The Daily Bread Cafe - Special Feature and Thanks

Aug 14, 201423 min read

Deviation Actions

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Published: Aug 14, 2014

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The Office of
C-A-Harland

The Daily Bread Cafe: Assistant Manager

Welcome to my office.

If you are interested in being involved with The Daily Bread Cafe, please take a look at our available positions, and feel free to contact me if you have any further questions.

Our Wonderful Participants

The Daily Bread Cafe is now up to Issue 5 and already we have had an influx of volunteers, supporters and participants. Below are the participants from issues 1-4, who got involved with our prompts and made the decision to spread a little joy and warmth around deviantArt.

FieryDownpour479

The Jeffery's CircusThe Jeffery’s circus was rather popular. People from all over the world would come to see their shows. The circus became somewhat of a legend almost everywhere on earth; it had an excellent reputation. Well, it did before the accidents started to happen.
The circus was all over the news, but not in the way that it would’ve liked. Instead of being congratulated for their new stunt working, it was mixed in with the other news of rapes and murders. People blamed it on the new owner. That was quite a reasonable idea – the new owner came and the accidents started happening. It’s what everyone believed, until the owner went missing.
It was a remarkable series of events. No one suspected foul play at first. Yes, the new owner came, and yes, the tightrope walker fell off the tightrope during a practice, and no, she didn’t have a net underneath her, and yes, she did fall in a way that broke her neck and ultimately killed her, but that was obviously an accide Meeting Life and DeathThe first time I met Life, we were very, very young. We’ve known each other since we were babies. Life was an interesting girl. She would often make me laugh, like when we first discovered that I had the ability to move my hand and hold things. But, Life would often make me upset, too. She’d make me cry countless times, like when I fell down after my first few steps.
Life stuck with me as we grew up together. She was right beside me every step I took. All throughout elementary and middle school, she was there. Life sometimes was mean to me, though. Sometimes she’d pick on me. Sometimes she punched me. She’d kick me when I was down, she’d pull out my hair, she’d pressure me into doing things I’d later regret, and gosh, Life did so much crap to me. But I put up with it; after all, I couldn’t leave Life; she was my best friend.
The first time I tasted Life was my junior year in high school. Strangely, Life looked a lot like alcohol and my gi

Boat by FieryDownpour479

i am worth it.and if this feeling
only lasts for tonight,
i'll swallow the night;
rearrange the stars
to map the
letters of my name
because i am worth
every second it takes
to let the world know
i'm alive

hibernating. by AsterGirl

too much atmospheric tea.i.
my bruises are turning green
but i think i preferred them blue
because then all this turmoil,
this rage, this war, would
seep through
and people would be able to
see how i felt:
blue
ii.
i peel back layers
of my skin like i'm just another
biology class frog destined for
dissection
is my blood ocean blue or
has my disease already tainted
it black?
iii.
it's not real. it's not real.
it's become a sort of mantra
for when i see or hear things
that aren't really there
like you
it's not real.
or your voice
it's not real.
or her
it's not real.
or her hair that-can't-be-here-
because-they-took-her-and-she's
never-coming-back
it's not real.
but these days, nothing is.

AlwaysRainCheck

The abyssSome days
we don't know,
familiar places
look dark
distant,
we can't breathe
Awakening the monster
whose claws grip
our very insides
and teaches
how not to
breathe
how not to
feel
again and again
other than fear,
until
its eyes we see
glowing from the abyss,
and crooked white of its
shiny teeth, gleaming
dazzling, from its black
hole, centered in my chest
blue lightening strikes across
my crest-grazed arms
those are
your veins,
you are looking in the mirror
symbols of a storm
going on in your heart
your mind, your soul.
In the end,
they relearn how
how to breathe again
And sweet oxygen,
could never taste so
so, so, good
Yes
some days
they feel unbearable
but in the end,
we will know again
swim again
toward the light
out of the deep.

Light Drops by AlwaysRainCheck

Write it simple, write it true
I met myself today,
in the eyes of a newborn morning
in the sound of pouring rain;
I was happiness and ignorance
I was innocence and love.

Irides of changing leaves
a grin that could make you laugh;
this was all before the first bite
the one that, as they say,
makes you shy twice.

I've buried alive
the muscle in my chest
under shovels of despair,
my eyes are now so darker
and seldom my always smile.

I walk with death a little
since we became best friends,
no wonder then
if my favorite color
is also my constant mood.

Iron walls
around my senses,
emotion bottled till they burst,
imploding in the night,
black holes of insecurities.

I've been called a ghost, a cat,
for my pace is mild,
my claws concealed;
too afraid of losing control
I must learn to let things go.

E

The Process of Becoming a Wallfloweri.
begin to wean yourself off of
responses
and social stimulation
until the frame of your social structure
becomes akin to
hummingbird bones.
ii.
your composure will stretch thin
across your cheeks
and the shadows sleeping
between your gaunt cheekbones
will begin to look like bruises—
rousing piteous looks from
acquaintances,
for all the wrong reasons.
iii.
allow said
hollow skeleton
to be picked up
from dusty corners of libraries
by vultures
who claim they knew you.
they will frame
and shape it
into a grotesque arrangement
of silk flowers.
i A Basket of StarsThere was a time when I didn’t realize how stars were made.
I took them for granted, as a freak beauty of nature.
It wasn’t until I saw the people around me softly be torn apart,
And bleed out pain that they came to treasure,
That the gentle falling heartbeats rose from the curve on their lips,
And illuminated the sky.
It wasn’t until I had the courage to step out,
Embracing those who carried the knives to cut me open,
That I observed my tears glisten and shine to guide someone else’s path home.
It wasn’t until I was hurt,
That I gained the ability to become a long-dead light that lasted long enough to conquer darkness.
And it wasn’t until I hurt others,
That I was able to see your halo among the sparks that flew between us.
I wish I had realized this sooner,
So I could have said my parting words with confidence as I grasped your hand.
Because,
It wasn’t until I followed your footprints,
And lived your mistakes,
That I understood what you had l Fire With FireIf you scoop out
everything between my
two planes of existence
and plant a venomous
garden instead,
with bitter ivy crawling throughout
this corporeal vessel:
don’t expect me to be
fine with that.
Pinning my voice
to the roof of my mouth
and my life
to my mind,
attempting to inundate me
with the world
in a bottle;
(restraining my arms to
a concept that
I will never achieve more
than is allowed)
I am not livestock
or a tool for breeding,
and when you
outsource me,
it is not flattery.
The fact that you gave me
a coffin made of thorns
and a gravestone of projectiles
does not excuse the fact
that you buried me alive
when I was not
agreeable enough.
(I will spend half of my life
removing the para

Circus by TheFairyTale13

InfinityInfinity
Among all the controversy!
Within the corridor walls of humanity's 'special' 'university!'
The mental-constructs of human 'authority'!
Lie among the variety!
That hides the idea of infinity!
That makes humanity so teeny-tiny.
With variety! Humanity cannot reach 'infinity',
until controversy is subdued into oblivion.
Liberty, among the variety, with the power of charity, and university might shadow the controversy!
That might possibly lead us into infinity! Luthe, The Dimensional

Luthe, The dimensional
(Writer's Note: This is a story revolving around a few characters in my Mythos. It will be one of many more stories coming from the span of time via the perspective of Luthe, The dimensional. On my DA ID I have a multitude of bio's containing information on all of my creatures, and stories they have harbored so far. Relevant Bio's in this story: http://thefairytale13.deviantart.com/art/He-The-Light-Bio-WIP-465950012
http://thefairytale13.deviantart.com/art/Luthe-The-Dimensional-466808179
Furthermore, I do hope you enjoy this piece. Ladies, and gentlemen, I give you some of the most potent from my imaginative-construct. )
Upon, the vast mixture of plane in the swirling abstract of dimension and space, exists such a 'ascended' being of that known as Luthe. It, the being who traverses the multitude of universe(s), and that of those beyond. The abilities of such the being conclude as the following above, mere traversing ability of such the widespread, and meager cont

Little-Tin-Wings

<da:thumb id="455280823"/> Broken WhispersWhat is that mist that clouds your eyes, scared child?
What is that fear that clutches your heart?
Who broke your spirit, child? Tell me, who tore you apart?
Won't you speak to me? Won't you let me ease your pain?
Won't you let me heal your wounds, so you can begin again?
Don't come near me, leave me alone.
This fear inside me is hard enough to handle,
I don't need your false pity,
that kind smile to make it worse.
I only want to help you, child,
I only want to bring you hope.
I only want to free your spirit,
I only want to guide you home.
Can't you see this war inside me,
breaks me down to the very bones?
Can't you see the light you give me,
blinds me more than helps me see?
I really can't tell you now,
I'm so shattered beyond repair.
I really can't make you hear the whispers,
a violent sound, never heard before.
Calm down, child. Leave the war inside your mind.
Block the light from your vision, but don't leave it far behind.
Don't rush yourself to tell Tell MeTell me your secrets, I shall not share
what you speak unto these ears.
Speak me your sorrows, I shall not laugh,
tell me what you’re holding back.
The wind is my secret, bold and strong,
blowing across the moonlit night.
The sea is my sorrow, wild and untame,
swallowing the unlucky souls that drown.
Speak me your voices, I shall not waver,
from that sound unheard by strangers.
Drum me your heartbeat, I shall not judge,
just tell me the rhythm and I’ll be gone.
My voice is the rainfall,
small drops of water that’s there then gone,
a soft melody, a gentle song.
My heartbeat is marching,
soldiers feet that hit the earth,
a violent rumble,
it’s never there until it’s gone.
Tell me your tainted lies,
I shall not wash them with the truth.
Tell me your untold story,
I shall not twist it beyond repair.
My lies are the memories,
whitewashed clean until they turned black.
My story is the starlight,
it cannot be read, for who ca

ieatrosepetals

<da:thumb id="475143311"/> <da:thumb id="471230968"/> <da:thumb id="470461550"/>

Sea Arch In Orange by IvanRadev

Looking At Shadows / Sunset. by IvanRadev

Mountains' Heart by IvanRadev

introverted-ghost

<da:thumb id="455652464"/> <da:thumb id="472064510"/> <da:thumb id="465947035"/>

Pisces by AngeInk

Kari-Nebula by AngeInk

The Carpenter's BrideYour dreaming face betrays no conniving
lies; do you dream of sheep or kangaroo
courts handing down guilty verdicts, diving
into pools of laundered money accrued
by men with caterpillar mustaches?
Can your lurking Cheshire grin meet my eyes,
or is our great depression succotash
made with shelled oysters lead astray by wise
men gone to the dark? Keep your looking glass
spotless, and keep me on the other side
of reason, of justice. This last impasse
leaves no way out for the besotted bride
who saw too late; your guilty, bloody hands
have ripped apart our only Wonderland. Caramel and AshesI named my first child after my favorite breakfast; Nichole, oatmeal sprinkled with cinnamon and cashew pieces. Sensible, but sweet, she wore turtlenecks and flats all throughout high school. My second, James, was like the lunch I had every other day in college – provolone and turkey on sourdough. Sturdy, hardy, jack of all trades. James could build a new clock just as easily as fixing the old one.
People keep asking me to taste their names. Like names are ice cream cones, and I’m the only one that gets a lick. Strangers in the hallways know about the girl who eats names like potato chips and aren’t shy about asking how do I taste, Willow? Like I haven’t heard that innuendo before.
My third, Willow, inherited my gift. Willow was bittersweet; sea salt, caramel, a little rosemary. She’s a lot like her father. She named the cat Zion for being a combination of her favorite flavors – lemon-lime, vanilla, and grapefruit.
I don’t know if the ta SynestheticSometimes I taste test names;
Anita – sharp citrus
and lemongrass
for the ann-i,
a tortilla for the taa.
Brad – I like
its weight; a slab
of marbled chocolate
melted on my tongue
before the last letter.
Charlotte – something
savory, but sweet; pork
marinated in honey
on sweet rolls.
Doug – vanilla
tinged cheesecake;
a dusting of graham
cracker shavings;
an Oreo with no filling.
Elena – spice
and heat radiate –
eh-layne-ahh – a corona
bursting from
the second e.
Fletcher – it’s syllables
mesh like mashed
potatoes, lumpy yet
consistent.
Gladys – dried
lemons and stale
Spree candies, rattling
inside and empty pitcher.
Hawthorne – brackish,
the leftover remains
of a magnificent feast,
the apple still stuck
in the boar’s mouth.
Imogen – lean
and stringy. Green
beans and chicken
broth at a small,
weathered table.
Jules – red velvet
and hot peppers, a week
old cake with hard
frostin

You are all wonderful. Keep making fabulous art, and remember, never stop being deviously creative.

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Comments24

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thanks for the feature

I was honored to be a part of this project!