Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Varied / Hobbyist Jason SamsonMale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 5 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 28 Deviations 109 Comments 1,941 Pageviews
×

Newest Deviations

Literature
Lost But Now I'm Found
Cold and shallow is my heart
But I wonder how it came to be
Life was so much better at the start
But all that's good now seems to flee
I had hoped that you would brighten up my day
But you just walked away
All seems lost now with no hope
I'm sliding down a slippery slope
Your apathy the catalyst
That pushed me in this void
And it's hard to resist
This urge to be destroyed
I'm past the point of insanity
But it doesn't get ride of your vanity
So I count the days till it's time
Till it's my time..
to raise a glass and celebrate
to not have to fake that everything is great
to have hope beyond the lies
to never again give myself as the compromise
to hold my battered head up proudly high
and to demand the universe to let me fly
And fly i shall way up high
Up into the night sky
And if Not back by sunrise
I'm up with the bids away form everyday sighs
beyond the grass and the trees
even beyond the clouds
beyond the atmosphere ill be
and someday
soon
even beyond your memory
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 2 2
Literature
Prozac
I used to feel alive, breathing was nourishment, pain was exciting, and passion sparked colorful sparks that scared me and hurt my eyes, but even then it was so exciting that I was rarely inclined to look away.  
life was a Fire rising off a block of solid ice.
An avalanche, set into motion by an earthquake, only to be put to rest by a towering green oak.  I could rarely steer, but sporadically I could point it in a general direction, even if it is just from one vice or an another.
but now
I am told that the pills help.
That they make me a better father. that they make me a better husband.
but from the inside, I am just sinking. A Slow methodical decent into pointlessness. passions mean nothing from down here. Hell, I can barely still see the sun. I look for it sometimes, It's just a shimmering glimmer now more abstract than real.And from it, I get no heat, I get no light, only just... Wanderlust for how bright everything used to be.
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 2 2
Literature
Toe to toe
Sore feet scrap the concrete as tired legs refuse to lift them any higher.
within defeat, his evil seeps and consume as if on fire.
his thoughts provoke his fist to clench as knuckles turn to white.
the thought alone makes him flinch as he replays the fight.
within his head, he can't help think of what he could have changed.
would possibly a word of fixed what ended in this shame.
Instead, the rage within betrayed his meek abilities.
and now they know the yarns he weaves are all just tall trees.
his face and head that feeling of dread and the pain from his ribs.
The taste of blood and sweat and tears running down his face.
he learned that day the price you pay for telling only fibs
that all the talk in all the world mean nothing
when standing face to face.
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 2 0
Literature
unscathed
Choices, like paper cuts or razor blade curses trap me into a corner.
I was there by choice at first... but now I am suffocating on freedom, constricted by thumbnail thoughts.
My blue tinted lips tingle as the sparks shower down, branding me with scattered starry fields of pinhole blisters.
The slow motion blur of this overexposed photograph,With all its abstraction based in reality.
It reminds me of the nauseous feeling triggered by locomotive deadlines or bad choices made manifest as worse consequences.
Nothing goes unpunished in this world governed by the laws of physics.
Another link to spiral down. Thank god for this jagged rock landing.
I though for a second that I would go unscathed.
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 1 0
Literature
Untitled
“what is it?” I ask my self
“I am missing?”
“that I want?”
“what is it?” I repeat
“that I can use to paint a smile?”
“what is it” I ask once more
“or...is it” “who is it” I should be asking?”
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 1 0
Literature
Final lullaby
A sirens song sings
from a place I never before desired to go
but her call hunts my dark curiosity
and I trudge toward the notes
The notes
They float heavy like pollen in a breeze of fear
They sting like thistle, sharp,embedded
and blood letting my will
Like leaches on the musical scale
they taste like doom and smell of excitement
they penetrate my walls and disarm my reserves
they steal my soul in a way that makes me giddy to hand it over
She sits still in front of me.
Still as death  
Still as lovers that have collapsed into each-other
But the notes are breathing
panting as the lovers do
in rhythm with each-other
in rhythm with my heartbeat
syncopated with my loins throb
and the queasy flutter in my belly
as if it was again my first time
I am enthralled
both wholly beaten and willfully submitted
I knell before her.
Her hair Black and white
Her Eyes dissecting my lustful mind
Her throat singing my final lullaby.
Words so sweet I crave the next line
phrases that shudder thru me
as
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 3 0
Literature
The War
Does it get consumed
The parts of us we give away
Just offered up and then removed
To never see another day
Is my value finite
Does it just deflate
Is it when Im low im right
I offer up, it dissipates
Can it be that Shadow
Is the only thing that's real
And the embers of light flow
Are fragments of the surreal
Hallucinatory figments
That we create to cope
As life ignores our limits
And shatters all our hope
A question one should ponder
Is if it take energy to make light
And darkness just all ways is
Then who is winning the war
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 1 5
Mature content
Dirty words :iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 0 2
Literature
Home anticipated
The concrete grones under wheels
Birds flee from there free meal
The miles tick away my progress
I am all most home
The sun retreats
The sky leeks
My progress slows
I am all most home
Yet another coffee
Snow agian on the radio
A new zip code
I am all most home
Finally a familiar place
Finally street names I know
A familiar front door
I have returned to my throne
It is good to be home
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 2 1
Literature
Of Demons and Angels part 2
But he manifest each and every night
only exposed to second sight
drifting into her deepest dreams
confusing her even more it seems
this other thing that hes become
made it matter not where he's from
he seems to fill her heart with thrills
for his words provoked shuddering chills
he told her things she wished to hear
the antidote for all her fears
but yet back in her conscious mind
she knew that soon would come a time
he'd dissipate in to a void
swallowed whole and then destroyed
she be left with the bitter taste
her shatter heart shes left to face
his horns and eyes have burned a place
a vicious scar she cant erase
the lust he stared into her eyes
now something to be despised
for her heart played on her this evil game
and brought her naught but crushing shame
one day still she will grow old
but now her sanctity will unfold
the demon left her divinity empty
where at one time she had plenty
left a husk which now shes doomed in
the mortal body of a female human
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 3 5
Literature
Exploding night
Talk to me this night
in whispered salutary tones
until we're ready
to be each others
completion of fantasy
till the sun returns
Now we are consumed
with that wonderful desire
to please another
intertwined we grasp
imaginations bold eyes
inhibitions flee
to the place between
red lines we draw in our minds
hidden  fantasy
handcuffs and hot wax
This pleasure bookends the pain
with vampire bites
the endgame goal shift
from climax to exhaustion
sustained ecstasy
sweat and lust and pain
create supreme alchemy
a divine potion
we drink together
of this volatile  nectar
till the night explodes
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 3 7
Literature
Lies
Deep inside of one and all
sits the lies that can rot away
the people we wish some sunny day
we could be before we fall
like mold with spores made of deadly mist
slowly poisons the flesh of lungs
with clammy skin and swollen tongues
and bloody spit from coughing fits
like craving bad the next long drag
or the pain the razor gives
telling yet another fib
a deadly game with death of tag
like another week of one night stands
another morning walk of shame
a beast so far you've failed to tame
trying to drown out life's demands
like a thread that must be pulled
that unravels your claim to reality
it will leave your will an absentee
and your hardened heart exposed
beating slower and growing cold
waiting for the needle prick
forming ice and freezing thick
catatonic psychoses takes hold
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 3 7
Literature
Gypsy constant
Ebbs and flows sometimes can be controlled
A shamans staff linked to the clouds
A druids heart linked to the woods
lovers souls linked to one another
A mans passion
in battle
in sport
in bed
in defense of family
and a woman's just the same
but for the part of me the exists underneath
my father hood
and my man hood
deeper down it shifts like sands in a tide
like a storm clouds fury  
flashes of light and thunder leave
scorched  pocks of razed earth
trailing a wake of burnt bridges
and flushed exhausted lovers
or
an insecure and stoned boy
being admonished by a disappointed mother
sometimes even
just a character in a poem
just the shifting sand of
a mirage of goals and passions
always drifting in and out of reach
before any can be mastered
change is the only constant
of a gypsy
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 1 0
Literature
Egoes Dragon of the caves
Egeos of the caves
Some soar and raze villages with breath so hot nothing can withstand
Some perch on mountain peeks eagle-eyeing the world of mortals below with contempt and disdained
Some Swim with the swiftness and agility of dolphins  guarding the secrets of the flooded depths
But Egeos
Egeos dwells with in the caves carved by the long forgotten Dwarven kingdom
At one time, before the Civil war of that shattered stone, he was revered as a God. A God that was feared and payed homage to with the best of what the earth could be parted with. But now his only congregation are the pacifist of the kingdom that chose to barrow down deep close to the hot molten and inhospitable core. Those who refused to take sides in a war no one knew the start of. But that was so long ago and now Egos is but a myth, even a curse used to swear at one another among the new Dwarven kingdom.
Ether way, for him... For Egeos of the caves it matters not. The less he's bothered by the worrisome boisterous li
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 1 0
Literature
Relativity
Relativity proves its self every time we part
off to work or out to walk or drifted away in a book
circumstance can change
time can drift
distance can ebb and flow
But like light
The constant
is my internal lust
and my self-imposed chains
and my scars
razor blade sketches
and thorn bush purgatory
But like time
My happiness is relative
simply to the time
we spend naked and entangled
as flesh and moans dance like flames
burning the kindling of a mundane existence
time stands still
until the screams and panting of your shattered inhibitions
flood this sad gray world with one of its few glorious  golden moments
then
only after the echoes stop and the time we share locked together ends
does the clock resume its wearisome job counting down till the end of time
when time and light and relativity mean less then the last grain of sand then blows away
into a sunset with nothing left but the echoes of the moments we shared together
:iconQuazytoke:Quazytoke
:iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 2 3
Mature content
Untitled :iconquazytoke:Quazytoke 0 0

Favourites

Mature content
sunstone volume 1 print version pdf :iconshiniez:shiniez 772 76
Literature
Talent-less hack
I'm just a vacant writer.
A copy-cat who only regurgitates lines that are cliche and stale.
They crumble in my hands at the slightest bit of tension.
How can I claim originality when this message has been spoken before?
I'm left with a un-needed poem, and words that won't inspire anyone.
"We don't need another talent less writer.
One who simply doesn't break the mold and instead fits themselves to it.
Carving out your own is what a "real" writer does."
"Hey now don't let this sorrow hold back your hand.
You have to use every opportunity of sadness and let it consume your work.
The darkest moments will eventually shine the brightest."
"What do you mean you're not sad anymore?
Don't you realize the art world craves sadness?
Because our darkest moments should be the ones that flip that creative switch."

But there is no creativity left.
I'll keep re-writing those words, even thought the meaning has been lost long ago.
Scribbled down lines with base-less motivations.
I'm not t
:iconZaiav:Zaiav
:iconzaiav:Zaiav 74 56
Mature content
Pervy :iconthehollowgirl:TheHollowGirl 3 0
Mature content
Dangerous Dan :iconronniebegoode:ronniebegoode 10 34
Literature
American
As I sit under a broken sky with a look-out view of New York City, writing poetry in this century of forgotten poetry, with my biblical book of Walt Whitman serving as a paperweight, I'm trying to figure out what it means to be an American, with the whole nation ready to ignite like a barrel full of gas fumes, with ire and divisions, addictions and debts; with all these natural liberties under siege by wall street police and militarized prudes, with cities of forced vagrancy and corporate war states and walls, walls, walls.
Whatever being American means, it doesn’t have much to do with a flag or a pledge —any damn fool can salute a flag.
Perhaps it has more to do with never perishing from the Earth —unrestrained by imagination, limitless in energy; watching the rise of the Mannahatta skyline as it knocks on the floor of heaven; creating legends out of everyday life, and myths from electric light —the Mother of Exiles, bohemian love, underground beats, marijuana
:iconFrank-Jaspers:Frank-Jaspers
:iconfrank-jaspers:Frank-Jaspers 41 29
Literature
Unaware
Is what we see reality
Or a fantasy of what we think life is supposed to be
Is it all a game
The broken promises that leave us here crying in the rain
Am I a person
Am I unclean
Do I have what it takes
To remember your face
All my nightmares come from deep inside
They leave me broken with no place to hide
My body aches as my soul breaks
Suffering broken covered in scars
Trying to remember who you are
The broken bottles
The shattered lights left to remind me of each one of our fights
Our life's history
Is just a shrouded mystery of our fractured reality
Are you still with me
Am I still unclean
Do you have what it takes
To forgive me for my past mistakes
To shine a light
To help me to remember the one I once embraced
All my nightmares come from deep inside
They leave me broken with no place to hide
My body aches as my soul breaks
Suffering broken covered in scars
Trying to remember who you are
I don't even care
I'm left alone
Broken
Unaware
I don't even care
I'm left alone
Broken
Unaware
:iconLucifer-Poison-Angel:Lucifer-Poison-Angel
:iconlucifer-poison-angel:Lucifer-Poison-Angel 3 0
Literature
The Origin of Suffering
For now I cleanse my heart with tears
That Good and Evil fruits impart
Through Knowledge culled from human years,
The trees from which all sufferings start.
As God within me wakes my heart,
My heart awakens inside God;
A spark in infinite dark his art
Shall draw like lightning to the rod.
And burning human pride’s facade,
I’ll sear and singe, a martyred saint;
And with the martyr’s fervor, prod
And press until I’m sacrosanct;
In fearful furnaces distraint,
My soul will smolder as it nears
The white of lightning; and I’ll faint,
Saved only then by God’s own tears.
:iconFrank-Jaspers:Frank-Jaspers
:iconfrank-jaspers:Frank-Jaspers 47 20
Mature content
The dress - 2 :iconfineartsphotos:FineArtsPhotos 74 4
Mature content
HELLsinki Part 1 :iconronniebegoode:ronniebegoode 14 17
Literature
Safe Passage
the night to sort the days' remains
between the loud silent refrains
what was and could have been laments
encroaching on the present tense
we push to light of foreign shores
our left behind unsettled scores
perspective changed by life's recourse
rewritten within our remorse
truth withheld for sake of fiction
we a living contradiction
hearts betray ourselves still wanting
that of our own guilt left daunting
selfish seeking greener pastures
misconstrue resulting factors
the causes manifest effect
of which we cannot resurrect
so here lies all that we have built
our ignorance ignoring guilt
to focus on this forlorn need
between a lost insight and greed
:iconthechadisgr8:thechadisgr8
:iconthechadisgr8:thechadisgr8 2 0
Literature
Belong {9/30}
I belong to the silvan depths of summer
To languid days
And fireflies that scatter the night with fairy dust
I revel in tempest-tossed oceans of autumn
In flaming trees
And sweeping winds, filling the sails of daydreams
I belong to the raw honesty of winter
The bone-cold trees and hills
Like remnants of a cathedral lost to time
I delight in the world's awakening
Its yawning rebirth
As it stretches green fingers into magnificent bloom
And if I come to see that you strive with me
To belong also
To beauty and nature and nature's God
To cascading experience and ambition
A passion for living
And a fire for humanity and adventure
To bone-cold honesty of heart and soul
To a rawness
Of tender tears or tired sobs
To light, growth, and unquenchable love
Then maybe...
The two if us can belong to one another.
:iconEmily-Byrd:Emily-Byrd
:iconemily-byrd:Emily-Byrd 15 16
Literature
A road.
A road of dust is before us all.
It has many forks within in it.
Each fork is different between us all
And each road we walk carries different effects.
Some walk through the past
Others towards a future.
We all walk on different roads
That is what binds all
The road.
Yet it isolates us for
The road
Is a lonesome journey.
:iconlshack:lshack
:iconlshack:lshack 4 4
Literature
My writings.
I write from what I see, feel and happen in front of me.
All things are inspiration to me from sorrow to happiness.
I write to improve myself and to show other what I have seen.
Not through image but through feeling.
I write for hope of others to understand
For not many people understand and feel the same emotions.
:iconlshack:lshack
:iconlshack:lshack 3 1

Activity


That moment when a new note turns out to just be a random llama. 
Cold and shallow is my heart
But I wonder how it came to be
Life was so much better at the start
But all that's good now seems to flee

I had hoped that you would brighten up my day
But you just walked away
All seems lost now with no hope
I'm sliding down a slippery slope

Your apathy the catalyst
That pushed me in this void
And it's hard to resist
This urge to be destroyed

I'm past the point of insanity
But it doesn't get ride of your vanity
So I count the days till it's time
Till it's my time..

to raise a glass and celebrate
to not have to fake that everything is great
to have hope beyond the lies
to never again give myself as the compromise
to hold my battered head up proudly high
and to demand the universe to let me fly

And fly i shall way up high
Up into the night sky
And if Not back by sunrise
I'm up with the bids away form everyday sighs

beyond the grass and the trees
even beyond the clouds
beyond the atmosphere ill be
and someday

soon

even beyond your memory
Lost But Now I'm Found
This is a collaboration the wonderful Princesscsc and I wrote together :D hope you guys enjoy :D
Loading...
I am in desperate need (want ) of a decent graphic tablet hit me up if you have one your wanting to get rid of :D
I used to feel alive, breathing was nourishment, pain was exciting, and passion sparked colorful sparks that scared me and hurt my eyes, but even then it was so exciting that I was rarely inclined to look away.  
life was a Fire rising off a block of solid ice.
An avalanche, set into motion by an earthquake, only to be put to rest by a towering green oak.  I could rarely steer, but sporadically I could point it in a general direction, even if it is just from one vice or an another.
but now
I am told that the pills help.
That they make me a better father. that they make me a better husband.
but from the inside, I am just sinking. A Slow methodical decent into pointlessness. passions mean nothing from down here. Hell, I can barely still see the sun. I look for it sometimes, It's just a shimmering glimmer now more abstract than real.And from it, I get no heat, I get no light, only just... Wanderlust for how bright everything used to be.
Sore feet scrap the concrete as tired legs refuse to lift them any higher.
within defeat, his evil seeps and consume as if on fire.

his thoughts provoke his fist to clench as knuckles turn to white.
the thought alone makes him flinch as he replays the fight.

within his head, he can't help think of what he could have changed.
would possibly a word of fixed what ended in this shame.

Instead, the rage within betrayed his meek abilities.
and now they know the yarns he weaves are all just tall trees.

his face and head that feeling of dread and the pain from his ribs.

The taste of blood and sweat and tears running down his face.

he learned that day the price you pay for telling only fibs

that all the talk in all the world mean nothing

when standing face to face.
Toe to toe
As a stream of consciousness writer, sitting down with a plan of attack or even a predefined goal always feels forced to me. I am rarely happy with how such pieces turn out. This one not so much. It took some work on spacing and some wording to get the rhythm to feel right but I think it now reads naturally how I wanted it to. I would, however, love some feedback from other writers on their process.
Loading...

deviantID

Quazytoke
Jason Samson
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United States
I'm in love with all things related to Passion talent and beauty ..... and other stuffs.
Feel free and be encouraged to send a note and ask questions I'd love to get to know you.
Just finshed 21 hrs of driving with 4 hrs of sleep and about 10 monster energy  coffees. Ii don't think I have ever been so falling over exhausted and so bug-eyed wired at the same time....t hought I might try and write something but only got jiberish. ...meh I don't even know wtf I'm doing writing this for ..hehe... ..peace out and may your night be blessed...or something

Friends

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconscarletdeath7:
ScarletDeath7 Featured By Owner 11 minutes ago  Hobbyist General Artist

Falling, shot from the skies,

A wingless angel,

Broken, shattered inside.


Left in pieces, swept away,

Forgotten, but for a sliver,

A sliver of hope or decay?


Sins cleansed by the flame,

A phoenix reborn,

Rising from the ashes that remain.

------------

Happy early birthday.

Reply
:icontheevilovelords:
TheEvilOvelords Featured By Owner Jan 29, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for joining our group! :D
May we be graced by your presence for a long time :meow:

Sakurai Amy
Founder of The Writer Gang
Reply
:iconronniebegoode:
ronniebegoode Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fave for HELLsinki and for watching me.
Reply
:iconsambeawesome:
sambeawesome Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2017
Thank you so much for the watch! I Love You Emote I really appreciate it and I'm glad you like my artwork Huggle! 
If you'd like, feel free to check out my YouTubeTumblrTwitter, or Facebook.big pink heart 
Reply
:iconquazytoke:
Quazytoke Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you, by the way, the spirit that shines thru in your "5 Mistakes Beginner Artists Make" video feels so pure and genuine, its an absolute treat to see someone so passionate to see other people improve their selves. a true Gem, thank you again :D
Reply
:iconsambeawesome:
sambeawesome Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2017
Aw, thank you so much x3 :hug:
Reply
:iconquazytoke:
Quazytoke Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
:D Pssssss...... Data is indeed... the shit :D
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconronniebegoode:
ronniebegoode Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the watch. I hope you'll keep reading. :-)
Reply
:iconquazytoke:
Quazytoke Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
indeed man, the thing you got going with FirebreathingAlison it pretty damn good. been a treat to read

Reply
:iconronniebegoode:
ronniebegoode Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you. We weren't sure if it would work, but it seems to be going ok so far.
Reply
Add a Comment: