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About Varied / Student Kali RobinsonMale/United States Group :icontradition-of-art: Tradition-of-Art
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Deviant for 4 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 76 Deviations 165 Comments 2,582 Pageviews


my friend OC [narasak] by gao-lukchup my friend OC [narasak] :icongao-lukchup:gao-lukchup 369 9 Lordless/Lifeless by regourso Lordless/Lifeless :iconregourso:regourso 138 6 the phone will ring, it won't be you by DarkRiderDLMC the phone will ring, it won't be you :icondarkriderdlmc:DarkRiderDLMC 45 13 Good Girl by TF-Warlock
Mature content
Good Girl :icontf-warlock:TF-Warlock 482 35
The Glance
Vision dictates passion.
Passion dictates lust.
Lust pretends to teach us
all we know and trust.
We fall for it so often,
the lie of just one glance,
the hope for something darker,
the chance for new romance.
All in just one moment,
all within a stare,
we think we know someone:
we hope, and dream, and dare.
Thinking they may like us,
and feeling just the same,
guessing all the signals
exchanged within the game.
But once the stare is over,
the accidental look,
we see the wrong before us:
the glance that we mistook.
:iconangelenroute:angelenroute 14 24
Lost Connection
Lost Connection
Literature commissioned by Ruuma
I’ve been calling for hours now.
Nothing but static and that busy signal meet my ears.
And when I finally get through,
When I hear breath on the other line,
It’s cut short by a harsh click and an irritable dial tone.
Maybe it’s for the best.
Maybe I should quit trying,
Shouldn’t get my hopes up, now should I?
No, probably not.
I know it won’t end as well as I want it to.
I guess you could tell that it was me,
From the chocked up voice and stifled sigh.
Half of me is glad you didn’t respond.
I don’t think I would have been able to give an intelligible reply.
But the other half…
The half that shakily pressed each buttoned number on this old house phone,
That half wanted to hear your voice, even if I couldn’t respond.
I know we can’t go back to how it was.
I just wanted a bittersweet taste to maybe dull the ache.
But with no answer, I just hold an empty pho
:iconlaceycheshiregrin:LaceyCheshireGrin 8 21
Sometimes wanted, or maybe not.
Standing out and barely there;
Little bumps of sunlight stories
And marks of potential past lives.
Always unwanted.
Bloated, sickly reddened;
Pustules in need of relief
And in need of concealment.
Accidental and on purpose.
From other beings or myself;
Some tales that can be laughed at
And others that can be forgotten.
All of which I wear with pride.
My burnt to tan skin branded
By the life that I have lived
And the life that lives in me.
:iconlaceycheshiregrin:LaceyCheshireGrin 16 8
College by DamaiMikaz College :icondamaimikaz:DamaiMikaz 1,522 101 #03 Yellow [ Aiden ] by DamaiMikaz #03 Yellow [ Aiden ] :icondamaimikaz:DamaiMikaz 844 43
Shelly was pretty, but not very pretty. She knew it too. Whenever she went out for drinks with friends, guys might glance her way by accident, but she sensed the apology in their glance, the wince that said, "Yeah, not interested, sorry." It was an all-too-familiar game at this point, and at 29, Shelly was already used to the way things worked. Short of the perfect scenario involving the perfect guy showing up, this was just the way things would always be. So it genuinely surprised her when a cute young guy seemed to lock eyes with her not once, but three different times that night. Enough so that she even whispered to her friend Karen that she thought the bartender had put something weird in her drink.
"I think he's looking at me, but I'm not sure," she said. Karen was good at this game, too good maybe, and though she'd already been married for three years, she hadn't lost her touch. "Okay, tell me which guy, and what he's wearing. I'll look over in a few seconds." Shelly descr
:iconangelenroute:angelenroute 1 6
"Words"    Originally written 5/11/15
They're fickle, useless instruments
Never saying quite what you mean
Never meaning quite what you say
Too much room for interpretation
Past experiences, too different
New symbols and pronunciations
Convolute and muddling things
It's all subjective
Objectivity is a lie
When it comes to them
Those puppets that instead control us
Never saying quite what we mean
Never meaning quite what we say
:iconlaceycheshiregrin:LaceyCheshireGrin 9 10
Out Cold
"Out Cold"    Originally written 5/19/15
Have you ever been so numb
So out of touch
That it feels like nothing's happened
Nothing has changed
Though the world is falling down around you
At your feet
Lie the globe and all it once contained
And you can't feel it
The tremors
The shakiness
The cold overtaken and through out
Only, not to be replaced by warmth
Or stillness or scorching flames and silence
Only void
A numb void
That feels like nothing even happened
:iconlaceycheshiregrin:LaceyCheshireGrin 6 10
Take a break and laugh! ^^
Am I the only one who actually WANTS to go live there and learn how to fly - I mean, fight Titans! XD
So hard... I give up!
POLAND! I have found your soul-mates! XD
It was so worth it! *wink*
"Adopt your Purrrrfect boyfriend"
FINALLY someone else who understands my pain! XD
Arthur: well...  technically I WAS driving!
Alfred: yeah, yeah, whatever...
WTF! How do you burn cereal? XD 
Just... how? X'D
I wanna know! OwO
Don't worry France, we're all in the same situation. XD
You can find other cultural differences between Japanese and Westerners here:
Ah... cats and their 9 lives... XD
How did he even get stuck in that? X'D
Tellement vrais. ^^
Bébé: Tu m'as... menti ! O_O
"Alone we can do so little... together we can do so much!" - Helen Keller
This is what the future looks like! ^w^
Ahhh, Anime logic. Love it.
:iconashry42:Ashry42 54 91
the snake was created in your image
you are poison incarnate,
serpentine in your ways,
hissing out broken promises.
slither into some unsuspecting heart.
leave - for that is all
you do,
all you are capable of.
i remember tales of
the princess and her frog-prince.
how he changed with a kiss.
with a kiss, you turn from
dashing prince, chivalrous and
to croaking frog, dragging
the princess d
to the bottom of the lake.
on a summer night
time has now erased,
i whispered to you
‘be great.’
who knew your legacy
would become a harem
of girls crying out:
:iconinkstaineddove:inkstaineddove 10 0
Broken Pieces
"Broken Pieces"    Originally written 5/6/15
They're all too small
Hidden in a viscous red
Little parts of me
Each with their own story
Of how they shattered
Collapsed in on each other
Falling away, crumbling
Into piles of desolation
Separated from their counterparts
Compatriots, lost in the swell
Of the sea raining down
More and more smashed soldiers
The army has defeated
As has its nation
:iconlaceycheshiregrin:LaceyCheshireGrin 7 3

Newest Deviations

1. a broken hair comb
Wear when going on strike
the magistrate will say
“You are in strike against God and nature”.
arm in arm with your fellow union members
picket as hired thugs and paid policeman beat you
demand an 8 hour working day and livable wages.
Say “I have no more patience for talk”
2. patent leather oxfords with the laces still tied in a knot
Capitalism has demanded its price of immigrant women’s bodies
You must leap into an elevator shaft fire blazing back behind you
dance burning on the factory floor behind a door locked
by the owners to prevent theft
Burned body identifiable by the work of dentists
by braids done the morning before the fire,
by stitches mothers recognize on their daughter’s stocking.
3. a rosary
Wear looking into the eyes of
policemen who beat you
who break down facing the carnage
who have to be changed
every hour
unlike these policemen
you, an immigrant woman employee of the Triangle Shirtwaist factory
sat in stools 1
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 1 0
Mature content
Holding on to my Gun :iconwavangel:WavAngel 1 2
Romantic Teen Poet: A Thoughtful Daydream
When I read a book, the better the book, the more comprehensive its grasp of perception, and reality, the more secure its grasp of knowledge, the more I hear within my mind, the soul of the author speaking. The more correlated that book with my own perception, the clearer the soul of the author was revealed to me.
And I have ceased to just simply read. Now I build a world within my mind. Conceptualize every thought, whether conscious or not, and fit it into my model of the world.
And now I have begun to perceive a unique beauty. In the fullness of her eyes, the lines to either side of her nose, formed from a scowl made when intrigued, or otherwise deep in thought. Perception is now to me becoming play, as it should be. And her beautiful black hair, each strand emerging from her scalp like an individual string of thought cast out into the world. I make regular mental inquiry into the thoughts of others, trying to imagine what unique strands of experience form their identity. And her int
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 0 0
What We Call Her
Downtown Girl
Rodeo Chick
Left-Hand Legend
Miss soft lips
Really Good at English
Pretty bad at Math
Long List of Ex’s
Miss only adds
Little Lady Shocker
Man Shocker too
Spandex Spooner
Man-Thing Stew
Party Girl
Tons of Fun
Never by her name:
Shannon Strong
Who are you?
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 1 0
For a Thing to Disappear (A poem on ephemerality)
It ain’t nothing for a pretty little thing to disappear
Before you even knew she was even there
Every hood has about 100 beautiful Jesus
Dead and gone before you even knew they were there
Ain’t nothing for a bullet to float the wrong way on the wind,
Kill a song before it ever even sang
I say every hood has about 100 beautiful black Jesus
and it ain’t nothing for the thing to disappear
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 0 0
Mature content
Good Mourning (Story of A Week of Mornings) :iconwavangel:WavAngel 0 0
Mature content
A Week of Morning :iconwavangel:WavAngel 1 0
Frank Ocean
I sit comfortably in my lover’s apartment
I hate his busyness
I sit cross-legged, leaning across the couch cushion
Held by my reading, I entertain his restlessness
I’m reading Lacan
The cold air comes through the open window that brings the daylight
and caresses and then holds my excited body the way he cannot
I feel the familiar sensation between my legs and I tighten and relax the muscles there
What a wonderful day - sighhhh. Relax
My eyes closed.
He cannot see me now
Letting his presence hold me, I let my body please me
I let the cold air feed my sensations
I let the sunlight into my day dreaming
Frank Ocean plays from his room
His music is mine now, all mineee
Working at the Pyramid tonight ~
He feels my happiness and knows it is his own.
He invites me in
We both sit together in our own worlds enjoying our own Ocean.
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 1 0
A Heart
A heart. A heart. Every heartbeat hurts. I don’t think about it, but its true. Every beat is a punch in the chest. My heart keeps fucking working, keeps beating itself, incessantly. It beats itself until it cries, shaking, throbbing tears, for the slavery, for all the pain and unfairness of its world. My heart is terrified. Horrified. If it stops, it and I will die. The horror of my heart beating itself to death, unable to stop, has become my everyday life. I don’t even think about it anymore. Its just something I laugh about and then wonder to myself what the hell is so funny. Maybe that is why my life hurts. My heart takes every chance to remind me how horrible real love can be. The horror of a love so great, that you beat yourself to death every day just to see that its survives.
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 1 0
Body Tales
I twist in hot stanzas
My heart hears red stories
My chest poems aflame
Fueled, by word-thoughts of the world.
My sides knot around fictions
Tales in my fingers telltale my real life
Told by my body to leave where I sat
Led by my breath on my journey.
Hugs pump drugs in my blood
I rock alcohol parties, dance nicotine and nug
My distractions think
My dances tug my dick
My body rolls fuck my lover
My daydreams are people
who I hate and I love
who I rape and I trust
Who I make and create
on their eyes, hair, walks, bodies and touch
All my existence is unsatisfiable Lust.
Playing my movie I star and I watch
I follow a language of scripts made before me
Dreams, money, success,
cars, rap, vests,
bullets, soldiers, flags,
love, flirt, tag,
gay, sex, straight and fuck
make love, be kind, watch who you trust
Black man, slavery, know thy self
work hard, have fun, blessed, god and don’t cuss
He’s sus, weirdo, strange, gay, sensitive, don’t cry
Always be real, be honest, never li
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 2 2
Caged Nigger (READ: SELF-HATE)
exists in an imaginary cage.
the cage is written on my skin until my skin is covered
the writing moves across my skin and down onto the floor until it covers my perceptual world.
the writing is a single word written over and over again
it turns my world to shadow
it binds me to my blackest soul
the blackness is twisted into a hateful demon who can only be banished
by its name
and so for the power of the monster
its name has been written a million times across my skin
and through my eyes
trapping it and trapping me
screwed together
in a cage of hate language
the language is the one name
and the one word
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 2 0
Bittersweet Words.
Its supposed to be you and I against the world, but lately its been your world against mine, your world against mine. I didn’t mean to hurt you ever. I didn’t know to watch for your feelings. I didn’t know to watch my words. I didn’t know to think through you and I. I didn’t mean to hurt you ever Kayby. I didn’t even realize ‘till just a day ago how hurt we had gotten.
I went and forgot myself with you.
Every kiss tastes like the past huh?
Every kiss,
First, sweet as the beginning,
And then,
That after taste lingers bitter, lingers bitter. Every kiss: bittersweet.
You taste that girl I had huh?
Kiss! <3
I didn’t mean to remind you.
I bet you don’t mean to remember, do you? Haha, life.
Kiss! <3
Wow, I forget myself every time, excuse me.
Get carried away and forget myself, start holding your hand.
Look into your eyes and forget myself Kayby, start hugging you.
Tired, closing my eyes and forgetting myself - falling into bed with
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 3 0
Rain Art And Thunder
The red of your lipstick would match the love that we sew,
I feel we'd be den fire passionate, trapped in rose and gold glow.
I'd kiss you like drugs, and like wine, and like sex,
fall down on you like rain drops and leave you all wet
you'd arch like the Eiffel, and beg for baguette,
As I feed you the bread of your mind with my sex.
Clothe quickly my lady, look out at the rain,
I don't want to miss it, it falls on the world and coats it like pain;
it looks like my pain.
You pull on blue jeans, dark garden color top,
and we rush out the house to feel those raindrops
I wrap my arms around you, cup my hands over yours
Lord knows when it rains, it comes down and pours
My hair black flame, white shirt, and khaki pants
We stand in that rain,
and the world turns watercolor
I shed solemn tears as it melts, watch watercolor vapors
cast mirages over stormy horizons and  Babylon city buildings
and you stare out wide eyed excitement and wonder
at a portrait of a melting world, Rain, Art and
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 2 0
Becoming Human
I walked out that night.
Walked out at night right out the door,
right down those steps, straight steps bare chest
harem pants, camouflage pockets marched straight into those streets.
Something howled in me, felt like a gorilla roar,
and I stood up straight under a crescent moon and dashed across the street!
I dashed on pointed toes right past an oncoming car,
right across his view like some wild animal and was gone to the park before he realized what I was.
I strutted upright right into that park.
I yelled. And then I yelled again.
And each time that yell disappeared into a world way bigger than it.
And I realized then what I was.
I chassed into the center and leaped up!
arched my body forward and stuck my arms straight out past my bowed head,
and torqued my body all the way around.
I brought my fist to the ground!
I spun and jumped. Tonight under that crescent moon with no one watching I danced!
I realized what I was.
I lifted my head up, stuck my neck up straight raised myself onto
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 2 1
Dear God,
I've been growing up for a while now; I really don't know all that much what I'm doing.
It's like -  I remember you in my childhood, and you were there throughout it. But now its like you don't have the same life that you used to. You remind me of my mom. She really has lot of faith in you. And I know that I'm messing up, and that I'm not nearly good enough for you, not even close, but I can't give in. I keep questioning whether I deserve what I'm getting, all the things you have blessed me with. And overwhelmingly the answer is no. I am a product of the entitled society I am living in. I've been worn down that much.
Beautiful changing season,
how I did enjoy your warmth,
The sunshine brightens fast as I turn my gaze to it,
but I close my eyes before I am blinded.
And when the rain came I was outside with you, cheesin with my mouth open.
My clothes got absolutely soaked, but I didn't care. I laughed.
And the girl I love . . .
Lest her mind wanders and she begins
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 1 2
Doomed and Wet
“Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed”
The Iliad
As a child, I pressed flowers
in the pages of the family Bible.
It was a rescue mission, really.
Those poor, ephemeral things—
I’d pluck them perfect, just below the bloom,
to trap the colors time would steal back.
Now, between pressed sheets,
lilacs blossom in the creases of my arms.
Eyes closed, I imagine
armies marching through my veins:
a thousand golden men like Homer’s,
beautiful and doomed.
Stepping smooth, they collect
In that soft space where breast meets stomach,
heavy and glorious as the thought of infinity.
“How immense your words feel~
Cool, precise and dreamy.
Rolling out, line after line,
Like those very armies down hills to doom.
And –
How, very sad I feel
That they have truly reached me.
High and aloof where I reside.”
I got night in my hair,
Stars in my brain,
Clouds in my mouth,
Pull it hard, let it
:iconwavangel:WavAngel 1 0



1. a broken hair comb
Wear when going on strike
the magistrate will say
“You are in strike against God and nature”.
arm in arm with your fellow union members
picket as hired thugs and paid policeman beat you
demand an 8 hour working day and livable wages.
Say “I have no more patience for talk”
2. patent leather oxfords with the laces still tied in a knot
Capitalism has demanded its price of immigrant women’s bodies
You must leap into an elevator shaft fire blazing back behind you
dance burning on the factory floor behind a door locked
by the owners to prevent theft
Burned body identifiable by the work of dentists
by braids done the morning before the fire,
by stitches mothers recognize on their daughter’s stocking.
3. a rosary
Wear looking into the eyes of
policemen who beat you
who break down facing the carnage
who have to be changed
every hour
unlike these policemen
you, an immigrant woman employee of the Triangle Shirtwaist factory
sat in stools 15 hours a day
on a slice of bread for breakfast, a roll for lunch, and a slice of apple pie for dinner if you worked overtime.
4. a fur trimmed hat with a crushed red rose
They say “Against God and Nature”
You say “The women of the triangle shirtwaist company weren’t striking against God and Nature, They strike against white men who aren’t empathetic enough to care about the lives of 14 year old girls sewing 12 hours a day. it was the white men Max Blanck and Isaac Harris who broke and burned bodies to fuel their patri-capitalist shirtwaist machine.”
5. A Scorched to shreds shirtwaist
Tho being known to start fires in their factories to collect insurance
They’ll be acquitted by a white male jury
Wear in civil suit against them
when receiving a settlement of $75 in exchange for your daughter
Wear with a broken hair comb, patent leather oxfords with the laces still tied in a knot, a rosary, a fur trimmed hat with a crushed red rose, and a scorched to shreds shirtwaist
Max Blanck will be charged with locking one of the doors of his factory.
he is fined twenty dollars and the judge apologizes to him for the imposition.
I'm scared, I'm honestly so scared. I see what is happening to myself, and the world around me, and I don't know if I'm doing it right. I don't know the world is doing it right. In my head I can come up with a every different alternative to every move, I can see a 10 problems with every news headline. I grew up thinking I was a genius, and have seen myself do too many stupid things to believe it anymore. I saw the world as just waiting to become a heaven on Earth, and I fear most places are closer to hell. Every single thing I do is important; it's important because it has consequences. I choose who I want to be in the world. Last year and the summer felt like the end of a good dream, and this year feels like heartbreak. And I feel like its all important.

I feel lonely.

I feel trapped.

I want the consequences of my life, as an end result to be positive. All these thoughts and feelings surround me everywhere I go, a whole world, like an echo of the chaos of the world we live in. I have an ego that wants to hold the whole world in the crux of its arm. I have heart that skips a beat for every passing face. I feel so PRIVILEGED, and so useless. I feel like the result of a massive sigh, building up all this air inside of me all my life, filling myself up for some big thing, only to realize that I can't hold on to it all, and letting it all out in one large anti-climatic deflation. And then I don't care.

And I remember that no one cares. Or very few do. And I want to care. But I care too much.

And so I write.

And speak.

And laugh. And sing. And dance. And produce. And cry. And scream. I run through the sanctuary, to the park down the roads, and back to where I started.

At school. And there I learn. And when I graduate I'll still be learning. And I remember every time I messed up. And every time I got it right. And when I look back I bet it all won't seem as big as it seems now.

But, for now it seems big. SO, I'm going to stop moping and moaning and do some homework! I'm going to learn to speak Chinese, play the piano, produce a song, write a book, start business. AND CHANGE THE WORLD.

Even if it means I only inspire the person who someday will. :)


WavAngel's Profile Picture
Kali Robinson
Artist | Student | Varied
United States
I dance. I write.
Twitter @KwakuzHaremz


Add a Comment:
DylanSeto Featured By Owner Dec 28, 2015   Artist

Just wanted to thank you for the fave!

Also, since I'm currently focusing on music, I was wondering if you'd be interested in listening/sharing my music?

If you are, I can link you to where you can find that stuff!

-Dylan Seto
WavAngel Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2016  Student General Artist
np!:D (Big Grin)  and sure link me!
DylanSeto Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2016   Artist


Let me know what you think :)

And if you like it, sharing it would be cool too. ;)
LaceyCheshireGrin Featured By Owner Nov 17, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
THX 4 THE FAV!! :woohoo: :hug: :iconiamhappyplz:
WavAngel Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2015  Student General Artist
LaceyCheshireGrin Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thx again :iconweeeplz:
WavAngel Featured By Owner Jan 8, 2016  Student General Artist
:D (Big Grin) !
(1 Reply)
LaceyCheshireGrin Featured By Owner Sep 13, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
THX 4 THE FAV!! :woohoo: :hug: :iconiamhappyplz:
DamaiMikaz Featured By Owner Aug 27, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Tnx for the fav :la:
LaceyCheshireGrin Featured By Owner Jun 2, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
THX 4 THE LLAMA!!!: woohoo: :hug: :iconiamhappyplz:
Add a Comment: