HairyDiamond

Iain Diamond

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To write by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

To write

I want to write about loves lost Or labours lived so long they law low in satin graves. I want to write about far off wars, And their distant effects. The muffled sound of Rifles, insulting my ears, grazing my fears. In a blithering display of apathy. I want to write of the sunrise, And the sunset and the clouds which mask it Like a child on Halloween. It's a promise of days to come. Like the prospect of the old lady on the corner of the street Who lives with her cats, and the sweets she gives. I want to write of my futures. My possibilities. The results of my inquiries To life, love and the lament of the loss of both Lik

Scripture by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Scripture

It's hard to write something happy. The radio breaks my heart with a thousand different voices and less so chord choices. Smiling figures lament, on my way down. Sitting here in my eden, clutching at words and notes, melodies and metaphors; The corpse of a radio behind me, I draw nothing but blanks. I am smiling, My dream clutched in both hands, resonating. But a smile is as precious prayer, And in my eden, serpents abide.

Musing by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Musing

I wish I had a Muse To take my hand and graft it to my pen again; A voice to tell me "It'll be alright", A cliche to hold me through the night. An inspiration to fill a void of transparent beliefs, As I am half the man I used to be. I wish I was Kurt Cobain, Whose nova strung his hands to a broken guitar; A symbol of youth, angst, Anger and beauty. A life ended too soon seems appealing; He had something to sing about. I wish it was the future Where indecision becomes Like my beliefs, Asunder. Fear of heated globes and foreshadowing of God's War grows tedious. I wish my bed was a coffin. At least then, the wait would b

Speed by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Speed

He was a man Who simply stood. Still, unmoving, He let the world pass him by. People of all types of motion passed him As the time passed also. He was briskly side-stepped, Meandered, Rushed, Ran and Rammed, But the man, was oblivious, and Stood still. The suits avoided him, On their way past. The children slowed down, Saving their eyes for the last glance And like some obscene dance they rushed by The man who Stood still. Many let machines walk for them But they stayed angrily focused on those in front Chasing each other endlessly. They where only blurs that occurred To the man, Who stood still. The sun himself,

Faith, by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Faith,

Row upon row Of faith Strapped to his chest Like obscene rosary beads. He hides it all under A cut price suit. The sharp lines Obscure the cross he bears. In his hand, he holds A black twisted figurine: His key to the gates of Paradise, martyrdom or demise, Depending on point of view. Steeled by notions Of faith; A dangling carrot of Glory and Pride. He walks towards his destiny; A crowded room Of faceless suits, Each bearing their own crosses, Nailed together by cashflow. Stopping momentarily Only to spit on the concrete, He walks through the gates.

Seventh Day by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Seventh Day

Tedium. The slow drip of seconds passing Which add again and again To form a torrent of hours, Regulated by the sun, which He Created on a whim. After the spawning Of children in his likeness, He sat lazily in the long grass, Watching them in His garden. They marveled at His creation; The serpents, the groves, But He couldn’t help but think Could He have done better? But now that he conjured Up that glowing nuisance, Time would not reverse. He is left there wondering. Encased in the green grass of Eden, He falls asleep. ------------------------------------------------------ Cackling Like the archetypical villain

A purple funeral by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

A purple funeral

Forgoing all the trappings Of a conventional goodbye, The dead man himself decided To coat his funeral in purple. A dying wish, From his dying days Which lasted 12 long years. But at least by the end his fears Would be relieved And the end he would welcome. Which he did; Ushering in his corpse Under the guise of lilac men And a Cat Stevens song, Beneath that box He is smiling. Purple attire being awkward To come by, however, Results in many simply Wearing the same old funeral suit That they have now worn out, With but a flash of purple. One man drapes a leather jacket over his shoulders As he chews gum in the back row

Rhythm by HairyDiamond, literature

Blood by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Blood

Oh look, You’ve gone and became his son; Embracing his inheritance Of ineptitude, morals and prejudice of Youth. You change yourself, by yourself, Forsaking family in favor of material. Your veins must be empty husks, Crossing your body like the clothes of Some haunted Emperor. One time, When the prospects of better days Left us heavy with hope, We thought you would change. But you brought new meaning to false, Or at least reinforced old ones. I remember my mother’s second wedding. Her dress, snow-like, An echo of the winter passed. We all hoped you had changed. But you didn’t. Because in your case, Water

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Ghost Town by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Ghost Town

Barren streets with trees of green. People, now few and far between. But if you have seen what I have seen, and been where I have been, you'd uderstand this is a front to a scene which is not as it appears to be. With them being me, and me being he, and we pretending to be free, while staying away from being me, we just can't see that to be free, is to be me, when they don't want me to be. So I'll be me if you be with me, and we'll be we together. In this Ghost Town. A moment is forever. You may say it's like your town, but deep down it's our town. No one can replicate the rancid rumours, sinister smiles, all the while, to y

Escapism. My Swan Song by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Escapism. My Swan Song

Cold, war-like mornings greet me, Casting out a grey blanket, whose sole purpose is to defeat me, Much like my footing, taken from beneath me, Leaving me in a daze; In a haze of the days that follow days which combine into months, then years to confirm my fears of inevitable age: That continuous turning of page after page, which keeps me in my daze of days. But not one to be set in my ways, I remedy this malady with a lyrical quality. Putting pen to paper, with words from maker I continue my policy of questioning reality. If real is what you can touch and feel, then surely, idea's appeal has been outdated? But then again, Sen

Another one by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Another one

Another day, Another knotch on your bedpost. Another way, to exhume and consume the most. One more tale, Another story of Bloody Wine and bread so stale. A wonderous fable in all its glory. But not everything has a happy ending. Some messages are lost in sending. The city can be a scary place. So clutch on to your charms so loose, as they hang round your neck. It's an informal noose, But you'll be better off to check: For the monsters underneath your bed. And behind you, in defense of Neds. Because the city can be a scary place.

Harvest by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Harvest

A Promise, empty like the bottle Who's toothless grin mocks your hopes, Your fears, Infatuations (or those more so). So life is empty, In the bottom of the barrel. Consume, consume; Feed from the harvest. The Rotten cereal. Pain is but electricity. Fear not the tides. Walk with me. But now I stand aside, My face reflects on the murky waters As I look downwards, onwards. You are falling. Drowning, Drowning. Your body rejects the currant. Suffication. Reach for the heavens. Grasp but weeds. Reality is a Hallucination. He is coming. A harvest For the ancient young. Enjoy the cold air. Look- watch him come.

Fabled by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Fabled

My Iacarus. The sun shone shards of false promises that glistened in your eye, my son. Freedom, love, life; you will have none. The constant beast bathed you in treachery so bright. It seems the shadow is darkest, when close to the light. Weak wax wings, made of nought but Hope And hope alone, kept you alfoat. But the winds could not carry, that joyfull frame. The seas could not catch, my friend aflame. So as you look beneath your cloud, on those who were always below. You shall see the folly in your life, so proud. Freefall follows folly, but of that you know. So give me a reason, I ask him each night. Give me a reason to slee

Last will and testemant. by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Last will and testemant.

Mines bigger than yours. Revel in ubiquity. Fear society. Revelations. Condemnations. Fornications. Say again. Halos. Heroes. False gods. White snows. Rubber bullets. Hose pipe. Clenched fist. The other pipe. Ching Ching. The register echoes. Bang. Bang. Your dead. TV. Screams. Drink me! Consume! Inflatible. Disposable. Sex on a spoon. Lithium loopholes. Hangmans guilt. Inject beckons. One, two, three, four.... WE ARE THE AMERICAN ARMY. WE REPRESENT OUR COUNTRIES OIL INTERESTS OVERSEAS. Hear the children cry lipid tears. Oh, hello Mr. Reaper. I've wasted what?

To recede by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

To recede

"Another?" asks the barman, Your only friend. You stop. Look to the door, only to pretend, others know you. That others care. "Another" asks the barman. No ones there. The dark streets eye, is giving me evils. I watch the sky, as seagulls cirlce. They remind me of vultures. The dark streets eye; mirror of wrong cultures. Life at the bottom of the barrel is so appealing. So revealing. Life in here with the dregs of the apple is so demeaning. Im receding...

Reflection, a seance to George by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Reflection, a seance to George

Prime cut television of the night time subterfuge. Chocolate covered Hiroshima, Don't you read the news? The man on the Ehm-TV tells me that I must still keep faith: "No oil was hurt in the making of this programme." Thuroughbred chaos; Is the manchild of the book. Postbox waketh eagle. The bait is on the hook. The voice of currency controls me, to Buy. Consume. People will believe anything. An Assanine figurehead, of Anglo-Galic proportions. Places bets on the favourite, The first wins free abortions. The live entertainer laughs at me. He's famous from expsoure. Release me from reality. Please. Beckon winds of change.

Stars by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Stars

Stars. "Help me die" She asks with a wry smile which makes you think half a heart is working. Symbolism is wreathed with irony, in this instance; cliche is deadly. What do you say? You do not know. Contemplation. Thoughts of first memories and the firsts of first. Life, love, pride, recolections, a mist-free valley. She speaks again. Still you do not answer. "Do it for love". Help her choose her end like you wish to chose yours: Fear of the water has a downside, your chest tightens. That fear rolls down your face. Satire and salt. "Do it for me." For the scenes the pictures paint and the future, untimely stolen fro

Untitled by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

Untitled

It starts young. How can you hate life before it's begun? A violent fascination. Strange impersinations Of warlords, warriors, criminals and rapists. A crimson tide is childs play these days. But where do the boundaries end? TV becomes reality. The playground is a warzone. A child's eye is blind to life. They cannot see. Life is in silence. Person to person speach becomes imagination. Stale communication. Resulting in digital aggrevation. The battlefield is binary. Ones killing Zeros. Pain is but a simulation, Poisoning the polluted, Bringing death to the diseased. The ring tone is the death tole. Child sized graves, The w

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Deviation Spotlight

To Introduce by HairyDiamond, literature

Literature

To Introduce

"That's me" I say, Pointing to a faded photograph, "Back when my hair was long, And metal was my traveling song." Back then I had an identity And all the trappings of adolescence angst: Acquaintances, friendships Failings, farces and even Loves; I had all, back then. Coated in sunshine, My matted brethren and I, Lived for the moment, Beside campfires, In beer stained houses With relentless thunder and Wailing strings. Now, hunched over a desk, I cast my eye back to last summer, Whose high spirits kept me young. But the guitars are laid to rest now; "You have grown up, my son." So now, when I meet new people And they a

To Introduce

HairyDiamond

About HairyDiamond

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Artist // Literature

United Kingdom
Deviant for 16 years
He / Him

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My Bio

Current Residence: Bonnie Scotland
Favourite genre of music: Anything really.
Favourite photographer: Dont really know many.
Favourite style of art: Same as above
Operating System: Microsoft, something.
MP3 player of choice: A broken iPod
Shell of choice: Pasta shells.
Wallpaper of choice: Blue
Skin of choice: My own skin is cool.
Favourite cartoon character: Cartman
Personal Quote: There is nothing more soporiphic than this rural bliss" -Chekov

Favourite Visual Artist

Not really a visually arty person, E A Hornell because he knew my grandad.

Favourite Movies

Lots: Shawshank Redemption, Donnie Darko, Dead Poet society, dogma....

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

At the moment I'm lovin' Slayer, Megadeth, Machine Head, Metallica, KillSwitch, Blur, SB6,

Favourite Writers

John Dunne, Kurt Cobain, Dylan, Shakespeare and Tomas Kalnoky

Favourite Games

Life

Favourite Gaming Platform

n64

Tools of the Trade

Pen, keyboard, toilet paper, notepad, beer.

Other Interests

Writing, Music (Listening to and playing guitar, drums, bass, djembe, kpanglogo)

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HairyDiamond

Jul 25, 2007

100 Themes Challenge

0 min read

                         #100ThemesChallenge (https://www.deviantart.com/100themeschallenge) 1. Introduction (Complete) : Link 2. Love (Complete) : Link 3. Light (Complete): Link 4. Dark (Complete): Link 5. Seeking Solace (Complete): Link 6. Break Away (Complete): Link 7. Heaven (Complete): Link 8. Innocence (Complete): Link 9. Drive  (Complete- to be submitted): Link 10. Breathe Again (Complete) : Link 11. Memory (Complete- to be submitted): Link 12. Insanity (Complete- to be submitted): Link 13. Misfortune (Complete- to be submitted): Link 14. Smile (Complete- to be submitted): Link 15. Silence (Complete- to be submitted): Link 16. Questioning 17. Blood: (Complete-

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HairyDiamond

Jul 16, 2007

A snapshot of the popular iHermit (Act one, scene

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So, I'm sitting here in my cocoon-like office at work. I call it an office, when really, it's a shed. Cold in the mornings, boiling in the afternoon, my maple cell brings me a fresh supply of tourists every day, eager to be informed (guessed my job yet?) and book overpriced activities. I hate tourists. Anyway, my bosses made one mistake, they gave me a computer, so now I can explore cyberspace, as my clientele (odd word, that, makes me sound like a gigolo) explore the depths of Dumfries and Galloway. And my point? Well, none really. Luckily, I stem the boredom with underaged drinking (18 in November, then all the fun form drinking will di