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About Deviant Boar's HeartMale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 11 Years
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I don't know if this is art
But I feel like I have to get it off my chest somewhere.
When I watched President Obama's acceptance speech, two things were happening inside me---a swelling sense of the possible, a hope for the future of America I hadn't really felt since watching Neil Armstrong step onto the surface of the moon on live television . . . and a tense dread of a sniper's shot coming from the darkness to end that dream.
Because I know what kind of country I live in.  I grew up in a town where the KKK still burned crosses at their annual rallies outside the city limits.  I watched the Watergate trials.  I saw the helicopters rising from the roof of the U.S. Embassy in Saigon. I know our dark side and our failures.  I watched a great President, William Jefferson Clinton, stymied and stalled for eight years by venal, relentless, pointless Republican attacks. I saw a corporate sock puppet moron STEAL the Presidential election, TWICE.
That night, a weight lifted off my
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Moments like a melody
Moments in Memory
Perhaps my favorite moment in a relationship, a love affair, a marriage is that of waking up together, drowsy and contented and in love, nothing between us under the sheets, the light coming through the window but it's Saturday, or Sunday, or perhaps vacation, no where we have to be and no particular hurry for us to get there. I could see you like that, the sun through the blinds casting radiant stripes across us, your hair scattered upon the pillow, your body warm as bread from the oven and just as delicious and nourishing.
Such moments are beautiful, and stay with us always, like a half-forgotten scrap of melody from a childhood tune, making us smile as we go about our days, stuck in meetings and in traffic, eager to return to each other's arms.
There are so many moments like that in love, sharing a glance or a bite of each other's food in a lively restaurant, an oasis of harmonious calm amidst the hustle and bustle and tinntinnabulation of the milieu, like a secret
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Oath Stones :iconnanp:nanp 1 0 12th Night 2009 IV :iconnanp:nanp 2 0 12th Night 2009 III :iconnanp:nanp 0 1 12th Night 2009 II :iconnanp:nanp 3 0 12th Night 2009 I :iconnanp:nanp 3 5 Waiting for Frigga :iconnanp:nanp 2 0 Shrine of the Goddess :iconnanp:nanp 0 1 Mothersnight 2009 :iconnanp:nanp 8 3 Harrow II :iconnanp:nanp 1 5
Old White Guy Rap
Old White Guy Rap
Well, I see you don't know
This old gray cat can still flow
I can rap 'em fast,
I can rhyme 'em slow
Sing 'em high
Or wail 'em low
Racking up the Benjamins
Rolling in the dough
While all the lil' honeys
Scream "go cat go"
I'm all about performance
This shit ain't for show
All that bling
Just makes you slow
Strip it down to the motor
Drop my hammer
Watch me go
Put that rubber on the road
Those skis in the snow
Raise the mainsail
Wait for the breeze to blow
'Cuz I'm all about the yes
Never about the no.
© Terence Plumb, November 2009
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In dark moments between bravado and regret
The truth creeps in, inexorable
Fierce as the anointing bringing forth
Snakes passed from hand to willing hand
Light pinwheeling down, spokes of an eternal wheel
Crushing weakness beneath iron treads.
I have risen from the mercy of her embrace
To stand sullen, bereft, alone in gray sunshine
Wondering if this time, this moment, this lover
Would be the one to open the ribbed cask
Of futile hopes and faded dreams left languishing
Along the broken road from her to here.
Jaw clenched too tightly to bewail or bemoan
The adamantine inevitability of loss; seeing only
The weight that is mine to inherit or dispense
Like petals cast upon a dry and dusty Santa Ana wind
Tasting this desert by a blue and boundless sea
Writhing like vipers roiling in a sepulchral den.
© Terence Plumb, November 2009
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I wake slowly, gradually,
To the unfurling world's dim cacophony
Of movement and motion;
Grackles chuckling along the fence
The dog stirring and scratching
Restlessly from the foot of the bed.
Another dog, more distant,
Whose job it is to bark, endlessly, inanely,
At everything or nothing
Going peripatetically to work.
A rattle, a clank, a scrape,
A car door heavy as a vault closing . . .
And the night's dreaming shattering
Into slow brilliant shards:
Quiescently melting
Into iridescent puddles
Seeping back
Toward trickling rills and somber pools
Somewhere below waking thought.
My hand was on her breast.
Dinosaurs fed on marshmallow bushes by the river
Corpulent businessmen with mouths for eyes
Hunted in packs along the edge of the savanna and somewhere
From the distant golden spires of an impossible city
A young girl was singing.
© Terence Plumb, November 2009
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12th Night :iconnanp:nanp 1 0


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Boar's Heart
United States
Current Residence: Gulf Coast of Texas
. . . what the hell is a "llama badge" and why have complete strangers given me 14 of them so far?


Add a Comment:
foureyes Featured By Owner Dec 22, 2012
:)....thank you :hug:
We best be thanking our lucky stars we're in Texas :cowboy:............:hug:
nanp Featured By Owner Dec 23, 2012
Crowfuzz Featured By Owner Jul 22, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
yep, followed your link here too.
nanp Featured By Owner Jul 22, 2012
Odins-Gift Featured By Owner Jul 14, 2012
Hi, this is Michaela, just followed you here from FB - didn't know you were here as well! I post some of my poetry here too.
nanp Featured By Owner Jul 14, 2012
Stalker! :)
Odins-Gift Featured By Owner Jul 15, 2012
You got me ;-)
Mark-Raven Featured By Owner Jun 8, 2012  Student General Artist
You are Asatru or Vanatru? Just a question... And beautiful gallery, I love your sculptures & your 12th Night pics...
nanp Featured By Owner Jun 8, 2012
I'm a reconstructionist Normanni heathen oathed to Freyr . . . so, basically, yes and yes. :-)

Thanks for the kind words!
mariamism Featured By Owner Jan 30, 2012  Professional General Artist
thanks for watching my work :) have a lovely day!
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