Father-Dischord

Love & Rage

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Memory Tree by Father-Dischord, literature

Literature

Memory Tree

Sun up soon I remember how much we used to love the sunrise Seeing the black turn to blue turn to life turn to every shade of living The earth is a little warmer now This side anyway I remember that night we danced in the rain and you got so cold I gave you my shirt to make you warm You smiled and kissed me I think of warm when I think of you You can see the sun now Time flies when you reflect I suppose But we didn't need time right? A million minutes we used to say No matter how soon you needed to be home Or how early I had to be up for work We had all the time in the world I finally did the math for that you know It's just

Right now by Father-Dischord, literature

Literature

Right now

I want to walk to the top of an ocean cliff in the middle of a hurricane Wearing nothing at all Completely unprotected And stare right into the heart of it. I want to scream and shout And cry And rage Until I can't see And then, I want it to take me Just one bolt of the most terrible lightning it can summon Then let me fall into the sea I want to be a storm I want Mother Nature to make me her child Fierce and terrible and beautiful Where are the Saints for those who need them? A saint for the weary A saint for the broken A saint for the stone-hearted? How long am I supposed to fight Until I can finally understand myself?

The Bell Tower by Father-Dischord, literature

Literature

The Bell Tower

Matt stepped out into the cold and down the steps of the bar, his mind sluggishly trying to figure out what the whole thing had meant. He just couldn't wrap his head around it all. What the hell did she mean "I just wish you'd let me be your friend"? She talked like everything they had before was less than friendship. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his smokes to find only one left. He lit it and closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine do its job, then forced the smoke back out into the cold, winter sky over Manhattan. He loved her; he still loved her despite everything. There were still mornings he expected to wa

With my Regrets by Father-Dischord, literature

Literature

With my Regrets

My Dearest Samantha, When you and I stood before the alter in sight of our friends and family, I swore to you that I would love you until death do us part, that I would honor, support and cherish you all the days of our lives. And then, after all that, after years of joy and satisfaction, and undying love, I was afraid. For one second, I was so petrified, I just couldn't stay. It suddenly dawned on me that I might never be able to get out, that I would let my life pass me by. I never meant to hurt you, or for any of this to happen, and for a great many years I have fooled myself into believing that I had sacrificed you for your own

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Memory Tree by Father-Dischord, literature

Literature

Memory Tree

Right now by Father-Dischord, literature

Literature

Right now

The Bell Tower by Father-Dischord, literature

Literature

The Bell Tower

With my Regrets by Father-Dischord, literature

Literature

With my Regrets

Who Can't Hear The Music by Father-Dischord, literature

Literature

Who Can't Hear The Music

Almost every single night in the shadows by the light, You can hear the sound of busy, dancing feet And the little girl you find must have lost her blessed mind 'Cause she's dancing all alone out in the streets And you almost feel pity; it's crazy, but it's pretty As you're drawn toward her mystifying scene Then she looks into your eyes, but you blink too many times And she's gone and you ask "What does this all mean?" As you lie yourself to sleep, pray the lord your soul to keep You feel longing like you've never felt before So you stop and then you ponder where on earth you want to wander As you cross the room to open up the doo

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decima

fgtffyrdmns

Echo-In-My-Mind

noparasiguesigue

DoctorRat

Archaia

Watching 6

decima

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Echo-In-My-Mind

noparasiguesigue

DoctorRat

Archaia

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About Father-Dischord

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July 2
United States
Deviant for 15 years
He / Him

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My Bio

This site is mostly for those of you that make things of a more tangible nature. I don't really do that very well I'm afraid, but what I do fantastically is what you see here. I think aloud and I perform my craft. So show me love or hate or concern, whatever floats your boat, my job has been done: I got your attention.

Current Residence: My ancestral homeland, New Jersey!
Favourite genre of music: Music that tears itself apart
Favourite style of art: The honest kind
Operating System: Cerebral Cortex
Shell of choice: Big ol' Galapagos turtle shells
Favourite cartoon character: Pumba/Baloo
Personal Quote: "Better to judge somebody by their mixtape than by who they're sleeping with."- W/IFS

Favourite Visual Artist

Dan Maertans

Favourite Movies

Amelie, Boondock Saints, Last Samurai, Finding Neverland, A Beautiful Life, Pan's Labrynth

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Mischief Brew, Springsteen, World Inferno, Jason Webley, The Pogues, Reverend Glasseye and others...

Favourite Writers

John Donne , W.B. Keats, Shakespere (specifically his sonnets),

Favourite Games

Knight Realms

Favourite Gaming Platform

XBox 360

Tools of the Trade

Broken Glass, Staple gun, Lamp oil, Nails, Swords, Fire, and Rat Traps

Other Interests

Taking the old and the new, running it through the cement mixer and seeing what I get.

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Father-Dischord

Jun 8, 2010

Realizing

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For as long as I can remember, I thought of myself as a terrible person.  Full of flaws and mistakes and regret, I used to think I could never be good.  Lately I've come to see how wrong I am.  I see that I really do try to do right by the people around me, that I am, deep down, inspite of my many errors, a good man.  And there are still times that I still have a lot of trouble seeing that in myself, but it's true.  Everyone fucks up, everyone makes mistakes and has regrets, it's all part of this bittersweet thing called life, and it's time I stopped judging myself by my downfalls and started seeing the things I've done right.  My friend Doct

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Father-Dischord

Mar 11, 2009

Open Wounds

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When I was a kid, I was a scab picker.  Lots of those in the third grade, but I was the worst, I would get a scrape and it might not heal until a year or so later.  Never really knew why I did it, might have been to keep my hands busy, might have been deep seated sub-conscious masochistic tendancies, I dunno.  And you only ever remove so much of it, you never really dig in, just that surface layer, enough so you start bleeding just the tiniest bit.  But it's something to think about, cause alot of kids do it, and I think it would be very telling to compare the psycholgical state of those kids years later as young adults.  My theory is that th

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Father-Dischord

Dec 4, 2008

Old Time Mem'ry

0 min read

Since I have resolved that no one ever reads this thing except Archaia, I will take the opportunity to simply think out loud on this so called Journal.  There's this song I really like, I doubt any of you people who aren't really there will recognize it unless you live near Philly and like Folk Punk.  It's called Old Time Mem'ry by a fellow named Erik Petersen.  The song itself is about the lack of appreciation the urban world has for 'Old Time Country', how the rich try to build their little oldtime houses with their wood stoves that "run on gas but looks like oak, hell it even gives of smoke and glowing embers."  None of that really applies