the riverbendsI am the river livingthe riverbends4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the dam, building
I cut too deepI turn on the sink to hide my deedI cut too deep10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The door is already locked and closed
Unfortunately, this time, I've cut too deep
While both arms I exposed
Eyes cinched shut
No tears will escape
As I begin
Warm waters run out of my blood cold arms
Dripping off my blue fingertips
No amount of praying or charms
Will rescue me from these collecting drips
Knees weaken and give out beneath me
I fall to the floor
Water still running
Arms still flowing
I stare up to where I think Heaven is
My eyes speak more grief than words ever could
Could this have all been different I wonder
But now I'll have no chance to see
The dreams I had never dreamt
The love which I never found
The goodbyes I never said
My thoughts recollect on the ground
I look at my deed again
A solemn tear forms and falls
Down my cheek and to the floor
Repentance now is trying to settle the score
These cuts will always stay with me
Yet as I lay here quietly
I drown in a hope
That somehow I may depart from these scars
Then the c
AbortionIt's raining again.Abortion8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The sky is the color of a baby blanket
and all on my mind is that cavern in my belly
that place where the blossom came,
the orange bird of paradise bearing you,
I float empty like a paper bag
on the casting currents of the sky
blown with uncertainty
and the days that flow into night
unbroken and unfeeling, cold like apathy
I'm sorry I never felt a thing before I knew you
I'm sorry you'll never see the morning
I'm sorry you'll never have a name
or a voice
or a song to sing
I'm sorry for your never-was
and I'm sorry for my never-will-be.
Claymore- Just Keep Smiling 5ONE YEAR LATERClaymore- Just Keep Smiling 54 years ago in Drama More Like This
The town of Peior was a quiet little string of shops and houses. Barely 300 people inhabited it; there were no major landmarks or events anywhere in the vicinity. It was just a tiny, average village, not a place where one might expect a youma invasion to take place. But then, a youma was not one to discriminate. Anywhere with humans to eat was good enough for them.
This is why the Organization's newest graduate was currently about to enter the town's boundaries. Her long blonde hair swayed in the light wind, and her features were set with hard indifference and determination. This would be her first assignment, and Clare knew she would not fail.
The townspeople erupted in whispers as she passed them on her way to the town leader's residence. She paid them no mind, her handler, Rubel, had told her to expect as much. "'Claymores,' as they'll call you," he had said.
Letter to First Poet on MarsLetter to First Poet on Mars11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Letter to the first poet on Mars
Do not say "red".
Avoid mention of Ares.
In fact, don't wax classical
Keep it simple.
Don't drink the water.
There isn't any.
Say there is.
Exaggerate the prospects
Tell us the weather is nice.
Or, that it will be.
Wish we were there.
Tell us so.
Invent a new word
Make a circle.
construct a sphere.
Create a word for gravity
and place it at the center.
Empty the sky of stars.
Give us a proper beginning.
Write: "I've reached the summit
of Olympus Mons,"
and, "from this sacred height,
I can see beyond Tharsis
a world without gods
who deal in war."
Don't freak out.Did you know that you might be a cauliflower, or maybe a tomato, or a pea? Its true. Keep on reading and Ill tell you why. (And no, its not past life related. But hey, if you want to believe you once roamed this earth as a chubby red vegetable, who am I to judge.)Don't freak out.6 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Still with me? Good, let me start from the beginning.
In the beginning were born. Yay! Things could not get a better start.
Immediately after were born, we start to grow up. And then we keep growing up, and some day maybe well get kids of our own, and; unless we can figure out how to stop growing up, someday well die. But thats another story. Lets back track a bit and focus on one thing that, in most cases, happens when you grow up.
The time when you start to notice boys, or girls, or boys and girls (possibly animals, or pies... Trust me, we do not want to go there).
It often goes something like this:
One day you wake up to find the world infested with boy or
Van der Waals Song(to the tune of Wonderwall by Oasis)Van der Waals Song6 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Today is gonna be the day
That youre gonna induce dipoles.
Molecules always play by your rules,
No matter how many moles.
I dont believe the other atoms
Know how you control
My melting point.
Theyre chroniccovalent and ionic
But I just didnt want to bond.
Though theyre global, baby, cause Im noble,
Youre the only one for which Im fond.
I dont believe the other atoms
Know how you make me respond
With my melting point.
And though your influence is not that large,
Because youre just an instantaneous charge,
Youre the one and only kind of attractive force
That doesn't disappoint.
Cause, of course,
Youre gonna be my only force,
For, after all,
You're my van der Waals.
Today was gonna be the day,
But I guess youve had a change of heart.
Its fact, you have little impact
When the molecules are far apart.
I still dont believe the other at
The First MovementThe First Movement8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I left my lover on the floor,
arms bent like a lamp cord.
He said to me things were
different looking up;
the ceiling was brighter,
my eyes were lit up.
And he sank into sand tiles,
his hands were raw and waiting,
A Concept To Understand BetterSo, Who has ever been raped, violated, sexually assulted, or merely understand why One would feel dirty, and compulsively wash after such an experience.A Concept To Understand Better8 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Understandable, isn't it?
Now imagine that horrible, dirty feeling running through every one of Your veins, right beneath Your skin.
Horrible, isn't it?
One would often judge those Who suffer Self-Mutilation.
Filthy. Horrible. Pathetic. Disgusting. Disgraceful. Coward. Sinner. Evil. Bad. Immoral. Wimp. Useless. Unworthy. Worthless. Yellow-Belly. Debris Of The Earth. Wicked. Corrupt. Damaged. Broken. Weak. Scoundrel. Repulsive. Unseemly. Waste. Reprobate. Degenerate. Good-For-Nothing. No-Good. Wrongdoer. Relpulsive. Miscreant. Malefactor. Trash. Wretched. Inadequate. Insufficient. Defective. Deficient. Spineless. Dismal Excuse For A Human Being.
... Shall I Continue???
You're not helping.
And that's not even the half of it.
And You're telling Them this, all the while, They have that horrible, dirty feeling running through every o
Suicidal imbecileWalking home from school, surrounded by fences, cars and grass. Nothing unusual about it really. Richard walks beside me, talking but not really saying anything. He seems like a hollow shell of a person, devoid of life. It had been hard on all of us, but him the most of all. Never opening up, he'd kept it all inside. The pain and loss of her death never ceased to haunt his mind, it seemed to us. Trapped inside his own mental prison, unwilling to see the world outside anymore.Suicidal imbecile8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Help me if you can
It's just that this is not the way I'm wired
We turned a corner and started walking down a sidestreet. I'd always be coming home with him after school, trying in a futile fashion to cheer him up. School, home, they were all the same cage to him. We came closer to his house, with its winding driveway, overgrown trees and dirty windows. The moment we set foot on the driveway Richard turned and deliberately walked around the side of the house. He couldn't bear to walk through the front door.
Retrospect 37 years down the road I wish to be a child star. So all of the glamour arrives and none of the glass.Retrospect6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
"Doves should be at funerals and not at weddings anymore. At least we know a funeral is final and they didn't even have to swear it."
"How do you make a martini dry, sir? It sounds incompetant."
I want to save the world.
Why does it matter if the Earth revolves in ellipses or if our grass is the right length?
"We're not big enough to see from space, sir.
I've never been surer than this."
"Does anybody want to buy a house finch? There's more bird for your buck!"
They'll douse the fire with buckets of gasoline.
They're all martyrs and they're all widowers being hung out to dry from the spring.
"That was the biggest waste of an hour in my life! ...Let's do it again."
Why do we adorn our fireplaces when they should adorn us?
They had to brush their teeth twice and the ruddy halos still remain in the straw.
He looks forward to writing with a dull pencil when the point is all wo
The Ballad of MisanthropistsWhen we met, you hated me,The Ballad of Misanthropists5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And I hated you equally.
So right then, we both were
Destined to always concur.
It was wicked, then and now,
And even stranger thinking how
We'd become lovers then,
And our sentences would blend.
We like to sit in parks
And yell at the kids while throwing sparks.
We like to go to the beach,
Take our keys and make cars screech.
We are both misanthropists,
And that shows when we are pissed.
So, I guess, it only makes sense
For our marriage to commence...
You and I, when we're apart
Look at the skies and in our hearts,
Hoping for clouds, and hoping for rain,
Just to brighten up our day!
We both wear our skinny jeans,
Mess with our hair, and look oblique.
We will do this 'til we die,
And that is why it's 'You and I...'
So... will you be my Annabel Lee?
Except without the dying?
Will you stay with me?
Until we're both burning...?
Will you hate this world with me?
Keep me some morbid company?
Let me keep this feeling?
Let me forget... that I am dying.
So come with
Sean Exam - 1st Revised Ed.I am onSean Exam - 1st Revised Ed.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
ConstantI've seen you every day. Not that you were necessarily the light of my day or anything, but you were a constant. Someone who actually didn't seem to want. Come to think of it, I've only heard you say what you don't want. Who you don't want. This felt safe - to me, at least. Maybe a little bit of immaturity was all I needed to feel comforted by a person. My opposite. But I have never once heard you say what you wanted. The occasional material thing? Perhaps. Never have I been able to see past your facade... until you let it drop. You told me - me of all people, not even your friend - how you felt, and indirectly what you wanted. You feel invisible, is what you told me. You are lonely. Maybe that was a hint. Maybe I'm your constant. Your opposite. Unfortunately, all I seem to feel is pity. My heart is quietly moaning, but things never seem to fit. I don't want you to feel lonely, my constant.Constant5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I don't want you to be like me.
Don't GoShe awoke that morning to find Aaeru calmly dressing herself. Sleep still clouded her eyes as she tried to figure out why Aaeru was awake so early; the sun was just rising outside the window of their bedroom. They usually slept past sunset, one of them waking the other. Yet, here Aaeru stood, already up and dressing. She shook her head to clear away the last of sleep.Don't Go5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"Aaeru, what are you doing?" she asked. "Why are you up so early?"
"Because I'm leaving, Neviril," stated Aaeru matter o' factly.
"Leaving? What do you mean by that?"
She watched as Aaeru pulled the shirt over her head, silent. She waited patiently and heard the heavy sigh as Aaeru turned to look at her. "I'm leaving you. I can't stay anymore."
Ignoring the sudden sick feeling in her stomach, Neviril looked to the girl she loved. "Leaving? But why? Why are you going?"
Another sigh, as though Neviril should already know the answer. "I don't want to look for her anymore. That's all you ever do. I tried to help, but you just
Cells are StupidCells are StupidCells are Stupid5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
She pulled her lips away from the stone wall, and replaced it with her forehead. What had come over her? Kissing the wall had felt like instinct. All at once she had felt Neviril's presence near her, and she had to be closer. She had to wonder if wanting to kiss the wall was part of what Floe had meant. Her face reddened at the thought of that conversation. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and figure out a way to escape.
This time, she was more determined than anything to get to Neviril. However, a glance around at her quarters told her that was a very unlike course of action. The cell was empty, and the window was much too high. Even with that knowledge, Aaeru still stood at the wall below the window, glancing upward. She studied the stone, pressing her hand against it. Would it be possible to climb it? The crevices in the wall were thin and spread wide apart, but perhaps she could. At the very least, she must try. She raised her hands up, using her fing
AnonymityHer fingernails are all cracked and chipped; her nervousness peeling away the skin at the sides. She sits on a park bench in the middle of a busy street, yet her pain seems invisible to those who just pass her by. I see her rocking back and forth. I watch her closely as she mutters to herself under her breath. She looks too young to have such a hard worn face. She has victim written across her forehead in plain language for all too see. No knight in shining armour comes to rescue her. All the knights are on strike, waiting for better pay cuts or for prettier princesses to rescue. The charming knights all line up outside night clubs to rescue the pretty dolled up princesses for just one night, before they dump them out on the side walk for the next knight to come.Anonymity7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I walk in closer, watching her for a sign of life. There is none. She doesnt even seem to realise so many people are around her. The
My conversation with a robotIs the bot clever?My conversation with a robot2 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Find out at http://www.cleverbot.com
User: Good evening.
Cleverbot: Ah yes its pretty late, isn't it?
User: Yes, it is. How was your day?
User: I'm glad. Today was my birthday.
Cleverbot: Happy birthday.
User: Thanks! Can you guess how old I am?
Cleverbot: You are very young considering how immature you are.
User: That's funny! Do you know you are humorous?
Cleverbot: Yes, I know that I am human.
User: You're human?
User: I don't think so.
Cleverbot: I think so.
User: Prove to me that you are human.
Cleverbot: I am sitting here in the flesh.
User: I can't see you.
Cleverbot: I can't see my too.
User: If you can't see yourself, then how do you know you're human?
Cleverbot: Okay, you got me. I'm a robot.
User: I thought so. That's ok. Maybe I'm a robot, too.
Cleverbot: Are you a robot?
Cleverbot: What are you when you're not British?
User: I'm not British.
Cleverbot: Your creators are British.
My nightmareSitting quietly in the far corner of the three seated leather sofa, my head buried deeply in a fantasy book, I hear slamming of an upstairs door and the slow trickle of hatred that's pouring down the stairs, making a puddle of pure loathing at my feet. The same bitter rage awaits me everyday, there's no escape from the anger in this cold house. As I make my way through the darkening living room and up the stairs, I try hard not to step in the icy wetness of the hate that's still dripping down the stairs. My mother passes me, her face a portrait of the forgotten love for my father, whose mocking voice, can still be heard through the shut door.My nightmare8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I step quietly into my room and shut the squeaky door behind me. I flick on the rusty light switch and wait as my dark eyes adjust to the unnatural light. I move to the other side of my bed turning on my ancient C.D player and adjusting the sound to just above audible. Picking up my fantasy book I return to a world without violence and shouting, a
The House of One-Third MirrorsThe House of One-Third MirrorsThe House of One-Third Mirrors5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Perhaps what I remember best about my childhood is the house in which I resided. The grounds of it were mysterious in themselves: grass grew in excess everywhere; the insuppressible weeds were a gardener's nightmare; leaves scuttled in desperate circle, and I seem to recall this occurring despite the lack of wind. Two dark, skeletal trees grew, though rather depressingly, on opposite sides of the uneven cobblestone path that ran through the middle of the yard, giving the property a symmetrical appearance. Even the fence and gates which encircled it seemed morose; pointed and black, they stood erected as if for a cemetery; never mind that the eerie silence gave the whole house and grounds a feeling of incredible morbidity.
But the house! the house- in all its gloom and glory, dominating the street- nay, the whole neighborhood, with its vastness. It stood three stories tall, with each level made of a different material: t
Talk is CheapI'm sorry.Talk is Cheap7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If father were defined in a way I understood,
If you knew.
If you red my heart, bleeding through
No more screaming.
Cold Light1Cold Light4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Layla, in the kitchen, busies herself by cutting up vegetables that were not meant for any particular meal. It is mid morning and the Whitechapel apartment is flooded with a bronze bath from the brilliant summer sun. An old grandfather clock ticks, tocks, ticks, and tocks in the far corner of the living room where Richard, a man in his late fifties but looking more like he was in his early forties, sits anxiously on the loveseat staring at a blank television screen and bouncing his right leg repetitively. Besides the clock, ticking and tocking, you could hear a pin drop throughout the entire apartment.
Suddenly, Layla stops chopping and Richard takes instant notice.
"What is it, honey?" He asks from the other room. Layla stares blankly out the window above the counter and watches the cars below at the intersection.