Onward, we wentOnward, we went;Onward, we went6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
taking the wrong exit
on purpose, just to see
where the winding road
would find us by daylight.
And who would've thought
that daylight would find us
sitting on shingled rooftops
in the freezing cold,
just to get a little bit closer
to the sky.
Our eyes shown reflections of
and pirate ships
and space pirates,
and how if we could,
we'd take to the stars and
never go back to work,
without even giving
two weeks notice.
Onward, we went;
breaking from the
to find towering highs
and stream-water lows
among the mountainous rocks;
none too high
for our little bodies to conquer.
And when we grew tired
at the water's edge,
the cold air didn't dissuade us
from taking a swim.
Onward we went;
when we had to work,
when we were both broke,
when those towering rocks
shown over a bottomless ledge,
onward, we went.
And onward, we'll go.
Too cold for angels to flyWith her bare feet she stood in the snow.Too cold for angels to fly4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Her footsteps led back to a grey building.
She had just walked out of the front door without anyone noticing her.
Her brown curls hung loosely around her white spotted face.
She remembered her mother had told her to comb it, but it wasn't necessary.
The cold snowflakes brushed her face.
It was very cold outside, almost too cold, but she didn't notice.
Her fingers felt the soft material of her dress.
The dress was a bit too short for her liking, but she didn't care.
She looked back once more at the building.
Her family was in there, crying probably.
But she couldn't go back now. Not anymore.
She looked up to the sky and saw the moon.
Suddenly she was gone.
The little girl standing behind her swore she saw feathers flutter to the ground.
Insecuritiesi could tell you a million talesInsecurities2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of when i stared into the abyss,
and drowned in the thrashing waves
of my own torturous thoughts,
that the dark crevices of my mind
began dragging me under
a sea of endless insecurities
imprinting on my bones.
psalms written by palmsCecil spoke with his hands, and when he did, it looked like magic. I was always stumbling for words while he made them out of thin air, shaping molecules into sounds so quiet they could only be seen. I wanted my fingers to dance like his, but they felt clumsy and heavy. But he always smiled when I tried, and his hands smiled back.psalms written by palms6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There were nights when the only way I could speak was in sideways glances, and his fingertips would whisper secrets across my collarbone, always slow and soft and quiet.
On the beach, he presses his palm to mine in a classic and immediately intimate gesture. I use my hands to sculpt sandcastles while his knuckles crack poetry into their foundations. I let my body heat up as much as it can in the sunlight, my hair running down my back and keeping it warm like a solar-powered blanket.
Cecil keeps looking up at me, inviting me to watch his dance, to share it, but I dont feel like stumbling, so I look down. The words I cant say have been twisting in m
True artists don't hide behind namesArtists: nameless creatures, inhabitants of Cosmos.True artists don't hide behind names3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
ConstellationHey, in the twilight of the summer,Constellation4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
With the insects buzzing lazily
And meandering like drunken dancers,
Let's grab a hold of cloud-cattle
And lead our steeds across the sky.
Pegasus with his mane of stars
Springs from the head of a monster.
Born from decapitation,
He speaks of the night as his home
And of the day as his murderer
He says that he sees or remembers
The Greeks in their ancient happiness
And Archimedes leaping through his thoughts.
The streets are scarred by circles and circumstance
For such is the life of a mathematician.
They had no Christianity, neither does the Southern Cross
Though it's a saviour like the Virgin Mary.
The Catholics that speak quickly and think deeply
Can use it as a fabled compass
But the saint of crosses and murder is apathetic
And by the scorpion's tail
Rests the Orion of old,
Each chasing the other and lighting the sky.
Let's grab a cup of burning hydrogen
And laugh ourselves to death.
Of Oceans and ChildrenCrash and recede. Crash and recede.Of Oceans and Children4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Madness, perhaps, resides in the heart of the ocean;
Hammering against the hardened crags
and persistence of coastline. Madness
is the method of winning.
Harder than wrought iron,
steadfast upon the mountain;
of all the properties of stone
madness isn't one. It does not beat
itself over the surface of the Earth.
It is not mad. It cannot win.
Children were born to be thrown into the swells
of the ocean and broken upon the jagged coral
mort ensconced beneath the tide.
Their bones would scatter and proclaim themselves
to the next generation, saying:
"My skull tore upon the third rock from the sands
and my carrion fed twenty crows,"
so they would know this was good enough.
The ViolinStradivarius;The Violin4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
In my hands you sing, shout, weep.
In my hands, you're home.
I Can't Make Any PromisesI am starting to falter.I Can't Make Any Promises5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Every heartbeat is erratically pulsing through my too tight skull and pounding brain cells against their skeletal walls. I have duct taped my ashen lips closed and clothes pinned my nose so I can't hear my breath escaping in harsh, shallow screams. My arms are holding together my desecrated limbs and trying to re-piece my broken body into something more alluring than the curve of your lie-laden lips. Black-gold strands are strewn across my mascara-stained pillow as my desperate fingers claw at dying follicles.
I'm forgetting how to breathe when my lungs aren't clutching at every sigh; how to stand when every fibre isn't shaking in my feeble legs. I'm grasping at the memory that gives instructions on how to self-stitch my throbbing heart and super glue my aching ribs. I'm swaddling myself in a blanket knit black of my own desolation.
I am laughing at my own vulnerability.
When I find enough tape, I will piece together every crack and every wrinkle, but I don't t
RealityWhat is the time?Reality6 years ago in Open More Like This
What is reality?
we live in a world of abstract conceptions,
how to differentiate the real from the imaginary
if we do not know what they really are.
We wander through this world thinking that we understand,
believing that we control it,
believing that we can change our destiny,
we, insignificant beings in this world,
beings with an air of grandeur,
with ephemeral existences, without importance
tired of carrying this weight on the soul,
tired of fighting this endless solitude,
my body weights and slows,
my heart is dried and withered,
I want to rest,
to close my eyes and sleep,
forget this fact this reality,
travel to a world of dreams,
travel to a universe of ideas,
and lose myself in fantasy.
I hate you worldI always thought I was a decent person thinking that if I act good live good then I willI hate you world3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
be protected from misfortunes, then one day I realized there are still people out there
willing to take things away from others for their own good then they just get away with
it, it's like they feel privileged to take advantages of people who wants to give trust to
the world, these shitty people took advantage of me and it shook my world apart, it's not
because I am at a loss or because I question why I am the victim, because there are people
who suffers much more out there to an extreme I cannot imagine, it's not a game of who has
it worse, but because I will never be able to bring justice to these people and they just
get away with it and they live their life enjoying the way it is and never turn back,
never regret about it, it made me sick to the stomach but it's not like I haven't before,
it just makes me think knowing that among genuinely good people there are these wrongdoers
hiding under th
Word Spill: ClockWorkEverything in lifeWord Spill: ClockWork7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Seems to be measured in time
The tick-tock of whatever's left of
And no necessary promise for a better Tomorrow
We walk this earth
Holding on to what life we have lived
Dreams of a life we wish we had
What we want to do, and when we want to do it
But nothing is ever quite that way
Life, in itself
Is measured by day
Placing value on everything
So nothing is as 'Humdrum' as it seems
And no one could question
Our purpose or place
Everything is relative
Every second we breath
Make a choice
Take a bow
Break a heart
But why do we nitpick
And make excuses
Holding on to our stopwatches
Timing every error made by man
As the end of our days
Seem to be creeping up
And we're beside ourselves
That the time we spend
The very moment in which we are defined
Means absolutely nothing at all
For every second we hold
Worrying about what people will think
We lose a second of what could have been
Trying to d
Seeking herselfShe walks amongst laughter and smilesSeeking herself4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And knows not what they be about
She bypasses that of glass and mirror
Seeking herself with eyes of doubt...
Who Am I?SmileWho Am I?3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That's what I fake every day
That's what I do every night
That's how I act at school
That's what I'm called at home
That's what I am on my own
Who am I?
Sun and MoonSun said,Sun and Moon5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"My sky is bright."
"My sky is night."
"I give the people
Their everyday life."
"I watch them sleep,
Their dreams and strife."
"You know we are opposites
You and I."
But I'm glad we share this sky."
haiku- poisonwobbling synapseshaiku- poison4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
impulses, basic commands
HoboThe snow dampened your cardboard requests,Hobo5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
So you decided to slip between bookshelves
Until they turned all the lights out.
There wasn't any room left at the zoo,
And you crawled under the dead shrubberies
Clutching your cargo like a child.
Invisible to the world,
You hid in the corners of their eyes
And ambushed them with guitar strings.
Indestructible Memories You will die.Indestructible Memories3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
This is a fact. It is nonnegotiable. No matter how far technology advances, it can only extend a life. Eventually cellular damage will accumulate as metabolic decay results in a slow, steady death by aging. Death is a fact of existence. All things die in time.
Many struggle with the reality of death. Some manage to find solitude in the belief that there is an afterlife. Even atheists try to find a way around it: relativistic effects at the instant of death, perhaps, or possibly we become like particle-antiparticle annihilation pairs, bound forever in loops of time. But all of this is merely human speculation. There is no way to know beforehand what happens when we die. The only certainty is that our atoms will be scattered, reused and recycled. As the Bible says, "Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return." Our basic constituents return to the environment from which we obtained them to be reused
I love theeMy fingers move across the keysI love thee7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your voice sings along with the notes
I close my eyes so I can see
This melody makes me feel like I'm floating
Soft, than loud
Slow, than fast
You sing aloud
I wish this moment would last
High, than low
It's slowing down, but than picks up pace
Through the music I am able to show
How much I love your angel like face
The song's coming to an end
You just smile at me
You are forever my friend
I will always love thee
My fingers still move across the keys
I faintly hear you sing along with the notes
But when I look around you I do not see
This melody takes me away, until, with you, I'm floating
Soft, than loud in my ears
Slow, than fast to the beat
I now sing allowed
I just wish that moment would have lasted....
High, than low is the sound
It slows down, but than picks up the pace like my broken heart
Through the music I am able to show
How hurt I am...how I'm falling apart
Your song has come to an end...
I still see you smiling at me
You are still my friend
The Truth of it AllHe preaches about fire and brimstone and the brim of destruction raining from a cherry red sky, and four men reigning in their horses and wreaking havoc for it'll be the End of Days, by God, and we had better be expecting it. Preaching it all from the comfort of a room carpeted with with a cerulean that would be calming if it didn't trigger thoughts of the ocean rising off the ground and submerging people like me for the rest of whatever would be left of eternity, if this man's booming voice was to be trusted.The Truth of it All4 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
It seemed that it was always Apocalypse Day on the days that I was dragged to Salvation Land with acquaintances of whatever denomination of Christianity they decided to consider the God above them to favor, which really was whatever denomination they decided to favor themselves. As much as I loathed having to sit in a tiny room in the back with a few people, encouraged to engage in discussion, it was significantly preferable to being up front, where I had to fight back