still.one.still.7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
her name is alice. there is a slight blood stain on the valley where her lips part, and her eyes are two supermassive black stars that can't show anything but hurt. she can't bring herself to look in the broken mirror puddles that are all over the ground.
(and i don't blame her)
she borrows her mother's raincoat because it smells like home. not the homes that are flooded with laundry soap or soft candles burning in the family room, but more like the paint she spilled on the carpet, or the whiskey on her father's breath.
(and sometimes, she swears she can smell her mother's sadness.)
when alice was little she remembers playing freeze tag with her mother. she remembers feeling anxious, and now she feels sick. "if daddy touches you, stay still, and don't make a sound."
CourageThe world needs more courage.Courage11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Courage to fear.
Courage to hope.
Courage to hurt.
Courage to cope.
Courage to laugh.
Courage to cry.
Courage to live.
Courage to die.
Courage to love.
Courage to hate.
Courage to leave.
Courage to wait.
Courage to jump.
Courage to fall.
Courage to run.
Courage to crawl.
Courage to go.
Courage to stay.
Courage to work.
Courage to play.
Courage to fail.
Courage to try.
Courage to wish.
Courage to fly.
Courage to fight.
Courage to talk.
Courage to stand.
Courage to walk.
Courage to win.
Courage to lose.
Courage to dream.
Courage to use.
291010early autumn is spreading her legs for winter and2910105 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my breath reaches the stale air
like celtic knots, writhing in shapes of
there are subtle clouds
shrouding the sky
and hushed rosemary wind
time spent on wondering which words exist,
peach blossom in a sky of tapering velvet
we both look above
in search of a god, or stars which belong on your teeth
she was is could be a sunset and
he is the sunrise
blissful history, sheltered and surreal
a spine which kisses shower
pupils like a eclipsed moon
arrowed by cupid,
misanthropic and so sudden,
can you talk without it breaking glass?
soothed and sullen cheeks, ribs
attached to a sphinx laying
like stray cats, fingernails wander
blunder and bludgeon
bruises of rhubarb and custard
prey on pretty bones
I WANNA KISS YOUI wanna kiss youI WANNA KISS YOU6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't care if you're sick
I wanna kiss you
I don't care if you kick
I wanna kiss you
And I don't mind
If you're blind
I wanna kiss you
I don't mind if your lips are dry
I will kiss you even when you cry
I wanna kiss you
I wanna feel your lips
And hold you for your hips
I wanna kiss you
I wanna see in your mind
And your deepest secret to find
I wanna kiss you
I wanna swim in your eyes
And listen everything you say, even your lies
I wanna kiss you
And I don't care if you stab my back with a knife
Couse for you I will gladly give my life
The Friends of the ChampionThe Friends of the Champion5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Complete antidote to my last fiction, haha. This little bit of silly takes place long before the previous post when Kirkwall sat in the eye of the storm. Hawke and his companions enjoy the peace, unaware that - between them - it is they who will bring about its end.
Just a bit of stupid fun, but bitter sweet if you know what's to come ^_^
"Okay so - stop me if you've heard this one."
It's late, probably very late, in the Hanged Man. Cortland Hawke looks absently around the room, as if the time might just leap from the boarded walls and make itself known.
Heaving another draught from his tankard, the newly-dubbed 'Champion of Kirkwall' gives up any pretence of caring what time it is anyway and lets his head rest on his arms, his gaze moving toward the party's resident healer. Anders is holding court, having seemingly nominated himself as entertainer for the latter part of the evening in the absen
ouroboros.ouroboros.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
White and gold still dressed her spine.
Those chains and gems criss crossed her shoulder blades in absent patterns, slung across her skin with a careless air. She was a creature of laces. Lace. Cream coloured filligree. And in this new home that didn't yet feel like hers,
she felt so small
alone on her wedding night with only years upon years of flowers to keep her company.
Arehtet went to the window and pushed it open, let it yawn wide open like the maw of the manticore. Her perfume called, white smoke with the lull of desert roses and dragon's blood on its tongue of deceits. She pulled her veil back and she blinked.
This kingdom could fit in the palm of her hand. She reached out. Closed her fingers around all those twinkling lights and crushed them to the dust of an hourglass.
The night wasn't so dark.
But it was vast.
The halls of Caeronvar Rock echoed under his feet as he stalked through them, gold softly clinking against his wrists and chest.
They called it the Rock and that was e
Eat"Oy, let me see your calorie card!" The skinny man at the hotdog stand demanded, holding my hotdog just out of reach.Eat6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I sighed and dug the plastic out of my pocket, handing it to him with a sour grimace on my face. I was sure I had already exceeded my allotted 1500 calories for today, but I was just so darn hungry. Seriously, what was one hotdog going to do to my figure anyway?
He shook his head as he swiped it through the scanner. "Sorry girlie. This hot dog is 242 calories. You only have 10 calories left for today." He shooed me away in preference of those with enough calories on their card to afford his food.
My stomach grumbled its complaints all the way home. If I had really wanted that hotdog I could have gone to the gym and earned more calories on my card, but I really wasn't in the mood for exercise.
It started in California, taking hold among the mothers who didn't want their kids to become fat
Umur Diye BiriUmur Diye Biri6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
UMUR DİYE BİRİ (Ya da Film Noir Version 21. Century, 2.0)
Kimsenin umrunda değilim
Herkes benim umrumda
Herkesin umru benim umrumu
Gece vakti tenhada ellese
Benim umrum herkesin umrunu itse
Oradan bir mavi polis geçse
Polis copunu kaldırıp
Herkesin umrunun ense köküne
Bana bir şey sormadan soldan soldan indirse
Kan çıksa kırmızı olsa
Ben polise biber gazı sıksam
Polis şaşırsa o arada fırsattan istifade
Herkesin umru kaçsa gitse yollara düşse
Ben gece vakti banliyö trenlerinden birinde
Örneğin Sirkeci Halkalı treninde
Ben gece vakti banliyö trenlerinden birinde
Örneğin sokak çocukları bir köşede uyurken
Örneğin bir Niyazi bok yolundayken
Örneğin cami avlusunda kediler mart izdivacındayken
Örneğin Kanarya durağında
Örneğin şu elimde görm&
to: the moon.this morning, i woke to the sun streaming in through the window [and baking me to a deep golden brown crisp beneath the covers]. this morning, i had to smile at the cardinal at the window instead of berating its squawking in my head [like i usually do when it wakes me]. this morning, i decided that i had reason to be happy.to: the moon.6 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
this afternoon, i gazed outside while eating lunch, admiring the tranquility of the several inches of snow that still cover the lawn [as a long standing reminder of last week's two-foot snowstorm]. this afternoon, i heard the squeals and chatter of the neighbor's kids and the barking of their dogs [and their confused barking macaw] and had to stifle a laugh as they pranced in the snow [in summer clothes]. this afternoon, i decided that i had reason to believe that spring is here.
this evening, i watched the moon rise [and strike my fancy as an undying beacon - a deified beloved]. this evening, i heard the train's horn as it sped past the crossing [i could imagine th
untitled poemuntitled poem10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you have been the sky
from where i took
the color blue
whose moods were reflected
in the color of
and whose atmosphere
was the interpreter
when will i return
to the earth
walk among things as they are
and not the things
as they are defined by a certain light
when will the garden of the ordinary
call me back
touch my shoulder
whisper me back to my name
My Creative MindI used to be so quietMy Creative Mind6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My thoughts race in my mind
Hidden by a blank stare
Created my own reality
I would think of the most creative adventures
While I sat in class looking out the window
I made my realities come to life
I learned to create my own video games
To create my realities on paper through writting and drawing
Others noticed my creativity
I made the works marvelous
The once dry text only I understood
Became full of description and vibrant imagery
Yet still I struggle
To do what Im asked when things are not done
I cannot put a drawing down
I cannot leave my poem unfinished
I become frusterated
My mind cannot leave unfinished work
I try to leave it
I hide it from myself
When I come back to it
I hate the work Ive done.
I have ADD and maybe some autism.
I hope to share this work with others,
to help them see that their diffrerences can be used to create beautiful work!
Dreaming Of FlyingDreaming Of Flying5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The slam of the door echoed around us, a sharp bang that sent birds screeching out of the trees. I watched sullenly as the only living beings for miles left us alone in the deserted cement clearing, a sense of dread rising as quickly as the birds that had fled. A hard pound on the back by a hand shaped rock tilted me forward off my feet, stumbling as the youthful laughter carried on the empty space around us.
"C'mon, Mikey, you aren't getting cold feet yet, are you?" the carefree voice asked, although the simple question wasn't anything less then a prodding taunt, "Where's your sense of fun?"
"Back home," I quipped back, reluctantly hoisting my towel over my destined-to-be-sunburnt shoulder. The rough material scratched along sensitive skin like sandpaper, it was worn out like a dog after fifteen long years of companionship but I'd never give it up. It was my first and only Captain Astro towel, given as a Christmas present from my Uncle Vic back in the days of crayons and glue sticks,
AgaclarAgaclar5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
bugün parkta yürüyordum
gerisi laf-ü güzaftı
parklar vardı şehirlerin zengin muhitlerinde
Gerisi Laf-ü Güzaftı...
bugün ben zengin muhitinde çalışıyordum
şehirlerde en çok ağaç orada vardı
parkta hislenerek yürüdüm
uluyordu kainat topraktan başlayarak
hisleniyordum gözpınarlarımdan başlayarak
ağaçlar uluyordu yapraklarımdan başlayarak
durdum. bir banka oturdum
bugün ağaçlara seni düşündüm...
A Handful of MothsThe mountain is a pincushion for cactus. It looks like some irritated desert deity just threw saguaros like spears at the hillside until s/he ran out of spears.A Handful of Moths4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It's movie night, and that means that tires crunch through the gravel at the drive-in to see the latest stars-and-explosions movie. It's robots tonight, great city-wrecking things with Hollywood voices and gears spinning behind their ear plates. That means that we pile into the cars and go, plaid rugs flung over the backs of the seats, plaid shirts over tank tops, team bumper stickers. Go Team! It's cooled down to seventy-five degrees and the condensation on my soda cup drops down to gather between my skin and the plastic.
We talk and talk and pay our dollars and park. The blanket gets tossed out like a bigtop tent and flattened in the bed of the pickup. The bed door falls down on its chains with a clunk.
The screen looms in front of the cars, cream-colored and silent. The logo of the drive-in dances around it like a screensave
Tal vez -2-Tal vez -2-6 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Tal vez la cuenta atrás se haya acabado, pero tú luces tan encantador como siempre.
Tu sonrisa, tu esmoquin, tu elegante frac de color noche.
Atractivo, vistoso, arrebatador.
Puede que mañana ya no me despierte el despertador a las siete, ni que vuelva a maldecir por lo bajo su estridente chillido, pero tú lucirás tan encantador como siempre.
El cabello revuelto y descuidado.
Luz de luna atrapada en ellos.
Dulce, amable y confiado.
Quizás ya sea mi última día pisando este suelo, esta calle, esta ciudad. New York sigue indiferente, tras el transcurso de las horas; pero tú luces encantador esta noche.
Ojos azules cuál zafiros.
¿Qué mas puedo pedir?
Quizás sea mi último suspiro, mi último adiós, mi último beso.
Quizás me entregué a tus brazos sin más.
Pero tú seguirás luciendo encantador esta noche.
Hate"I hate you."Hate5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Klaus smirks, sucking more fumes from his cigarette. It floods his lungs, coating them in a thin layer of comfort, before exhaling. The calming chemicals linger, though, and that's what he's after.
"Love you too," he replies, sarcastic, obviously not thinking about what Ben is really saying; not thinking, or just not caring.
"I mean it," Ben says, voice heightening slightly from Klaus' nonchalance.
Klaus rolls his eyes and flicks his dying cig off the roof. He doesn't need to look to see the thin, glowing trail as it falls; it's a brief thing, and he doesn't care for those things any longer.
He leans back against the roof, lingering warmth of the tiles against his back. Ben is diagonal to him, on his left side, sitting huddled by one of the many chimneys. Klaus can just make out his figure, cloaked in his dark uniform; his hair, though, catches the moonlight, making it easier to distinguish.
"And why, pray tell me, do you hate me now?" Klaus drawls out, remnants of smoke
sahmeransahmeran5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
yılan geziyor çürümeye yüz tutmuş kasım
yapraklarının sokak gürültülerinin arasında
yılan geziyor göğsümün merkez çukurunda
yılan geziyor dillenen şarkıların nakaratında
afili kırmızı rujlu tok dişi bir yılan geziyor
birileri bizim adımıza bizim için söylüyor kötü şarkıları
birileri bizim için ölesiye sarhoş ölesiye kaplan bizim için
boğazlanan narin bakır kızların acıklı hikayesi gibi bir yılan
oturuyor en irice en heybetli ellerimin keskin kavşaklarına
oturuyor ne gitmeye ne kalmaya yarayan bacaklarımın
kesik kellelerinin, kös uçlarının damarlanan kırıklarına
herkes biliyor bazı yollar sadece geçmişe varıyor
bazı yollar sadece
Anthropomorphism for BeginnersI found Grandma on the street todayAnthropomorphism for Beginners5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
reborn as a rock.
I didn't recognize her at first
without her turquoise-rim glasses
or her always-falling-out-in-public teeth;
she was standing in the gutter on her bald,
Mom tells me Grandma's gone to nag God into slaughtering spiders
and taking the farts out of vegetables,
but if you squint your eyes and tilt your head,
you can see Grandma's crooked nose--
the one that she broke
playing badminton last year--
and the way her eyes crinkle at the corners
when she talks about cheating
to beat me at checkers.
And it's just like Grandma to come back as a rock;
Mom's always called her a stubborn old crook,
and it looks like Grandma's holding a bag of stolen money
under her billowing Hippie-Days shirt sleeves
if you turn her just slightly to the right.
I think I'm gonna keep her in my bedroom.
Just in case.
You Can Go Your Own WayThere was the ancient record-playerYou Can Go Your Own Way7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that hunched majestically in the corner
of the living room, its feet tangled
in the mustard-colored shag rug
that deadened the songs of
Ralph McTell, Gordon Lightfoot,
and Fleetwood Mac.
My parents were true Brits then,
missing home, wishing it was raining,
astounded by their overly friendly neighbours.
We smashed those songs
on the winterpavement outside
on our way to California,
my parents, no longer flowerdressed
and bearded, said records were obsolete.
Then came the pearl-colored boombox,
to play my fathers smuggled Beatles CDs,
between snatches and crackles of pop music,
the aerial forever in movement,
friend to coat hangers and duct tape.
the first time I heard Simon and Garfunkel
their CDs I hid on the bus ride to school,
and filled its silver mouth with
Third Eye Blind and Savage Garden instead,
laughed along as someone used it to play
Sir Mix-a-Lot through speakers
in the backseat.
There Are WordsYes, there are words somewhere.There Are Words7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They're in the long fissures
of a keyed car, a giant l
for loved lost. There are words
in the steering wheel and
the places we compass to, in
the glaring tri-colored
traffic lights. There are words
in the Oh Shit! handle and
every red we run, in the yellows
we measure on the unbalanced
scales of our minds. Words
can be found in the contented
sigh of a green, when we arrive
to work on time, when we sit
at our desks and scribble words
on paperwork, in the rude smile
we give thinking ugly thoughts
as fat as rats the dumb felines
swallow up. Yes, there are words
somewhere. There are words
when you blink, when your palms
sweat, when you toss your hair
behind an ear like so. Words
are pasted like tattoos
on the thick skin of conversation,
when we keep on smiling and
keep on not saying those words
we want to say. When you run
that red light again, remember
the giant middle finger you'll see
like lightning. A couple words
are there, too, etched into
EmilyI loved her inside letters, I tuckedEmily8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my hearts and my organs inside of her
messy scrawl, her heartache, her doodles
of lost girls, of black cats, of razors and
pills. I sealed myself, my fate, I sent it to her:
Three stamps, and a kiss, always
with pearl-pink lip gloss. It would fade in the mail,
traveling 5000 miles
to her door, but I did not
care and the doves inside
my chest dared to break out.
I loved her inside letters,
I tucked her pain inside my art.
I filled my envelopes
with sadness, pieces of my hair,
my strange secrets,
my broken stories.
EverythingSoft rustle of dead leavesEverything7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
follows bristling breeze;
stillness frees necessities
in a melting blushing-sun.
Sweet bells slightly tinge
Colombian, freshly brewed,
set aside on an oak-made taboret.
Sweat, as real as love,
gently cool by giving-in.
Nothing, as it seems.