Change: The Story, Prolog IChange: The Story, Prolog I11 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Prolog, Part 1 -
It was a large town, not large enough to be considered a city yet mind you, but large enough to enjoy some of a city's perks… and some of it's pitfalls. Tonight it's taller buildings stood out in sharp silhouetted contrast against the pale sky as its lights washed out the dim stars. And there was a good many more lights then normal. The Magic Guild had let its students out early. Many businesses and street vendors had closed shop and given their employees the day off. The Police where just now turning in as the Hunters took to the streets, guarding the populace from supernatural beings at night just as their counterparts guarded the town from human deviants during the day.
Everything was out of sorts, but it was a good out of sorts. The reason for the extra lights, the early closing of the day, and the tighter security was there was a Carnival in town. Only three such great hosts of entertainers, artisans, freaks, illusionists, and what nots exis
Scene girlScene girlScene girl8 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Everyone wants to be her friend
but when you look shes all the trend
just another faceless girl in the crowd
Does something cause she wasnt allowed
She followed the bus to the show
met others who wernt supposed to go
shouts out in the middle of the street
pretends that shes part of the elite
And oh no shes gone again
She said she was going to move out
wanted to know what her lifes all about
got as far as the front door
said she couldnt go through anymore
She says she hates the scene
seen everything there is to see
the wonder of the world is lost
as the roads in front are always crossed
Incident on a BridgeIncident on a BridgeIncident on a Bridge6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
after Donald Justice
There because I was unsure
where else to bear my loss,
I stopped at Haizhu bridge
where many unsteady hands have given
every hope and sorrow to gravity.
And there I climbed out to wait,
bankrupt and listening to the river
cussing, the breath of the crowd
below. And the day was long
on the beams before I saw
the familiar stranger standing
hooded in his shadow
black lips, black teeth, watching
among the passers-by, his eyes
hard as bone. His blade
brushed each back that pushed
past him as traffic thickened
in the alleys of Guangzhou.
And I knew him by this his spine
unbent and the angle of his arms the air
a sudden zest of chrysanthemums.
Sir, apart from any threatening
gesture, I'd guessed the appointment
he meant to keep with me,
even as his eyes left mine
and I followed them, turning
to look over my shoulder
which is how I first caught
sight of the shoeless man
approaching in his t-shirt, his hand
IfIf I were a painter,If6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I'd paint your memories,
Your earliest day, and quirky way,
I'd paint you easily.
If I were a poet,
I'd scribble you some lines,
Of flower days, and country ways,
and other loving times.
If I were an author,
Your story I would write,
On every page, a different age,
as you slept alone at night.
If I were a teacher,
I'd give you all I know,
Of Classic lit and Ancient script,
And language as you grow.
If I were your lover,
I'd love you till the end,
Kiss you first, and quench your thirst,
and hold you while you mend.
But I am an observer,
In your heart, always a friend.
And there I see, I'll always be,
Anonymous until the end.
Save MeSave Me7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My mother, vainglorious,
sang her own beauty and
offended the gods (though
her boasts rang true enough);
it fell to me to ransom
Given up by parents,
I lay abandoned
in chains to the
my innocence considered
just recompense for
On the cusp of death,
I find myself in a heros
sure hands, my life reclaimed.
But my freedom is lost, my
virginity now payment
of another kind.
I am honored
on canvas, in marble
and bronze, always
at the height of
None paint my form
after the seven
children I bore
I am eternally beautiful,
my marbled skin
white and smooth,
but the winds
of the sea blow
cold, and I
am still a prisoner,
of this stone
TF2: Twilight YearsTF2: Twilight Years4 years ago in Romance More Like This
The old man settled onto the park bench as if the weight of the world threatened to force him through the wooden slats and onto the grass below. He could feel each joint groan, each muscle creak and protest the movement. Once seated, he sighed. He had never thought he'd make it to this age. This was the age that he had joked about in the barracks with the others. The age they had all agreed was not meant for men like them; men meant for fighting, killing, and destroying. Violent, bull-hearted men. He sighed again and adjusted his glasses with one hand, surveying the park around him. Children played carelessly on the playground while happy parents watched and talked amongst themselves. Young adults wandered the footpaths and sat under trees, the still chilly early spring air carrying with it the heady smell of flowers and young love. Never had he thought things could be so peace
The Supermarket"How did the exams go?" he asks, a slight stutter in his voice betraying his excited, unvoiced line of questioning: 'Are you leaving us?'The Supermarket9 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
You try, unconvincingly, to say that they went okay – not that you could be sure, yet – and list all the work that you've done; try and prove that you're not a waster, even though you yourself remain unconvinced.
As he speaks, he pulls you down, and you can almost feel his outstretched, grasping hands on you, as he teases you about your future career plans. You've grown up with this national aversion to success, so it shouldn't be a surprise. But it still ruffles your feathers, makes you imagine the unimaginable: failure and a life spent working in this fucking cage.
His questions come to an end, punctuated by the emission of a deep, guttural cough, and he stands to go to the worktop, where he'll prepare his lunch of cheap white bread and margarine.
The fifteen minutes finally draw to an end, and you stand – "See you," "Yeah, see you" –
PreguntasPreguntasPreguntas7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What comes next is a kind of answer -
an uncoiling of sounds something like marrow
seeping from a voice asleep by the river
where green bands of parrots press
to eat the salty earth - a voice under the roots
of a walking palm, speaking its whispers
about Neruda and how Neruda will
make a voice pregnant with questions
hidden as the nest of the yellow bird
and the life of bones. The mouth goes
numb; a bottle falls. Two horses move away
into mountain shadow, walking the quiet
of the stony slopes. Is there nobody
here? Is there still nobody here?
5 Stages of Griefone. Kissing your knees. You have eyes on your palms5 Stages of Grief6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
crying, you are saying 'No,' firmly but nothing changes.
Telling your children 'let go' means nothing.
two. Begins after you haven't laughed in a year.
It has been three years, four months and five days.
three. Shooting yourself in the foot. Shooting yourself in the foot
makes the pain dissipate from everywhere else. Hammer to the
hand, head and neck.
four. Jerusalem, I love you, Jerusalem, you are mumbling
on your knees and weary. The wooden pew is making you look
thin and boney. Thin and boney, like a chicken ready for sacrifice.
five. Stage five is living in a house with no lights, television
flickering infomercials at night rocking you to sleep.
InsurrectionI hide you away inInsurrection6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my deep places,
pulling you out
on bad days like
crumbling love letters
tied in age-stained
Just for a moment,
I can feel the warmth
of your skin, your breath
on the side of my throat.
But just for a moment
before the cold treason
of your leaving
chills my very bones
and I must bury you
in dark places
Imitation Is...I split a biscuit in my plateImitation Is...7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and put gravy on one half.
She follows suit but
spoons gravy on both.
I put butter and blackberry jam
on my ungravied half.
She watches me
then surreptitiously scrapes half
a biscuit clean with her spoon.
She knifes a pat of butter and
slathers it across the crumbling
bread then digs into purple jelly
and grins to herself.
I hide a smile and pretend
not to notice.
devoteehe sits in my classdevotee7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
trying so hard to
claim my attention
I see legs covered
with mosquito bites,
red and ugly
dirty toenails hanging
out over ratty
he cant control
someday, hell grow
into all that he longs to be
but just now, hes a
painful cluster of youth,
a desperate need
to be seen
that I can satisfy
only in part for fear
that he will
my concern for
Just Passing Through It's a bit hardJust Passing Through7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to tell you this story.
the streets of conformity, lost
like a fish broken out of school
Cutting, and Racing Sharks
I came upon a town,
church bells, zealots
gowned in white and flowing gold ribbons
men and women singing their praises, in a
I want to...I want toI want to...8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Drink tea with you
Watch your lips leave the cup's rim
As if nothing ever touched it
I want to
Travel the Silk road with you
Don't worry if people stare
I'll be your shield, a stepping stone
I want to
Pass on to you what my master taught me
Though he no longer considers me his student
I'm sure he will be proud of you
I want to
Take you to my grandparents
I'm sure they'll welcome you warmly
Though I am the grandson they never had
I want to
Bring you roses in February
Inhale your enjoyment
as you inhale my affection
I want to
Tell you how I long to do these things with you
And I think of race
My hint of sweetness in a bitter world
Tasted by someone else
But that's okay
Because I love you
at threeAt threeat three11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when the hand on the clock
struggles to move--
there is thunder.
Faded orange land clashes
with man made green.
Thunder comes again--
Gods heart beating over a desert.
Water vapor grabs dust and begs
to be pitched down and made into earth.
When it rains the road steams under the sun--
blacktop turns to oil slick.
And I struggle
to say something
that hasnt been said before.
Hortus Venenum CulturaThe rarest flower -Hortus Venenum Cultura8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all vine, dead leaves
A death blue hue
to match the tune,
of winters heart.
Do they not feel?
The damp of dawn,
wet soil, the bodies
so many little lives
the insects, the vermin -
Rotted flesh feeding
poppy fields in France,
for peace -
Healthy anarchy dimmed
by a flow of ecstasy,
oh joy - for green leaves
and mellow afternoons.
Forests fallen -
giants lain to rest
to lace the sky with diamonds.
New JobFirst day on the jobNew Job9 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
"So," he said, leering at me over the table, messy sandwich in hand, "how long have you been eating yogurt?" My yogurt laden spoon paused in mid air, and in the moment it took me to think, (how long had I been eating yogurt? When was my first time?) I watched oily, shredded lettuce tumble from his sandwich onto the table. The question seemed loaded.
"Oh, probably only the last couple of years; you know, like, seriously." I said this airily, as his tone of voice had implied that this yogurt-eating habit of mine was a potential hot spot in our relationship. He said nothing, but continued to peer intensely across the table. His eyes might even have been narrowing. I felt, justly, exposed. I turned the yogurt cup nervously in my hands, and my averting eyes settled upon the nutrition facts. I suddenly began to read them off, and espouse the healthful qualities of yogurt, not for its defense, but for my own. He leaned back in his chair with revulsion as I finally dealt w
MayflyMayfly10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When we were mayflies our wings were
worn from wire screens, but the tentative
beats of your belly chimed like iron.
And it occurred to me that through
the breeze of burning leaves our eyes
were open to wasps and weeds.
a speck in the skyit is warmer in the watera speck in the sky6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but when the weight of the world
urges me under i am helpless.
i am heaving your sky and still
i cannot breathe when you seethe
beneath my surface and i am boiling
with love. i am no longer at liberty
to hold you dear. i am no longer
your lone lily mourning the wake
of woken waves lapping the corners
of what i do not know. i do not know
you. i do not know where i stand
for the earth is dissolving between toes
and i am tipping into a fluid medium.
i am so tired, so drawn for the need
of the anchor i have been for so long
i am finite and i can only do so much.
hoist me from sunken springs before
you imbibe the purest part of me; i would
still dilute you. you must show yourself
to the sun, to be slowly grown out
of the nights you cannot fight fears with.
if i could be liquid light to lift you
with the weightlessness of air, i would
soak your subtler senses so you might
fly high enough to se
rememberwhisper the notes ofremember7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my name until I
fade into tomorrow
and when I disappear
into the rising sun,
that I always
i've lost the half...your halfling heart has split mei've lost the half...7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where i am growing roots and shoots
to pepper the sky with holes leaking light.
i am putting myself down where nothing grows
and the rock beneath my feet is solid purchase, but
the price i paid is a swindled soul and the rest of me is
hiding in your fisted fingertips tripping slipped grips and i
am dipped into valleys lacking sleep. i am prone to playing
with wordless ways as twilight wanes in sugarcane sun.
moonlit morning moves my lurking longing into nightly rest
as i right my axes. i am tumbling over crumbling creeks and stumbling
over bumbling breaches of breath. i am dabbling in scrabbling stones clutching
the edge of water. we are nipping the know in the budding romance like december
blooming frost-roses looming like crooning crows counting the days to my departure,
and i fear we are both staying the hand leading us to laying states and wasted tastes feeding
on the things that are still true, but when
jadedpeople dont diejaded7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of broken hearts,
but when they
never live again,
they might as well