a score
Not the reason for our
Eternal Valediction
Nay, 'twas not meant to be
Our lusty love of poetry
By poetry for poetry
I fear the true expression of my ardour,
the realization of my aims,
what it could destroy in you
through the Lovers' stifling way;
losing the quiet moments at night
and the stillness of mourning
would cut the roots out of
that divine creation
and so in great ironic twist,
lose what is your most precious part
by the final conquest of your heart
So I must turn away from you,
but first I must give warning,
since I cannot kill my af
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 1 38
A Heady Pink Sensation
You: Beautiful Creature and Creator
What could this feeling be?
Roused within me,
at the slightest sighting of
You: both creature and creations.
Such images dance before my mind's eye
as it beholds what you will show
through the window that opens up
onto the stage of your soul:
Eyes and Works of the Muse.
Both are beautiful, but which drives me so?
'Twas born of thine works
and gleaned from your
thoughts and wit
but that doesn't stop
this heady pink malaise
seizing my mind
soliciting lascivious phrase
to complement my winsome gaze
upon your… endowed form
Yet even as this physical-pink lust
winds its way through my body,
whene'er I catch a glimpse of
your creative endeavours;
Hot desire traces the skies
like tendrils shoot out,
born of a mushroom cloud
interlacing with my being
a heady desire for our
Consummate, Collaborative
Even when not brought low
by your opiate perfume, still…
Your – fluid grace, your creations
of song and paint and dancing mem'ry
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 0 2
Passing by a Park
On a walk through the lanes, houses, dames
Of this balmy-good, old neighbourhood,
I chained my canine companion to
My sutherpaw as I went, excited as he was
By our weaving through a stream of humanity,
Trickling as it were on towards the refreshing fields
And greener space of the park and batting-ground
As I drew near, amongst this man-and-woman water,
a greater and greater flow built up
Of people through these channel streams
Sidewalk, lane, and road
And I saw along with young nymphs,
Approaching the days of fiercest courtship,
The youngest boys of summer there did cavort
Though with a purpose to their stride
Towards the park we went, meandered in the course,
Through straight and true-shod it was,
My Freeman†, chained, and I
The gravel and silt of this river
Carried to its final destination
We came at lengths upon a great commotion,
Structures – bright and primary in color
There rose and blotted out the green
As was the Robins song drowned out
By the kinders'‡ scream, for at play were
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 0 16
Girl of Multiplicitous Hue
Rainbow-skirt Hippy Girl
walking down the way
glittering with hues,
colors flashing like bangles janglin'
How she catches eyes –
leastways all the guys
turn to catch a glimpse
even those who "ain't into that kinky shit"
drink their fill of her visage
Whether her locks be Raven's fare
a golden tribute to all maids fair
scarlet, sinuous tresses for a sorcerer's dame
or any hue under the sun or over rainbows-
She tempts by what she is
as she weaves her course
through the crowd and all our lives
O Girl of Multiplicitous Hue
Shine on in that day's glow
And gleam in this hot night
Just don't be too surprised when
this courtship lasts longer than one'd expect
might as well build up the focus
and intent of purpose
up to an overpowering crescendo-wave
to lose yourselves and half the countryside
into a honeyed moon's storm
in that space betwixt reality
and ethereal madness, offered only
to you few.
:iconcoidzy:Coidzy 2 5

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Who's Afraid of VirginiaWoolf?
Stereotyping, patriarchy, and objectification -
Women keep claiming to be subjects of such oppression.
Apparently, I'm a victim of social, political, and economic segregation.
I search my memory to remember such crime
But all I recall is my mother saying, "Men are all pigs,"
As she pigged out in front of Lifetime.
But I admit at this time in my life
She might not be the best example of reason and rhyme
So I turn to my peers who are "down" with the times.
But all I see are girls complaining about all the weight they've been gaining
Or the orgasms they've been feigning
Or how "Mike keeps looking at my chest and doesn't listen to what I'm saying"
As they adjust their push-up bras, ignoring all laws of decency.
And is it hard to see why this "feminism" confuses me?
You screetch and preach for rights and fight for equality
While the reality shows that you've fashioned your lifestyles into some reality show
That is the very essence of inequality that you claim to be fighting against.
You tak
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prose and water
        today winter seeps into my footsteps,
and sky is flat and wan river gray.
I am lined with words, stories, poems-
my veins are robust adjectives, flowing to the seams,
the hair that falls from my face is wispy nouns
and bits of dream that were never spoken.
When the moon breaks on the horizon,
my wordy body is unkempt.  
lines of unedited prose bloom on my skin,
punctuation freckles spatter across the bridge of my nose like the mildly infatuated thing I am.
This flesh is at once bitter-cherry ache for the world, coffee-heat,
and the poise of haiku, drenching itself in rain.
Cold rising from the ground,
wind greets me with shivers,
I wish this would unbind my metaphorical knots.
Wintering pulls my steps out the door to walk far afield,
and today
I am steeped in weeping clouds.
:iconmoonlitwindypath:moonlitwindypath 2 11
In which I'm taut with music
Moon-rising, I am feverish with orange and persimmon
hues, sweating out a coolly wailing note on my fiddle.
I play my ode to the sky,
To the night-blanket above,
complementing warm emotions with the blue of a thousand
India inks spilled on canvas,
I bask in simmered-over starlight.
A quiet thrum from the wind slinking and sliding between husks of corn lingers,
sauntering about the shake of low notes on a C string,
the quick gasp of a plucked note,
and the pat pat pat
of my bare foot on the porch.
:iconmoonlitwindypath:moonlitwindypath 1 4
So many fridays, so little time! But there's certainly enough time for everyone to enjoy some writing. ;p
fotoFRIDAY recently celebrated it's 30th week anniversary! Way back on August 11th of 2006, fotoFRIDAY started inspiring dA writers with photography from artists here on dA-- and thirty weeks later, we've got more participation than ever. Keep writing, everyone! fotoFRIDAY is alive thanks to all of you. :heart:
On that happy note, there are a few contests being prepped for the middle of May; if you'd like to help by donating prizes or featuring winners, please note me at the fotoFRIDAY account.
:postit: fotoFRIDAY is looking for another staff member! If you're a writer with some spare time on your hands and you're familiar with deviantART's news system as well as basic HTML, we could use some help with writing fotoFRIDAY's weekly result articles. If you're interested, don't be afraid to note the account for more information!
This week is another catch up article for fot
:iconfotofriday:fotoFRIDAY 26 1
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Tips For Editing Poetry
***Tips For the Novice (and otherwise) - Editing***
The blanket statement, "Editing/revision harms poetry," is simply wrong.  It's akin to a photographer claiming that focusing the lens ruins the emotion of the photograph.  It is the details, and the appropriate attention paid to them, that separate a photograph from a snapshot.  Imagine a film maker slapping every frame he shot up on the screen without editing for continuity, for pacing, for effect.  What a disaster.  That is not to say that editing can't be destructive - there is such a thing as poor editing, just as there is poor writing.  But done correctly, done well, it is one of the most important tools in the poet's shed.
Never shy away from editing/revision.  Some young writers feel that to revise is to kill the spirit of the poem.  This notion serves to sacrifice the potential of a poem for an ideal that
:iconsuture:suture 566 160
Dammed River
Words meet seldom,
Plans made with no destination,
Lead tears clean through
When words hold back,
Erasers spill
And smear the mess.
Sit in silence for awhile
Watch the clock turn for awhile
To the rhythm
Of words lost and blackened
Is it naive
To search for the rail?
A guide be but too expensive,
Thoughts simply lean and pour into a vase of savings.
:iconroningaleria:RoninGaleria 7 21
Playboy - Lit and Tits
        When I was in middle school, my brother got busted with possession of pornography in our home.  I found out it was something called Playboy, and I asked my mom "What's so bad about it?" to which she replied: "It's a dirty magazine, Haley.  Not appropriate for young ladies and boys your brother's age," (he was in high school by then).  Years later, when I was in high school and discovered my own college boyfriend had a stash, I had to discover what all the huff and smut was about: and I found it purely fascinating.  I'm now 21 years old, and I read Playboy for the articles.
        Debuting in 1953, with the then-unknown Marilyn Monroe as the first centerfold, Playboy set out to be not just any nudie magazine:  they wanted to be "a sophisticated handbook for the urban male."  Along with beautiful naked women, the reade
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Amoral Antslide
United States
Current Residence: Los Estados Unidos
Operating System: MAC OSX
MP3 player of choice: iTunes
Wallpaper of choice: minimalistic
Personal Quote: Storytelling is the Masturbation of the Imagination.



Add a Comment:
BaconBoy914 Featured By Owner Dec 2, 2013  Student General Artist
Thanks for the fave, Coid. ;)
skeppio Featured By Owner Dec 2, 2013
Thanks for the fave :)
Samore Featured By Owner Feb 27, 2012
Captain-Sweden Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
Hello there. ;)
Captain-Sweden Featured By Owner Dec 12, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
It goes. Somewhere.

Is VisualLit active?
Coidzy Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2011
Well, aren't you bubbly.

How goes it?
Captain-Sweden Featured By Owner Dec 12, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
It goes. Somewhere.

Is VisualLit active?
Coidzy Featured By Owner Dec 13, 2011
Probably not, I haven't taken the time to check it out and change my sig in a good while.
Domochevsky Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2010  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Comments were made! I have been summoned! @_@
Coidzy Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2010
OH noes! Are you going to nom my soul now?
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