A Week of Manic DepressionA Week of Manic Depression9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A Week of Manic Depression
Monday I can't get out of bed.
It feels like I'll stay here forever.
I see the world as painful and dead
and the paralyzing heartache takes over.
Tuesday's another faithless day.
This feeling of hopelessness may take my life.
I wonder why I always feel this way
as I look back and try to find strife.
Wednesday violence takes over my body.
I want to inflict pain on everything living.
People yell and call me a bully,
little do they know they're next for the hurting.
Thursday is manic, I feel so alive.
All day long I forget to eat.
Into the world of excitement I dive,
tonight there'll be no need for sleep.
Friday feels like the best day of my existence
until they take me to that office.
The man asks questions that make my mood dance
and he gives me drugs that'll leave bliss.
Saturday yields lack of any emotion.
Could the drugs be taking effect already?
I go all day long with no confrontation.
This is the first time my mood has been steady.
Sound SoldierHumming loudly and proudly,Sound Soldier3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Armed with only a megaphone,
Her speakers that go boom,
And her hot glue gun.
She pastes on smiles,
Onto all her onlookers,
Giving highs to all music smokers,
And salvation to all chained workers.
She zooms around towns in her pink camouflage tank,
Wielding a mind with no blanks,
Thinking of assaults to take out the silence with an explosive bang!
Thunder guitars flash with in her hands,
Along with her Harmonious Protectors band.
Giving all blocked ear drums that rancid kablam!
"Death to the silence!"
Is her motto.
With her bulldozer, bodies she'll tow.
From all the ricocheting bullets her vicious guitar will throw.
Standing on her tank alone with her vocal cords,
Through the speakers, she starts to blow.
Nothing through her microphone is faux,
As she stands alone, with just her weapons and a megaphone.
"Come on boys & girls, circle around,
face and stare into the sound!
All antennas up and no heads down!"
Join the stampede of bulldozers!
Rampage and knock t
Bipolar feelingsI can't believe I'm (I fucking) truly happy (hate this) once in a while.Bipolar feelings8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I wish it would (it will never) last (be true)
I love (I can't stand) life (myself)
Some day I'll (I'm always) trust I'll (on the edge) be okay
There are (I don't) people who (believe) love me (them)
I believe (where) God is there (is) for me (he)
I am (I can't) so strong (breathe)
I feel (I hate) content (everybody) sometimes
Some times (please) I do feel like (free) I can make it (me)
There are (I) ways (hurt) to help (inside)
I was (I don't) made (understand) for a reason
I will (I want) feel (to) better (be free)
I have (I want) to have (to die) faith
Some how I will (this is) learn to (who) love (I am) myself
There (I'm) is (almost) still (gone) time
Holding Onto Heaven Varian opened his eyes again and attempted a smile. "No. It is I who am sorry... for not seeing earlier what you are.... what you have always been. I'm so proud.... that you are my son." Varian reached up with his bloody hand and touched his son's face, leaving a bloody smear. "Do not mourn for me. This has always been my fate.... don't let it be yours." With that, Varian's arm and body fell limp.Holding Onto Heaven2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The fallen king was enveloped in darkness. He felt no more pain, no more sadness, no more.... anything. The only thing he could feel was something warm and comforting. A faint glow of light gripped his soul and Varian felt himself surge forward.
Something bright was shining in Varian's eyes. He tried to turn his head, but it was futile.
Open your eyes... a voice called to him from far away.
Varian's eyes fluttered as he looked around his
Unloved girlHere she sits,Unloved girl6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The girl who despises love.
What everyone sees as a blessing,
Seems to be her curse from above.
Dry those tears young one,
Please don't cry through the night.
Maybe someone does love you,
Maybe someday you'll have someone to hold you tight.
Don't give up hope Missy,
Continue to pray for the love you need.
Try not to see everyone as flowers,
And yourself as the weed.
But don't be a selfish girl now,
For you can't have everything, you know.
The love that you've always been craving,
The world just doesn't have to show.
Modern ImplicationsWhat do you celebrateModern Implications4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When the CLOCK has stopped ticking?
When the young will not age,
And the old do not die?
What is the American dream,
If none of us can sleep?
And you stranglehold the truth,
So that fear consumes the mind.
What will become of us?
If they strip away our souls,
And re-renovate with dollar bills,
Will we burn in hell?
And will we even care?
Character - Fortune AdjusterCome in, boy, come in. No, I will call you boy. The carnival manager is Boy to me too, do not think yourself so high and mighty. Come in, you want your fortune told by the old circus hag, yes? Come in, sit here, let me peer at you in the shade. You want your future told? A simple task, for I have already seen it in my inner eye. But more than simply tell, I will change. In truth I am not a teller of fortunes, but an adjuster.Character - Fortune Adjuster4 years ago in Sketches More Like This
The youth of today, worried about the future, ha! The future happens over and over, will happen just as it has happened. All I need are your anchors, the things deciding your future. For example, that pretty little thing you left outside, she is no anchor. She will change you, yes, she will eat up your pocketbook! I saw her, I saw her jewelry and fake breasts. No, look at me, not at her. You did not bring her into the tent, you do not see her as part of your future, yes? She is a fun little fling, am I right? Oh, you think it shameful for me to speak of such thing
Waiting for Russia Toris was practically hyperventilating, he shakily tried to help Lativa dice the tomatoes but he didn't feel so safe holding a knife. Taking a forced, calming deep breath Lithuania slowly put the knife down on the kitchen counter and focused hard on controlling his breathing. 15 year-old Raivis, who was serenely stirring a pot on the stove, saw this in his peripheral vision and became concerned. His brow furrowing, he quietly inquired.Waiting for Russia3 years ago in Settings More Like This
"Is something the matter Toris? You seem jumpy about something." Lithuania jumped when he realized he was being addressed. Oh goodness! Why explain his anxiousness? Ivan was going to find out what he did soon anyway! Might as well let him announce it! Toris`s internal turmoil showed clearly on his face. His body language showed it as well, the young man was wringing his hands worriedly and kept flipping a strand out from in front of his eyes. He always did that when he was really scared and frankly it scared Latvia as well to see
Drosostalida .. DewdropΣαν δροσοσταλίδα σε πέταλοDrosostalida .. Dewdrop6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Η υγρή ανάσα σου
Γλιστρά στο κορμί μου
Χαράζει πορεία ταξιδεμένη
από χέρια ζεστά
Ζήτα την πνοή μου
Ζήτα τον παλμό μου
δικός σου και αυτός
Mom?Audio HereMom?6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Mom? Can you hear me? Do you know me? Do you care?
Mom? Are you proud? Am I like you? Are you there?
I miss you, I had babies, you would love them, I know you would.
Did I do it right?
Some are grown now; did I do it like I should?
I was a singer, did you see me? Did I look like you up on that stage?
I got old now and I don't look like that today, Oh, mom I am so very sorry that you never got to age.
Cancer took Kelly and Nonnie too, are they in Heaven? Are they sitting there with you?
Oh mom I love them and I miss you all so much..I never wrote this note to you.. I know that I lost touch I know I was hiding, from the pain from the unknown
But Mom can you see me? Can you see me can you see how much I've grown?
Mom can you hear me? Or am I sitting here crying all alone?
Mom can you believe it? I adopted 6 more children to call my very own!
I know it seems crazy but I want to be the best that I can be.
Teach MeTeach me a secret,Teach Me6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Before I grow old;
One that will let me
Have someone in my arms to hold.
Teach me how to write
So that others can read;
Words upon words of wisdom,
And help them to lead.
Teach me a story,
That will capture all their ears;
One that can inspire love,
Happiness, and tears.
Teach me a song,
That will reach them all;
One that will help them realize
That it never hurts to fall.
Teach me how to teach like you,
I'll make them more;
And plague your knowledge,
Until they're the words of forgotten Lore.
Because nothing ever really lasts.
Chapter old and forgotten fast.
But still in distant memory.
That's all that's needed in this world of pain.
A message of love, and everything to gain.
no dear.no dear3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
the chimney smoke
blows like hair
in the wind
its ashen hum
a trembling dove
a man without
to a crux of spine
dear burden of mine
o father have i sinned
what fire turned
this bread to stone
without my ribs
weeping in the gloam
my chest is pried
a tongueless jaw
with nothing left
Some Country that I used to own-UKxVarious songficSome Country that I used to own-UKxVarious songfic2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Now and then I think of when you ruled me over
Like when you needed goods that I'd supply
I told myself that you were cruel to me
and you felt so evil in my company
But I was land and it's an ache I still remember
You can get addicted to a certain kinda sadness
Like resignation to the end of your tyranny
So when I found that stamps weren't worth six pence (stamp act anyone?)
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make it like it never happened and my empire was nothing
I don't even need your wealth, but you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
No, you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends go to war with me (anyone remember France in the Revolutionary War?)
so I'd never recover
Guess that I don't need the world
Now you're just some country that I used to own
Now you're just some country that I used to own
Now you're just some country that I used to own
May the Best Pet Win - Sheila/Raiven[Raiven]May the Best Pet Win - Sheila/Raiven2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
♪ Now, sister - my dear, I cannot express my delight
It's abundantly clear that somewhere out here
Is the companion that will suit you just right ♪
♪ I can't wait to get started, but first let me set a few rules
It's of utmost importance the pet that I get isn't
Creepy-crawly and, most importantly, doesn't drool. ♪
Raiven: No bugs and slobber, got it.
♪ I have so many wonderful choices, just wait, you will see ♪
I need something real brutal! That won't scare the children
Sure! ♪ How 'bout a moth?
They're cutsey and wutsey and super sweet! Ot to mention she likes having her antennae stroked! ♪
Cutsey? Wutsey? Sweet? Raiven, is this a joke?
*sighs* ♪ Sheila, have faith
I'm sure I've got somethin' that'll tickle your fancy.
C'mon, I've sure I've got something in the barn that'll fit the bill, 'cause I know you're antsy. ♪
That's good! I want it be able to fit in the h
To shoreI think back to pulling your hairTo shore3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from your face,
sticky strands in nut brown,
your lips like the frothy head
in a pint glass,
You cried in bed, neck twisted
like a giraffe looking
for the opposite side of a baobab tree,
and I told you that you were beautiful
even though no one
thought so, anymore.
It didn't matter then whether
I was holding your
greasy heart in my hands,
or my own,
they were the same fragments,
wracked with guilt and
weak sutures in their stems.
We lay in your bed for five minutes
before you choked
on your own salt water seasoning,
blew your nose into the white
like it was tissue and you
really couldn't be bothered to care.
And I remember thinking that
my whole world was a sea,
and I, a boat,
I am YoursI am YoursI am Yours8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You drew out of the shadows
As if drawing out of a cloak
I try to scream
but can not find my voice.
Your eyes burn with hunger
A desire never completely satisfied.
You smile at me
Fangs, sharp as blades, shine in the dark
You say my name
the command no more than a whisper
but the power it holds is more
I find myself walking to you.
I stop, heart pounding.
You laugh at my fear.
In a blink of an eye
you are before me.
You smell of death
and of my defeat.
You force me to the ground
your power over me grows stronger.
Your hands caress me, ripping away my cloths
Leaving me completely vulnerable
Then . . . all is dark.
I awake alone. . . naked . . . defeated.
I look around me at my prison
no more than thick stone and steel.
For you have taken my life
and with it . . .
I am yours now,
I am no longer free.
I am a servant, slave, whore.
Whatever you choose
I am yours.
A Heartbreak PoemThere's no pain quite like it.A Heartbreak Poem2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That long, dreary shadow that they cast on you as they walk away.
It swallows you, mangles your insides and ravages the fragile heart.
The melancholy that is harder to swallow than the most bitter of medicines.
That shadow is like no other.
No matter how far its puppet master goes it'll always be there; casting you in darkness.
You pray that they'll turn around.
That they'll see the tears you cannot cry and the shattered heart they left behind.
You pray that they walk towards you, kneel down and pick you up.
The evil shadow will be gone and you'll be there, with them, in the light.
But it won't happen for me.
The damage has been done to you.
So I'm here spending all my time in this shadow regretting everything I did to hurt you.
I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.
Because of HomestuckThanks to Andrew Hussie and Homestuck, now:Because of Homestuck3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
I have over, on this fandom alone, a thousand pictures of fan art on my computer.
I wanna meet a group of trolls.
Trolls are no longer thought of as stupid and senseless creatures you have to beat into a bloody pulp on some RPG.
RPGs where Live Action RP is involved scare me now.
Video games are viewed in a more terrified way.
I know my keyboard a whole lot better
Because of all the times 1 SOM3HOW H4D two wriite 2ome, uHH, SPEECH QUIRK of some dum8 and weiiiiiiiird kind. :::; )
When I hear a lisp, I smile.
I ship characters
All the time
And don't feel bad about it.
Wonder: if someone dies on the moon, will they go God-teir?
I refer to Betty Crocker as: THE EVIL BATTER WITCH!!!! And say that title aloud every time I see her infamous logo.
I cosplay a heck of a lot more than I used to.
How To Say GoodbyeDear Unborn Child, Whom I Let Go;How To Say Goodbye2 years ago in Letters More Like This
When I was thirteen and four months old, and you were thirteen years younger, I decided to let you go. You squirmed in opposition beneath my ribcage, up against my pelvis, and I licked my lips and tried to smile while I leaned my forehead on the cool glass of the car, hellbound.
I remember sea weed insertion, dilation, cramps and bleeding. Orange smoothies from Dairy Queen that I threw up, and I hoped you were mingling in the remains of my summer day treat, so I could put this behind me. Pretend I was 'moving on'. I laid in the bathtub of a hotel room for six hours, trying to melt you away in scalding water from a rusty tap, yet you clung on, holding tightly to the walls of my pelvic region. Wiggling upwards, towards my throat. Past my teeth. You're trying to get out, but my family has decided you won't breathe when you're released from your bloody shackles; you may as well settle down now, sweet son, settle down.
The rest of this, to me, is a blur. Th
Modern MagicThe witch Baba Yaga once baked herself breadModern Magic7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
out of spiders and liars and red razorwire
that was garnished with flowers from the vaults of the dead,
and sweetened with lye from a childs funeral pyre.
It was light as the crisp, cracking bones on the fields
and as sharp to the taste as the ash-scattered shards
that were all that remains of the swords and the shields
of the warrior king and his bold bodyguards.
In a chicken leg hovel at the edge of a wood
the witch Baba Yaga licks the dregs from the spoons
that she used to stir soup, spiced and thickened with blood
that the dying ones spilt from their widowing wounds.
But her low kitchen table will never be laid
and her bonewafer banquet will never be served,
while ghostly white whistles pipe a last serenade
as shes swept to the moon by the swerve of the earth.
The witch Baba Yaga in the coldness of space
weeping tears for the cage and her gingerbread home,
but icicled, weightless, they fly in her face
with the regular tick of