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About Varied / Hobbyist Tyler Jones25/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 6 Years
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Literature
The Limbless
To be a snake
To be without limbs
To slither
To only need a head
A mouth
An undulating
and capable
limbless body
It scares the limbed
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Literature
Just Another Branch
Slick plastic bombastic
fantastic gotta have it.
Cellophane brain acid rain
subtle pain magic.
Alchemical transdimensional nothing.
Anchored in perpetual becoming.
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Literature
Turns
Listening is calibrating to another’s matrices
as they rotate spaces within their own novel, pulsing seas
In-formation lingualized, meant to in process realize
that through these turns and in these eyes
language implies another
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Literature
Thou Shalt Not Kill*
Would you take a bullet for what you believe in?
Would you kill, or be killed?
Would you fight back against someone that is forcing you to fight back?
Or would you allow yourself to die, and fall into the embrace of a loving God?
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Light That Blinds by ruinedbyproxy Light That Blinds :iconruinedbyproxy:ruinedbyproxy 3 0
Literature
Someday Song Titles
Benefit of the Meta-Doubt
The Novelty of the Unintended
Compulsory Love
Not Usually
Very Often
Wallow
I'm Sorry to Notice
Concerning Facts
The Burden of Empathy
The Burden of Apathy
Futile Noise
Unleavable Place
Maslow's Vindication
Placation Nation
Entirely Impractical Mad Wizard Shit
Exist, Subsist, Persist
Paid Off and Comfortable
Averages and Absolutes
Denihilize (Denial Lies)
The Walls Should Be Thicker Here
Provision Convision
Suited Thieves
Mostly Muscle Memory
Evidence of Intention
Scar Accumulation
Christian with a Gun
Transformative Attractor
Epigenetic Landscape
Biological Becoming
A Fool's Devotion
Ridiculon Capital Fuckery, Inc.
Ruined by Proxy
Science in my Philosophy
Philosophy in my Science
Eye Monster
Caravan Malice
I Don't Know, I Just Feel It
Strontium In Our Bones
Citizens of the Winning Empire
Empires Never Win
Oldest Known
Persistent Phantom Body
Temporoparietal Junction
Things Moving in the Periphery
Avant-Avant
It's Fucking Gigantic
The Tremors of Progress
The B
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Literature
Mere
We were thrown into an ocean of emotion. It never quite managed to convince us it was worth it, but it wasn't trying to. We kept pushing on. Our curiosity was morbid.
We knew there was the potential for more, despite our constraints. We knew there was something better we could build with what it gave us. But the world kept coming down around us. Our tools were weathered and destroyed. All we had left was the ability to gaze into each other's eyes. We cried into each other. We asked that silent, rhetorical 'Why.' We couldn't stop.
But we did. The shudders stopped anyway. The tears refused to come any longer. The light was different. The wind sounded new. The nerves in our fingertips stretched into the earth, and we felt the soil for the first time all over again.
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Literature
Galactic Prime
I'm Galactic Prime, number-ornate,
dust-woven thermodynamicism incarnate.
Bathed in radiation and wrapped up in garments.
I see the nest of the hornet and wonder what God meant.
Words come out of my brain seemingly pre-ordained,
a matrix of matter combining matters
that make the rain feel phatter
and fatten the lessons that implode anyway
as each new day I am forced to realign my ideals
with the actual, factual mess of this consciousness.
Energy spires into wells, conspires into cells,
feels its way through the dark
until the parts of it that survive
the cannon-fodding of its own hapless nodding
manage to thrive.
It's doing all of this to itself, and the crumbs it left when it knew it would forget have molded into dust.
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Alight 2 by ruinedbyproxy Alight 2 :iconruinedbyproxy:ruinedbyproxy 3 0 Alight by ruinedbyproxy Alight :iconruinedbyproxy:ruinedbyproxy 3 0
Literature
Balm
He sighs while sitting down, the weight of all the lives we lead.
Spinning truths until they die inside the lies we feed.
The turning of a back can be the turning of a cheek.
Awareness spreads too slowly for the unity we seek.
Reactions quick, opinions stick, minds closed in their own balm.
Storms of disagreement are too quick to levy calm.
Emotions rise before we know we're in their undertow.
The cold logic of relativity above the known.
But hope is a fire that deserves to remain tended.
As long as we can feel its warmth, we know it hasn't ended.
The crackling of the kindling of all the weary feelings.
That time will heal all wounds is a cliché that deserves seeing.
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Literature
Poisoning the Nest
Our species is a young one and the future's worth investing
but the darkest of our nature seems to constantly be cresting.
We don't know how to change ourselves when habits run this deep.
Denial, willful ignorance, the things that let us sleep.
Some of us will go insane while others find complicity.
Shifting blame is easy when it runs like electricity.
Some will stick their necks out to endorse responsibility.
Others stick their heads into the ground and far more easily.
We're going down with history, it seems we get to see
how the permanence of mystery means doubt will kill the seeds
that try to break from the traditions that enforce our tendencies
of exploitation, separation, menaces of sickly ease.
Our nature always mutates and for all the shining souls
there are mutants just as valid with their hearts of gaping holes.
Love is all you need, it's said, but love seems not enough.
What if love can't heal the parts that want to keep it rough?
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The Eye by ruinedbyproxy The Eye :iconruinedbyproxy:ruinedbyproxy 4 0
Literature
Gaping Whole
We share the same biology
but inside our psychology
lies an insane methodology
to dehumanize another.
Reflexively
we hold distinction above similarity,
drawing lines that harden minds
against a higher clarity.
Disparity.
Meta-cultural gulfs of false polarity.
Delusions that a common understanding is a fantasy.
Self-assured superiority, uncompromisingly
maintaining stubborn impasses, unbudging ideologies.
Falling into rabbit holes, identities of pride.
Every person is a schizophrenic universe inside.
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Literature
Bonafide
Joints they creak reminding,
there's a funny way of finding
the remembered part of all of this:
that we are always all of this.
The lines we draw between
the funniness of conscious being
and its countless complex feelings
demarcating self from world --
an ancient trick self plays on self
so that it may grow old.
And feel old, a wealth of experiential finding,
that finds these funny ways of finding ways of finding finding,
that wind around and stay inside event horizons wide,
inside outsides, between these eyes,
blind spots constantly confide.
(Bonafide.)
The absences are felt as much as presence.
Precious prescience premonizing promises to keep.
Lying down paralyzed in the cyclic haze of sleep,
we dream and cultivate and propagate the things we steep.
(Sometimes awakening from the worst of dreams to weep.)
And so it goes, when the mind is ready to accept
the possibility of pondering the terrors of its depths
that wring the horrors of our nature as we rip ourselves apart
only to sew it
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Literature
But Mourning Is
Who are we gathered standing here
Upon this opalescent sphere
The universe through us appears
And sees itself as many
It works upon its own brute forms
Through the perils, through the scorn
To reach a point it will still mourn
When the day is done
But mourning is the secret gift
The one we will still learn to miss
If we could deadhead to the mists
We would not know a thing
This poem is not satisfaction
It is not mal- or bene-faction
It is the culminated action
Of the thing that is
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Tyler Jones
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
Poems, stories, ramblings, photography, and doodles fall out of me and into this place sometimes.

ruinedbyproxy.tumblr.com/

www.facebook.com/Ruined-by-Pro…

I also make electronic music. If you're interested in checking it out, hit the bandcamp site below.

neurotangent.bandcamp.com

There was something unmanagingly deep about the way my dog sighed. The way he gave me a sidelong glance before doing so. The way he seemed to contemplate as I talked on the phone, knowing that he’d never understand. The way he perked and heaved himself up and bumbled over to me anyway when called, unquestioning in his trust.

That trust was total. It was earned by witnessing me – something so obviously, staggeringly capable – choosing to be gentle. That sigh communicated a distance between us vaster than the stars.

Activity


To be a snake
To be without limbs
To slither

To only need a head
A mouth
An undulating
and capable
limbless body

It scares the limbed

Comments


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:iconmusingphantom:
MusingPhantom Featured By Owner Nov 8, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the fave :)
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Pecuchet Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2015
Thank:iconjackdanielsplz:you
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:iconlbamagic:
LBAMagic Featured By Owner May 14, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
thanks for the fave and comment. wave remake i really enjoyed your art gallery especially your doodles, keep them going they're great. Two Thumbs Up 
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:iconthewolfcreek:
thewolfcreek Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you for the fav...
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:iconikarusthefirst:
Ikarusthefirst Featured By Owner Sep 14, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you kindly for the faves! (:
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