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About Deviant Artist Dylan MangumMale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 11 Years
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For Dear Life by Dilll For Dear Life :icondilll:Dilll 0 0
Twenty Twenty
When I was a younger boy of only 11 I took a liking to swimming, and I would often take many a dip in the cool waters of Highland Park. My family would of course accompany me in every way for fear of drowning or abduction, but their presence was nothing more than a formality in my mind, I had more pressing matters to attend to.
          I grew to admire the way the water created fingers to join with mine in the air's absence, and how its body would save me from a concrete deathbed no matter how hard I tried to hit rock bottom. I soon began to indulge the warped view of the world through the eyes of the shallow end, complete in all its sparkling light and disfigured features. My time spent with Poolside Poseidon was that of utter bliss.
          In one swift kiss my love would be shattered, two lips of red joined together to bring my world crashing before me. My youngest brother, little
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His cheap knock-off Almond
Eyes stare back at me,
As they reach out into
A blackened brawny rage.
His hardwood complexion,
Stained with sonatas sung
By a selfish alto siren.
I can smell her silent song
Through pinewood teeth he laughs at me,
And lunges forward so "discreetly"
That I mistake his hands
For Kabuki fans, and Adrenal glands.
A vengeful eclipse omits
His lucky luna luminescence.
I bob and weave
Between the grain of his lumber.
A steel cocoon of desperation
Hung beneath a burly branch,
Births a butterfly of pure delight,
To gently end our plight tonight.
This evening treachery is so very trendy.
The monarch bends to my will,
and despite her weeping screams
I begin to slice into his bark.
His cheap knock-off almond
Eyes stare back at me
before I harvest them
with lumberjack presicion
His hardwood complexion,
stained with the red of his sap,
Warps as I lay on
A second, third, and fourth coat.
Through pinewood teeth I reach
down, and my hand lunges forward,
grabbing his dastardl
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Driving fast toward home at last.
Im nearly lulled to sleep
By hum-drum bumps,
And doppler engines.
I see the broken Bella Luna Light,
Browned and softened
By Earths' thin windsheild;
Pedal to the chorus metal.
I pursue its precious power
To extend its reach across the Globe
With Honolulu Hands,
And Porcelin Rings.
I envy its inverted graceful guile
To weave symphonies of chivalry,
That lull your sultry somber soul
To Sleep.
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Pestered by a flies fly-by,
Tempting me to have a have-at-it.
Too slow it seems, I seem to grasp,
Its flimsy wings flap far too fast.
:icondilll:Dilll 0 1
He who holds your Love of Loves,
With eyes of fies, and words of Ocean Blue.
And I with Indards of Tempered Steel,
with your Scent at heart and a Primeval Passion.
:icondilll:Dilll 0 0
I thirst for Slient Slumber,
but my Straight Laced,
Sapphire, Cackle of a Cot
Does not satisfy.
Curly Amber Wavy Silk,
and a Pearly Molten
Marble Matress
May yet Satisfy.
:icondilll:Dilll 0 1
'Kids These Days'
Brainless, Painless
      Self centered celebrity
      Bats; Ensnared by thier
     Cronic lack of Vision,and
      Guided by faulty Radar.
Mango madness and sucre sadness,
       Smell of arid artificial
           The Real World
             Is not made
          Of delicious fruit.
:icondilll:Dilll 0 0
Dead Pool, shimmering and shallow.
Carcus Fish and weeping weeds lie Beneath;
A Facade of Felicity to attract eager anglers.
Ten pound test does not snap,
But rather reeels them rightly to the bottom.
Forever bound to broken promises.
:icondilll:Dilll 0 1
A cold breathless fire
Consumes my Frustrated Flesh.
Leaving me a callous cloud of consiousness,
Condemned to eternal circumnavigation.
Seven inches of Cesarion Precipitate
Form a standing pool of liquid love.
Safe to drink from freshly made,
But destined for pollution.
:icondilll:Dilll 0 0
A moth dangled 'round a streetlight's
brilliance; a gilded golden glow emitted
until the return of greater forces,
forces with intent to conquer
with guns a Blazin' and Hell be Razin'.
Sun dried seeds of wines ferment;
a red box full of desire and disatisfaction.
Merry Marvel maidens reach out to touch,
but my Shriveled hands have an awful way
of letting go
:icondilll:Dilll 0 1
The classroom I am currently sitting in looks quite like a normal classroom, except the floor is, for some reason I do not care to know, a cobalt-blue carpet rather than an earthy tiled pattern found so commonly. The optimistic posters of encouragement adorned across the off-white wall instead whisper to me with a pessimistic prose of perpetual imprisonment. The features of the room suggest that the entire building could double as an accounting office. My new teacher seems nice enough; a short black woman with an accent that clearly states that she is not from North Carolina. She is to teach me Chemistry, a class that I would still be taking back at Wake Forest if my one-time-only performance had not gone horribly awry. The invigorating enthusiasm for a good laugh and a good time is for all intents and purposes, gone from me. The symphony of sights and sounds that was my life has been reduced to a single, droning note.  But there is not much to be done at this point, and I ca
:icondilll:Dilll 0 1
A Day at the Races
A day before the big premiere, less than 24 hours to show time. A quick trip to wal-mart and a weeks worth of anticipation are all that prepare me. I must say that I feel slightly under-rehearsed, but not in the least under-publicized. My big mouth has, by this time, reached the ears of anyone who cared to listen, and the pressure to deliver the goods that are a spectacular feat, is immense.
        I lay flat on my back, legs crossed and hands folded upon my stomach. A slow Baroque-Period piece is playing on my stereo in an attempt to calm my increasingly intense nerves. I think heavily on why I must do what I am about to do; I am quite aware of the attention it will bring me, and the possible repercussions that I may face. I could not bear to face the people who are counting on me to shake things up if I chickened out. Self-induced peer pressure is half of why I have to see it through, the other half I suppose is thrill seeking. As the orchestr
:icondilll:Dilll 0 0



Dylan Mangum
United States
Current Residence: Boone, North Carolina
Favourite genre of music: Good Music
Favourite photographer: Scott Bryant
Operating System: PC
MP3 player of choice: I don't own one
Shell of choice: Sea?
Skin of choice: White?
Favourite cartoon character: Master Shake, Calvin


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Kateri12 Featured By Owner Dec 23, 2007   Photographer
thininkedlines Featured By Owner Sep 10, 2007
Ha! That's where I am also! Do you have a Facebook by any chance?

Apparently whales are more popular in the mountains than one might think! Imagine that.
thininkedlines Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2007
Thank you for the lovely comments and for watching my gallery! It's funny-- you seem to live in the same location as I. (Though I don't have it listed on my page.) How bizarre!
thecherrybombshell Featured By Owner Oct 30, 2006
Hey you, thanks for watching.

I looked through your gallery, and you've really got talent. I'm looking forward to more.
VampireButterflyMel Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2006  Professional Traditional Artist
Hey, thanks for the watch! :D

has 100 pageviews

And happy 100th pageview!:party:
SpokenAubade Featured By Owner Jun 2, 2006
Thank you for the watch. =]
quit the silence , write some more!!!!!!!!
Gimpy10145 Featured By Owner May 26, 2006  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Welcome, and thank you a lot for the fav. Ur stuff is great. Keep up the good work.

bumpyduey Featured By Owner May 21, 2006
Welcome to DA :wave:
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