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About Literature / Hobbyist Conor22/Male/Ireland Recent Activity
Deviant for 4 Years
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Thoughts on endless repeat,
The orchestra self-composes
in its sleep, and in itself
finds too much to think.
Ideas are repeated,
Rehashed and rediscovered
so that the words themselves
might speak, and find they too
have breath within them,
to somehow be unique,
And like the rest of us
fall short and yet succeed.
They tumble from my mind
like rain onto my feet,
and I scramble to write them down,
Before I too fall from my waking mind,
and into sleep
:iconconorjmurphy:ConorJMurphy 12 0
Most hated friend
Glimmer, Glimmer,
Faintly shimmer,
Oh dark star of the night.
Reflect my soul,
My anguished stare,
Shine on so glaring bright.
That we should fear so much,
From something so small,
Seems an unusual plight,
And yet as I hold you in my hand,
I know my friends are right.
And yet to put you down seems ludicrous,
Just do not run across - shine on bright,
My glistening friend - lest I cover you in red.
:iconconorjmurphy:ConorJMurphy 8 2
Yellow Wall
I write on the wall
to convince myself
all things can fade.

But this is of pencil
and my sorrows are
written in sterner ink.
:iconconorjmurphy:ConorJMurphy 10 2
Generation Z
I find myself surrounded,
By humanities peak.
The latest generation,
By the best and by the meek,
And whether our doom or our salvation,
They’re most certainly unique.

Those who still read and can speak,
The intelligent and great.
There’s the socialite few,
And the rather incomplete,
The arists and musicians,
And the scientists that teach us -

And least of all, there’s me.

I wonder what my role is,
In this brave and weird new world,
I’m afraid I’ve missed the forest,
Because I rather like the trees,
And there’s no room for the philosopher,
Because Google’s all we need,

And poetry is quite useless,
According to scientific studies.
I’d hope to be remembered,
So maybe I’ll start a war,
Or maybe here, at societies end,
We’ll find a use for words once more.
:iconconorjmurphy:ConorJMurphy 3 4
Jazz Club
The heavy warmth
Lies on me like sleep,
And sleep is catching.
Symbols crash, and brass trumpets
Glint and wail, half cast reflections
Of the dancer’s sparkled spinning tail.
I lie back, seeing the club so vividly,
While the aroma of dark coffee wafts in,
My mind intoxicated by swinger’s pack.
:iconconorjmurphy:ConorJMurphy 3 5
The wind was calm and warm,
Though the clouds seemed foreboding -
But when didn’t they?
I sat on a grey wall,
And looked out at a grey world.

The Atlantic Beast churned,
The dry ground ordered a retreat,
While Neptune’s forces rallied.
I fought back with stones,
But they skipped of the ocean’s back.

In the silver sand I had
Written my name with stones,
Then buried them deep entombed,
For future archaeologists to find,
And wonder who I was.

On Youghal’s coast I sat,
And wondered who else had
Stared out across the Ocean
And was lost to thought.
And the grey was never dull.
:iconconorjmurphy:ConorJMurphy 2 4
Paper Pairings
There is no difference
between words written on
a page, the tangible
scratching of graphine in
rage, lust or love, to
the endless zeroes and
ones, imprisoned magnetically
in their metal cage.

The page and pencil
I now hold are yet
the same, as a glowing
screen, the cursor’s aim is
to replicate a person’s hand,
and clicking keyboards
make a noise like tarnished lead,
if only it’s sharper replica.

And yet it feels not so.
My aching, creative soul
bleeds for the roughness
of a paper host, and the
sweet nothings of a wood
rubber and leaden love,
doomed to disappear in time,
Just like the rest of us.

Perhaps it’s for my own
sakes, but the smell of long
lost paper is sweet, and the screech
of graphine as across my page it rakes,
and the muddy, smudgey
ink blots can never be replaced.
In paper I can lose myself, while the
world waits in a corner to be clicked.
:iconconorjmurphy:ConorJMurphy 3 0


Gasping, struggling to hold
the boundary between thought and being
I push
and cry as particles collide into
a hand
a foot
soon they will die
I scream into the macrocosm of
the void
and the people hear
in their sleep
waking in their own sweat-soaked beds
and grasp for my words
blurred in their minds
formed only on canvas
an epidural of ink and pigmentation
I push the prodigal child-
Dionysus is born.
:iconrationalist-v-artist:Rationalist-v-Artist 10 12
Open Minds, Open Hearts
Many roads to salvation,
Pathways to paradise, but no
Stairway to heaven yet found -
Streets paved with gold
And Olympus spinning in the sky.
Tears of absolution
Leading to a bloody crux
Against a field of white,
Galvanized astringent
For a past of chains,
Lucky clover grows anew.
No one memory is true,
Crystallized disillusion,
One more mirage.
A closed box, black and white,
The steel trap of isolation,
Colored by perception,
A line drawn in
The soft equatorial dirt.
Us and them, something for everyone.
:icondreamsickdev:Dreamsickdev 3 7
As I let go, I breathed the stars and became the night. I flew away from the small suburban hospital with wings of fire and dust.
In the blink of an eye,
I was nothing.
And then I was everything.
I was a mountain, a river, a tree.
A broken picture frame, an empty pill bottle, a hasty letter.
I was my father's tears and my mother's broken sobs.
And I reached out and comforted my existance.
:iconcjernest:Cjernest 4 7
To a place
There were Rhododendrons
In the corner of the park.
Pure white flowers
Except one that was dark.
There was music
Dancing in the air.
Right behind us on the bench swing,
It followed us to the stairs
This is not to a person
It's to a place.
Where we tossed rocks in the ocean
Where we left a trace.
:iconecho-of-echo:Echo-of-Echo 12 5
Sentence Structure
    Because sometimes there are things that just nag at your mind until they eat you up from the inside out, and there's nothing left. When it's all said and done, sometimes outside is better than inside.
    Even if you cross your is and dot your ts, it doesn't make you any different than anyone else on this spinning ball of dirt, floating in a futile circle around and around a star for all humanity's infinity, until the sun explodes. Even if you travel 1,040 miles an hour in the opposite direction, you still won't be going anywhere.
    Use your words, they used to say, to all the little children. But what happens when computers' speed outweighs the gift of communication? U for you, and all that jazz is too easy to do.
    What happened to diversity of words? As the people increase, the words decrease and all that's left is nothing to show for it. What happens when culture digresses to a point of insanity?
    I thought
:iconexquisitelyexplicit:ExquisitelyExplicit 4 4
The Stream
It's a place alone
Not a lonely place
With a softly whispering stream.
A basswood tree by the side
And a sea of ferns
Sway in a shared dream.
There's a pool on the edge
Where the tadpoles swim
Oblivious to the moon,
And a nest in the tree
Padded with down
That the birds will finish soon.
The still is broken
Only by the boughs
Stirring in a gentle breeze
And the tiny fish
In the clear water
Swim upstream with ease.
There's a leaf,
Now only veins
It's a delicate lace
By the whispering stream
Is a place alone
And not a lonely place.
:iconecho-of-echo:Echo-of-Echo 14 21
The Ethereal Sea
Luminescence in extremes,
In succulent violet-greens
That sparkle in the dusky light
And ease me gently into night.
I lie down, my feet up,
Head down,
Slipping my fingertips around
And around in the ends of my hair,
Closing my eyes and lying there
And letting my third eye
Do the seeing.
People, places, countless visions,
Sounds, smells, proclamations
Of all of Time's departed
And the so-called nonexistent,
Bridging the gap between worlds
And drifting through the silver mists
Inside my mind.
Pain comes first, but fades quickly,
Eventually becoming the subtle static
That buzzes throughout the mental
I miss him, and her, and them,
All irretrievable to me
Beyond the veil of Death,
And unspoken words swim between us,
Whispered too breathlessly to be heard.
Embraces never to be shared...
I laugh and cry at how I cared
To bring myself into this space,
To eat the woe that fills the place.
Tears are inevitable, but I cherish them;
What else may we expect to hold onto
Except the way
:iconwolvenvengeance:WolvenVengeance 1 2
Inner eye deprived of colour
Winter bleak and grey
Thoughts adrift,  touch of magic
Poppy fields in sky today.
Grey clouds, rain, all replaced
Crimson glory in heaven's domain
Touch of magic renewed perception
Patiently waiting for spring again.
2012 Delice1941
18th January2013
:icond-a-skelly:D-A-Skelly 6 7
Blue Like Winter Sky
crystal meth eyes, wild as the moon
empty as a newly dug grave
midnight blind walking
on the path of soon, child, soon
freedom whispers in her damaged ear
drowned out by too much rain
shaky stick legs walking
bruise small flowers along the way
the sound of buzzing flies is louder
than the sweet hum of somethingness
eyes blue like winter sky
searching for a place to rest
she never had a goddamned thing to give
but she'd give it all away
for something that's not nothing
for a time that's not today
:iconbark:Bark 30 42
Five Finger Filigree
Five finger filigree
Ink lines traversing me
In feats that flow through symmetry
And Random, free
Breath to breathe.
Every hour building power;
Bringing climax to the skies
Burning fumes behind the eyes-
Cataclysmic swagger hip-clench
Seismic drop of give-and-take synch.
Questions left with space to find
An eternal stretch of opened mind
Expanse beyond dreamscapes combined
With flowering flow of endless Time
A looping wheel, a cyclical line.
All living things may die,
But I'm alive and feeling fine.
:iconwolvenvengeance:WolvenVengeance 3 8
The lady of the forest
The lady of the forest wears always green and gold.
Her eyes don't have a color or that's what I've been told.
The lady walks on treetops and slides between the leaves,
Below the oldest, tallest oaks the lady sits and weaves.
The lady of the forest is fond of playing games:
To lure a stranger to a swamp or to a ring of flames.
The lady's songs are full of charm, of sorcery, of dreams
They make the world change all around, and nothing's what it seems.
The lady of the forest knows when you step within.
She makes the trees dance 'round the road and makes the moon-skies spin.
When you are lost, beware her voice, don't trust your eyes and ears.
Or you might be caught in her realm to live out your worst fears.
The lady of the forest is neither good nor bad.
She's born of wind and fire, like them, she can't be dead.
The lady has no feelings, no longings and no heart.
She has her games, so full of fun, no stopping when they start.
The lady of the forest is known by many names.
And if you ever
:iconyukime-no-lady:Yukime-no-lady 25 22
All that I Ask For
Give me eyes to close in order to feel,
A tongue to enjoy the choice of silence,
Provide a breeze to cool my doubts,
A pen to hold and admire the possibilities
Of a blank page
Give me lightning to power my thoughts,
Sunshine to melt me bare,
Snow to reflect my invisibility,
Provide skin to scratch and tear so that my essence
may escape in bursts
Give me lungs to burst,
Limits to push,
Lines to cross,
Norms to break,
Provide a hammer with which to shatter
The worlds shallow views and expectations
Give me a soul to breathe, air to speak,
Water so that my thoughts may flow
And lips so they may part in ecstasy
when the wonders of the world overwhelm
my human senses and tear me from
my fragile frame.
:iconnuin07:Nuin07 4 7




ConorJMurphy's Profile Picture
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
I'm Conor. Just about out of my teenage years. Irish. I love literature, music, film, history, politics, technology, and a lot more. I write mostly poetry, though I really enjoy writing fiction. Reading is probably one of my favourite things in the world.


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Echo-of-Echo Featured By Owner Jun 28, 2013
Happy Birthday.
WolvenVengeance Featured By Owner Jan 18, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks so much for faving my poem, and for your lovely critique.
ConorJMurphy Featured By Owner Jan 18, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
You're very welcome :) I really enjoyed it. Most 'poetry' on dA isn't really poetry, and most of what is isn't very good. Yours was one of the wonderful exceptions that is both poetry and excellent :D
WolvenVengeance Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Well thank you :) some others of mine you may like are "Visage Framed in Heaven" and "Human Transmutation" can be found in the Poetry folder of my gallery, if you're interested :)
ConorJMurphy Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I'll take a look sometime :)
(1 Reply)
Nuin07 Featured By Owner Jan 18, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the favourite and welcome...! :)
Bark Featured By Owner Jan 17, 2013  Professional Writer
Thanks for the fav, and welcome to DA!
ConorJMurphy Featured By Owner Jan 17, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you, and you're welcome :D
RiseandBe Featured By Owner Jan 17, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Welcome to #PoeticalCondition!
We are happy to include you as one of our members and look forward to your contributions.
We hope to see you as an active part of our humble group.

Your Founder, RiseandBe
ConorJMurphy Featured By Owner Jan 17, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you :)
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