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About Literature / Student Justin Crewe25/Male/United Kingdom Recent Activity
Deviant for 8 Years
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Perfection. The pinnacle of human existence
Used to be aspired to in a simple metal.
The path to happiness; existence itself
Determined by the possession of a rarity
Not anymore, what with rarities appearing
Everywhere. It makes you think; what did exist?
What was it that preceeded gold, when platinum
And diamonds dominate the world today?
Maybe a simple metal, such as copper?
Or simply pretty stones? Maybe it was just a look
Rather than the clank of metal in the pocket,
That we can hail back to.
So why is it we aspire to acquire items such as these?
For power? To hoard and satisfy our constant demand
For an influx of items to make us happy?
Why can't we avoid the things that infect us,
And our society; and love a golden smile?
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 2 1
Starting Again
Well let's just say, I'm sick of all the games I played,
In words that made no sense. In truth I can be vain;
Which may come as a shock, or not to those that have
Suffered greatly in knowing me  for longer than a chat.
I feel I've aged since I last wrote that unmelodic verse
That ached with gloomy undertones… and overtones at that.
So off with that discord of melancholic crap,
And on with something a touch more jovial,
An almost song, I'd hope you'd see
To read upon this page for thee!
Ach no, there goes myself again, using that archaic tongue,
That plagues my writing. No Plagued. Yet I go on and on.
Well, simply put, this little collection of my words
Should suffice to provide a voice that wants to dictate
Something that I hope is clear… Though I venture it is not.
Oh well, I should simply spell it then, instead of writing
Vague suggestions I will put it out in plain words:
I'm a bit older now, I guess it's for me to mature.
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 1 0
The Thursday Afternoon Club
Chapter 1: Trains
I loved the whoosh of the trains. The sound of air rippling past the windows never failed to make me giddy with excitement. Two years ago that day, I had sat in the same spot, nervous, young and alone, and that sound had taken me away. Now, aged twelve whole years, eight months and a day old, I sat down in the carriage again, pretending that the noise didn't make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge for fear that I would be made fun of by the others that rode the car. Though I wouldn't call them friends exactly, they were the people I talked to; Bean, Wood and Smith. They were all my age give or take a few months, and we were all newly in the third form. We were practically adults now, and adults didn't get excited over noises.
The train rattled over some change in track, and we all bounced around in the seats that were far too big for us. Behind me, I heard the clatter of a first year's bags falling from the top shelf, like they always did. It was a mistake
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 1 1
Subtle Hints
Interesting topic, I have been reliably
Assured that you do not know, have not received the
Memo regarding something I've never said explicitly.
Granted; I may have hinted at it from time to time
And maybe I thought you'd see a pattern forming, but now, I see;
You'd never understand.
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 9 2
Wishing for Something New
So, I'm here with an absent mind,
Watching moving lights behind a pane of glass,
With my mind turning to mush,
Numbed from a lack of inspired thought.
This heart is a hollowed room, been emptied
For a resident who has never come,
Occupied only by ghosts of what I want.
Hung around my neck, leaden chains weigh,
Emotions amplified by the moment's rage,
Tugging at me; each-so-every way to go.
I'm endlessly hopeful of appraisal of someone
Who is forever unlike me.
While upon this couch others I know
Have forgotten who I am in their own ecstasy.
My monotonous mental torture endures,
Belying a desperate hope to cease my solitude,
Pierced by a neurotic sense of how to be.
My deflated and dejected ego wells with tears,
With me paralysed in self deprecation
I hope this sunken feeling will disappear
when I see the unobtainable upon a screen
yet as a joke is made on the show I watch
my hollow laugh is not enough
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 10 4
One Fag in a Million.
Sometimes, I feel I want to be wanted.
But where do I go, to find a person
Who wants me, and not a place
To put his cock?
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 1 1
Liverpool Street
Liverpool Street
The midday train carriage was full of people groaning and sweating as they tried to find room, moving hands from their sides to rest against anything that would kill the cramps that reared its head miles ago. A dull, repetitive thud of metal against metal beat constantly, drowning out voices which were now reduced to angered glares and replies of apologetic faces for the accidental brush of a hand drawn across a back or shoulder. Soon, the beat of the train on the tracks below began to slow, little by little at first, accompanied by a light screech of grinding metal which steadily built as the train began to retreat from the frightening speeds. The monotonous groan of the engine began to slow as well, as if a great beast relieved and slowing at the last stretch of a long journey. A hiss of steam began to flood the views of the wondrous metropolis that had been growing since the familiar greens of fields and moors had devolved into a grey, brown blur.
A rush to get to t
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 2 0
A Change
Morning breaks over a landscape where
The sparse patches of white dot the grass,
These, the only measure of last night's fall
Of snow which occupied the ground.
An image of a speckled night sky remains,
When the snowflakes down to earth
To settle like an invading force,
Defiant to the inevitable coming
Of the sunrise.
Shaking hands cover a worried mouth.
My heart skips; I know what I did not hear:
That which was whispered into your ear.

In me, this memory tries to rest yet is disturbed;
A wearisome thought that will not settle,
Scratching at the back of the mind
Trying to breach my defences.
Your two widened eyes growing as silence continued.
A hole torn in the back of my throat grows,
My vacant stare goes on.

I sit, and stare from the outskirts of this warm room,
Just safe from the frosts outside; bracing this window as my shield.
Beyond, the ice retreats from the rising sun which
Is purging the mystical realm in which last night
I drifted through in drunken stupor,
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 8 4
Thinking of you.
Here I am with an absent mind,
Eyes fixated upon the moving lights
As I vegetate in front of the TV.
My heart, empty has lost its strings
After mistakenly latching onto the unreal;
A ghost upon a face that only I can see.
Feeble emotions that feel as strong
As a chain around my heart,
Tugging me from side to side.
I'll work at this, I will, I will and yet
Here I know of others in pure joy
While this inane mental torture
Belies a desperate hope not to be alone,
Punctured by a neurotic sense of being
Deflated and dejected ego
With my paralysed by misery.
Maybe this sunken feeling will disappear
When a joke is made on TV,
But my hollow laugh is not enough.
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 1 1
Dust upon the horizon marks where we once were.
In the sky; oppression arcs from distraught dawn, to dreary dusk,
Glaring curses upon the empty wastelands; we ride
Towards a destination beyond the furthest hills
That we can see, without hope; this land reeks of grim despair.
The skies are ablaze, the sun ignites the clouds
A sullen mix of blood and flame sweeps the cooling air
Before extinguishing tonight, as a ghostly mist does rise
And kill the light from a silver slit cut into the sky.
This path is lost, where behind is, chaos reigns.
In this dark time, where blind we sit in fear,
Of those who did run from us, when the sun was high.
Mistrust we place in ourselves, and those at our sides
When it is that brotherhood is needed most of all;
We shield ourselves against the threat, sit and wait for light.
Upon the dawn we set out once more upon a path;
On words cast by an unseen hand, spoke by an unheard lip
Yet still we carry out our task, in blind faith, if in nothing else;
On some man'
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 2 0
Unexpected Lemons
Tick-tock, minutes pass, the unseen threat
Mystery letter, no address attached.
An oncoming train, making no sound.
I sit upon dead sleepers, whispering to clouds,
Joke about the rumbles on the ground,
Laugh at those, who on rails sit
And stumble onwards onto misfortitude.
My own work though is quick undone,
In blindness or that deluded thought;
"God's will is on my side".
I am neither invincible, nor a god.
Yet one thing that I now have learned is thus;
When life hands me a lemon now,
I save the drinks and bite down hard.
For now, the bitter flesh tastes sweet.
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 2 1
This relationship is sick beyond all doubt
Riddled with the loose ends of thoughts
And malignant essences of turgid character
Where now all I see is a dusty barren waste.
Like trees, no voice will sprout from the ground, or mouth
No buds will blossom into flower, nor will words to smiles
And still, we try to plough the land
As if some vain hope to restore remains;
What we once had, but thoughts occur;
Was this just an outlived life?
Was the ground too lean to sow?
For now, all I hear and see and feel
Is different shades of dust and dirt
Which no longer sparks an ideal or dream
Now harbours such distasteful minds
Much like a hound and an outstayed guest
Now sees little meaning in these facades
So as the recycled green light peaks high,
My hand slides to make of a beep, a drone.
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 1 3
3 a.m.
With bright stars and fireflies burning the sky
Ice tips the wind and night reigns up high.
A silver-spun moon sheds light to the earth
As misery bursts riversides with mighty girth
Like a teardrop in darkness, brought to life;
A mind in stark madness, stricken with strife.
Memories and images with no definition
Looking without seeing, my guilty admission.
The missing sights and scenes so vast
Each in a sea of unspent pasts
Lost to my eye, so focussed on what planned;
The next step ahead, next task at hand
Never stopping, nor seeing the beauty ahead
As memories remain as indefinite threads
For I should not think, but see instead
While I lay shivering, in pain, in bed.
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 3 1
Beneath a wretched skin of floating scum,
This melting pot is writing to boil over.
Downtrodden truths flow like magma currents,
While above, land and sea mirage their lives
In a flowing façade; sweet siren song.
Grim will come, reap his crop; run fast, run far.
Yet the old witch claw, spent match grasped firm,
Skin mottled with the wreaths of golden flame
Stirs up the potent ichors that roil above.
Beneath her deathly pale skin, no soul or colour beats,
But for the faintest tint of stale red
Sent from a distant, love-starved heart
Trying once more to scream from behind the dark.
Strangled again, the surface scum you scent,
Harvest the hateful essences filtered from the humane.
All you ever want to feel; the heavy, misted odour,
Lingering of laughter, smiles masking lies.
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 2 0
Fable - The Banker Squirrel
In a dray of squirrels, each worked together to collect acorns for the winter, and while they hibernated, they would huddle together and stay warm. One autumn, the cleverest squirrel decided he didn't have enough food, so he tricked one of the other squirrels to climb up a treacherous tree which leant over a chasm. When the squirrel fell, the clever one took his acorns for the winter. The clever squirrel did this year after year, getting fatter and fatter so he tricked more and more squirrels to their deaths. Yet, one summer, where no squirrels were left to gather food for him, followed by a winter, where he would shiver, cold and alone.
Betray those who trust you, and soon, no one will be left to betray.
:iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 0 1
Pro Choice by Sir-Gecko Pro Choice :iconsir-gecko:Sir-Gecko 1 0


Dr. Who Cat aka Dr. Mew by NicholasKay Dr. Who Cat aka Dr. Mew :iconnicholaskay:NicholasKay 2,237 187 Amy Pond by alicexz Amy Pond :iconalicexz:alicexz 10,471 569
An old man hands her a bulletin
Does he know?
Does he know he just welcomed a gay into his church?
What if he did?
Would he take it back?
Kick her out?
Yell at her?
Tell her she's a sinner?
This old man doesn't know.
He doesn't know that yet another secret gay just walked into his church.
Another parishioner sits in the pews ostracized
Listening to the Pastor at the pulpit
Slowly dying inside knowing she doesn't fit in,
Knowing this church doesn't accept her orientation, the love of her life.
This man doesn't know.
She takes the bulletin, feigns a smile, and walks into the church.
She finds a seat in the back
No one knows.
This is why people are so nice to her.
No one knows who she really is.
If they did, would they still welcome her?
:iconlgbtactivist:lgbtactivist 51 37
Inner Demon by Skia Inner Demon :iconskia:Skia 3,896 356
What If...?
Have you ever been kept awake by the choices you didn't make?
Did they pull your eyes open, just as your mind began
Folding the day into soft squares to tuck under your pillow?
It's gone 3 a.m., but my pen keeps scratching on this yellow sticky note
And spilling out the worries that are overcrowding my head.
My weary hopes have climbed the stairs, sliding hands along the banister,
But all these steps seem to have led me nowhere.
I blink into the darkness, where all the familiar places become unknown.
The darkness: a lack of clarity.
Almost 4 a.m. I'll sleep now; put my pen to rest:
I'll dream of choices made.
:iconsunhoney:sunhoney 2 0
Goodbye by Culpeo-Fox Goodbye :iconculpeo-fox:Culpeo-Fox 1,089 318
Mature content
Want to write Prose? :iconjadehades:JadeHades 28 66
Scribble by meago Scribble :iconmeago:meago 5,717 453 I love kittens 05 by XElYX I love kittens 05 :iconxelyx:XElYX 3,298 396
Happier :icona-fine-frenzy:A-Fine-Frenzy 466 77
Ribbon by squiggly-weeble Ribbon :iconsquiggly-weeble:squiggly-weeble 1 0 Bryony by squiggly-weeble Bryony :iconsquiggly-weeble:squiggly-weeble 3 0 Abstract Flower by squiggly-weeble Abstract Flower :iconsquiggly-weeble:squiggly-weeble 3 2 Memories or Ghosts? by squiggly-weeble Memories or Ghosts? :iconsquiggly-weeble:squiggly-weeble 0 0
Following dreams...
Here we swivel, like dizzy spinning tops
Not knowing when or where twirling stops;
Whirling in spirals & circles, crossing in vain –
For we know not where we're led by this train
Of looping thoughts, & following dreams.
And we're thrown into the thrumming days,
Eyes swimming through the mystifying haze;
We search for an ending to this plight –
And find ourselves wings to leap in flight
Evading thoughts, & following dreams.
Are we holding on hopelessly to broken dreams?
Promised silver linings are weak at the seams –
What will it take to keep them tightly bound?
We're here, chasing after them, round & round –
Chasing perfect thoughts, & following dreams.
:iconsunhoney:sunhoney 5 6


Anyone a fan? I'm not, I'll be honest. Yes, I do appreciate the brilliant subtitles and complexities of his use of language, but that underlying thump of English lessons still beats against the back of my head, saying; "GRAR! READ SOMETHING WITH MORE EXPLOSIONS!" I think that's what played against me, the fact of being forced to read something. If I had ever picked out something of Shakespeare's to read, then I might have enjoyed it, but thanks to that iron fist saying "This is culture. You must read. You will enjoy. Now you will write essay." I think that it drained any passion from ol' Willy away from me. What I did realised recently was that I've actually attempted to draw a lot of how I write from his style, my recent messing around with iambs, my use of 'traditional' English over that tacky, tinny, new fangled stuff. So I appeal thus; If I promise to try and read some of Shakespeare, do any of the 2 (I might be pushing it there, but we can see) people who might actually read this thing give me a pointer as to some of your favourites the great man's works (Poetry preferably, but I could give reading plays a bash.)

Thank you for reading this. (If you did of course, and didn't just skip to see the bottom, you slimy bastard.)
  • Listening to: Hands Held High - Linkin' Park
  • Drinking: Beer/Lemoncello


Justin Crewe
Artist | Student | Literature
United Kingdom
Student with a passion for history!

Current fascination: Early Victorians (Thanks to an amazing first year module)


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Kaefullness Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2012  Hobbyist Artist
Nanorph Featured By Owner Dec 31, 2010
Thanks for the llama :aww:
MikomDude Featured By Owner Nov 29, 2010   Digital Artist
Very nice work you have here, you're a real poet :)

(this is lord_Skeybar from modDB btw)
Sir-Gecko Featured By Owner Nov 29, 2010  Student Writer
Thanks, hope it will be good working with you!
MikomDude Featured By Owner Nov 29, 2010   Digital Artist
Me too
sunhoney Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2010
thank you so so much gecko!!
JadeHades Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2010
Thanks for faving [link]
L-E-M Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2010
Thanks for the watch :D
sunhoney Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2010
add squiggly-weeble pleease! it's bubbles :D she's finally on dA!
manonsi Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2010   Writer
thanks for the fave! looking foward to the trio poem!! :D :D
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