A Case Study in DramaA Case Study in Drama11 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
My car runs outside the convenience store where Todd works. I'm there to pick up my friend and roommate from the evening shift, but the moment finds him stalled between his ride home and the gritty brick outside of the store. It has become the apparent site chosen by Brandi, our mutual friend who showed up before me, for a verbal showdown between her and Todd.
In a convenience store parking lot.
In front of my car.
Whose engine is still running.
A miserably cold drizzle softens my view of the two combatants through the windshield as they begin their rounds of gesturing. The ember of a cigarette as it flies around in Brandi's hand gives me the image of a crazed air traffic controller. They're also yelling, of course, but I can only hear the occasional stressed tone over the late-night jazz on the radio. I'm not interested in their argument, anyway.
Reason is on my side to flash the headlights or honk the horn—anything to make Todd take a rain check and get in the damn car—but I sit back
HIT ME RUNNINGDon't sell me funeral plotsHIT ME RUNNING11 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
on late night television
if the end is already in sight
am I supposed to pull the sheets up to my neck,
count to zero,
smile, and cease?
keep your pills, in all their pretty colors:
celebrex, propecia, allegra, lipitor, zanex, viagra
keep them for scrabble
keep your rogaine, your facelifts
keep your death insurance
keep your graveyard reservations
hit me running.
let me go down swinging
make it a sport:
give me a ten-minute head start
and an obstacle course.
place a beautiful girl on the far side of a mine field
and whisper, "she wants to kiss you"
target me on my feet
dodging doomsday's in slow-mo bullet time
let me duel the grim reaper in a poetry slam
but let me lay where i fall
let the buzzards and coyotes
pick apart my bones
don't stuff me and sew me up
waste my estate on alcohol for my wake
instead of wood for a coffin,
build me a funeral pyre
and set me ablaze like a pagan-warrior-king
AcidBreaking promises left and right.Acid7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
All I ask baby, is for one more trip tonight.
Just enough to let me soar.
Just enough and never more.
Soon enough the colors change.
Watch the world rearrange.
My mind is like a caged bird set free.
Oh baby, why won't you look at me?
I know I hurt you, made a mess.
But oh baby, how could I turn down the rest?
This drug is like my antidote.
Like our love, so neatly wrote.
I tried baby, but I couldn't stop for you.
Our "love" just isn't true.
Nothing left worth fighting for.
All I wanted was a little more.
But that's okay baby, it was great.
I could have sworn you were my mate.
But it is alright.
I've already given up my fight.
So one more trip is all I ask.
Let me put on my colored mask.
Hide my face from prying eyes.
Wash away all my lies.
Now watch my body take eternal flight.
Watch me vanish into the night.
And when you find me long gone.
Be sure to remember our love song.
Such pretty lyrics for such a fake thing.
My god baby, you didn't realize what
Acid.Acid.9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Acceptance of failure.
Fulfillment through DepravityFulfillment through Depravity11 years ago in Horror More Like This
They call me crazy. I beg to differ. I'm sentenced to die only for their lack of understanding. So, here I sit day after day in this cold, lonely, dark jail-cell. Fed once daily, I'm slowly thinning away, still filled with the lust of my chosen delicacy and the hatred that was bred upon me. I don't know how long I've been here or how long I'll stay. No windows to the outside world are present to accompany me, only one diminutive hole near the top of the door shining in a small beam of light through from the prison corridor. I've grown somewhat accustomed to this new lifestyle of mine however bleak it may be in comparison to the stirring existence of my past.
I was born on August 13, 1974, putting me now at slightly over fifty years old. My mother unfortunately died during labor, leaving my single father to raise me alone. My unstable father was traumatized b
I Won'tI Won't10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I can feel you inside me
You're not stronger than me
I won't let you
No, you can't have me!
Child of WarChild of War10 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
This is not a tale of tragedy or a lamentation, nor is it a glorification of war or peace, or an accusation of criminal nations who encouraged this war. It is simply a diary -- my life as a child of war, both frightening and exciting, where life was suspended but life went on anyway. A life neither happier nor sadder than that of any other child on the planet, but more unusual perhaps, and sometimes astonishing in how normal it all was to me. Which is why I like to share this piece of writing: I feel it is a unique perspective on this kind of event, as I have strived to keep it void of post-rationalisation and political context to keep it, as purely as possible, an insight into how this was experienced by a kid's mind, and for that I put myself back into my mindset of the time to write it. This shows in the "voice".
I was born in Beirut on September 11th, 1979, in the basement/shelter of the clinic where my mother had gone to give birth. We immediately left for Mu
fistful of fightfistful of fight9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Like fistfuls of red
She borrowed knives from wolves
To accessorize with her own
Sat on heights
Before I became wild fire…
But as I settled as ash...
There was no phoenix to
Fill my day.
(An army that reeked of February 2006)
Powerful guns that owned
Men who had strength
That wasn't their own.
…They were pumped with fear
That made them feel
Our master plan was
To escape to an island,
And here I am;
Alone on an island,
With a War(I)saw from afar…
And a gun I withdraw
Which I sometimes call talk.
Iraqi Pilot Returns - StoryBy U.S. Air Force Staff Sgt. Christopher FrostIraqi Pilot Returns - Story7 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
KIRKUK, Iraq By age 15, his destiny was already set by Saddam Husseins regime he was to become a fighter pilot, a necessity in the bloody war with Iran. He took the controls of a Bravo, a single engine, propeller-driven training aircraft, and performed his first solo flight before most Americans could even drive.
Today, Iraqi Air Force Maj. Abbas, his name changed in this story for security reasons, serves once again in the Iraqi Air Force, but hes no longer asked to fly for the dictator but to fly for his country.
Abbas is an instructor pilot with the Iraqi Flying Training School in Kirkuk, Iraq, where he teaches initial pilot training to future Iraqi pilots. Like many instructor pilots who have returned to the school to teach, he was a fighter pilot under Husseins regime with a great deal of experience and training.
My education was only for flying, said Abbas, while he kept watch over a pitche
The GriffinThe Griffin4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
There aren't many things I can say I enjoy in life. Makes sense really, considering I profit from death, but besides that I've never been the 'liking' kind. I'm picky about my food, picky about my friends, and I'm sure as hell picky about my marks.
But I'm never picky about the drink.
"Another," I told the barman, rapping my knuckles against the counter's stained wooden surface to catch his attention. He must have been expecting it, because a moment later a chipped clay tankard frothing at the brim came sliding towards me, stopping precisely in front of my crossed arms.
He was pretty good.
Picking it up I drank my beer slowly, scanning the surrounding room with feigned boredom. It was a habit I'd picked up after years on the road, and it was a damned useful one. He was around six and a half feet tall, judging by how his feet stretched out below the table he shared with two other me
Decembersville Ch. 26 Chapter 26 A breakable promiseDecembersville Ch. 266 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
You know, shes actually kind of pretty up close in person, Zero said nicely, looking at Campara as she slept in the snow before them peacefully. Pendulum Tin took a gaze at her as he sat in the snow; Zero was right. She actually was quite attractive if you took a good look at her. Besides the uneven fangs and exaggerated eyelashes, her clean skin and wispy, shiny black hair got his attention. They sat side by side in the snow, sitting far away from the ledge of the high oasis they made it to, relieved that they can enjoy the calm snowy night and the big, white moon right in front of them.
Then Zero gulped Do do you think her brothers know shes gone?
Dont you start freaking me out! Tin warned. Im already about to die of freaking-out-ness knowing she cant sleep forever! Both friends twitched seein
The Princess And Prince MeetThe Princess And Prince Meet11 years ago in Humor More Like This
Once upon a time, there was a princess.
She sat alone in her tower.
She was lonely.
She was relatively pretty and had hobbies.
Most princes liked girls in pink frilly dresses.
They ran away from jeans and pleather.
Of the few that stayed, most of them ran when she opened her mouth.
And the brave few that stayed after the first few sentences limped away after she beat them up.
In a fair fight.
For being so stupid.
The princess liked martial arts.
But having scared away all the princes, she was really rather lonely.
Everyone in the castle disliked her.
The cooks who thought she ate too much.
Her ladies in waiting didn't think she was proper enough.
Her parents thought she was a disgrace.
So now, she was really rather lonely.
Did I say that yet?
Now walking down the road was a prince.
He didn't look very much like a prince.
He was wearing cargoes and a navy T-shirt.
He was travelling incognito.
So don't tell anyone.
So anyway, he arrived at the castle and asked for a j
The One Where The Cake IgnitesThe One Where The Cake Ignites9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Phoebe is in Central Perk with Ross.
Ross is writing a poem to Rachel,
unlikely as this may seem. Phoebe
listens to him recite it, then Chandler
walks in on the last few lines: "And Joey
is a noey like Hannukah with Monica,
so you see, you're left with me." "Monica
and Hannukah?" says Chandler. "Gee, Ross,
I thought you quit poetry." (Titles) Joey,
elsewhere, is cooking with Rachel.
They're baking a birthday cake for Chandler.
Joey's idea. They're counting on Phoebe
to keep him stalled. So, naturally, Phoebe
tells Chandler to write a poem for Monica.
"It's Phoebe's poetry workshop!" Chandler
relents, but writes four lines for Ross:
"Oh Ross/So cross/Becoss/Of Rachel."
Monica arrives in the flat to find Joey
and Rachel cooking. She screams. Joey
belts her - she falls unconscious. Phoebe
senses violence, contacts Rachel
psychically. "Something just happened to Monica!"
Chandler's ode has riled Ross.
He demands satisfaction from Chandler,
produces two pistols, whereupon Chandler
Dave: Ask Jade.AN: Please read description before readingDave: Ask Jade.3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"All right, bro. We ready?"
John nodded covertly, but his grin was anything but discreet. "Go get her, tiger."
Dave rolled his eyes and stuck his hand in his pocket, where there was a simple string of jingle bells. He nodded at Rose and she slipped out of the room, off to get her part of the piece.
"Hey, Jade! Come here," John said, plugging his portable synth/keyboard into one of the outlets in Rose's living room. "I want you to hear this song I've been working on." He sat on the floor in front of the keyboard and indicated a chair for Jade to sit in.
"Sure," Jade said, coming over to him and sitting. "What's it called?"
"You'll see," John said with a barely-stifled giggle. He began playing a few simple chords, and after a few measures, Dave swallowed, opened his mouth, and began singing.
"Don't want a lot for Christmas," he began, ignoring the fluttering of his heart. "There's just one thing I need." Jade gasped softly, and she
A Headache Haiku.A Headache Haiku.11 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
My Brain does hurt so.
It aches as if a Huge Moose,
Were Standing on it.
Contracts with Sea WitchesThe fact she used live ingredients andContracts with Sea Witches3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the suspiciously skeletal shape of her office
should have been a sufficient warning,
but truthfully, we are all too ready
to make deals with Sea Witches.
We grab for the bony fountain pen
and it's almost surprising the ink is gold
instead of warm, thick, and deep red.
And who could notice her mystical words
speak of the laryngitis that will
infect our throats, or care that
she embodies warped hyper-sexuality,
as she hypnotizes us with promises
that the fumes coming from her black cauldron
can really change our lives?
The idea of chasing fantasies
our parents told us were foolish, hopeless,
appeals to us like a progression
that takes us from major to minor,
and suddenly we have legs that walk
but immediately start to drown
in what used to be the air we breathed.
Magic can only go so far,
but well chosen and perfectly placed words
can lure any dreamer into a game that can't be won.
Hostility Towards TerragenHostility Towards Terragen10 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Hostility towards the program terragen has always been present, and most likely, always will be. But let's get down to brass tacks. What is terragen? It's a 3d scenery generator. Right. There's no real Modelling process involved per se, and it looks and works completely different (to all means and purposes of the majority) to a 3d modelling application such as 3d studio max or Maya. It is comprised of a series of mostly numerical controls, and a few random generators based on numerical/slider inputs.
...this means, it's an easy program, and requires little or no effort to pull off good results.
Here's my favourite word of this article. WRONG.
The program is as deep as you want it to be, just as many other art orientated programs are. The quality of the results produced from it are proportional to the artists skill in using it. Just becau
A Collection Of Emotions.Horror: Spiders crawling up and down the spine, burrowing into the spinal cord.A Collection Of Emotions.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Depression: Something weighing down the limbs and numbing the brain. This something is unidentified as yet. Guilt and other assorted secondary emotions swirling in a thick mixture, sometimes located in the gut.
Love: Clinical insanity. Symptoms can include the disproportionate swelling of the heart, and a surprisingly pleasant sensation of nausea.
Heartbreak: Glass that has shattered inside the chest. A single memory, sight, reflection or comment may cause these shatters of glass to shift and aggravate already present wounds.
Shame: Hatred of one's self, located between shoulderblades.
Ecstasy: Fizzy bubbling of the blood, an effervescence akin to champagne.
Life: A combination of all these and many others. Incurable.