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About Literature / Hobbyist Bryan DouglasMale/Canada Recent Activity
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Literature
Like A Child
Treat me like a child
I guess I'll act like one then
Only out of spite
April 26th, 2017
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Literature
Smoking Kills
My body,
dissipates in a puff of smoke.
My beautiful body,
withered away by habitual disease.
It would be a contradiction to say I care,
but I do.
I had the demon tied down,
locked behind an iron door,
always being watched.
But I still let him slip away.
Now I'm left with
yellow nails,
brown teeth,
faint breath,
and a sick feeling in my gut.
I don't strive for a short life.
I just watch as my willpower is crushed,
by the weight of self-loathing and hatred.
Well if smoking kills,
I'm already dead.
B.A.D
April 18th, 2017
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Literature
Tiredness
When I'm up before the sun,
there's a cumbersome cloud,
that tries to bring me down,
back to glorious slumber.
This cloud is thick,
making it tough to witness,
all of the beauty that I normally see.
As I foggily pass by the streetlights,
I almost forget why they're there,
to help me stay awake and see,
while they scream at me,
beckoning me,
to remember the world outside the cloud.
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Literature
Miss You II
Your love is a needle
piercing into my veins.
I'm intoxicated by your drug,
will I ever be the same?
Elevating towards new heights
with no intention of coming down.
Euphoria frolics around my head
as I see your face in the clouds.
I'm a popsicle when you're not around,
without a stick, melting in the sun.
Only left with a yearning
to show how two things become one.
And if you were gone,
I'd miss you like the tides would miss the moon.
It would kill me inside,
to look in your eyes
and see there's nothing left.
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Literature
Miss You
If I could wish for something,
I would wish for nothing.
Cause you give me all I need.
Thanks to you I feel complete.
Doubt was in the way,
I thought it was here to stay.
But you put it all away,
it's gone to a far off place.
When you're gone I notice,
and I start to lose my focus.
When we're apart my poor little heart,
can't help but feel anxious.
I miss you all the time.
I don't wanna leave your side.
When I do I'm as blue as my teary eyes.
I would come a runnin',
in the middle of the night,
just to make you smile,
and make you feel alright.
I would cut myself open,
to give you anything I own.
Because I'm no longer hurtin',
all my scars have been sewn.
You're the doc who saved my life.
You're the one who gave my knife,
another meaning to live,
what a beautiful gift.
I miss you all the time.
I don't wanna leave your side.
When I do I'm as blue as my teary eyes,
and then I'll become red,
like the retinas instead,
angry at how far I let you in.
Even though in the end,
if love is ever to
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Literature
Running Away
I'm running away,
like expelling heat from the sun,
or a fox from a loaded gun.
This fucking place is no fun,
without a trace, I'm so gone.
I've already been driven away,
like a car that sold first day.
There's no way I'll stay,
I'm running away.
I'm already gone,
The ship's sailed, and I've failed,
at keeping strong.
I don't have the patience to try anymore.
I'm walking out the door.
But no matter what's in store,
I'm already gone.
I'm running away,
Like a mouse from a cat,
running from this house so fast.
But I just hope that I last,
long enough to find,
a place where I am happy,
somewhere that doesn't trap me,
or leave me feeling crappy,
I'm running away.
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Literature
Soul Search
I tried to find my soul.
Tried to find a way to feel whole.
Only to find out my goal,
couldn't be bought, but could be sold.
The soul isn't inside you to be found,
like a child playing hide and seek.
It's in everything you spread around,
everything you reveal and speak.
It cannot say inside you forever,
eventually you'll slip and let it leak.
The answer I've sought in my endeavour,
is that I shouldn't look inside of me,
but look at what I do for another.
Soul is the distinctions in all my fuck ups.
Soul is in the nature and themes of my ideas.
Soul is the infinitely undetermined changing of character.
My soul is wherever I want it to be,
whether it's pouring through the ink of a pen,
or subconscious ideas preparing to leave my head,
I've found it, disguised in the search.
How I've led on to be shown by my
actions,
words,
scribblings,
& my goals,
All are elements of the thing I've been searching for.
And now that I'm off the path of insanity,
No longer needing an answer,
I am satisfied,
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Literature
Artistic Freedom
Where's the freedom in art?
    If there's a wrong and right path
How could there be guidelines?
    The artist paves the way.
By laying down concrete rules,
the artist is stripped of tools,
Then what is the point?
    It defeats the purpose,
         for the arts are meant to free us,
    without that void from reality it's worthless,
    there'd be no escape, journey, or personal test,
    no learning experiences only influences from a list,
    those ideas should not be shared,
    save it, no one cares,
    the true artists will find their direction,
    away from this misconception.
The void is the artist's dwelling,
away from outside eyes,
and thoughts, put aside,
Any words can be poetry,
Any picture is visual art,
Any sound can be used in music,
We knew this from the start,
So there's the freedom in art,
I won't let it fall apart.
-B.A.D. Sep, 11, 2013
Som
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Literature
Lonely Boy
Lonely Boy
Drearily the days drift by,
& I'm wonderin' why,
There's no girl in my ride,
A perfect world by my side,
I hope there comes a time,
When I can look into her eyes,
and say she's mine.
But if I die before that day,
& let my life slip away,
I wouldn't have lived at all you say,
So someone save me from that pain.
My will is right, my heart is gold,
My future's bright, so I've been told,
But what is life? If you grow old,
Without a wife, it is too cold,
& Something that'll never be sold,
Since loneliness is not the goal,
No one wants to die alone.
But if I die before that day,
& let my life slip away,
I wouldn't have lived at all you say,
So someone save me from that pain.
I'm not a bleeding heart, (anymore)
I'm a broken down golf cart,
Sweetly & subtly getting you to walk,
Discreetly down pavement littered in chalk,
Littered with names all around the block,
With portraits like us, in need of a start,
There's too many like this, it breaks me apart,
But there's some good here,
A b
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Literature
A Patch of Oil in the Fraser.
I look into the river from a bridge.
A rainbow reflects from the surface of the water.
But unlike my childhood,
this rainbow doesn’t bring me happiness.
It fills me with an immoral guilt,
watching the greasy oil swirl
around a tanker ship.
Degraded, I sigh to myself,
wondering how we let it get this way.
Water so polluted you wouldn’t dare go for a swim.
I know the worst is yet to come.
The carelessness of our grandfathers was shoved aside,
leaving future generations to clean up the mess,
as if they’ll do that.
They’ve been taught that progress is all that matters.
Process is key, they were never taught to formulate one themselves.
They figure out what works and stick with it, without
thinking outside the box afterwards.
We won’t change until we have to.
This constant conformed push that keeps our lives stable
is unstable.
It’s rocky foundation believes that we can use
all the minerals,
all the water,
all the plants,
all the energy,
at our disposal,
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Literature
Experiment
Reluctantly I enter the room that reeks of rigor mortis,
I pick up the blood soaked axe from the centre of the room,
Death flares my nostrils as I don’t hold back from what’s happened,
Another experiment gone wrong,
The cement walls are littered in scratches,
Made by the fingers nails and blood of those trapped,
By my doing,
Without light, without food, without help,
No hope makes it through these walls,
In the corner of this unlit space, a person crawls out from the shadows,
Unrecognizably postured, frantically dripping from the mouth,
So pale and skinny,
Even though they’ve just eaten,
Their malnourished eyes dimly send me an attacking glare,
Wanting to kill me, to escape back to the world they once knew,
That is never going to happen,
Although it could have,
I left the choice up to them,
*memories ensue*
There used to be more, there used to be four,
Now three lie around us, flesh withering away,
Just like my optimism for another result,
For once I’d like my h
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Literature
First Sonnet
Looking back at my past I’ve realized,
At last, sometimes I become the bad guy,
My demise lies behind pitiful lies,
And my conscience is feeling a tad dry,
Worst, I did it just for the amusement,
Without regards towards anyone else,
Pure destruction, no room for improvement,
Blind to all the discouraged feelings felt;
Yet, like the sun peeking through a willow,
You are only seeing half the picture,
Daydreaming at night among a pillow,
Trying to create the perfect fixture,
Don’t search for the dark or give in to light,
Take course for the action you know is right.
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Literature
Meditacion Linea de la Playa
Descending moonlight shimmers over the bay.
The waves of the tide breathe along with me.
In, then out, in, then out.
They sink into the sand,
as I sink deeper in their motions.
In, then out, in, then out.
Time slows,
the sound of waves extends out into dull rhythms
on repeat, naturally undisturbed.
Sound waves beckon to me,
wanting me to listen to their roaring cries,
and feel their vibrations past my skull & eyes.
To be kind of intertwined, one among one
drifting along in time.
The sound waves of the wave’s
sound has made me wave out
and around the conscious sound.
It’s compelling how just a sound
can tune you in with the ground,
and make you appreciate what’s around.
That mere fact is bound to prove that inside,
you’ll watch the world unwind,
and find a way to provide that feeling
behind what you want from life.
In, then out, in, then out.
The waves crash along my consciousness,
as the back of my brain is guided
through a path of sensual serenity.
Such a momen
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Literature
FriENDship
There's this memory
Of an enemy
Staring back at me
With friendly eyes
Before we changed
And parted ways
I'd hate to say
We were allies
I moved on to better times
They moved on to petty crimes
Now we live our separate lives
One of use more morally wise
This infectious retention
Brought misapprehension
And shook my attention
To reveal the falsehood of lies
Along with the proposal
That people are disposable
Their lesson was ambrosial
After we watched our friendship die
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Literature
War
There's something I don't understand,
Why would you kill your fellow man?
Even for money, power or land,
There's no such thing as a reward so grand,
Now if there's something I can't stand,
Is hearing of murder by the hand,
Of the politicians who had it planned,
So is it worth it?
Or is it worthless?
Stop the war
Kill no more
Take the corps
And send them home
Now tell me why it's always been our way,
To never find the courage to say,
We gotta make a change today,
Before we have to dig more graves,
And on a special day,
We remember the price they paid,
For our freedom they lay,
On an eternal stage,
So is it worth it?
Or is it worthless?
Stop the war
Kill no more
Take the corps
And send them home
Now here's the part for all you political pricks,
You don't care as long as you get to sit,
In the chair of enforcing our ways,
You can't fight, you'll have to stay,
You don't care as long as the fight remains,
If it distracts the public from your financial gain,
You have no one but yourself to b
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Literature
Imminent Oil Crisis
I want to get out and explore the
world before the outpour of oil
blackens and corrodes all the soil
mankind chose his part in this toil
I don't want to spoil the world
I don't want tar on the bark
I want the trees to stay green
I want the ground to stay brown
We need to stop destroying our
Earth now that we know what it's worth
why can't we see that it won't work?
laying pipes in amongst the dirt
I don't want to spoil the world
I don't want tar on the bark
I want the trees to stay green
I want the ground to stay brown
You can't see the consequences of your actions,
Your own reaction's, one of demise,
You may think you helping, by recycling,
But it's just beginning, want a surprise?
You gotta do more, you gotta do more to pull your weight,
You gotta do more, you gotta do more listen to what I say,
You gotta do more, you gotta do more than yesterday,
You gotta do more, you gotta do more or else you'll pay,
In a world where everything is dying,
That is when you should most be trying,
To
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Activity


Treat me like a child
I guess I'll act like one then
Only out of spite

April 26th, 2017
Like A Child
Once my partner stopped bugging me to clean up around the house, I felt like I wanted to do it on my own. It makes me think that I take on a childish perspective while being told to do things I don't want to do. Always something to work on.
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My body,
dissipates in a puff of smoke.
My beautiful body,
withered away by habitual disease.

It would be a contradiction to say I care,
but I do.

I had the demon tied down,
locked behind an iron door,
always being watched.
But I still let him slip away.

Now I'm left with
yellow nails,
brown teeth,
faint breath,
and a sick feeling in my gut.

I don't strive for a short life.
I just watch as my willpower is crushed,
by the weight of self-loathing and hatred.

Well if smoking kills,
I'm already dead.

B.A.D
April 18th, 2017
Smoking Kills
Wrote this one about another failed attempt at quitting smoking. I lasted two months this time. I'd still really like to quit..
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Hello watchers how are you doing?

I know I don't update much, but doesn't mean I forgot about any of you.

Anyways my life has been great since I last wrote a journal on here back on New Years. I have graduated high school, worked full time another summer, learned some new songs, attempted recording songs, hacky sacked in many cool locations, explored new hiking trails, played Hockey, Soccer, Chess and Pass with a baseball/football, and started College today for my first year.

I am currently taking Psychology, Philosophy and Student Success.

Also seen my fair share of concerts so far this year. The Black Keys, Roger Waters, Iron Maiden, Heart, Our Lady Peace, Metallica (twice) and Trooper. Also have Animal Collective on the way this month and I want to go see Metric if I can in November.

If anybody wants me to attempt to draw them something at any point ever feel free just to let me know as I need to start trying to challenging myself by drawing different things and more often.

I wish you a pleasant evening if you took time to read this.
Long live Rock N Roll! \../
-B.A.D.

deviantID

bryanswhip
Bryan Douglas
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Canada
Current Residence: Surrey, British Columbia, Canada
Favourite genre of music: Thrash metal, Progressive Rock, Alternative and MANY others
Favourite style of art: Anything that can catch my eye.
Operating System: Windows 7
MP3 player of choice: 160GB Ipod
Favourite cartoon character: Brian Griffin, Hobbes
Interests

Comments


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:iconscottflament:
scottflament Featured By Owner Jun 11, 2014
Hi Bryan and thanks for your fave !
Reply
:iconbryanswhip:
bryanswhip Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Keep doing what you do Scott! All of your art is so fun to look at and there's always a thought provoking meaning. You've pretty much got a fan for life. :P
Reply
:iconscottflament:
scottflament Featured By Owner Aug 12, 2014
Thank You Brian !!!
Reply
:iconwinterofthesoul:
WinteroftheSoul Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2014
Happy birthday, Brian! :party:
Reply
:iconbryanswhip:
bryanswhip Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
thanks! :)
Reply
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