Meeting EveMeeting Eve9 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
The alarm rang, its harsh shriek shattering Lucy's uneasy slumbers. Opening her eyes she glanced across at the numbers on the dial. Ten to nine. She read the clock face again. Still ten to nine. With an exhaled profanity she threw back the covers and jumped from the bed. Bare feet hitting cold stone. She glanced wildly around the room for any moderately clean garments and sighting a pair of semi-laddered tights and a black work dress draped rather forlornly over the door handle, she scrabbled to put them on. Glancing over to the clock again Lucy uttered another curse. She was going to be late. She'd have to tell them there was a bomb drill in her building. She wondered briefly if anyone would bother to check up. Probably not.
Once dressed, Lucy made her way into the kitchen, no longer feeling the need for urgency. If she was going to be late she might as well make the most of it.
The apartment was small but adequate; one bedroom, one kitchen and living area, a small bathroom with a sho
-My Words Come In Scars--My Words Come In Scars-11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The metal hits me like a ton of bricks
But also sets me free
It oozes out the feelings
I would never be able to see
My head goes down to look
At what I have just done
The shame comes upon me
And I see what has begun
A scar for each feeling
Waiting to be healed
An open sore that burns
Its what I keep concealed
Each cuts a line of writing
That brings out what I feel
Every word inviting
Another layer off I peel
My words a way of dealing
With what I think each day
Each line revealing
The things I cannot say.
"Angst""Angst"9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
sick of tears
sick of fears
while the demon jeers
sliced with shears
stuck with spears
while the devil lears
the fire sears
the reaper rears
as the end nears
Amber Pools - the whole storyAmber Pools - the whole story10 years ago in Teen More Like This
Prelude: Dream of Me
I'm not sure how I ended up in front of the church, but at the moment it didn't seem to matter. I stood at the foot of the stone steps in a deep blue fitted gown. Blue? What happened to black? Well guessed I must not be there for a funeral... With blue flowers in my hair and a white rose in my hand, I wandered through the large wooden doors, hoping I looked like I belonged. I'm not sure why the sudden impulse to go there, I just knew that I had to.
No one seemed to notice me as I made my way through the church halls. I walked easily, letting my feet guide me as if I had been there many times before. I came to a chapel decorated with pink delicate roses. How nauseating. I slipped into the back pew and placed my rose beside me. Things were making little sense. I looked around me, not recognizing anyone. Why was I in a church at a wedding?
The FrogThere once was a frog that lived on a log in a bog.The Frog10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The frog's name was Frank, but the others called him Fred,
And frankly, Frank felt foolish when they did.
Frank was a friendly frog, in a genuinely unfriendly bog.
But still, quite often, off and on,
Frank the frog would have the others to his log.
And all the others always came and called Frank Fred and ate his flies.
But he was happy just the same, for Frank was just a friendly frog
Trying to find some other friendly frogs to be his friend.
He was close one time to a toad named Tim, from across the road
That flowed though the unfriendly bog
That housed the log in which the frog would come home to unwind and unload.
And it was indeed thanks to him, the toad named Tim,
That Frank was nearly torn limb from limb by some limb-tearing boys
Who regarded toads and frogs as toys.
For fun, the limb-tearing boys flung their toys, the frog and the toad,
To see them scram from an old Dodge Ram that was rambling recklessly down the road
Turned DownJared hurried through the door of the apartment, slamming it shut behind him. He lumbered his way across to the lone kitchen chair and sat down hard in an exhausted heap, wheezing as if he had just beat Lance Armstrong in the Tour de France. Mentally, he was still in a daze; his mind buzzed around like a fly on crack that just couldn't find his way out of the blender. He hadn't expected murder to be such tiring business.Turned Down9 years ago in Horror More Like This
Eventually, after huffing, puffing, and sweating in the kitchen chair, Jared snapped back into conscious thought. He was safe at home and thinking now would be as good a time as any for a drink. He poured a haphazard splash of cheap scotch into a plastic cup, plopping in an ice cube as an afterthought. The ice cube cracked as if to say, "Cheers." Jared, who wasn't a big drinker, took his first sip and winced from the harshness, thinking he might have been better off swallowing a pound of staples. But he figured the alcohol would calm his frazzled nerves, even a
Said the Moth to the ButterflyYou say I'm a simple sort of insect.Said the Moth to the Butterfly9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Well, I suppose that that's all right.
I have simple wings and simple dreams,
And I only dream of flight.
You have those mosaics scribed on paper,
Razor-thin but as fragile as the air.
You dreamt you were an artist and
Inspired to put them there.
You say I'm a stupid kind of bug.
A lamp could distract me for hours.
Well, I'm awed by mundane miracles,
And I dream of mundane powers.
You have your migrations,
Streams of color flocking in the sky.
You dreamt you were a rainbow crossing
Through a dreamer's eye.
You say I'm just a moth,
Aspiring to nothing great.
I've only a few short days to live;
I've resigned my life to fate.
Well, I may never become a butterfly;
I don't pretend I can,
But at least I don't flutter away my time
Dreaming I'm a man.
mutemute9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are beautiful.
Your words equate to glass bottles
collapsing on the dance floor.
Those black and white beats
against my coloured-in face
never once made contact
and my focus heaved its way to you.
The room was packed full of noise and dysfunctional shadow,
and only me and you welcomed the vacant air in,
I savoured pure Sambuca lips,
iced over and leaving me with a ghostly perception.
You coiled between my hands,
my waiting eyes were on look out
for your vanishing act.
It was bound to come soon because
you love the clunk of my body
as it clashes on the ground,
Light thrashed against faceless bodies
as they moved close against this song,
hands and arms reached deep inside the verse
and pulled the life back out.
Music is made from love, you see,
trapped in dead sound
and fastened tight in words.
Yes, music is made from love,
each note slams hard
against your heart
when love topples over, when love goes away.
I didn't notice this until I met you
and you dared to ask
NEW WORLD ORDERNEW WORLD ORDER9 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
"NEW WORLD ORDER"
I am nauseous and weary of humanity. I am revolted and emaciated from others conformity. I cannot bear to exist another day conscious of the world's continuous heading in the same direction that is unless someone stops it. It is time to remove the blinders off of the nations who cling to them as if it is their source of life. It is time to cause those who cast their self-righteous stones to realize exactly who it is they are casting them at. It is time to make the corporations preying on the naive youth for their sheep like qualities to take another look, to recognize that everybody is not as gullible as they deem. It is time to succeed in forcing those whisperers and nay Sayers to stand up and take notice. The time has come to join together as one and influence a revolution. Together we will break the molds that ha
from the sidelinesfrom the sidelines9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Over dusty shoulders I see
a world I'll never win, and I should be anywhere..
Anywhere but here..
Dirty chalk clouds slur through a city sky
until they drop off the stale earth,
and this is my story, and I shall follow them,
and I shall fall. Harsh and ugly.
We lived life like we were the only ones not broken.
Your heart was the fist matching my bruises,
we were misplaced children, collapsed from our worlds
We tugged our skin on the trees we climbed, trying to kidnap stars,
you tripped me up once or twice
and I stared at you
while you let your fingers
the forgtten seathe forgtten sea10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Water rushing up to it's queen,
her body...deep where it cannot be seen
small droplets of all of her pain,
all true emotions left in the rain
my body only becomes...closer to free
just bury my memories far away from me
push me with your wave full of hope...that dies
show me who it is, that can hear my cries.
i can feel its pull wanting to flood me...wanting to feed
so cold, so emotional, yet...into nothing...it leads
deep dark blue, take me away,
show me who is floating, within your waves
your tender parts are dying, and there are so many graves...
the jewels of the queen hidden within my eyes,
and as the king forces her another way...she tries
the birth of your tidal,
how do you let go of this?
...how long can you last within your own abyss?
knowlegde in clouds raining into dust,
fighting to survive the power of trust.
and far away where no one could see,
the worlds collided in spite of the sea...
i pray to its madness,
i pray to its sound,
full of wasted hope,
and forgotten lives.
I am therefore I'm ScrewedI am therefore I'm Screwed10 years ago in Open More Like This
Upon a mosquito's bite
I am presented with a dilemma
Do I kill it?
And potentially destroy the creature
Who would slay the next
Inadvertently assuming indirect responsibility
For millions of deaths.
Do I spare it?
And potentially unhinder the creature
Who will slay the Slayer of
The Next Genocidal Maniac
Inadvertently assuming the indirect responsibility
For millions of deaths.
The MirrorThe Mirror9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Sorry, I had to delete this deviation due to personal reasons.
Thank you for all your comments, they are very much appreciated!
Save YourselfSave yourselfSave Yourself9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
From pain and misery
Don't cause yourself trouble
For believing in me
I am not strong
I can't be lent on
I am weak
Barely able to speak
I can't hide
And live inside
I gotta get out
And get some help
This is no fun
Stuck with no one
Let me out
Where I can shout
Where I can be free
Where I can be me
No labels or tags
No bullies or lags
I wanna get away
But is there a better way
To live life to the fullest
Without feeling the dullest
Life is meant to be fun
And laughing in the sun
Not full of despair
Hiding tears with your hair
Life is mean to have highs
Not hiding tears behind these eyes
I cannot show that I'm not strong
Yet, I cannot be proven wrong
I will get there
Out of this blank stare
A smile will spread
And turn my head
To where I am heading
Instead of what I'm dreading
Turn to the light
And put up a fight
I will make it through
And stop feeling so blue
I can make it
Even if it's without you
mulberry tree heights.mulberry tree heights9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my little friend,
his tiny gray mouse
died tonight and we buried it
beneath the stone pillar
in the alley that makes a Christian
with the telephone wire.
I said some words and wore
a Sunday dress on a Tuesday night
while Bobcat watched from
the lowest branch
of the mulberry tree;
swingin' his tail
when she hits flies
with the back of her hand
and complains about their big eyes.
my little friend,
pinned a grasshopper beneath a rock
and put both feet on the
to hold down the earth.
we track in clay footsteps
on the linoleum and the rain is thumping
through the screen door
like a low- whistling banshee.
"I hope we bur'd her down,
deep 'nough to China".
I say we did and my little friend
plays one-man checkers until the
lights come back on,
though I worry still,
about his tiny gray mouse,
'cause Bobcat is watching
in the Mulberry tree,
swingin' his tail like lightning.
dragdrag10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of anathematized eggheads, dead poets, uprooted saddle-tramps -
an eclectic shangri-la that impales itself upon her sensibilities
like a beached whale on her shore
And this cold, small man-
call him Animus Annihilated-
"You wanna see Heaven baby?, Here's your chance." -
An open invitation to cool her heels in
the shadow of his soul.
Hoodwinked by her own loathsome ideal
she ogles the out-side,
staring through the cigarette that drips from her mouth,
into her love's eye
GoodbyeMy heart stops.Goodbye9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The air is silent all around me
As life, an orchestra falls quiet,
And as I stand here, trying to breathe
I suddenly feel empty.
I'm standing by the resting sea,
Could you tell me, what's it like to be
I whisper a prayer to you,
Only to you, I hope you can hear it
As on the shore, I sit
Staring at the sky,
Tears forming around my eyes-
I could easily cry forever for you.
I grasp the sand within my hands
Every grain, the seconds we shared,
Each moment, each memory, every time you cared
But now you're not here...
But up there.
I wish you would reply when I pray
Just to hear your voice once more,
I'm going to miss you more than words can say
But I'll think of you every single day,
I'll remember the way you used to sing
And all the happiness you used to bring,
The smile you gave that echoed warmth
And every hug that welcomed me in.
I hated seeing you in pain.
The sky bursts open, down comes the rain,
Each drop, a chorus, a lament,
But I'll sit for a
A Day Less OrdinaryA Day Less Ordinary11 years ago in Humor More Like This
It was a day just like any other day, insofar as it was not actually any other day than that one, but was probably closely related to most of the others. On this day quite like many other days but not actually another day, James Francis walked down the street with his friend Sally.
The day to him seemed to be like most others. The sky was blue, as it usually was, the grass as always looked green and he found that he could breathe the air and live. As he walked he was going to remark to Sally how nice this day quite like any other day actually was when, to the ordinary day's surprise, something changed.
James fell unconscious to the floor. This could have been an ordinary happening, if not a regular one. However, the circumstances of it were not ordinary. A bowl of petunias had miraculously popped into existence some 40 feet above where they landed on James's head. No one but the Petunias noticed the sudden appearance until five seconds later as they crashed into James's head, with what
while my hands drifted.//telegramawhile my hands drifted.10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
escrevo para te dizer que
nasci torto no crescendo do céu
pútrido como a manga do teu espaço
escrevo para te dizer que sei de mim
que sou dos dias e dos matagais
das sombras frescas e dos sismos
escrevo para te dizer que soçobro da cafeína
para te dizer que te escolho
dos rios, da calçada
dos gritos dos taipais
da sombra dos edifícios.
i write to tell you that
i was born crooked in the crescendo of the sky
putrid as the sleeve of your space
i write to tell you that i know from me
that i am from the days and woods
unsullied precincts and typhoons
i write to tell you that i am
the rest of caffeine
to tell that i choose you
from the rivers, the pavement
from the screams of blind venetians
from the silhouette of the buildings.
Prove Me WrongProve Me Wrong11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Advanced Bodies Absorbing Advanced Minds..
Still in a crippled state of mind.
Why has the majority chosen to do so little with their gift?
Blindly, yet faithfully following a system of duplication...
trimming power, leaving evolution up to another kind.
Even the genius with the perfect inventions...
sit and wait for the so called "right time"..
to release creations from their mind.
I fear their reasoning may be intimidation.
Knowing that if releasing creation right now,
they would be forced.
Forced to come up with something bigger..
Maybe it's the hesitation of their capabilities.
So as accustomed...
they simultaneously sit and wait...
While people below travel, work, pray, and patiently anticipate,
never even acknowledging their own existence...
Always shading themselves from their own reason of being.
And so words are said:
Be polite, and celebrate your date of birth..
because it's the "right thing to do".
It HurtsIt hurts when you don't notice me,It Hurts9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It hurts when you don't listen to me,
It hurts when you don't care about me,
It hurts when you say you love me but I don't feel it.
It hurts when you don't ask me what's wrong,
It hurts when you're not there to save me,
It hurts when you act too busy for me,
It hurts when you don't hear me screaming.
It hurts when I think about what I can't have,
It hurts when I imagine bliss but have to wait for it,
It hurts when you don't know why I'm hurting,
It hurts when you don't know that I'm hurting.
There is so much pain inside of me,
I need to release it,
I need your help to learn to be happy,
For I am loved by you,
But I still complain,
I still feel miserable,
Please stop hurting me,
I know you don't mean to,
But the pain is too hard to bear,
Hold me and tell me it's ok,
Tell me you'll make it better,
Please fix me.
stargazing the life fantasticworthless stargazed nightstargazing the life fantastic12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
laying back on the hood of legs
and arms tangled knots in my throat
laborious ponderous living truth one dewdrop
from my furthest flung conception
and this is what i take to the table,
self-centered egotistical agnostic,
believing there is a higher power
but not trusting enough to name it,
winding a rutpath through my misanthropic forest
trees wrestle the secrets of life from the horizon
a future there that spins my way
at twenty-seven thousand miles an hour
i'm surprised i don't fly off into space
an astronaut lost among the starry labyrinth
but here i am, stuck by the gravity of a life
feet firmly on a ground that trembles
stuck millions of miles from a star
that awakens each morning the desire
to fight against the fading night
breathe the oxygen flavored molecules that
sustain the electricity that courses through
my veins in a handheld dissertation of biology
working slowly towards the inexorable end
and finally the peace of death
still i gaze, still starry