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About Photography / Artist Andrew (Not Andy)Male/Canada Recent Activity
Deviant for 12 Years
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Scream, 'Love' bullet proof.
It's a strange world
where strnagers dance to music only
I can hear.
I want poetry to tumble from my lips as easy as curse words.
With the same ease it takes to flip on a switch and let sad songs of lost loves stroll into my ears.
I want
I want to stand on the highest pillar of the tallest tower and scream,
Bullet proof.  
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Feet by Sheltan Feet :iconsheltan:Sheltan 1 0 Hands and Feet by Sheltan Hands and Feet :iconsheltan:Sheltan 0 0 Nevada 2 by Sheltan Nevada 2 :iconsheltan:Sheltan 0 1 Nevada by Sheltan Nevada :iconsheltan:Sheltan 0 1
Coke Bottle Hand Grendade
Their is a sinister plan afoot
Coke bottles have started taking the shape of grenades
I wish to fill them with gun powder and throw them through store windows
If only to remind the world that nothing need makes sense to be righteous
I want to rip every building down
I want to spit in the eye of the soothsayers that try to make sense of this world.
I want to say "Fuck it all"
"Let it be!"
"Stop watching your world and start burning it down."
"Fuck her."
"Marry her"
It doesn't matter
It doesn't matter.
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The Morning After Life
I'm wandering through the halls
shifting beer cans and half filled cups
that still smell vaugley or rum and 7up.
I lift a garbage bag to reveal bottle caps and an empty box of Reactin.
Proof that Attfield's been here.
My head is screaming and crying in anger and disgust,
a disappointed parent.
I pour water done my throat and
master sweeping one handed
so as not to loosen the death grip I have on my coffee
and every time my roommate mentions mention whiskey my stomach tightens.
As if to say, "not again, sweet lord, not again."
We haven't even approached the bathroom yet;
the site of a bitter struggle:
Man versus himself.
The literary implications escape me as I traverse sticky hardwood floors.
My stomach aches as I step out into the morning light,
I crave a cigarette but instead drag deeply off my coffee.
This was a good night
This is my good life.
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Coming to Hell
I imagine this is what coming to Hell feels like.
You can see it, off in the distance.
A red fog against infinite black.
A black darker then any you have seen.
For it is the unseen.
Past the hopeful lamps of the loud, shivering, school bus lies darkness, absolute.
But you can see it on the horizan.
A dot of yellow that seems at first the sun,
but rising at midnight.
But as you aproach you see first the towering coloums of smoke.
Vomitting lazily into the sky.
Someone has set this world on fire and the smoke is the slowest messenger of all.
Four plumes, maybe five, swell into the sky.
But as you draw closer you see the source, much the worse.
You see ten thousand twinkling lights.
Each one surley a bonfire for liberals and money lenders and homosexuals and Jews and negros and darkness.
Each one surely the death pits of a thousand generation of sinners.
The bus wheels slowly towards as it it swells, you see the pristine details in the de-nighted sky.
You see no stars.
No li
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Taxi-man, oh taxi-man
Oh, Taxi-man,
With swift green and gold convayance.
You are the gift of God's burning light upon this world,
To rescue me from some frozen steppe.
Not the inffinite plains of the Huns,
But the cold concrete of a five to nine after work.
Shivering with fever and with cold
and the wind.
You pluck me from the modest half way point,
filled with impulse-buy candies and condoms,
and a quizzical Sri Lankan wondering at my pacing/passing.
And you, like Pegasus, whisk me, warm.
Across the street and cross the roads
and you deliver me safe home,
As I gather my wits, or at least my shit.
I wish you could burst into my home,
like so many unwanted neighbors.
crash through my doors and lay me safe upon my bed.
Where beauteous angels would attend me.
Undressing me, not for the satisfaction of my lions,
But for sleep, for my body seeks respite.
Or ever longing death.
So thank you,
Taxi-man, oh taxi man
for saving me
from the slow cold March night,
and a slow cold night marc
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Downtown Rain
I crouch on a
cold steel barrier
and offer votive prayers to
the sky.
As the mariachi guitar that
slowly from the beaten yellow Stucco
of a family business
too long in dying defies the threatening sky.
It cries life
and joy
to a grey gull-filled sky.
Suddenly the last
throaty note ends
as the owner,
his back only wetted by the rain,
pulls it inside.
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Footprints on the Moon
Bo Jangles is dead, long buried now
In a hobo cemetery under an over pass.
So who am I?
Pen scratches on bleach?
Fear of tomorrow?
And who are we?
Just wandering minstrels in a ‘92 Oldsmobile,
Bright white under a blanket of prairie dust.
Like the Big Sur himself.
A thousand hungry skies,
Golden fleece and golden fields and a long road.
So we wander,
In void and shadow.
And if we throw careless gravel to the careless wind,
and flee,
what have we done?
The question remains,
Will these sparse words force her,
Of deep crushing eyes,
To love?
No, then of what worth?
That hope,
That ludicrous hope,
That armed with 1000 notebooks full of drunken nights and brillant rains,
That I may, one day,
Leave footprints,
On some moon.
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Looking Away by Sheltan Looking Away :iconsheltan:Sheltan 2 5
Love with a Parisian
I grip the cold metal handle
and force the glass door open.
The wind whips my hair--
I brush it away.
I hold the door:
she grins after me.
A thick French accent muffles her thank you.
I laugh--
this laugh that speaks,
says what I mean,
what I wish I could make her know.
That she smells of
But these words mean nothing to her.
So I just laugh,
The laugh that I hope tells her,
That I could lie in the shade of her verdant eyes,
That I want to brush her unruly curls from her face;
Make her smile.
Make her laugh.
Not a foolish love-letter-laugh like mine.
But a laugh that would bring that smile
Of effervescent white,
That smile that would take me for days.
I want to tell her these things.
But I can’t
My half-bred Germanic is nothing for her
eloquent Romantic purr.  
So I whisper these thoughts onto paper in a cold office,
as she whispers “j'adore” to him.
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Avatar 10 by Sheltan Avatar 10 :iconsheltan:Sheltan 0 0 One Step Closer by Sheltan One Step Closer :iconsheltan:Sheltan 2 6 Katie by Sheltan Katie :iconsheltan:Sheltan 2 4

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Andrew (Not Andy)
Artist | Photography
Current Residence: Red Deer, Alberta Canada
Favourite genre of music: Alternative
Favourite cartoon character: Gandhi
Personal Quote: "When it gets dark enough you can see the stars."
  • Listening to: Has Heavan Run Out of Miracles Today- Dr J.
  • Reading: The Historian - Elizabeth Kotanova
  • Watching: Nothing
  • Playing: I suppose "with myself" is uncooth
  • Eating: Chicken Wrap
  • Drinking: Moolate
Seeing as I have reached the landmark on  one quarter done the attempt I thought I ought to remind people what that's all about.

Their was a challenge issued to me, not directly but none the less, to complete 100 pieces of art in one style. Their was no time lines except self enforced ones. I have so far posted 25 pictures within the unifying theme of portrait photography.

So I lay down the challenge once agian to all people.

Come up with 100 different pieces of art in any style, if nothing else it will be a goal to work towards.  



Add a Comment:
kagemusha123 Featured By Owner Nov 21, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
This is way late but thanks for all the comments!
deviantART muro drawing Comment Drawing
Sydsquid Featured By Owner Apr 23, 2009
Cheers buddy!!
kubowski Featured By Owner Apr 20, 2009
Hey Andrew! Thanks for the watch. Much appreciated! :)
levdir Featured By Owner Jun 29, 2008
I kind of hate how you're a better photographer than me.
BitterGrapes Featured By Owner Apr 4, 2008  Professional Photographer
Thank you very much, Andrew! :thanks:
levdir Featured By Owner Mar 24, 2008
Interesting that all your exposures turned out reasonably even, considering they're all doubled up.
jozefm Featured By Owner Feb 19, 2008   Photographer
Thanks for the:+fav: :hug:
deadlysin Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2008  Hobbyist Writer
hail the random deviant button :w00t!:
...after all, it brought me to your page.

anyway, feel free to check my gallery out and if you like something, feel free to leave your :twocents:

- tK
jozefm Featured By Owner Feb 10, 2008   Photographer
Thanks so much for the favorite.:hug:
Add a Comment: