The ways of true loveThe ways of True LoveThe ways of true love8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Love works in many mysterious ways, most of which I do not understand. We can guess but only to be disappointed and fail and no-one likes to fail. People that say they understand love couldnt be more wrong because no-one understands love. When people try and describe what it is like to be in love, they have no idea how wrong they could possibly be. When you are in love you dont know how to describe it, so you could use the most romantic and powerful words in the dictionary and you could not be any closer to describing love than I am to winning an Oscar. Love is rare, but true love is the rarest of them all. Many people believe they have been at the hands of true love, and these people are extremely lucky. In order to find true love you have to work at it and cherish it 24/7. To be able to receive it, you have to give it along with your heart. To all of those that have found true love, I envy you.
Please dont' break my heartPlease dont break my heartPlease dont' break my heart8 years ago in Teen More Like This
I love you. All I ask us for you to love me back. Is that too much to ask for? It seems like it sometimes. I devote every minute of my life to you because I love you. Where as you do the same because I do. I can tell when you are lying so dont lie please as your only hurting the two of us. When I said I Love you, you told me you loved me too but I knew that wasnt the case. I would rather you said nothing than say the three words and put false hope in my mind. I said those words because I meant them from the bottom of my heart, not because I liked the sound of my own voice unlike some people. Those three words is the most powerful combination you will ever come across and you just say them without meaning . It isnt wise to say them for the sake of it. You have to say them from the bottom of your heart, and mean it, like I did. Thats how I said it, but you just said it by force and reassured me with a fake sm
The Hunger WithinThe Hunger Within8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The Hunger at times is unbearable
She won't let me sleep
She won't let me eat
She won't let me Breath
Until she is fed she won't leave me alone
sometimes i can calm her down
but only for a little while
then she comes back worse then before
there is only one thing that can shut her up
and until she gets what she wants
she will continue to drive me insane
Miyamoto Musashi's Poetrywe reconstruct the manMiyamoto Musashi's Poetry10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from shards of paper and pottery
(a shrike in ink
a small wooden bodhisattva
a practical treatise on swordplay)
he said his only teacher was Nature
which is a fine thing to say
when you're good at everything
they say he slew Ganryū
with a length of oar
he'd whittled on impulse into a sword
so much for the soul of the samurai:
not metal, flashing and hard
priceless and irreplaceable
only a discarded wooden spar
emerging from refuse
to refuse returning
and perhaps his poems were the same
nourished by earth and water
whispering an answer to wind
burbling off towards the long sea
and this is how history left him
and this is how I might find him:
an old man on a mountain
preparing future warriors for poetry
writing his way back
into the world that wrote him
when he emerges from his grotto to converse with the single scarred wholeness of the moon, I steal towards his poems and brush the pages across my hands, like reaching for a damselfly at rest, to see how his b
The End - a passing thought"Kind sir!" quod she.The End - a passing thought8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"Eh wot?" quod me.
"There's an illness in the stillness!"
Hand in hand we rock the land, my eight-legged girlfriend and I.
SurrenderSurrender8 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
This bulletproof vest
is mere muslin to your hands;
strip on, strip on, love
I Will Fight YouWhen Jake awoke, he was in a bathtub filled with ice, an unnecessarily long scar where his liver should've been.I Will Fight You7 years ago in Horror More Like This
Towering above him, a man in a ski mask, a bloodied scalpel still in his hand. Seeing that his victim had awoken, he put the knife down, running his hands through the sink.
"Dude, what the hell?" Jake asked, not all too pleased with the removal of his vital organs, consent explicitly not given, at that. "I was using those."
The man ignored Jake and wiped his hands off. Picking up a fine pair of kidneys from the operating table, he slipped his hands into them, rolling his fingers as he tested out his new boxing gloves. The man turned to Jake.
"I will fight you."
Making loveEmbrace. Face to face.Making love11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Bodies pressed. Flesh compressed.
Heavy breath. Love till death.
Sweaty heat. Heartbeat.
I' love you. I love' you.
Eyes closed tight. Powerful might.
Emotions flow. Hands down low.
Pleasure pleases. Pressure teases.
In and out. Bodies close about.
Lay purely toggether. Make love forever.
Tommy 1337Dahl, your death was a tragedy,Tommy 13377 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
But I'm almost glad you didn't see
The rising of the new way to
Make your kids' minds melt into goo.
I talk, of course, lest we forget
Of the abhorrent INTERNET.
None of us could contain our joy
When this delightful little toy
Made little Tommy shut his trap
(Much quicker than a lunchtime nap)
And seemed, at first, to educate
Rather than brain-assimilate.
But years rolled on and our new friend
Became the source of ghastly trends
And Tommy, now at age thirteen,
Became rather absurdly keen
On women half cat, with huge breasts,
And arguments on which was best:
The Potter books or sparkly guys
(Those weird gay vampires in disguise).
The vulgar porn and RP games
All make TV look rather tame.
Over 9,000 pedo-cocks,
And fan girls milling 'round in flocks,
Dramatica and DeviantArt
Will slowly blacken any heart
And dull your eyes, and dull your brain
Until you'll never speak again
Save in a strained and beastly growl
As we eliminate the vowel.
My Little SecretMy Little SecretMy Little Secret8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was 10pm and I drifted off to bed. I was tired and wanted to go to sleep and dream those dreams where unicorns existed, where people could fly and where there was a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow. As expected, I had the most amazing dream ever. I dreamt I had soft white wings and I was flying in and out of the clouds. My dream was some what interrupted by the creaking of my bedroom door. A figure lurked by the end of my bed and watched my chest rise and fall as I tried to ignore the noise. Slowly the figure floated towards my fragile body, my breathing becoming deeper. I kept my eyes closed, hoping they would go away, but they didnt. To my surprise, they pulled the duvet to one side and you joined me in my bed. By now my heart was beating so fast I thought it my chest was going to explode. It was five minutes before you moved again. I didnt like where this was going. A cold hand lifted up my polka-dot nightshirt and the rest
First time making loveTrembling lips gently grazeFirst time making love8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
while soft hands explore
for whats in store
A trail of kisses
Down the small of my back
My body reacts.
A brush of fingertips
Gently trace every outline
With love undefined
Heartbeats accelerate together
Racing at new speeds
Bodies embracing one another
A sharing of heart and soul
Making me whole
Sensuality ignited by every touch
Bonding through love and lust
An exchange of trust
Minds losing innocence
Trusting and loving the best we can
For who I am.
Embraces of more than flesh
in our romantic pantomime
this is to me
Making love for the first time
a moment of your time I am a writer because my mother says so.a moment of your time7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am a writer because I am teaching myself to look for my pothole blue eyes, fat stomach smile, and popped-bubblegum cheeks in mirrors, television screens, and reflective surfaces. I am a writer because one time I had an innocuous crush on my second cousin and I still cherish all of his two-line emails. I am a writer because I am the stereotypical, spoiled, overloved only child.
I am a writer because my grandfather, whose name is utter gibberish and the colors blue and red and green and radio talk shows and old black-and-white television sitcoms and whose beard is a medusa's pond of browned acid hair, tried to teach me to draw, croissants for eyes and big butterflies for chins. I am a writer because the entire time all I wanted to do was write poetry, turn a phrase,
The Writing ProcessWhat is the Writing Process?The Writing Process7 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Many of us learned that the writing process is made up of five parts: Pre-writing, Writing, Revision, Editing, and Publishing. Indeed, this process has been so ingrained, and the vocabulary and terms have become such a part of our education, that some students (and adults) feel as if writing is a formulaic, rigid thingnot unlike learning mathematicsthat they simply never excelled in. Fortunately, this simply isn't true. While the five basic steps of the writing process are effective, they can only be effective if the people using the process understand the purpose of each step.
Experience has shown that many students do not know the purpose of drafting beyond a certain, vague understanding that you're supposed to "correct" or "fix" something for each new draft. Its unfortunate, but its also been shown that students who are forced to Pre-Write in certain ways, even when they have been
Full Fathom FiveFull fathom fiveFull Fathom Five8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
She lies, drowned,
In a world with
No light or sound
On her side, 'mongst
The corals and the fishes,
Longing for the
Breeze she misses
Full fathom five
She stirs and groans,
From her bones
And rising from
Her frigid bed
She reaches from
Beyond the dead
Full fathom five
She leaves the gloom,
Seeks the comfort
Of the moon.
With a whisper,
She breaks the waves;
Her skeleton crew
Wake from their graves
Full fathom five,
She sails still,
Upon a gossamer mist,
Weaving a chill
Around the hearts
Of sailing men
Who cross themselves and turn
From this phantom wind
Full fathom five
She flees the dawn
Seeking the night
To which she's drawn
But when the sun
Climbs into the sky,
Full fathom five,
She'll, dreaming, lie.
We Watched Ourselves Dissipatewe caught our breath with butterfly netsWe Watched Ourselves Dissipate8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the pieces of each other's wings
that stuck in our lungs.
the sky gave a shiver and the stars
unsealed, their firefly cores shimmering
plucking them from the air, they slip
between our fingertips
and fall like butterfly wings
to the ground.
we conduct the celestial engagement with
our metallic hearts
that control this unsteady rhythm of
and staccato love-making.
like conductors in an orchestra.
our lives write the love songs.
intoxicationi see naked bodies in the gutter as i walk queen street at 3 am. they make love, awkward but warm in the concrete curve. i don't place their clothes. i think it is wonderful though. the heat, the heat.intoxication6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
my entire body is rolling from heavy to light, like the shore. my head is humming and my limbs ache dull. there is a sickness in my stomach or in my throat. i think that maybe my stomach is wanting to force itself out my throat- but i won't have that.
i walk further. there are no straight lines to follow but i picture them in my mind and still cannot walk across them. i trip, tumble on the edge of the pavement and no one sees. the alcohol pulses through my blood stream and i begin to shout
i love her, i fucking adore her!
the brisbane night sky answers with an offset of bat noises and far off traffic. they don't understand though, they could never feel this. the sky may love the sun for lighting it each day and the moon for gracing its canvas with a milky glow, but it does not know the l
The Culinary Tastes of Aliens"What have you done?"The Culinary Tastes of Aliens7 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
"The juices on your planet are delectable," he said, as though he hadn't heard her. She looked around her kitchen. There was blood and fur everywhere, and were those bits of bone?
"You ruined my juicer!"
He gave the appliance a dirty look. "Yes. You should probably go and purchase one of higher quality."
She was afraid to ask, but morbid curiosity took over. "What did you use?"
"I believe you call them 'squirrels'. Tomorrow I shall catch the avian you call a 'bluejay'. If it tastes half as good as the squirrel I believe I shall stay here for a long time."
ManuscriptI have written us down, typed us up, and sent us out.Manuscript8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
they will edit us, and say some parts are no good.
but I want your run-ons, your lack of punctuation; and you are so easy
on my weak binding, my damaged spine.
tragedies - collab.you deserve all the cobweb dreams,tragedies - collab.7 years ago in Other More Like This
fairytale hopes, and explosive love
in the world, but i know that i
will never be the one
to give them to you.
you need notes that end with
'ps - you're brighter than
twenty-seven silver stars'.
i can't bring myself
to write them, though.
it's not like you'd read them,
i cut out paper hearts and
dreams and gave them to you, but
you only ripped them up and said
'these aren't good enough.'
when i painted you a picture
of golden skies and sunshine smiles,
you handed it back and told me
'next time, paint realistically.'
so i wrote you a story
filled of starless nights and
hopeless dreams. you said 'no,
i don't need this. you're
tragedy enough for me.'
by the time i was humming you
melancholy lullabies through the receiver,
you had already surrendered
to the sweet grasps of sleep.
'i'd rather nightmares than you,'
you said, hanging up the phone.
i kept singing anyway, hoping
that you would stop running
long enough for me to catch up.
but i forgot -
sickDeath slouches over the edge of her bed, licking his lips as he caresses her thighs. He sings the noise of wind and rain crashing all around and her head throbs with the sound. Her head is hot. Her forehead is on fire and her cheeks catch alight with it. She burns silently and sees red, red, black.sick7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
Tiny insects have crawled beneath her fingernails and they dig with tiny claws and teeth until they are swarming beneath her skin, biting outward at her flesh. Each vertebrae carries bruises and as she tosses her body about the bed they ache loudly and sharply.
All the heat has rushed to her face, her body shakes like a leaf in wind and goosebumps make known on every limb. I am dying, she tells herself- she can hardly hear this amongst the sound of hornets and the pressure in her head, but death smiles.
Her voice is lost. She calls aloud for someone and only death can make out the words. She cannot swallow, she can no longer move. Her hands desperately comfort her skin and she feels it like