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About Literature / Artist Lloyd Ryan ThomasMale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
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Literature
Verisimilitude
Serene cadence of neo-noir
death of masterpiece velvet upon screen.
A story to unhinge the listening soul
but a wicked reflection almost unseen.
Such harrowing beauty
and sublime honesty
in fact purloined.
My heart breaks at such artistry.
I hear the solemn song of my existence
as laughter within a gilded purse.
Echoes ring in vault-like basements
filled with dusty reels, lies terse.
From the final tone of such betrayal
I set my body painfully, ruefully upon a value.
I give to the listening soul my song,
my art, which shall be all true.
  
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The Thinker by WetWell The Thinker :iconwetwell:WetWell 0 0
Literature
Faded and at Rest
Alone at night in an unlit room the mind fashions itself external,
and all about becomes darkened chambers of memory and life.
Shrowded history....my own indeed....my lived and unlived days....
my wasted days and....the others.
In an unseen doorway I see....HER....black, sublimate figure of all
my earthly works....my history is HER as perfect black.
Faded and at rest, waiting one day to rise, one day in the final flame....to rise.
I would have HER gone! Drawing me to recollect....my choices....
options that drifted across my life as fumes do a city street....and
I grasped at what I could....I chose....I remember....artificial light
reflected from ornate masonry and suddenly, the absent face of possibility
....wrong option....poor choice.
Faded and at rest, waiting one day to rise, one day in the final flame....to rise.
I would have HER gone! Drawing me to recollect....a journey....
grey clouds that drifted across the sky, illuminated indeterminably,
the air chill and full of dust rain.
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Literature
Twilight Library
Friday fades behind the Regency terrace and the Oriental domes,
Georgie's maisonette awaits its nightly glow and glass fronted appartments
wait patient for the coming of the dark.
Amidst the city's failing hue and herbal funk, the merry prepare for their unfurling.
Polyphony, wine, laughter and idealistic prose sit upon the tip of evenings tongue.
In the library sit the weary time-killing crowd, eyes engaged in routine left to right with intermittent cascade to dozing. Conscientious students too, the obsessive, and the homeless.
Softbacks lean against one another like lovers, woozy lovers, swooning....prescience of tonights streets perhaps....nonetheless their carousing is the envy of the turgid hardbacks, regimented, walled-up, the Britannica and the Oxford.
Below sits a celebrity, retired boxer, Eubank, sitting over penne....arribiata. Alongside him a stranger, and another, and an indifferent looking native fingering Le Monde.
Black, albeit stained by spillage from the city's asphalt
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Literature
5 Stanzas on Public Execution
The insight granted us by television's frame
is like striking a match in a blind king's mausoleum.....
preparations for the afterlife,
  chalking off of equivocal deeds,
    dull eyes set upon one last enduring triumph.
A life lived in the mud of a golden cage
and virtuosity engineered in the play of syntax....
bespoke adjective welded to inflated verb,
  conjunctions rivet together glossy print monuments,
    exclamation mark ends sentence but plasticises sentiment.
Death lived out as food for tabloid guts
whilst sedated public salivates the terminal approaching eternal...
human hair descends littering hospital floors,
  lungs inspire themselves pneumonic,
    and grey men consult the Nielsen scale as blood turns venomous.
The balloon bursts at the end, much like make-believe..or a lie
but in what does enduring triumph consist?
A role contrived and then performed,
  flush choreography o
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Literature
Prodigy - Halcyon - Love
The candescent prodigy of the greatest age.
Demanded by the mass, renewing the Eucharist beyond the old world;
unforseen rituals, sweat rising up in the "blood".
The greateset saviour of the day, perhaps even the week,
but it is already prophecide that he will give his life for us,
so that we may sin, so that we may self-forget, but he will have his column inches.
I speak as a self-forgotten man who sees the world transfiguring
in the very moment in which it's failed to be grasped.
A little like, I think, I see a starling on a tree branch singing its nature away, I blink, now it's lying lifeless on the road. A little like, I think.
Spinoza drew the A to B and the A to C with clear horizons, he wants us to see his world, the world tied up, an existence which flows not to the ocean to rest but in on itself with the excusite anguish of divinity.
I think I see the A, the B and the C,     in the slogan, in the omnipresent slogan, in the omniscient slogan  
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The 'POST'graduate by WetWell The 'POST'graduate :iconwetwell:WetWell 0 0
Literature
Treading O'Fringe Chapter 1
Ra Ra Ra Ra Ra Ra Ra!
The sound to be heard flowing
from the royal mile of rugged disposition.
The sound of joviality decieving,
of enchantment bequeathing,
of lust beginning and death on creeping.
Walking inconspicuously in a heaving mile mass
is a two pointed affair, great spur to either end.
All about is a dance, full spectrum of colour, screams and music too.
The steps are without rhythm but they find one
sui generis in the bustle and the din.....
Life could be no more irrefutably proved than here.
Supping on burning coffee in the middle of it all,
searing insides witnessing madness in a biting Arctic wind.
A lone kite flies twenty feet above the mile,
lower than the sky but higher than the eye,
it might be seeing all this, looking down,
making a judgement for itself in its aerial splendour,
the mortals we...are stuck beneath it.
RA RA RA RA RA RA RA!
Incessant sound, teasing the cynic to a smile
and the dead to wonderment.
So many beautiful faces to fuel the dreams
of starlight em
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Literature
Hangman, John Jacob Niles
Hangman, Hangman,
slack your line
slack it for a time,
'coz my eyes do hold an honest feelin'
born in the waste of the days,
born in the waste of the days.
Look, look, look, look, look, look, look,
into my eyes
will my tears stand as your fee?,
or do you have to send me swingin'
high from your hangman's tree,
high from your hangman's tree.
My, my, my, my, my, my, my,
what I could have been
In the days I ne'er shall see,
'coz my crimes have brought me to your dealin'
soon to be waste of my days,
soon to be waste of my days.
Hangman, Hangman,
hold your line
hold it for a time,
'coz my life can't end with me a swingin'
high from your hangman's tree,
high from your hangman's tree.
.....
When, when, when, when, when, when, when,
I was a man
with a pretty girl out east,
I cursed her ears 'til they were ringin'
down all the waste of the miles,
down all the waste of the miles.
Boo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo,
sobbed she so long
all my words they did her wrong,
'coz then she sent herself a sw
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Literature
Absurd Duologue
A - The clock ticked 11 seconds and two minutes more as we sat and waited
B - I waited to hear it said that what I knew meant something more than dead...
A - Was he dead!? He was a happy thing, it is sad that such a thing...
B - These things happen, sometimes we make mistakes but never to be respected is...
A - I suspected as much as the tenth hour passed, he stole her fickle heart
B - As soon as the heart of that dainty queen was pressed between my legs...
A - Those lads over there have stolen beer, I counted thirty kegs!
                                   A moment of silence
B - Have you ever felt like that? Like you couldn't speak, like what you
A - said seemed to have no connection to within, that what came out
B - your mouth was an inert vapour that smelt of garlic but what
A - was within had worth and
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Literature
Paris Hilton's Prison Blues
I am misunderstood by everyone I know,
Let me tell you who I am, my heart I wanna show.
My tits got me a condo in Miami Beach,
my ass got me free soda from the guy with no teeth.
My dad got me a hot tub, I use it every night,
my mum got me a plane which is always in flight.
My nose got me a spot on MTV,
my legs got me carryin' an STD.
My arms got me a salary of 90k a day,
my head gets me double when I can't think what to say.
My fingers got me time in the celebrities jail,
my tonsils got me out before I even made bail.
My mind gets me printed in Vogue Magazine,
my wit gets me all the men with no esteem.
My soul gets me to heaven with a V.I.P pass,
my ego gets St Peter to kiss my sculpted ass.
I am the greatest lady that you'll ever see,
I am the very model of iconoclast celebrity.
Don't you think I'm pretty....well...don't you?
If you don't you know what you can do?
You can go fuck yourself?  You know why?
Because I am the great celebrity, I could shit
on a tile in front of t
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On a Grey Day by WetWell On a Grey Day :iconwetwell:WetWell 0 3
Literature
The You I Want, but in light
It has come to my realisation that you and I have...crumbled.
We have lost that thing which for an all too fleting moment
gave life to prospect.
I lay with you, in a lie, and looked at you for hours, you lay...sleeping,
lying,fully clothed beside me...naked.
The sight of you covered back brought with it the knowledge
of your covered front which brought with it stone and the feeling
of my age, a shrinking inside, leaving a chasm just beyond the skin.
The sound of your breathing did
not stir the room, the sound of
your breathing did not stir fibres,
the sound of your breathing did
not stir you, the sound of your
breathing did not stir me but
your sleeping sigh echoed in
hollow that you, fully clothed,
wrought inside my body just
beyond the skin!
"Oh fuck, please" I said to myself in silence as you turned to
stone beside me, a mocking, accusatory, dashind stone beside
me. "Oh fuck, please" to break the chains, "Oh fuck, please" to
fake a gain, "Oh fuck, please" to end my shame, "Oh fuck,
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In the Bar by WetWell In the Bar :iconwetwell:WetWell 0 0 Ageing Hand by WetWell Ageing Hand :iconwetwell:WetWell 0 3 Mother in Black and White by WetWell Mother in Black and White :iconwetwell:WetWell 0 0

Favourites

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Literature
Living Day
Inspiration of the charmed life,
the talented ease which charges
the blissfull naive, so seemingly secure
To constantly re-invent, the time
I have spent, the me I have spent
Thoughts sent to the firmament,
Time always spent
The days pass careless to our
considered designs, that ever-blessed
One answer which is wrought through
them all so seemingly sure,
perplexing demur
What is the worth of self introspection,
what should we ask of the old parsee?
Life gives not it's answers on demand
Experience and knowledge must
be hand in hand, and though we try
and try, it be not ours to reason why
Seldom should the wise fain  
press so deep, into regions
Essential sleep
So lay on, live the day
and find that which no
labors of thought shall
as quite succinctly say
Life is the question, the answer,
the wonder and dream
Seldom as simple a
solution will seem
Forward then, onward
without further delay
Nothing secret here
save to seize the living day.
:iconGinRicky:GinRicky
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if I fall by Princess-of-Shadows if I fall :iconprincess-of-shadows:Princess-of-Shadows 2,687 1,097
Literature
Love outside Vienna
A trickling rain; my fingers fall against
the waning crecent of your ivory neck.
A starving child that's waiting for a dish;
my eyes stare wild at skin newly undressed.
As fingers grasp onto your auburn hair:
     (yank hard so now your eyes can catch the clouds)
I wonder if you're seeking more up there,
because out comes a scream with pious sound.
A Roman arch; and then: your form relaxed.
A mix of sweat and wine define the air.
I gently run my hand across your back,
and whisper something softly in your ear
           
                                        ...ti amo mia donna felina
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the other light in me by zaharaelectrica the other light in me :iconzaharaelectrica:zaharaelectrica 1 1 This is not a picture by Aluccia71 This is not a picture :iconaluccia71:Aluccia71 49 65
Literature
A riddeled mind
  Ahhh…it’s happenin’ again…again, there thoughts enter my mind, it happens every night. Every time, I go to sleep it starts, I can hear them, people’s thoughts start to burrow insied my brain like a worm burrows trough the ground. The constant fires of thought smoke and spark signals.  There thoughts are all the same, they just want to find a chance to pass on their DNA, to have someone who can carry on their torch of life…Phe, how pathetic these humans are, they destroy what they fear an don’t know, but at the same time they want to control it….
Huh? Ineresting, there seem’s to be a different mind. It’s not a human mind, I can’t tell who the person is, but his mind is a riddle, like puzzle that’s missing some piece’s…How interesing, he seems to be out of place, like an unwanted drop in the primordial soup. He dosen’t like to be used like a puppet, his strings are very sharp, but someone tri
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Activity


deviantID

WetWell
Lloyd Ryan Thomas
Artist | Literature
United Kingdom
I am an actor
I am warm but indifferent
I like cigarettes and coffee
I have broad hopes
I love modal and bebop jazz
I am an absurd and modern man

Current Residence: Brighton, Sussex, England
Favourite genre of music: Appalachian Folk, Blues, Bebop, Modal Jazz, Electronica, Baroque, Psychadellic Rock,
Favourite photographer: None in particular
Favourite style of art: Surrealism, Absurdism
Operating System: Windows XP
MP3 player of choice: iPod
Shell of choice: I have no idea
Wallpaper of choice: Paint
Skin of choice: My own or an attractive woman's
Favourite cartoon character: Stewie Griffin & Bender
Personal Quote: "Bugger off!"
Interests
I have decided to follow ignia's idea and write some poems based on themes or inspirations anyone wishes to offer.
Either a thing, phrase or image or...whatever you think works...just want to try it.
Hope some of you throw some ideas my way.

Ta. L.
  • Listening to: City of Prague Philharmonic
  • Reading: In the Penal Colony
  • Watching: Red Dwarf (good ones)
  • Playing: underpants chess
  • Eating: chilli
  • Drinking: tea leftovers

Comments


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:iconavriyu:
avriyu Featured By Owner Apr 20, 2009
thank you :bow: (:
Reply
:iconaladdin-sane:
Aladdin-Sane Featured By Owner Apr 20, 2009
Thanks for the watch. Though I admit I'm curious why you'd choose to add someone with only one deviation!
Reply
:iconwetwell:
WetWell Featured By Owner Apr 20, 2009   Writer
More for your comments. Plus you're making theatre recommendations that I approve of!! Jonny Pryce = LEGEND!!
Reply
:iconaladdin-sane:
Aladdin-Sane Featured By Owner Apr 20, 2009
Ah, thank you.

Yes, Pryce is quite excellent. I saw Ralph Fiennes in God of Carnage last year too, and even Nigel Havers as Captain Hook once! Not so much a performance as two hours of giggling, that one, heh.
Reply
:iconwetwell:
WetWell Featured By Owner Apr 20, 2009   Writer
I'd love to see Fiennes on stage; but I have managed to get hold of tickets to Godot at the Haymarket. I love Beckett's work and all Theatre of the Absurd and what I'm reading about this production makes it sound like they are getting it very right.
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