Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Literature / Hobbyist Member Andrew Liu20/Male/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 5 Years
Needs Premium Membership
Statistics 336 Deviations 1,364 Comments 10,657 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

Favourites

Critiques


My first impression of this piece is that it isn't too ambitious and is written mostly for therapeutic purposes. I honestly didn't thin...


Hello, I will be critiquing your piece on behalf of :icongrammarnazicritiques:. I will do my best to help by suggesting improvements that can be made and genera...

Groups

Activity


Spring is in the death of me.
I am all flower and no flower. The air too
is complicit in its secret-keeping. All
either or's or either/or. My mouth
tastes like the word “whore.” Gardening day,
the shoots are budding, green onions
must be chopped before they sprout, many
common vegetables are edible when young, grown old
they are poisonous flowers turned to dust, they are
older now. The roots must be too deep in concrete;
the foundations are all coming apart. Leaving
and going. There are houses to be sought, trees
full of paperwork to be filled out. This whole world
is a mesh of leaves, forms, and envelopes. The whole world
tastes of shredded wheat. And I am both ink and combine harvester.
Imagine a thousand pieces, a museum
full of these wandering deities, each
holding their hands out to the desperate,
the deceased spies of the living world. Each
smiles kindly, words or two
full of grace, full of an unknowable beauty.
So much that they terrify the dead and dying.
“It's too good to be true,” they think. They hold themselves
like a knot keeping itself from unraveling, they
bind to earth, they bite down. The gods
make their move, we make ours.
It was the blood, see? Here,
in the main artery just above the chambered heart. Here,
where the child ends and the demons begin
that delicate crystallization, the adult
emerging from a blackened, charred husk
like some poor butterfly, the wings
reversed into thin paper. A picture
more like. A fragment of what was promised.
The adult emerges like a face in still landscape.
Angry, contorted, the eyes like little black coals.
The smile now, appears in defiance of all that is
any kind of joy, defined, then rebuffed.
His mouth is full of blood. He sups
on somebody's snapped neck.
He's fine with it. Says it
can't be helped. Said he was protecting
things, someone. Said
he's tired of protecting.
Demons, they walk the alleys,
black leather, red eyes, a clatter
of chains on jeans, smoke and cigarettes,
vampire teeth. He smiles, a look,
a faded reproduction of the child
he used to be. It's in the blood. It must be
stricken out. A pause, like a comma,
just a breath in time. A kiss
on those blood-red lips, a pause.
Let the blood hold still.
Let the heart suffocate in surprise.
I am going to kill this man and what is left behind
will burn like a pearl, like the scared, wild eyes
of a boy pulled into darkness.
In class, the students stare
as the Professor turns a quick circle
in the air, waving the wand like one flicks on
the light in a dark room. Her desk
grunts in frustration, waddling unhappily
on cloven feet, its massive frame, now
ungainly and filled with tiny holes,
the hair like a million minuscule trees
leaking out. From multi-planed
to multicellular.

There is a general
look of amazement
until she mentions
this is an art available
well-past their first year.
Someone scoffs
in disbelief. The professor
goes on, explaining
how they would not be turning furniture
into anything with snouts or whiskers,
amphibious gills, or even the most remote
resemblance of a spine. No.

Strict educational guidelines: For first-year students,
there are restrictions, rules, simplistic tests.
Controls and supervision abound. Only
small organisms, invertebrates.
Exoskeletons and six to eight legs for them.

She begins handing out buttons. Moans
of complaint issue around her. The air is heavy.
She throws back an apple. The desk
grunts, in appreciation this time. On her lips,
the faintest trace of a smile. She
goes on...

Atoms. Cells.
Brain tissue. Matter.
Coins. Dice.
Dualities versus
spectrums. She explains...

This world too is patterns. This world too
is opposites and elements opposing.
The things of matter are not always
the things of life. But what lives, in its entirety,
fits within matter. The kingdom, large as it is,
is still contained within the cosmic.

So too is its fragility, she mentions
as one clumsy boy squashes his button,
his wand now slick with internal juices
that were not there before, minutes ago
bundles of atoms bunched like beeswax
springing out in coils, developing legs
half-formed and the size of a thread, but

no less the miracle
ironed out by the heavy-handed inexperience
(and inattentiveness) of our young
miracle-maker, here.

“What a surprise,” she notes, “There will
be no second chances on your exams.”
Goes the didactic chastisement. She smiles
knowing the secret that will take them years to learn:
Everything, absolutely everything,
in spite of its unknowable movement,
is as girded in order, is as chained in patterns,
as the stars, waltzing to their silent music
dreaming the steps of their ancient dance.
Transfiguration
Yes, it's from Harry Potter.
Loading...
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: strong language and ideologically sensitive material)
Such small moments of eloquence
are all I ask for. God of hemoglobin,
god of iron and calcium deposits.
Make me a poet, of daffodils and springtime,
make me lover, of symbiosis and monolithic
noise pollution. Turn me
into a prize.

I want to be daughter, a daughter
of light, of scar tissue and backs
swollen with diseased lymph.
I want to be peace, come
in small needles and gliding whites.
The angel of fluorescent lights.

I want you to call me “baby”
and really mean “my child”.

I want your drug addictions, your prepackaged symphonies,
the whole, half-off, on-sale, Glamour Girl bundle.
Make me queen of nowhere, goddess
to a thousand groves of cracked glass.

Come on. Let the infants
wail for milk, the insurance agents
knock for ghosts. I am not here
and neither are you, old flame.

We depart, for departments,
leave it for the it scene,
come back to Roman ruins
and the disgrace of empires.

I am your opus, your delight.
I am immortal aria, cigarettes
and choked breath. That girl.
Reading skin beneath dim light.
Daughter to a sterilized womb.
Mother to a thousand fuckers.
I am nothing and nobody:
lipstick stains on coffee spoons.
Water Slanders Blood
Another random, full-form apparition. Sprouting from my fingers like Athena on a thousand miles of caffeine. I guess, a lucky hit? 
Loading...
Okay, so there's a contest going on at Figment.com that my friend Josh is hosting. This is the third year he's done it and I can tell you from experience it's really fun and challenging. It's essentially a nine week long contest that spans the summer. There will be a prompt every week ranging mostly from prose, but sometimes requiring poetry or screenwriting. It's open call, although only ten lucky writers will get to participate, so make yourself a free figment account and check it out here. Anyone can join and submissions last until May 15th, 5/15. Contest starts Monday, June 2nd.

Here's the guidelines:

1.) Contestants must be American citizens (or currently living in the U.S.A) to be eligible. 
2.) Contestants must be 15 or older to be eligible. 
3.) Open call begins Tuesday, April 1st at midnight and will close on Thursday, May 15th at midnight. ALL eligible writers will be considered, but only 12 writers will be chosen to compete. ANGAVol. 3 begins Monday, June 2nd
4.) Contestants will be performing weekly challenges and must be positive they can actively participate for 9 weeks. 
5.) All are welcome to join the ANGA,Vol. 3 group as fans, but only contestants will be allowed to compete in the weekly challenges. 

Spectators are more than welcome.

deviantID

TheGlassIris
Andrew Liu
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Hi, I'm Andrew Liu. I'm 19, a student at East Los Angeles College and Pasadena City College, and I love to write. That's me in the picture, staring at the Lansdowne Herakles held in the Getty Villa. If I look bemused, it's because he doesn't have a dick. I've been writing since middle school and I started taking it seriously around senior year, so, sixteen or seventeen. My favorite genres are urban fantasy (Harry Potter, Percy and the Olympians, Fablehaven, that sort of stuff) and fantasy (Cry of the Icemark, American Gods, Good Omens). I mostly write poetry. I switched over from prose because I could never manage to finish writing short stories. And I mostly write as a hobby.

I'm also an English major. My favorite period is American Modernism. I've read T.S. Eliot, E.E. Cummings, Robert Frost, Wallace Stevens. I'm a big poetry buff. My all-time favorite pieces of poetry are pretty varied though: Cathy Song "Cloud Moving Hands", Sharon Olds "The Elder Sister" & "I Go Back to May, 1937", Sylvia Plath "Mirror" & "Fever 103", Mark Doty "Tiara", Elizabeth Bishop "The Fish", and Muriel Rukeyser "Song for Dead Children."

If I were to summarize my writing style in three words it would be: lush, dream-like, and intense. People have always told me that I'm very good at imagery and description, but not so much at editing or making sure my work flows effortlessly.

Other hobbies I have include video games, anime, and more reading I guess. All time favorite video games: Folklore (PS3), Bastion (PC), Dust: An Elysian Tale (PC), Persona 4 (PS2). All time favorite animes: Natsume Yuujinchou (Natsume's Book of Friends), Puella Magi Madoka Magica (Magical Girl Madoka), Nodame Cantabile, Ao no Exorcist (Blue Exorcist-manga only), and Magi (again, manga only). All time favorite books: Caramelo (Sandra Cisneros), American Gods (Neil Gaiman), The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald), Asterios Polyp (David Mazzuchelli), Like Water For Chocolate (Laura Esquivel), and Fahrenheit 451 (Ray Bradbury).

I swear I read and watch more than this, it's just I'm really picky and have strangely specific tastes. Ask me for writing critique and feedback. I'm more than happy to give advice.
Interests

AdCast - Ads from the Community

×

Friends

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconakrasiel:
akrasiel Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2014   General Artist
Thank you so much for reading and favouriting my work. :huggle:
Reply
:iconponix7:
Ponix7 Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2014
I am amazed by the diligence and discipline you have for writing, including the sheer volume posted on DA.  It motivates me to do more, and I enjoy reading your work.
Reply
:icontheglassiris:
TheGlassIris Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Aw, thank you.
Reply
:iconjade-pandora:
jade-pandora Featured By Owner Nov 10, 2014
:wave: A random "hello", Andrew.
Reply
:icontheglassiris:
TheGlassIris Featured By Owner Nov 10, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Hello.
Reply
:iconoviedomedina:
oviedomedina Featured By Owner Oct 25, 2014
Happy birthday!
Reply
:icontheglassiris:
TheGlassIris Featured By Owner Oct 25, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you.
Reply
:iconoviedomedina:
oviedomedina Featured By Owner Oct 25, 2014
No problem!
Reply
:iconiris2501:
iris2501 Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist

:iconrelievedplz::iconsaysplz: Ha, sorry for the delay, but I was out for a while and I just could not thank you.

:iconheehee-plz::iconsaysplz: Thank you so very much for the fav

Reply
:iconsolidmars:
SolidMars Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Wave by chil96

thank you kindly for the fav. I'm glad you found my work worth your time :tighthug:
Reply
Add a Comment: