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About Deviant Artist Kenny WongMale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
Deviant for 6 Years
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Newest Deviations

Literature
Untitled
If I were nothing but a painter's whim,
You would be the brush that caresses me,
The bristles which give shape to ev'ry limb
And which makes me what you want me to be.
If I were merely notes scratched on paper,
Would my melody be pleasing to you?
If not now, then will it be so later?
Will I ever come to grow on you too?
But no amount of "if"s can change the truth
That I am only a pitiful man
Whose value is found only in his youth
And cannot think how ev'ryone else can;
Despite that, this man dares to love you still
And hopes, forevermore, you also will.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 1 0
Literature
I'm Not Worthy
First of all, I must say that I'm sorry.
I am so sorry for so many things.
I know that I irritate you daily,
And I know of the weariness it brings.
I'm sorry for being so imperfect -
Each stretch mark on my skin bares my past self.
And I'm sorry that my image was wrecked
When I failed my job due to lack of wealth.
I apologise for ev'ry tear shed
And for each smile I caused to fade away.
I apologise for failing in bed
To make you feel the words I want to say.
And the last apology in my queue
Is that I'm sorry, but I still love you.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 8 8
Literature
When You Tell Me You Love Me
Those three words - coming from you - feel so bland,
As though your heart and mind are somewhere else
Even when side-by-side and hand-in-hand
Or bound to me in bed by cotton belts.
Perhaps it is just my intensity
That makes your words feel unbelievable;
Or perhaps it is the insecure me
That finds such a thing inconceivable.
But then, perhaps those words carry no weight
And they are merely to soothe my ego
And each forced, whispered utterance to date
Is as ominous as the jet-black crow.
It doesn't matter which of these is true,
Just know that I truly, truly love you.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 2 0
Literature
They Mean The World To Me From You
There was a time when you longed to see me
With each tick of a second or minute,
Just as I crave still to have your silky
Skin caressing mine and the warmth in it.
Your presence filled the emptiness inside
And without you here, it rushes back in.
Chilling me - making me wish I had died
At the very moment I lost your skin.
You don't understand how hollow I feel,
Or how much I yearn for the warmth I felt;
Maybe you will understand when I keel
And what once was human becomes a pelt.
You don't see the importance of those few
Words which I so long to hear: I love you.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 2 0
Literature
A Message
There are so many things for me to say
And so few syllables to say them in,
But to tell you, I have to find a way
To voice the important parts of this din.
You can tell me that you like me a lot
And you can tell me how far we could go
But liking and love - the same they are not
And stopping means you cannot trust me though.
I understand why you cannot love me
And I understand that it can't be changed
But no understanding can make it be
Any less painful to be so deranged.
    You do not know how rejected I feel
    To be taken and crushed beneath your heel.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 3 3
Literature
When Love is Half-Hearted
It's been over a week since I last wrote
And almost five years since I last shed tears;
But it's getting harder to stay afloat
In this torrential sea of growing fears.
It is a tough thing to expose your heart...
And a tougher thing still to recover
When the wall it faces tears it apart
And each fragment repels one another.
I wholeheartedly love you - it's not fake -
But you can only give me half of you
And to know that truth is simply heartbreak
-ing. I know that you cannot love me too.
    I want to be loved by you truthfully
    But the only love I see comes from me.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 6 2
Literature
Meeting You
I have never been much of a lover,
In fact, I have never been much at all.
Poetry is just a flimsy cover
For a heart as hard as a stony wall.
Lately, something seems to have changed inside
And all the words I could never let out
Spill from between my lips like a riptide -
Vehemently, instantly without doubt.
Silly concepts like love and forever
Suddenly seem to be within my grasp.
Is love for you freedom or a tether?
I don't care as long as you're in my clasp.
It's plain to see that I can be happy;
When I'm with you, I am a better me.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 3 0
Literature
Making a Fairytale
You wish it to be summer and curse snow
But I simply cannot understand why.
Your cheeks tinged pink in the cold seem to glow;
The smile on your lips mischievously wry.
The sparkle in your eyes entrances me
Yet I can't help but feel slightly selfish;
When my eyes are all I want yours to see
And when having you is my only wish.
When we lay with tangled limbs together,
It was a moment beyond perfection -
A moment I would have last forever
With a happy ending like in fiction.
I will love you through any storm or gale -
Our lives, from now, can be our fairytale.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 3 1
Literature
First Fall
You must think me horrid for my silence
And I have no way of disputing that.
I can't even claim artistic license
And no magic bunnies pulled from my hat.
It bugs me how you can't be serious;
Bugs me like all those 'you must not love me's -
It frustrates me until I'm furious
But I'd still crawl back to you on my knees.
Do you even understand why that is?
I love you so much that my heart just stops.
Beating. Like antique clocks with dust in his
Arteries - its hands ticking with mute hops.
It doesn't matter who is right or not;
Just don't let my love for you be forgot.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 2 0
Literature
Writing a Poem
If I were to compose for you a work,
Then I would be writing eternally...
This desk would be my world; my pen, a dirk -
And I would carve you so beautifully.
As though made of marble, you are perfect;
The grooves of your body fit mine so well
(So exquisitely devoid of defect)
That there is not a way for me to tell
Just how much the feel of you on my skin
Or the sound of your voice close to my ear
Quickens my heart to a palpable din
And makes leaving your side my only fear.
Telling you simply, is all I can do,
So all you must know is that I love you.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 1 0
Literature
Do Angels Know Jealousy?
Do you think that angels know jealousy?
Do they burn when unrequited love sets?
Would they be able to relate to me
If I were to tell them how bad it gets?
I believe that your answer will be theirs
For you are an angel with broken wings -
Grounded by the burden an angel bears
And your halo lost amongst other things.
Surely, you know why I ask this of you.
I admit fully that I am jealous.
I envy your boyfriend, as all men do,
The love he receives - though it sounds callous.
It breaks my heart to see you so faithful
To a man other than me, my Angel.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 0 0
Literature
...And Trust.
At some point, long ago, we were in love
And time passed faster than the speed of light.
I lay some nights praying to gods above
That our hot days would never become night.
It was said once by a reknowned poet
That even best laid plans of mice and men
Oft' go awry and don't we all know it -
My awry plans number hundreds and ten!
As true as the arrows of Cupid's bow,
The plans we made were nowhere to be found.
You never wanted it that way, I know,
But from the venom you loosed, we were bound.
Tentative bridges are raised between us
So let us do as the optimist does...
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 1 5
Literature
A Long Time Ago
It's been just under a year since we -
A beauty and a man with no purpose -
Exchanged words of any kind so freely
That my heart bounds with joy like young spring does.
It may not have been of any import
Or even worth remembering to you
But you did not fight the battles I fought
To stop my fingers from dialling through.
Call me weak or desperate as you will
But I am a man of mortal descent.
If you love me not, I will love you still
For that is the mortality I meant.
I thought of you each day I was alone
I know not my wrongs but I will atone.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 1 0
Literature
A Sonnet to Truth
Love is like a swallow on wings of air -
True on its journey and fast across skies.
Falsities are like blades of steel laid bare
To strip the wings of fragile butterflies.
If truths were as easy to tell as tales
Or, indeed, as easy to bear on backs,
Then perhaps many would stop chasing tails
And realise that they are laid on flax.
Of course, I too have told lies frugally
And convinced myself they are coloured white
Or painted them with words beautifully;
But the truth is truth still - it is not right.
I promise you that these words are no lie:
To you, I never want to say goodbye.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 1 2
Literature
How to Define A Knight
If pain were as fragile as frosted glass
Then easily could I break its bindings
Yet pain by nature refuses to pass
Preferring to forge intricate windings.
I fear not to admit fear where it lies
But steadfast would I deny cowardice;
All men of fair mind fear the time he dies
For fear of Hell or reverence of bliss.
Courage is bearing the pain after Death -
It is shown by those who mourn lovers
Yet do not chase their end with ev'ry breath
And run their tears of sorrow in rivers.
O' Lord! Grant me courage or much ado
Lest I may never stop adoring you.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 1 0
Literature
Talking to the Moon
When the cover of night falls upon me,
The stars in the sky shyly appear
And the moon comes to give me company
I speak to it of only you, my dear;
Perhaps of the way your eyes sparkle so,
Or perhaps of your laugh that warms my heart.
I know that you dislike compliments though;
Still, not telling you this tears me apart.
What hurts the most is that you chose to leave
Even though I know it is justified.
Love is irrational without reprieve;
Even unrequited, it is my guide.
Talking to the moon, I know it is true:
It cannot be denied that I love you.
:iconwongy06:wongy06
:iconwongy06:wongy06 1 0

Favourites

Literature
the passage of 'you'
when i step alone
into my shower,
it's you.
it's you when
i hear the folsom prison blues
and when i drink bitter coffee-
it isn't you
when i sleep in white sheets
and patterned pillows,
a hand in mine
and soft cyrillic letters
to wake me.
it's you in my closet
hidden somewhere in the depths,
it's you in my short hair,
it's you in the photos of ireland
taken by my friends-
but it's not you
when these lips grace my ears
with words softer than you
ever knew,
when these lips grace my face
in softer ways than you
ever knew,
when these lips grace my heart
in softer ways than you
had hardened it.
i am trying to be
a better person
and he is helping me
get there.
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 45 19
Literature
there are monsters in my head.
there are monsters in my head.
they scream and rattle their bars,
fingers round my bones
to shake the cage.
i cannot sleep.
no amount of blood spilled
or water thrown down
the throat the way the camera
and knife
will in the morning
can quiet them.
i wonder if the doctors will see the monsters,
or if they have learned to keep quiet
and still in the light;
to pretend they are not there
until no one is around to see them;
and regardless of their sessility,
regardless of their muteness,
the moment the darkness comes,
i see their faces
again.
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 38 9
Mature content
medication. :iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 48 34
Literature
five down .collab
love, tell me -
tell me i see the future and you
will wind up well alone;
i don't want you with anyone,
especially me.
i pull your air into my lungs,
an influenza in every syllable of
breath. and i am a cluster of hills
across your face, the reason you
said you didn't believe in
wearing sandals in july.
i keep track of time
in terms of crossword puzzles,
sundays especially difficult
because i used to pray like god listened
to my repents and hopes then.
you would take my unfinished columns
and fill them in with a different pen colour
and that was how i knew things were
wrong.
and there was never any bitterness
to it either, the passing hand to hand
of platitudes that wilted like the heads of birds
but never broke too much. tomorrow night
i will do the sudoku puzzle instead and
ask the moon to put its trauma back
where you kept the pencils
(when you kept
anything other
than the needle)
instead i tuck my hands
under the pillow beneath my head,
hoping that hiding them
will keep me safe.
id
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 30 14
Literature
vasha ptichka
i want you to read me stories,
the very same ones
as i wrap you into,
catch you in their bindings
and smell you,
clean and summer,
inside the pages.
standing in your shower,
i wear the bodywash
that is a signature of yours,
foreign on my skin.
sometimes you are there with me,
and we are children again
as we splash water
on one another's naked bodies.
i am turning you into
a bigger reader,
a braver hero,
a stronger soul;
you tell me that
you put your phone down
and buckle your seatbelt
when you get behind the wheel
because you imagine my face
if you told me you didn't.
i want to be something new for you.
a better lover,
a happier smile,
the warmest arms you could ever need.
i never want to waver
even as tides crash my knees,
and i want you to always hear it,
close to your ear or across the state,
when i tell you
you mean the world to me.
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 47 15
Literature
listen honey, here comes your man
i hear your gaslight anthem
playing in my head
on repeat
on repeat
for the first time in months.
my stomach is knitting itself
a raw sweater,
pink and greying flesh
from the sickness of worry.
i made the mistake
of playing it back to you.
you tell me you miss me,
you love me,
these songs in your vernacular
writing your thoughts,
but the thoughts are not yours.
it was well intentioned
but too far gone,
the thought has trailed
its way along lines
of train tracks-
i cannot think of you
unless you come back
home.
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 34 4
Literature
dissociation
i have entered a tunnel,
archways and curled walls
of the clash of unwanted bodies,
fingers in my throat
aching to summon blood,
and palpitations.
i hear nothing.
trapped in the fence of my head,
i am thinking in scattered seeds to plot
in further regions, safer than
they can be now.
i am thinking loudly
about amorphous concepts and rhetoric,
the wavy distortions of my body,
the undulations of my skin,
the black vignette of my vision.
i am gulliver in lilliput,
enormous comparative to my surroundings;
the world is tailored to fit my body,
but nothing else.
i am dissociated,
i am a sliver of the moon
untethered-
at best, i am a petal in the breeze;
at worst, i am nothing at all.
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 36 18
Journal
and if you wanted to buy me flowers,
just go ahead now.
-
my lovelies, you are indefinitely sweet to me.  thank you so much for dealing with my bullshit.  i'm going to make more of an effort to write, because it's healing for me, and i want to write something worth reading and to share it with you.  you're seriously terrific, and i mean that to each and every one of you who reads this, genuinely.
-
separately, i would like to remind you that i am still selling handwritten copies of my work!  pleasepleaseplease note me if you're interested, all is negotiable, i am not unreasonable! <3
-



:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 2 9
Literature
the best way to remember something
i cry
every time you write me a letter-
me,
in all my damaged glory,
still loved across miles of river and fields.
you are unyielding and unforgetting,
finding the words we never had
before.
there are many moonlit stories
to recount and to expound upon in
coming months-
i've got a burn on the toe of my shoe
from getting too near the fire with you-
the bruises on your skin
lasted for days;
the headband your sister gave me
and the way i cried
when it broke;
climbing up stairs, skewed like piano keys
in the winter air,
and entering your house, where you told me
to tug on my sleeve
because my battle wounds were exposed;
your dog curling up on your bed
to keep me company,
the way i was welcomed in your house,
getting drunk on vodka on new year's,
the first time you made me cum,
finding ourselves at a party
on the porch where we met-
i am amazed, astounded, awed.
you can love me even though my ear piercings are crooked,
a broken smile on my teeth
for every time you ran away, afraid;
and you
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 49 14
Literature
materialism .collab
john's bed was crooked against the wall, with enough space between the two for his pillow to slip down every night. it is never made but usually empty, much like the rest of the room. his wallet was full of condoms, the box in the slightly opened nightstand drawer with two strays within. john's socks were paired up neatly in his dresser, and he had no closet. a baseball bat was stretched across the threadbare rug in such a way that it would trip someone unfamiliar with the layout. like a robber. things you will never find there are his iphone, ipod, and his grandfather's pocket watch from when he was in the world war.
evelyn paints a small canvas in the center of her garden. her cheeks are always stained with a coral blush, but nothing else. she hangs easter-egg coloured bird houses from the low branches of her maple trees. she only wears dresses. at six in the evening each day she rests on the stoop of her mother's house with a plaid quilt. she spins her mother's wedding ring around h
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 36 7
Literature
the sickness of breathing emptiness
today:
everything hurts.  
and my god, there's no way to pretty that up.  pain is not beautiful, it is painful.  use your common sense.  there is no glory in suffering, there is no sparkle to sacrifice.  hurt is hurt is hurt.  and you can't take it for someone else, no matter how hard you try.
tomorrow:
what i hate is that you're leaving.  like, a thousand miles away worth of leaving.  and don't tell me that distance means nothing to the heart, because it does: enough to make you break me before you kill me.  honestly, i wonder which is worse.  honestly, i'd probably rather you kill me because i've broken enough times that i don't have much left to break.
what i hate more is that i love you.  i have fought harder against it than i've fought against anything else in my life, i fucking swear to god.  i didn't even consider that i could love you for months.  an
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 114 0
Literature
one hundred ways
there are one hundred ways
i have to fill myself
that still keep me empty,
and for all the love for you
i hold in my heart,
i treat you like you're nothing.
you have built structures
and outlines of cities to press
against a dark inked sky,
you are the blood of a broken pen
coursing like a river
through my veins.
i look the other way.
i look for holes
in the sweatshirt you gave me
because there are holes in you,
and i wonder if they match up
with mine.
i leave it tucked just
inside of my closet
so that i don't see it
unless i look for it,
but when i do
i pull it in piles
up to my face
to be sure
it still smells like you-
four months later,
it does.
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 38 10
Literature
i've gotten a military letter
i've gotten a military letter.
we're not together anymore
but the way my stomach
undulates its tides
tells me i'm worrying as much
as your mother.
in a month,
you aren't home but you can
be touched-
i am trembling like autumn's last leaf
while caught in the interim.
i have two hearts in my hands,
frozen as your late january ponds
in fear of holding too close.
i tell boys at parties
that i'm very good
at not breaking things-
i lie.
i will hold onto drunken cups,
vodka and glass,
but i drop hearts-
yours, his, my own-
like water in fingers.
seeing you again
will stir up oceans,
send floods over the levees
and,
foetal,
i will weather the storm
unfurl my legs
and finally know
where i stand.
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 33 15
Literature
the tidiest white bed
the tidiest white bed means nothing
under flower sheets covering grandmother's hand-sewn quilt
and power rangers blankets-
this is waking up in sunshine and warm skin;
clean sheets and dirty nights;
love and peace and holding hands before sleep ends
for the subconscious fear of losing the other.
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 32 3
Literature
ambivalence
"you're the only one
i want to fall asleep with,"
i say to two men.
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 47 5
Literature
charlestown
there are days where everything-
every ladder,
every sister,
every river-
reminds me of charlestown
i jump to correct those
who are talking about south carolina
when i remember they're talking
of charleston,
but i can't flush out the feeling
that they're wrong,
or when there are no dropped r's
hitting the floor beneath them
there are days that nothing
but green eyes or gapped teeth
hold interest for me,
and nights where i feel myself
break
down
and i dream of you,
just you,
and you stand before me
in your newly-shaven hair
and dark-framed glasses,
and i can only feel
the most overwhelming sense
of completion.
it is nights like those
that terrify me
beyond any
nightmare.
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 29 6

Activity


deviantID

wongy06
Kenny Wong
Artist
United Kingdom
So yeah... I've only just decided to make my deviantID because I'm lazy like that. That's one thing already.
I'm a BBC (British-Born Chinese) and living in England. Born on the 30th of December and still alive.
I type with lots of smileys in conversations and a new line for every point so that I can insert an appropriate smiley for each phrase but when writing, I'm rather bland.
I play piano, do a bit of dancing now, listen to lots and lots of music and go to college. O.O"
I mainly listen to Kpop nowadays but I do listen to other music when it comes on, also, I can't draw to save my life. ._."
My artistic abilities are limited to stickmen... Inanimate stickmen. ._."
A bit of an otaku I guess, I read a lot of manga but I'm not a cosplayer (no no no no no... Not for me). O.O"
Oh! And something you need to know before reading my works, I'm predominantly a sonnet man. You may find some free verse or other forms of poetry occasionally but it will be EXTREMELY rare. If you really want me to write a certain type of poem then drop me a message and I'll think about it... XDDD
Also, any views, comments, reviews, favs, watches etc. are greatly appreciated. ;3
Thank you for reading. ;o
(If you actually read it all. o.O")

P.S. If you have anything to tell me/ask/whatever, go ahead and drop me a post. ^_^

Current Residence: England
Favourite genre of music: None in particular.
Interests
I think I know now why I'm never popular... I suck!

Besides that, every popular piece seems to have been submitted to 10+ groups which is more than I'm even in. I guess I'll just have to content myself with my small but much-appreciated base of watchers and regulars.

On a different note, I've been advised by someone to compile my poetry and send it to a publisher but I don't know whether it's good enough for that. Thoughts, anyone?
  • Listening to: AKFG - 君の街まで
  • Reading: Peoples' minds
  • Watching: The world pass by
  • Playing: On the piano
  • Eating: Words
  • Drinking: Coke

Groups

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:icon1crazyvegetarian:
1CrazyVegetarian Featured By Owner Dec 30, 2012
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! :iconhappybirthdayplz:

I hope it's all and everything you deserve! :heart:
Reply
:iconwongy06:
wongy06 Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2013
Thank you! :D
Reply
:icon1crazyvegetarian:
1CrazyVegetarian Featured By Owner Dec 25, 2012
Heyyyy, happy holidays!! :hug: I'm so excited that you have new stuff posted here, holy crap! ;w; Can't wait to read it.

How have you been?? I've really missed you and your work over the year...:(

Also, I'm sorry this is so late, but thank you so much for the fave on my poem, "Peter Pan!" It means so much to me when you fave my writings, I can't even...x'D
Reply
:iconwongy06:
wongy06 Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2013
Happy holidays to you too! Massive apologies for the lateness of these replies but I've largely stopped writing since my last post. :(

I've missed your feedback and your work too! I'm glad to have returned to so many comments from you! :D

Not a problem, although I'm still unsure how you came to be as infatuated with my works as you were when I myself despise them. xD
Reply
:iconchatwithstar:
chatwithstar Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
can i spam your comments even more
Reply
:iconwongy06:
wongy06 Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2012
Mayyybe.
Reply
:iconchatwithstar:
chatwithstar Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
pwease
Reply
:iconwongy06:
wongy06 Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2012
Not too much. ._.
Reply
:iconchatwithstar:
chatwithstar Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
i am spamming your comment section YEAH
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:iconwongy06:
wongy06 Featured By Owner Jul 28, 2012
Ohreally?
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