MattVoscinar

Matt Voscinar

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A Garden by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

A Garden

We were born with the harvest on our lips, all the seeds we needed stitched into our fingertips. Instead of being grateful, we pushed heaven past its limit searching for a paradise despite it being given to us freely. And after all this digging, we stared at the mounds our eyes aiming at the sky from the hole we dug ourselves, and in this passing moment, it just seems so fitting how the hands that dug into the earth will try to climb their way out, and we can, if we don't suffocate from all the weight of the plagues that we create, centuries of past mistakes, a history of ending life as mindless entertainment allergic to forbidden

Silence Lost its Midas Touch by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

Silence Lost its Midas Touch

I got a shelf full of memories bookmarked with bad judgement. It reminds me of the time quiet added to something. It wasn't my intention to get caught inside the spin, but never knew the consequence that all the still air would bring. Baited my breath with gasoline, struck a match, found comfort in burning everything I ever had. I'm sorry, for every single case of my generation's good intentions horribly misplaced. It's so strange knowing life ain't what you make it to think you took the road less traveled, find out your mistaken to forget the lines between real and fake relations then lose the guide on how to find all your limitat

Hangman's Son by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

Hangman's Son

I've got an open sore. I'm bleeding on my bedsheets folding conviction to somehow make the ends meet. There's no point in sleep; it's fluttering and brief. Lately, she's sick of counting dead sheep, and I see that look you get when you think that it's my last breath. You've met death. You wear each encounter like a cheap dress its not your fault that the questions still itch my skin, and I pick at the scabs that I hope to find the answers in. They never come. I'm left to waste away into no more than a bag of bones, words I wouldn't say. I chase my dreams with medicine. I'll be okay one day. There was a storm that shook the house--

The Flame by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

The Flame

Dear desire, where you been? It’s been a minute. Last time we spoke, you stormed out before I finished spilling my guts off the edge of my bed, reciting that mantra that you pounded in my head like, “Here’s something for the sickness. Just ignore the side effects the jitters will leave once you realize the promises won’t be kept. Let’s market madness as a medicine. It’s better to ignore the past. It’s just gonna happen again.” Ring around the rosy. Pockets full of Rx labels. Ashes that you left me are still sitting on the kitchen table: in that gold vase, wilted petals at its base- th

The Flood by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

The Flood

Undress me like you mean it. I’m afraid I’ve seen it: the pictures of yourself that you tore into pieces and threw on the ground like rose petals and ash hoping God wasn’t watching you then. How he’d laugh. You took the trip and lost yourself, addressed the need for help, abandoned everything you stood for. Go ahead and sit down. I remember rainy days and laughing, don’t remember how. Compelled by death. Dressed to kill ourselves-- Baby, we're martyrs now. But I backed out and you couldn’t forgive me, cursed the world and my name to anyone who was listening. Then you went and tried to overturn t

Father Figure(less) by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

Father Figure(less)

His eyes wander from his son to the floorboards. The cracks collect the battle cries, bottle always wins the war waged against himself. His hands shake, his brow sweats the minute hand ignites the kerosene that lingers on his breath. Looks to the wedding band, a reminder of regrets. He takes a shot of Jack and chases with a second guess. It’s frustrating listening to life’s somber cadence clutching at the walls, the walking gets complicated. Now the world that he created doesn’t spin like it used to design he had in mind dissipates in the rear view the past presents a parable for how to flee the scene decoding the

The Great Performance by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

The Great Performance

The curtains climb to the ceiling, and the lights dim. All eyes on the miles of the shoes I tried to walk in Maybe once too often, stalked by bitter silence to memorize the lines that were etched into my irises. Followed the script 'till I was part of the plot line, found the spot we're these two lives intertwine: One where my reflection wouldn't look me in the eye, and the other with a confidence that I could never recognize. I built these bones out of lethargy and broken glass, pieced the mask together with torn out pieces of the past, stitched the smile with surrender, it didn't take long before this body became a costume that I

A Graveyard by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

A Graveyard

We’re sick enough to spill someone else’s blood, paint a picture of ourselves with it, and call it love. I guess that’s what the ego does when it forgets the bodies we’ve become will eventually turn back to dust. We’ve held onto the worst parts of our nature, tried to survive on rotten fruits of our labor— maggot filled and mangled flesh, should’ve seen it as a sign, but lately we’ve been complaining that the apple hasn’t been tasting right. Taste buds blossom and reach up for the taste of death, spit spilling out our lips, smoke collecting in our chests, hands erecting effigies

Learning by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

Learning

Outside it is raining and the hot light from florescent lights blazes against the window, barely as wide as a piece of paper, and the darkness of a summer storm. Inside, students are burning up, their eyes squinting at computers, hands feverishly scribbling to start a fire in their mind. I am watching, silent as anxiety bores holes in their chests. I can hear it in the way their knuckles crack against their pencils. I can see it in the way they bury their face in their sweating hands and I wonder how does learning happen among the blaze when stress reduces them to ash?

Talk to Your Doctor by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

Talk to Your Doctor

There was a family drowning in summer light, laughing. Their dog ran circles around himself against the backdrop of their smiles. Side effects may include: Upset stomach, nausea constipation, migraine, lethargy, fever, and dry mouth There was a driver one mile from forever. Eternity opened up and kissed him on the lips The red and orange leaves cascaded around his windshield. He looked like everything all at once. Side effects may include: Nightmares, anxiety, shaking, tremors, feelings of inadequacy, a body full of hopeless, and sensitivity to everything. There was a woman on a mountain, bathing in snow. She spun under each flak

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A Graveyard by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

A Graveyard

The Great Performance by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

The Great Performance

Father Figure(less) by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

Father Figure(less)

The Flood by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

The Flood

The Flame by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

The Flame

Hangman's Son by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

Hangman's Son

Silence Lost its Midas Touch by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

Silence Lost its Midas Touch

A Garden by MattVoscinar, literature

Literature

A Garden

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If You're Going to Write a Poem by MattVoscinar, literature

Wordsmiths by MattVoscinar, literature

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mayan pottery by Arthisa, literature

snowballs from a nebula by Lychalis, literature

Literature

snowballs from a nebula

I blinked to clear the stars clouding my vision, but those pinpricks of distant eternity only bore down upon me with greater fervour. The universe continued to expand and I expanded with it, my bones stretching apart. I was a constellation, newly born, but no frozen snapshot of legend. My breast rose and fell, blood rushed through the intricacies of my arteries and veins. My fingers danced, searching for what filled the vacuum. When I woke, I would remember nothing but for now I wandered the fields of creation, lost within my element. My figure had become translucent, the field of atoms spread so thinly that when light passed through me it

Monthly Round-up! by WritersInk, journal

Monthly Round-up!

Mar 30, 2017

The first of our resurrected Round-ups is here! Collected over the last month, we have a few select lit pieces and a whole slew of community news, including publishing opportunities, new groups, and contests. This Month's Features :star: Recursion by johnhmaloney (https://www.deviantart.com/johnhmaloney) A great short read that will have you questioning events up until the very end johnhmaloney (https://www.deviantart.com/johnhmaloney) has done an admirable job presenting the start of this short story as an occurrence that could happen in any household when one wakes in the night, following up a seemingly mundane routine with a truly surprising and slightly unsettling ending. A well written piece of fiction wit

March 2017 Literature DD Roundup! by doughboycafe, journal

March 2017 Literature DD Roundup!

Mar 31, 2017

Congrats to all our March DDs! !brennennn (https://www.deviantart.com/brennennn) Features by brennennn (https://www.deviantart.com/brennennn) :icondoughboycafe: Features by doughboycafe (https://www.deviantart.com/doughboycafe) :iconbeccajs: Features by BeccaJS (https://www.deviantart.com/beccajs) We are always looking for more DD suggestions! Self suggestions welcome! Check out each CV's profile for their suggestion guidelines, and help us spread the word about great lit on DA!

old flames die hard by moondrums, literature

portrait of rosalie by ignotism, literature

Literature

portrait of rosalie

my grandmother devours photo albums like i devour sylvia plath anthologies, mémoire aprés mémoire aprés mémoire memory after memory after memory. she tells me the same story about her first job without a car five times over, looking away to another world, black & white to me & full-color to her. alzheimer's is a language. like french, it is just another part of her. she does not remember conversations from a week ago or to turn over laundry, but she remembers bus rides in the south, pre-1964, white weddings in grey cathedrals that are shopping malls now. i have learned to translate her repetition, the ways sh

Brother by TheMaidenInBlack, literature

Literature

Brother

There's a method to missing you, a step-by-step process on tying the knots of distance. And I follow the instructions, twist and tighten until blistered and bent. Sometimes, I can feel their pull as I stretch; it speaks of your growing up, brother, of the new things you get excited about and the new people you tell that to. And over time these knots will dry, fossilizing into shape; until we wake one day calloused, weathered and estranged.

rest area by YouInventedMe, literature

Literature

rest area

my america's a loss collection an invention a requiem in b(urned bridge) flat reborn in insect-peppered roadside sacrament leaking dust to color brush creeping climbing hills to frame the big empty it gets me thinking pain is just something we live with it ceases only at the end of the life that it begins with and I spend every precious instant (in altered states of existence) crossing lines avoiding eyes creating distance

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DA-Poetics

About MattVoscinar

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Artist // Professional // Literature

June 28
United States
Deviant for 13 years
introvert.bandcamp.com
He / Him

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My Bio

"Just because its personal, doesn't mean its not cliche" - Keith Buckley

My name is Matt Voscinar, and I'm a published poet and musician currently living in Tampa, Florida.
You can find my work in lovely literary journals including Mouse Tales Press, Ink Sweat & Tears, MAAF Box, and vox poetica. You can find my music at introvert.bandcamp.com

also run the group DA-Poetics here on DA at:
da-poetics.deviantart.com/

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Aesop Rock, Astronautalis, Red Sparowes, Sage Francis

Favourite Books

Said the Shotgun to the Head, Gentleman Practice, In Search of Small Gods

Favourite Writers

Allen Ginsberg, Buddy Wakefield, Charles Bukowski, Jim Harrison, Saul Williams

Profile Comments 227

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CouchSessions

Feb 11, 2022

Hello!

Just wanted to drop by and let you know that HaikuWriMo is up and going for 2022!

We have our first prompt journal: https://www.deviantart.com/couchsessions/journal/Prompt-Feature-The-4-Seasons-906236745 and our first challenge running: https://www.deviantart.com/couchsessions/journal/Challenge-1-Colorful-906457223

Please do come join us!

Hope you're having a lovely February!

ILMLYOLOOTE

Nov 23, 2017

Hello! Please help raise money for the funeral expenses of an close friend of mine who recently passed away this November 18th, along with her mother and brother, in an apartment fire. Her father thankfully survived but is in extreme critical condition at the hospital. The money will also go towards the father's medical bills. Anything at all is immensely appreciated. Thank You and God Bless! The link is below.

Donate: www.gofundme.com/le-familys-fu…

News article regarding this: www.mercurynews.com/2017/11/18…

Thanks for the watch

Thank you for the watch!

vvlpes

Jun 2, 2017

_{Thank you so much for the watch!}

MattVoscinar

Jun 5, 2017

And thank you for the marvelous art.

3wyl

Jan 13, 2017

Hello!

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Our front page lists fun and games that you can jump into whenever you like! We also have a Discord server, if you just want to hang out in a social and fun place, chat about art, projects and more!

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