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About Deviant Braxton-T-RutledgeMale/United States Group :iconthewrittenrevolution: theWrittenRevolution
The words are the spark.
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Deviant for 12 Years
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From the picture she smiles
her eyes wide for the flash
soaking in the light -
the way a prisoner soaks in
a bird song or the guards breathing -

once, her eyes read subtitles
and brochures for the castles
she'd waltz in, now, she prays
the camera will catch the BMW
twinkle, the twice a year cruise

and not the whisper, I wish.
If only. To have better.
Hello people.

So, Monday marked the beginning of my 11 month long final step towards becoming a surgical tech and, with some luck, starting a new and almost certainly more pleasant chapter of my life. 

I am also currently focusing on revision work which will not be seen here in order to submit to a few contests (most notably the Missouri Review this time around) and so the volume of work here is likely to decrease as I select things to send.

I will also probably be less likely to read and comment on your work until I get done with that revision process and such. I know some people who are watched by me and reading this will think, "gee whiz bro, when was the last time you gave me much of anything for feedback?" If you are in that category, or if you really really want me to give you a critique on something, note me. If I can, I will.
The leaves of the lemon tree are
green-green like the force
electric of Dylan's grass.
I can breathe and eat in the empty
now my Lazarus can trace
up roots and feel the sun while
cocooned beneath the pine-bark
in the green-green blanket
on which he left me.

When the roots of the tree creep
down to the cotton and meat his
grey-brown point coat I cried my father
to ashes in will be dust too.
   That long pause
between now and then
there will be sunflowers and
fresh watermelon, there will be
worker bee lifetimes until they
silently lay down next to the grubs
who will eat them, and time will
lie down with me and slowly peel
me out of Shiva clothes
and I will hold a lemon,
bright yellow orange, and
you will be in it,
full of the force electric that
drive the green from the grass.
Waiting to hold you again
I changed a lot from this journal entry braxton-t-rutledge.deviantart.… and I'm wondering if they were good changes or not.
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Mason, a boy, watches cat like
as his mother pleads, do not dive
do not dive
do 
   not
   dive
into the four feet of water.

His little chest and arms already 
defined with a thick vein running
from wrist to armpit, 
he dives.

-

My skin remembers being that age,
already stretched and dark, chest
flopping like the back of flip flops against
a sole, being shoved out of the boys locker room
by little Adonises as they clamored to touch my flabby tits.

My skin remembers the sun, how to brown in
an instant, how to become scales,
armor against the ropes and the lathe of
sand in an ocean breeze, the rough 
touch I'd begged to flay the sagging bits of
me and leave me right shaped
bleeding in the sand.

my skin remembers the touch of razors, 
the moments i began to cut strips off my 
bosom,stopping at the white, the sub dermal fat
like mason stops on the concrete beneath the 
bromide enriched water, blood thick pillars reaching 
for the sun

my skin remembers the farm,
just a shirtless hand flecked with fish shit and
floatsam, my gut and the fat under my arms brown
and dripping out there with other brown men,
old black men, all willing to slap me on the back
and call me sir, glad of my mass as I rode the
mud line, holding down the bottom of the net,
the scars crab red against the taupe of my skin.

Now, heaving mason from the shallows, his concrete bashed forehead,
crooked nose, the mortar between tiles slick with 
pool water, my tits covered in the blood of a boy
my skin remembers, a boy like the tormentors of my youth
who coughs death out of his lungs in my arms.

“Shuttle A-97 reverse thrust, come to 83 degrees port and deactivate your reactive plating. This is your last warning.” Talia drums her fingers against the arm rest. Her ship, two hundred and fifty meters long, crew of nine, had been chasing a rogue shuttle from a research station for nineteen days. The pilot was talented, using the crafts small size and advanced hull plating to maneuver through debris fields her own vessel couldn’t traverse directly. But in open space, the shuttle had no chance, and in minutes the range envelope of Talia’s missiles would end the chase if the pilot didn’t obey.

“Commander Var, the shuttle is responding on a private channel, key to 14” the communications computer prompts her.

“This is Commander Talia Var of the Var syndicate’s ves…”

“Talia, stop.” Her brother’s voice replies. “You and I both know what father will do if I let you bring me in.” Judah continues. “the experiments’ being conducted were against the Zuki treaty, he’s trying to consolidate again, I had to stop him.”

Talia checks to ensure the frequency is coded private and commands the computer not to record the conversation. She hadn’t known her brother was anywhere close to this system. “What are you doing Theo? What’s on that shuttle with you?” She says softly, the range indicator counting the kilometers until her crew would fire.

Silence for ten seconds, her mouth is dry, the medical computer chimes in with a text read out of her heart rate and blood pressure. 153 over 92, 102 beats a minute. It suggests releasing an anti stressor and she thumbs a negative.

“I can’t tell you. You can’t know, if you did, father would have you executed with me, and you wouldn’t keep the secret anyway. Remember borrowing the Falcon the night before leaving for the academy?” He replies.

She’d taken the antique low orbit flyer out for a spin, and in spite of herself, had told her father the morning she left for the academy. He almost made her wait an entire cycle as punishment.  The range indicator beeps, twenty thousand kilometers.

“Please Theo. Reverse thrust. Anything. Just give me a reason to order a stand down.” She closes her eyes, his clean shaven head, the dark brown eyes, her mother’s attached earlobes, a contrast to her and her father’s ungainly detached lobes.”Please Theo.”

“Shuttle is reversing thrust Commander, should we stand down weapons?” Crewman Delk asks.

“Stand down, begin deceleration, it would be a shame to ram them after finally getting them to stop running.” Talia replies. The medical computer readout shows her vitals returning to normal as the distance between her ship and the shuttle closes.

“I’m so sorry Talia. Believe me.” Theo says through the closed channel. An alarm chimes, three six hundred meter vessels appear on the navigational display, impossibly close.

“Full power to…”

--

Theodore Var watches as the three stealthed cruisers open fire. Twenty warheads probably could have been spared out of the twenty-four fired at Talia’s interceptor. He unstraps from the command seat and removes the command interface helmet, walking aft into the small cargo area. In it are sixteen incubators, each containing a viral contagion, designed to be the perfect weapon against each of the major competitors to the Var Syndicate.

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Journal History

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:iconsimilar-singularity:
similar-singularity Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2016
the fact, that all this time,
I HAVEN'T BEEN WATCHING YOU
..has been remedied now, and i ask
for your forgiveness, and i thank
you for your art :heart:
Reply
:iconbraxton-t-rutledge:
Braxton-T-Rutledge Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2016
? Which pieces? I mean, of course I am happy people like what I write, but I always like knowing which pieces and what they like (along with what they don't)

I am also going to return the watch, I remember your poem still, the powerful opening lines.
Reply
:iconsimilar-singularity:
similar-singularity Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2016
duties, first: to the 20,000+ beautiful pieces already awaiting my inbox
that i have neglected since my last visit on dA (february??)
your words deserve everything more than a proper sit-down, so. soon :heart:
(and i thank you :rose:)
Reply
:iconbraxton-t-rutledge:
Braxton-T-Rutledge Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2016
I understand. Ha. I'm always far far behind my watch list. I have a long list of poems to return to and give proper comment on.

When you are able, please do return.
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconcloudnothing:
CloudNothing Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you so much for the favorite! Hug 
Reply
:iconbraxton-t-rutledge:
Braxton-T-Rutledge Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2016
I don't hand them out Willy nilly. The work deserved recognition. I believe I short changed you a commemt, which I will address soon.
Reply
:iconsenoritablack:
SenoritaBlack Featured By Owner Jul 10, 2016
And now it is my turn to thank you. :) Thank you for watching me. I do so hope you end up enjoying the show. ;)
Reply
:iconbraxton-t-rutledge:
Braxton-T-Rutledge Featured By Owner Jul 10, 2016
I'll warn you that I often do my Deviant art reading in spurts.
Reply
:iconsenoritablack:
SenoritaBlack Featured By Owner Jul 10, 2016
I don't expect you to read me, so if/when you ever do, it will be a pleasant surprise. I'll warn you that my writing, like my life is unpredictable and messy on occasion. Now we've both been warned. Fair is fair after all. :)
Reply
:icondull-glitter:
dull-glitter Featured By Owner Apr 28, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the watch! :heart: 
Reply
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