CheeseI open the fridge and look inside,Cheese11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And a wonderful sight does meet my eye.
Munster, swiss, mozzarella, and cheddar!
What could ever possibly be better?
I reach out with one trembling hand
And snatch a piece that's next to a can.
I pop the morsel into my mouth,
Thinking "Cheese is the best, without a doubt!"
Then, without warning, my head starts to spin.
Since when has my fridge had a twin?
I clutch my head and fall to the ground,
All of this without making a sound.
I wake up in a hospital bed with a sneeze.
It seems I've forgotten I'm allergic to cheese.
Cut"Are you sure...you want me to do this?"Cut10 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
The sun filtered, in its fragmented way, through the dusty window, and bathed everything in its warm glow, embracing my own face with its broken fingers. Yet the room was cold. The rough wooden floor was cold under my bare feet, and the air was cold. April is always cold, no matter what mood the sun is in.
I was born in April.
I didn't answer his question. He knew already.
He sighed, once, sharply and nervously, releasing a shard of his tenseness into the air. He was usually very relaxed, but fear made him anxious. It always did. Even if it was never fear for himself.
I looked up, over my right shoulder, into his face. It was bathed by the light of the cold sun, illuminating the depths of his milky eyes. He looked like an angel. The sun washed him clean.
I wished he could see the sun. He would love it.
I turned around again, set my shoulders, waited.
He let out another sharp sigh, and I felt his fingers skitter ove
I remember you from trainsI remember you from trains11 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The next train to depart from Platform One will be the four-thirty-two, Flinders Street, stopping all stations to Flinders Street except East Richmond.
...And right on time again, she shows up. Yellow t-shirt and denim skirt. Today, she's wearing glasses that I haven't seen her with before and they make her look like a librarian, especially combined with the long, deep, deep, brown hair. I don't need to look her up and down like I have in the past. I have her memorised. After seeing her every Sunday at the same time for six weeks, I could almost convince myself that I know her. After all, I have seen a multitude of her moods. I know how she looks when she rubs her eyes, when she walks, when she smiles, and when she closes her eyes. I could nearly fall in love with her for real when she's asleep.
The train arrives, I open the door for her and sit down about six seats away facing towards her. I have to do this surreptitiously though. I can't let her know that I've chosen t
Annie Comes Home to RufusAnnie Comes Home to Rufus11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Annie tumbles from the car
and onto the driveway.
I watch from behind the curtains
as Mother and Father trudge behind,
dragging duffles full of god-knows-what
(sweatshirts, I figure, and a toothbrush, and gallons and jars
of bitter white pills and injections).
"Daddy – keys!" she cries,
and his mouth stretches, baring teeth
(he smiles, he thinks)
as he tosses a jingling cluster.
The latch clacks, and Annie comes home.
I hover in the kitchen –
I never know what to say.
She spots me before even hanging up her jacket and kneels.
"C'mere, mutt," like she expects me to pretend
I'm happy to see her
eight pounds lighter than last Sunday.
Annie is tired.
Only I am allowed in her room,
where the angled light shafts and the dust motes
turn the plastic hairs of her wig
into faceted filaments.
She slides it from her skull
and drapes it on the sleeping styrofoam
Why I Hate SummerI am thought of as strange because I ache for the long, cold nights autumn and winter bring. I was cursed with pores that don't "glow" as a proper lady's should - I sweat. The heat makes my hair frizzy, and humidity flattens it, so my hair spends the entire summer trapped in a tight clip or ponytail lest it explode in a grenade of confusion and hurt someone.Why I Hate Summer7 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Cuddling up in a soft warm blanket to warm up during the winter is infinitely more comfortable than trying to cool back down again after a day spent pulling sharp weeds. Don't get me started on trying to cuddle up with anyone outside of a swimming pool during the heat. Yes, I would love to stick to you while I am expressing my fondness for you.
During summer, daylight hangs around as long as possible, bringing with it mosquitoes, gnats, and any number of other annoying diurnal multi-legged creatures out for my various bodily liquids. I don't like too much sunlight. I like to be able to see the stars and the moo
The Still Waters"Rob, I don't get it. Why are you acting like this?"The Still Waters5 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Chris's friend didn't even bother answering until he glanced back and saw his companion had stopped. "Please," he said, pausing only long enough to speak, "I told you I'll explain when we get there. Just trust me." Without looking to see if Chris followed, he turned back and hurried off through the trees. Chris shook his head and set off after his friend, half-jogging to catch up.
They made their way through the forest with no further conversation. Chris tried to distract himself from Rob's increasingly frantic attitude by admiring the growth around them. It was the height of summer, and leaves covered every tree. As far as they were from the nearest path, the greenery made a thick canopy that shaded nearly all of the forest floor and made the walk pleasantly cool. The only sounds were the low crunch of old leaves under their feet and the distant chirping of birds.
They went on and on, much farther than Chris had expected. Though he
The Official Ode to the ForumsThe Official Ode to the Forums10 years ago in Ballad More Like This
I can't stand to see another thread,
beating a horse that's already dead.
Do you like "s3ks" and what does art mean?
A poorhorse cult for illiterate teens.
The forum descriptions must be Greek,
or maybe the newbies only read 1337.
The Welcome Center to get a tour.
Thumbshare Forum for commentwhores.
'Deviator' no longer exists
(The Forum's still there 'cause jark insists)
Don't post there- it's useless you know
Read the thread that tells you so.
Elite ForumWhores: they're better than you.
Accept it now you know it's true;
If you see a lot of the Blank Stare guy
stupidity is the reason why.
For those with a brain that can't be found
watch out for curran if he's around.
With legendary wit and sarcastic replies
he cleans up the forums (or at least he tries).
We interupt this poem to distinguish
that "kewl" and "k@wa1i!!1!1" are not English.
If those are in your vocabulary
please buy yourself a dictionary.
Do you think you are a squirrel
instead of a normal boy or girl?
Wonderland Tea HouseWonderland Tea House9 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
Wonderland Tea House
(The stage is set with a few tables that have cheesy ridiculous tablecloths over them and something random in the center instead of flowers. Little flamingos would be fun. At one table is Cruella, who is wearing animal print from head to toe and dark sunglasses. She is working at a laptop and sipping from a mug. Hatter is cleaning up one table. Peter Pan and Tinkerbell are waiting to be seated, as is Snow White, but she is all by herself)
Hatter: (seeing the people waiting) Oh, why hello there. Welcome to Wonderland Tea House! How many will there be today?
Peter: Two here.
Hatter: (to Snow) And for you, mademoiselle?
Snow: Oh um… well, I'm waiting for someone. Can you just hold off until he gets here? That is, assuming he actually shows up… I mean, guys always act like they care about you, you know, but then they'll go and stab you in the back and—
Hatter: (still all smiles) That's great! So (back to Peter) party of two then? What name can I put that und
my beautiful insomniaI'm lying awake cause my mind decidedmy beautiful insomnia5 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
To dance with you through the night,
And I don't know if I want it to stop.
It's spinning, it's circling, it's making me dizzy,
And I want to be cured, for
You are keeping me awake
You are my insomnia
I want to be cured
You are my beautiful insomnia
And I don't now if I want to be cured
You are sleeping soundly,
I guess you are immune,
But with one look you infected me.
In the middle of a conversation
I caught me a beautiful desease of mind.
And now you are keeping me awake ...
I wouldn't mind it to become
A chronic desease,
With you both my illness and the cure.
With you by my side
The symptoms wouldn't show.
But now you are keeping me awake ...
You are my insomnia
My beautiful insomnia
You are my insomnia
My beautiful insomnia
Let my heart stay awake
But help me to fall asleep
Stay my beautiful insomnia
You are my beautiful insomnia
My beautiful insomnia
And I don't know if I want to be cured
Whispers - TGyou crack my eyes open, uncertainly. You know something woke you, but you're not certain what. The bedsprings are creaking as you move, but they always do. The air is cold, but it's nothing new for you to toss off your blankets in your sleep. You normally don't find out until morning. There's a breeze, though, now. You hesitate a little at that, uncertain what to make of it. The window is firmly closed.Whispers - TG5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"You look cute when you sleep."
You flinch at the words, a whisper winding its way through the wind to reach your ears. There's no one to speak them. They weren't loud enough to be even a whisper, even if there was. But you can almost imagine that you see someone, anyway, a figure dancing at the corner of your eye. She's smiling, you think, lips revealing just a bit of teeth. The lips are gray, like the rest of her, but they seem to be hinting at a deep and luscious red to offset the pale white cheeks, just beyond reach. The entire girl is just beyond reach, just at the edge of your ima
Juliet on the PlaygroundThere wasn't a lot of space.Juliet on the Playground5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Well, no, that was a lie. The park was huge, one of the biggest she had ever been to, but where she was now... it was rather cramped.
He sat on the platform, back to the metal slide that was the only other means of exit aside from the steps behind her. As it was, she was standing on the top step rather than the platform itself, looking down at him and his crossed legs. He was in her spot; her brows furrowed as she attempted to come up with a remedy for this particular problem.
She didn't like bringing boys to this park her park. It wasn't even a territorial thing; they'd always come here as a couple eventually, and they'd always break up not long after. It was a sort of strange phenomenon really, when this was her favorite place to be, the thing closest to her heart, and as soon as she showed it to a 'special someone' things would inevitably go downhill.
"You'll be different."
She crouched down and looked at the boy, her brown ey
Not Afraid to FailSeeking to begin again,Not Afraid to Fail7 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Smiles bandage and conceal the pain,
Tomorrow will start fresh and new,
With the memory,
Of what I went through.
Only this time I'm a little more wise,
Remembering all the hurt inside,
Prepared for all the barbs,
The world can throw,
It's not bravado,
It's not for show.
This time I might not succeed,
I might still get beaten,
And be left to plead,
But this time I'm a dangerous foe,
I can stand up against you toe to toe,
Another loss I don't want to contend,
But I will defeat you in the end.
Ode to a PotatoODE TO A POTATOOde to a Potato9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
A few minutes to go
The oil still is heating
And so I plucked the biggest root.
And I smoothed my hands o'er that tot,
Inspected it for signs of rot
It needed washing, so I'd better get to't
That there potato's dryin'
And soon this baby will be a-fryin'
I am making French fries
Of varying shape and size
I chopped, chopped, chopped and chopped some more
Until I finished cutting four.
My fingers were getting sore,
But I will dine tonight.
Well, my, my, I will fry up this guy
Eating later –you're a tater!
But your fry time is nigh…
I chopped you up, and then you let out a sigh, thinking,
"This will be the day I'm a fry…"
"This will be the day I'm a fry…"
Do you want some pepper or salt?
Should I dip you in white or malt?
Or ketchup will it be?
A side to cheeseburgers you will be
For my lover and for me
Cooking my pota'o…
Hey! We'll dip you in mayo!
You are large fry and burger buffet
And I wonder what my lover'd say
When he samples you and gives his "okay"
Tonight, when we
X-Saga I "updated"X-Saga I "updated"5 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
"Eric! Eric!" Saul rushed forward panic grasping at his mind. "Eric!" He franticly pushed his way through the crowd. "Eric!" They had pulled him out of the well. He was laying sopping wet on the ground, still and pale, lifeless. "No please Eric!" Saul threw himself down next to his younger brother's still form. "Eric don't do this to me!" He shook him. Eric's chest was still; he wasn't breathing. "NO! Don't do this to me!" Saul pounded a fist on his chest. Water poured from the corner of the limp boys mouth. "Eric?" Desperately Saul shoved his hands down onto the boy's chest. More water poured out, and again he pushed down on his chest producing more water. But Eric still wasn't breathing. "No No!" Through the pain and the loss an idea struck him. He had seen it work for young ewes and he had herd tell of a midwife doing it once Bending down he blew into the younger boy. Eric's chest rose and fell but he didn't start breathing. "C-mon Eric!" He tried again and again. Sudden
Your Disgusting.Swing Your Hips,Your Disgusting.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Darling The Attentions On You,
Bat Your Eyelashes
And Play Up The Charm,
The Spotlight Is Home.
Flip Your Hair,
And State That Witty Comment,
The Boys Are Under Your Spell.
Pout Your Lips,
And A Suggestive Look,
Honey Your Good At This.
Play Your Little Games,
Your Army Of Lovestruck Slaves,
A Little Flirting,
A Seductive Smile,
To Push Around,
Or To Protect.
But Either Way,
Transgender Dance - No TFMy legs hurt; they always hurt when I dance, but sometimes they hurt more than others. At the moment they're on fire, pain spread throughout them until I want to scream. I hate feeling like that, so much pain racing through my entire flesh.Transgender Dance - No TF4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
But I love the feeling that comes before it, that sensation like you're in control of the world. When you're jumping higher, laughing louder, living better than any other time, it always seems like the pain will be worth it. And then your legs start hurting, and you just wanna curse the first time you ever heard the big bad D word.
Dancing sorta sucks that way,
Tomorrow, though, I'll get up and dance again; I'll do it in the same way I do everything else, taking pleasure and hoping the pain won't be too bad. The same way I get up every morning and put on a dress, hoping that if they ever discover what lies underneath it, the pleasure I had will be worth the pain I suffered for it. Hoping that it's worth the possibility of death.
There are others lik
Gratutious IchorRemember not to trust the middle shelf of the newsagents,Gratutious Ichor8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The glossy dregs that perpetuate lies and develop half truths,
And gavotte in their own gratuitous ichor.
Don't watch the scrolling news channels,
They scaremonger the weak into submission,
And revel in the monotony of their easy-listening themes.
Never listen to anyone who dubs themself an expert,
They'll know less of everything than you do of anything,
And swim in the smugness of their opinion based 'facts'.
Do not trust the rhythm of the celebrity plague,
It dances to its own sickening melody,
And gavottes in its own gratuitous ichor.
101 Things to do with a Potato101 Things to do with a Potato101 Things to do with a Potato8 years ago in Humor More Like This
1) Eat it raw. There are several ways of doing this, such as
2) Bite it, like an apple
3) Suck on it
4) Swallow it whole. This might be quite difficult, unless you have a very big mouth. Or a very small potato.
5) If none of the above seem particularly appealing, you could boil it, and then eat it.
6) Bake it. Cut it in half. Spread with butter and sprinkle with salt. Eat it.
7) Cook it, mash it, mix the mashed potato with butter, milk and a hint of nutmeg, and then eat it.
8) Alternatively, you could take the mashed potato and throw it at someone!
9) Draw eyes on you potato. Maybe even attach arms and legs to it. Give it a name, and make it your friend. Its as good a friend as any human, and I know that for a fact!
10) Boil it. Keep its skin on. Climb to the top of a tall skyscraper, and drop your boiled potato over the edge. You will find that it makes a soft splotch as it hits the pavement. Is this not a pleasing sound?
New Orleans MinuteNew Orleans Minute11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Time sashays like a creole strumpet,
barefoot and brown down Rue Madeleine
past this window, this table,
where gumbo steams and shrimp tails
clutter my plate.
A molasses haze fogs the lamplight.
A young man too full of libation
succumbs to this damp heat,
bent nearly double,
splatters his feet.
A coasting cabbie slows to say,
Laissez le bon temps rouler
and laughs until his brakelights fade.
The DefeatedThe Defeated9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Found myself in the sea of the darkest blue
Walking beyond and through,
The sky of the clearest blue.
I gave you my heart involuntarily
Do not mistake my negative words,
As those of a negative person.
The words fall around me from other worlds,
I pick at them and rearrange them like they were mine alone.
Somewhere in the deepest dark,
All that I'd bottled up poured out from my scars.
Rainbows made from blood, sweat and tears.
I gave you my heart involuntarily
And you squeezed, shook, kick and punched, and walked all over it.
It was always you that I wanted, the only love I never had.
The only comfort I know is that one morning I'll never want again,
You love me, then you don't, then you do and then you say you never did.
You say yes, then no, then yes and no again,
I give up but never truly give up.
Found myself up in the sky of clearest blue
Swimming beyond and through,
The sea of darkest blue.
Bruised and broken with dirt in my hair
I walk back through the path to the front gate,
The Easter JournalThe Easter Journal8 years ago in Historical More Like This
April 23, 1916 Easter Sunday
My family found it interesting that this year my twentieth birthday coincided with the rising of our Lord. I didnt really think much of it. Perhaps I should have been somewhat proud of the similarity, but it wasnt exactly the most pressing issue on my mind. Father got me a present this year, just like he said he would. He spent nearly all of his money to buy me a Winchester 1897 12-gauge shotgun that was smuggled into the country.
It was hard to come by ever since those damned Brits put up the imported weapons ban. But Father didnt want me to be stuck with some German piece of junk like everyone else. He insisted on getting me something that was American-made. You know how hes obsessed with the Yanks. If he could, hed pack up everything we had and go right to America. Hell, he already considers himself one with that