~ozzla

Let the wind blow

+Watch Send a Note Give

About Literature / Artist Member LaurenFemale/Australia

Groups

#theWrittenRevolution
The words are the spark.

Recent Activity

Deviant for 4 Years

Needs Premium Membership

Statistics 149 Deviations 3,828 Comments 9,102 Pageviews

[x]

Newest Deviations

Army Destroyer by ~ozzla

4 Comments

My Grown Up Christmas ListDust motes sparkle through the sunlight. Rather than colliding, they pair up and waltz until they settle. I can imagine them giggling, sipping champagne while they rest.
Sometimes the state of my sugar levels worries me.
From downstairs comes the snap of masking tape and the crackling of cardboard boxes. I should be contributing my muscle to the “bona fide” war effort. It is an odd choice of words, but my parents are well-meaning in their attempts to educate the general populace. Yet, we are always defeated.
There is warmth at my legs and a purr. I smile and drop my hand for her to muzzle. As always, teeth and gum scrape across my knuckles whenever she is vehement for my attention. She has been safe all these years; the small are always overlooked. My parents are giants: tall and opinionated. They wear their manifesto on their sleeves, and frequently passer-bys cringe, shrinking away.
“That's who they are... it's simply not right.”
I always heMy Grown Up Christmas List by ~ozzla

9 Comments

Whiteness, I rememberTwirling, you remind me of a jewellery box ballerina: elegant and poised. You are so steady, holding your position with precision. Even when flicked by the precarious fingers of children you always return to your position. Only statues could best such dedication.

Such beauty did not prepare me for its rumbling. The mountains shook like the bowels of a monster, and thoughts of ballerinas were replaced by bomber planes. I squinted for the tell-tale wings and listened for the whirling motor.

That time it was actually a natural disaster.
A torrent of snow, iced teeth and titanium claws shred trees. The bystanders are consumed while they looked Whiteness, I remember by ~ozzla

9 Comments

Found poetry I by ~ozzla

7 Comments

Browse Gallery

Favourites

Character - Fortune AdjusterCome in, boy, come in. No, I will call you boy. The carnival manager is Boy to me too, do not think yourself so high and mighty. Come in, you want your fortune told by the old circus hag, yes? Come in, sit here, let me peer at you in the shade. You want your future told? A simple task, for I have already seen it in my inner eye. But more than simply tell, I will change. In truth I am not a teller of fortunes, but an adjuster.

The youth of today, worried about the future, ha! The future happens over and over, will happen just as it has happened. All I need are your anchors, the things deciding your future. For example, that pretty little thinCharacter - Fortune Adjuster by ~Cobrateen

0 Comments

The Angels Are CryingOf course, at first one can barely tell. It's always just a pestering, cold drizzle that slips back in enriching sunlight, as one would like to hope.

Now they weep as the wind moans with them. The leaves hastily retreat; the flowers hang their heads in shame. Their tears drench all we've treasured, thrown away, take for granted. The sky dresses itself for their mourning; a blanket of grey. Smouldering clouds take command, and an out pour of tears. Tears from the ones who have done all they could to heal, mend, and reach out to those in suffering. Even angels can't take so much disaster, as they take our pain with them, up where grief is noneThe Angels Are Crying by =CassieCros13

7 Comments

FreckledHave you ever dashed
sea salt in a puddle
of vanilla and watched
the white rocks tumble
in exactly the right space?
Well, I have,
and the result is your face;
The minerals stand out
like stars against darkness.
They mimic the way your
freckles
spangle across the bridge
of your nose
like diamonds caught
in smooth black oil.

still,
with a million ways
to describe their
divine placement,
I've not yet seen
anything like them
and I don't think I ever will.Freckled by ~TheStoyTeller

9 Comments

The Colour of DirtWar is the colour of a country’s dirt.

Here it is black.

“I don’t like the taste of this place,” he says. “It’s like the Devil sat down and farted.”

It rained from the sky for four hundred and forty three days. Black. Like tiny flakes of nothing. Tumbling, twirling, shards of the abyss.

“It’s the fish. The ash cover on the ocean has drowned them," she replies. "They’re washing up in mountains on the beach just over that hill. Tony and Clare took the big kids to see.”

It drifted from a storm stained sky to pile on rooftops until they crumbled and collapsed.

“Can’t drown a fish.”

It stuck to tongues and faces till everyone was a ghost with red rimmed eyes and gray hair.

“Help me with this will yo--” a fit of coughing. Spit. “Sorry. I can’t seem to stop doing that.”

It coloured between teeth like thoThe Colour of Dirt by ~EvilpixieA

2 Comments

Browse Favourites

Watchers

All Watchers

Friends

All Friends

deviantID

~ozzla

Artist | Literature

Australia

Writing is just one of things I do best spontaneously. It's like trying to plan a water fight - you know that it's going to grow out of control. But that's also the beauty of writing: to see what facet of the unknown it will lead you. Will you traverse the challenging terrains of Eastern forms? Will you dredge up those unsavoury emotions? Personally this element of unknown absolutely captivates me. I hope that my journey will inspire you to pave your own way in literature, through thick and thin, and that when you emerge from the other side you'll be amazed at how much you've grown.

Interests

And I wouldn't have believed you

by ~ozzla, Apr 19, 2013, 4:40:28 AM
Personal Journal

Wow.

How long has it been? _{Seriously, I miss you guys *hugs*}

I still drop into #theWrittenRevolution to keep things running nicely, which, btw, you guys do awesomely

Right, now here's the obligatory sharing of day-to-day details

Societies are amazing. haha oh CSE camp for having the sleaziest award

I actually like 4 unit maths

This year reminded me that computing was hard... but also that when you conquer those online activities, nothing compares.

But boy, dat workload. I have to remember to treat myself with a massive binge of online dramas *cough* Faith *cough* and put some solid effort into finishing Bioshock. It sits there on the shelf, staring at me, but I'm like "I'm sorry I have to study" *dies*

Now without much ado, here is some flash fiction:_{Can you hear me? Wheezing, skin flush and eyes bright, feet hungering for the pitter-pat of running, the relief of adrenaline ringing in my ears. I'm star bright, and I know I'll burn. I'll go from solid to gaseous, never stopping to gather myself because the world is at my fingertips. We'll collide, and our grains will become the same; I'll claim you, claim you as my fingerprint: the one and only.}

8 Comments