Epochus

Awkward Wordsmith

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Paradigm by Epochus, literature

Literature

Paradigm

The air is thick with vocatives, Syllable upon syllable, Unwrap my writing. My name? I am an analogy between active and passive voice I buzz with infinitives, Ampu -a -ed Much like a chainsaw. You will write about me in fourth person. Nevertheless, I would be analysed in Spivak pronoun, Impersonal, neutered, neutral, A present continuous whisper. You, after your abstractions, shall not understand. What misfortune, When in-between the full stops there is no space. For addition

Satellite Number One. by Epochus, literature

The Saint in the Tower by Epochus, literature

Thoughts of a robot by Epochus, literature

Echoes by Epochus, literature

Literature

Echoes

He is everywhere and nowhere, Somewhere both far from now and incredibly near. He is the heartbeat, the pause between heartbeats, The tongue and the food, milk and poison. He is the silence and the concert hall, The noise without origin, The mute thunderclap. He is anonymous and all know his name, The thawing and freezing of ice to water, water to ice, Time too answers to his voice. He is the growth of the garden, The blossoming of teeth from pink fleshy soil, He is the reward and the reprimand; the resolution. He is the end of the echo.

Night Life - Daylight by Epochus, literature

Steel Swan Song by Epochus, literature

Temptation by Epochus, literature

To he who will never read this by Epochus, literature

Literature

To he who will never read this

To he of my eye, To you of my heart I give; No apology, no sorry, No group-hug-kiss-and-make-up. Just avoidant phrase, and A gaze restless: Two blessed curses from He whose racing charm-less heart you touched With your fingers: your palm, and set ablaze. Ice has since veneered that flame, I have been taciturn. Between the hand span of seconds We have been swallowed by an abyss: Then by your tempered indecision, Now by itching indifference. The two gifts unwanted, blighted sublimation, All that I should wish. To he of the hammer, A mute Thor, who shattered void; Despite this Polaroid nightmare, I should love you. Should I p

Strings by Epochus, literature

Literature

Strings

Should you wake up and find An unbroken thread of Chinese silk, Wrapped around your tiniest finger, Would you follow it? And if that fine robust line should, Perhaps, upon waking, Carry along the gentlest of pulls, Would you follow it? Should you not follow it, And should the night get cold and misty, Should the pull continue softly once more, Would you follow it then? Perhaps you would, And strike another's heart, another's Soul; a bracing, freezing embrace, Would perhaps we shatter into each other? Perhaps yet, you would pull with Corporeal might upon a ceaseless yarn, Should I land anchored next to you, Would you guilti

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Cherry by Epochus, literature

Literature

Cherry

Cherries hang like jewels, Branches and tendons, strings of gold. Tree, be a stand for ruby necklaces, Presents for my love, my sweetheart. Give a shelter from the cold wind, Still, warm, evening air. For us, for us. Grass, catch the falling pendants, Slivers of amethyst and emerald. Let us sit and dream of all, Soft, warm, welcoming grass. For us, for us. It is quiet now, birds, whispers of Lives yet to come and lives long gone Are all that surround us. Come to me, Please. Let us sit together and watch The sun set like a dim, cheap light bulb. Come to me, please. The sky is alive With diamonds; bright, flickering, Beautif

Butterfly Caged by Epochus, literature

Literature

Butterfly Caged

Warm walls of flesh, holding in a life. Night and day the changing butterfly slept. Peaceful slumber, blissful ignorance. Which cruel and heartless intervention trapped him? I wonder if he will wake up. If he will ever show the world who he is. Biology lesson, nothing to do, I try my hardest, and yet nothing changes, You can't rush these things. I imagined what would happen the day that he broke out, How the drab skin would unfold and leave him, Awake and vulnerable, honest, in a strange new world. Lost. I often marvelled at the intensity of what he could be, The pure beauty and flamboyance, With wings that would take to the sk

Hurricane by Epochus, literature

Literature

Hurricane

You are the Hurricane, Which sweeps the puzzle of my life away, Clear off the table cloth. A piece of sunset suspended in midair, There the rudder of a boat sailing about the room, And there, the darkest piece, a tile of ocean, Vast and endless and black. You are the maelstrom, Tearing my life apart, My sky in two, My ocean into hundreds of drops of water. The cold knocks on the door in my room, Parasite. I think the puzzle uncompletable now, For all the pieces sunk into oblivion. I surrender. The pieces are not in the air anymore, But they are still hard to arrange, And it's getting late. Just when I though the puzzle uns

Beauty by Epochus, literature

Literature

Beauty

It's cold so I turn the radiator in my room on. There's so much I have to tell you, so much, But you have to go soon so I'll just listen. There's always this crackling hum, getting worse, Needs repair it does, I'm sure of it. We always Talk about the same things. Every time. I often get lonely, I'm sure you can understand why, You always understand me, you give me stability, No surprises, just love and friendship. Then always, the cosy warm silence, About a minute whilst we think of all the Things we did together, all those memories. With my eyes open I can feel it, like those memories, fading away. But if I close my eyes and ju

Fourty-past Never by Epochus, literature

Literature

Fourty-past Never

At twenty to the hour I await another moment to pass me by completely, A second is long and endless, a moment contained in eternity, A grain of sand left in the top half-hourglass means that nothing is impossible. We see it all around us, in the bad spelling, the lies and the truth all behind the same fake smiles, We can even see it in the sky if we look hard enough, Focus and will can change the shape of clouds into something vaguely recognisable. My feet change for roots, long and powerful, My skin warps into rough bark and I loose all feeling, I will my hair thick and wiry, to morph into branches, or leaves, Until a bough of thorn

Fire Smoke Ash or Moth by Epochus, literature

Literature

Fire Smoke Ash or Moth

White hot light, cool heat, sober and sweet and awakening, lips parted, feel the energy, the passion, this power is you. Chalky sterile air, smooth fumes, darkness looms, calming and assuring, lips parted, breathe the residue, the poison, this power is you. Dusky coarse soil, clean cinders, soft and limber and loved when alive, lips parted, accept the destinity, the fate, this powder is you.

Finding I by Epochus, literature

Literature

Finding I

I crave the open sky beneath my feet, I feeeling of knowing that all is yours and you are not alone. Parachuting, absailing, I free fall through ceilings and floors until I reach the ground, soft hollow sound which I no longer feel nor fear because I have long given up. If everyone were to forget me? I shelter the flame with my body, I try against vanity and my own eyes to see past the smoke and mirrors. I can't find the exit, where is the door, the door. Nothing comforts me, nothing offers more warmth than the flame I fight to keep alive, draining my life in the process. This is the prison that I here have created for you. Or was it for

Liebe by Epochus, literature

Literature

Liebe

how close are you i can't reach out and touch that face i can't see the light of my own eyes reflected in yours everytime i- -when i- -think about that day i remember the warmth of your hands soft deep warm hands and i drew my strength from you darling my sweetheart your hands are colder than they were before i brushed them as i slid the watch off your wrist i watched the clockwork spin the hands of time as cold and calculating as you had become please dear give to me the words that heal i need to feel the soul that beats inside me fighting a loosing battle against the cold and rescue me from the chilling hold give me back

Mirrors and Window Panes by Epochus, literature

Literature

Mirrors and Window Panes

candy-colour hues, stormy soft and smothering, more, i fade into soapy bland existence, more, i laugh and smile and loose meaning. two-dimensional, a line across a pane as incomprehensible as the speech you speak i don't, you laugh quietly and breathe upon the window, and squiggle upon it a board it's a game nothing more, upon it a cross and a naught, it's a game nothing more, but both sides mean the same. both players make a mark of oblivion upon the mist. is this the end? you look at me, bemused, confused, and shake your head. i must be going crazy i must be going crazy. you smile and laugh and play yoursel

Calm by Epochus, literature

Literature

Calm

In a back-water village just off the beaten track, there lay a still lake trapped in time. Many people told of the dark monsters that hung in the depths, the small stories of mishaps told to warn children from straying too close to the edge. The lake stood in the middle of the town, it wasn't a huge lake but the town was proud of it, and the gnarled, leafless tree that stood beside it. They were proud of the stony tranquillity. The village was a silent, secluded place with its own tiny hospital and its own tiny school and its own Church that sat awkwardly between the tiny greengrocers and the rows of tiny houses where the old women s

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Deviation Spotlight

This line of Honesty by Epochus, literature

Literature

This line of Honesty

I keep forgetting, Is this how it ends or where it begins? I wrap myself around your neck, Noose or scarf, you choose which, From here on out it's your choice. I trace the line with a finger, Down across the heart, around the belly button, This is the line I imagine, this is the perhaps and maybe of it all. Any objections raise your hands, Raise your voice to mine, Will you respond or am I alone screaming on the hill? Am I the fault upon this line? Am I the one throwing stones at the sky? Or is it you? Either I've forgotten or I can't tell. Are these the grey folds of memory or the dim vision of night? I walk up to you and trac

This line of Honesty

Epochus

About Epochus

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United Kingdom
Deviant for 20 years
He / Him

Badges

My Bio

Current Residence: Londonish

Favourite Visual Artist

Roy Lichtenstein

Favourite Movies

The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Garbage, The Cardigans, Bjork, The Velvet Underground, Rufus Wainwright and Radiohead

Favourite Writers

Carol Ann Duffy

Tools of the Trade

My heart

Other Interests

Playing the Piano

Posts

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Epochus

May 5, 2005

Why I want a skirt...

0 min read

I could be very eloguent and put forward my ideas in a roundabout way which expresses exactly how I feel, but I won't. To be honest, I don't expect anyone to understand where I'm coming form with this but I'd like to share it. Biologically, I'm male, no arguing with biology there. That said, recently I've been craving to try on a skirt. People, strangley, look at my funny when I say this, also people keep thinking I want to be a girl. I don't, in fact I've been thinking that gender really means nothing. I don't feel like a boy, at the same time I don't feel like a girl, I feel like both inside. That's just how I feel. gosh that made no sens

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Epochus

Apr 1, 2005

Things I wish to share

0 min read

Nothing especially interesting has happened latley, story of my life. I've shortened down my Othello coursework and sent it off, final draft, but that's boring. People, check out Bloc Party! They are really very good! I've aso been listening to more Björk recently, she's great! Hmm this is my attempt at doing something. Recently whilst looking around I found an intriguing, playful and talented photographer, check her out (this is where I see if i can do it) :deviconBlackPlastic: It is on her that the spotlight falls this time. Ah that is all! I hope you are all having a very good time.

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Epochus

Jan 19, 2005

Well well well.

0 min read

Well first of all, I'm back from Germany, I was back a whlie ago, but I'm back properly now, I'm in the London feeling. The Libertines are rocking my week so far, for a very good reason, namely their self-titled album, cheers guys. Well there's really nothing else for me to say, I still feel sorta wierded (listening to Radiohead can't help) but other than that I'm feeling fine. That is all.

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Profile Comments 39

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MonsieurYuloRouge

Feb 5, 2007

Hello, hello Mon Chere!

I am... Monsieur Yulo Rouge!

And I am here in this Magical Hour, just to Invite you Personally, to Cum in my Secret Garden...

There, you will Find some very Special Creatures, taht cums from the Delitefull World of Fantasys...

Hu hu hu... Don't be Shy my dear...
Cum with me!

Lets share some secrets...
I Invite you to Plunge in this wolrd of Dreams, Nightmares, Whispers, Kisses, Delicious, Passion... and must of All... LOVE...

You will be Very welcome in my Land, Mon Chere...

Lots of Kisses to You