Sperpy

Wine makes everything better

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How do you say goodbye? by Sperpy, literature

Literature

How do you say goodbye?

Three days after you started to die, when it was just you and me, and while your tongue roamed restlessly inside your drooping mouth, I asked how do you say goodbye? Do we hold hands - your baby-soft grip already receding back and out to sea, with the winking calm of a rip laying itself flat, while the surges of your fasiculations score channels in the shallow grooves of your ribs. Do we say the words we already know - I can see the delay of words from your brain to your tongue, and your sunken chest heaving with measured words and counted breaths. Do I study your face, to remember - the corners of your eyes are alrea

No less than waiting by Sperpy, literature

Literature

No less than waiting

My days are now no less than waiting for a cool breeze. Where once there were cloudbursts flurrying themselves, fingernail-scraping up the walls, to the ceiling to the sky. When enough was the silken touch of grass-blades against fingertips, the reddened smack of sun on a cheek, or the almost miraculous taste of a crisp beer at the start of a night, (or the start of something); now, my tongue sits sickly swollen, lolling fat and drunk on its own fatigue. I sleep cheek-scraping thirsty, cavernous mouth bouncing echoes wall to wall, but not quite wide enough to quench the desert ache. I hungry filter feed by night, the

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How do you say goodbye? by Sperpy, literature

Literature

How do you say goodbye?

No less than waiting by Sperpy, literature

Literature

No less than waiting

tomatoes by Sperpy, literature

Literature

tomatoes

the garden has grown over. rows of metal stakes sit barren, tilted if you were here, I would ask - do you remember each spring those sagging, strained vines grazing the ground and all the varieties of reds that brightened the back of our yard? the sound of the doorbell, a cue to load up the bags, and the postman, your sister, my friends leaving, laden with a bounty and Mum heaping two kilos of them in a deep saucepan, bashed and dented from years of cooking for four, and they'd simmer for hours like time meant nothing our crop, we shared when there was so much

A thought by Sperpy, literature

Literature

A thought

+ my mind is not a labyrinth I think or I do not think, but somewhere between the two aches rumple & tangle in my head not quite sure how they arrived there I could sift the clouds across my fingertips and glimpse it, there an answer sailing away on the hemming & hawing breeze and then stare until the blue canvas paints itself thick, heavy on the back of my eyes my shoulders curl me into insubstantial space, the shortened muscles hold me stiff, straight, secure inside this whispering breeze that promises so much in one moment and then, you know +

Infertile depths by Sperpy, literature

Literature

Infertile depths

The surf has been treacherous recently; I've watched the white peaks smash against the cliffs, and then pour themselves into the sea. Greedy, cumbersome waves, dragging all they find to somewhere new. Lunging depths rendered infertile from troubled times, like twisted bed sheets in a restless, anxious night. No fanciful promises of marine landscapes, but something else. The intrepid sea throws itself at the land, then creeps back, floats away, spinning golden green leaves in whirlpools threatening to pull their wilting weight into those sterile depths, then traces the foamy paths of impatient boats that carve themselve

Untitled as yet by Sperpy, literature

Literature

Untitled as yet

+ The surf has been treacherous recently; I've watched the white peaks smashing against the cliffs pouring themselves into the sea, with barely a breeze in the air. Those greedy waves dragging everything they find to somewhere new. No fanciful promises of exotic marine landscapes, but something something else, a scene ever changing, restless, anxious throwing itself on the land before creeping back, floating away, spinning golden green leaves in whirlpools, tracing the foamy paths of those impatient machines, and then alone but never lonely. +

the space between each breath by Sperpy, literature

Literature

the space between each breath

. The space between each breath of yours is where i try to clamber a little closer and can we breathe in sync and even make our hearts beat at the same time so that their symphony breaks down the walls o! their hearts beat simultaneously! and there will be earthquakes! earthquakes! and we will have no other choice but to cocoon each other and share our heat, protect one another from the devastation. and even if each day is the same or frighteningly different we'll never notice ignore the periphery because this is too big and we don't want to topple o! can you see them almost toppling, are such sights worth it big stompin

But in absence of the heart by Sperpy, literature

Literature

But in absence of the heart

. I I don't want elongated days or shadows that curve & stalk round corners or even segmented hours, the next one unattainable. I never look too far forward in fear in fear of something changing the second after eternity and then nothing will go to plan. Atop a hill that whispers to the clouds there lies valleys only seen from here, valleys usually pathways trodden to see this monstrous mound (and not so deep at all). And gloomy seas set in feathered cliffs, the rocks are sharp to touch but from the shore are statuesque and sculpted by indecisive tides that tease my toes in knowledge they have seen the hidden seabed &

Knocking at your dirt door by Sperpy, literature

Literature

Knocking at your dirt door

I could hear you buzzing and chirping under the lawn. At first I thought it was each strand of grass in monotonous symphony in the night - in the safety of the night free from careless footsteps - a pulsing, crashing ocean, vast and yet chastened by the lunar tides. I dug for you, little friend, so gently through the layers of the soil but I think I scared you because you stopped singing when you heard the knocking of my fingers at your little dirt door. I waited quietly and then I knew I'd scared you because when you regained the courage to chirp again it was a little held-back and uneven as though you were frightened

here to hold my hand by Sperpy, literature

Literature

here to hold my hand

. Have you noticed that our criss-crossed palms have no horizon to even the most diligent observer? I held my hand out for yours, my fingers snipping like greedy scissors, to have something strong to grip as we hurtle, directionless (although we only understand velocity in the safety of musing retrospect). We used to seesaw in non-invasive back and forth motion. Each time my feet hit the ground I would soar higher and my bones don't ache like they used to (although I've never tried dropping them to see if they shattered). Have you noticed that your hands cease existing as utensils within the vicinity of clasping, curling

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Dubel owe sevin by norman2, literature

Literature

Dubel owe sevin

Dubel owe sevin tuckseedo on, gun at mi cide redy for cassinow tym cule car ritch pepol ann baibz gunna hav a trumentuss tym a marteeny shaykon lots of munny to be maykon eatin ecspenzive baykon predy girl sudenlee taykon gunz a blayzen a gerl heis chasen godda sayve her lyfe sheez beeyoutifull like a soopermodell sheez got eis lke pouls of wader her scin is like porsellin bang ...too bee cuntinyoued

A Slow Drive through Yosemite by livingbyair, literature

Literature

A Slow Drive through Yosemite

Why people mix stimulants with depressants I don't know, but it's appealing when you pull out your flask and top off your coffee. You always said milk was a poor substitute when you could pour 90 proof and start your day off on a foot you forgot you had. You'd never set foot in a coffeehouse though. No, those feet were preserved for sticking out windows while your knees made an easel on which you'd rest some admixture of hand and canvass. "Drink and drive," you'd say, "It's okay," because it made you see the Fall trees like a cluster of red and purple paintbrushes pushing up from a cupped valley. And you knew I always wanted to paint like

The Village Bicycle Project by zebrazebrazebra, journal

The Village Bicycle Project

Feb 10, 2012

The Village Bicycle Project Pet projects. Groups, prompts, contests, news serials. We all have them, whether it be one, or two, or ten if we've got a premium membership and a largesse of time. We start them for various reasons: to make a change for the better, to provide an opportunity that wasn't there before, or simply to make our mark on this wide and diverse community. Of course, it wasn't always like this. When I was first kicking around deviantART, News was still in beta (heck, beta-testing was still in beta) and Groups were nothing more than a glint in the ninja milkman's eye. What few projects there were were run out of the forums, i

Mudita by rober2, literature

Expose-Lit: The Launch! by CrumpetsHarvey, journal

Expose-Lit: The Launch!

Jan 26, 2012

Expose-Lit (https://www.deviantart.com/expose-lit) has a mission: To show dA writers who go overlooked in the lit community how easy it is to get involved and get noticed. We believe that dA lit is a brilliantly supportive, intelligent, and encouraging network for writers to develop in, whatever their level and wherever they’re heading. But it’s no fun if you feel excluded. At Expose-Lit (https://www.deviantart.com/expose-lit) we just want to put up a few signposts saying "writers this way" and "for Critique take next left" and "Fame and glory over the hill; bring a picnic." Why? When thorns (https://www.deviantart.com/thorns) set the challenge to tackle dA complaints head on, I was immediately stuck by an idea! ....and a fee

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tomatoes by Sperpy, literature

Literature

tomatoes

Sperpy

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About Sperpy

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Artist // Hobbyist

July 16
Australia
Deviant for 20 years
She / Her

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My Bio

Wine makes life better

Favourite Movies

the little mermaid

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

the whitlams

Favourite Writers

beat poetry, bukowski,donne

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Sperpy

Feb 15, 2013

Is there anybody out there

0 min read

Hi peeps, Long time no speak, I am here but barely. Lots of big grown-up things happening in my life: I'll be 27 this year, gaah. Getting married in just over 3 months time, and then have a 4 week honeymoon in Italy and France. My whole life has become exercise, dieting & wedding planning, with a high pressure job thrown in the mix. Wooooooooooo party

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Sperpy

Feb 9, 2012

On Writing

0 min read

. This is brilliant http://jon-law.deviantart.com/art/Jon-University-284040038 by Jon-Law (https://www.deviantart.com/jon-law) Everyone should read this.

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Sperpy

Jan 13, 2012

The most awesomest comment ever

0 min read

. To all aspiring critics - this http://comments.deviantart.com/1/9341309/2363861856 is the kind of critique you should aspire to write. Don't try, just do. I kinda have a crush on apocathary (https://www.deviantart.com/apocathary) now p.s. poprocksandcharlotte (https://www.deviantart.com/poprocksandcharlotte) is kinda awesome, like a 15 on a scale of 1-10 awesome

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Profile Comments 2.1K

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sperparella!

omg you old married bag

congrats, lovelove etc

Happy birthday!

I miss your contributions, my friend.

fleeet

Jan 19, 2015

hello sperp. i am going to write a letter and then a picture.

Dear Sperp,

It has been twenteen months and approx eleventy years. How are you on this fine Mondesday Aftermorn? I am a boat. the transition period has been long, but my rudders are looking fine and i have plentiful barnacles adorning my bow.

My favourite side is starboard because it sounds spacey. How is australiamland? i hear there is a lot of dust and not much water in the middle. this would not be a good place for a boat.

Yours Sincerely,
Float.

substanceabuse

Nov 5, 2013

Rachel,

I know it's been quite the long while, but I've missed what all of us used to have.

I still have the audio recording of "this is how it is", and listening to it is a nostalgia I don't want to forget. Hope you are well, my dear.

AyeAye12

Apr 1, 2013

Can I just say that the panda in your avatar is mesmerising and ridiculously adorable.