will.i.will.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i will not grant you pretty words
though they burn in my veins
and force me to breathe,
as if my fey-child scripture
ever could withstand you
and the scars you carved in my DNA.
they breed in my throat,
a transcendental code sacrosanct
as the prayers you whisper,
and the vows you took in obligation
only to hide your transgression
(twenty-six years, three months, twenty days)
and write in me the fear
of being erased.
so maybe you can't understand
how i made myself not hate you
when i thought you would die
just in case
i want to throw my fury
at your feeble body and
like zeus to your cronus
though i've always been cast
as hermes instead
for every second i've stared myself down
just to prove the balance of genetics
lies not in your favour
teaching myself to drive stick
so i could run farther
from who you wanted me to be
the six year old boy
with a near-perfect sketch
(but it wasn't
Sweet Tunes - FFM 2010The only way to appease the creature was to play music at it the older music the better. Whenever the music stopped, it'd stop its melodic swaying, freeze, and then let out the most terrifying and deadly cry. Eardrums bursting, glass shattering, electronics exploding, eyeballs melting that kind of cry.Sweet Tunes - FFM 20105 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
After that, it would disappear, only to reappear at the most inconvenient place imaginable, ready to explode again. If those around it valued their spleens, they would start digging for their MP3-players right away. The more musical amongst us might start a serenade, or some kind of ad-libbed drumming session on whatever's nearby.
But the creature's appetites for quality only increased as the days passed and no-one had yet figured out a way to communicate, capture or otherwise kill the thing. The tinny sound of a radio would only calm it for so long, sometimes even making it angry enough to lash out a protuberance and destroy the offending equipment. Then it woul
Four Thousand PiecesWe met outside the morgue. You were there with your hair too bright and clothes that we had fought over that very morning. You were crouched, your body looking impossibly small and broken.Four Thousand Pieces4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You can't wear that out. You look like a prostitute.
I'm eighteen years old Mum, I can wear what I like.
All at once you were the brand new baby that I had held in my arms, sobbing over the tiny miracle that your Father and I had never thought possible. Then, you were five years old, and it was time to begin school. You had looked up at me with big green eyes and a serious smile as you proved over and over that you could fasten the Velcro on your brand new shoes.
You smiled at me now, outside this place that we didn't belong in, and I saw the stabilisers that Gary had taken from your bike. He had watched you cycle down the road, ten years old, the proudest Father at that moment in time. I could tell you that he hid tears from you that day. But I don't.
Instead I ask you how your day wa
More RenaissanceGreen giant with your baying hordeMore Renaissance6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
of vegetables, Oh worshipped Lord;
The parameters of my ephemeral heart,
burst with the art of centuries.
In part my fears of transcience
sink in the waters of poetry.
So past careful thinking, it is said:
I have no need to rest my head,
between the sweating knees of the church.
For when word's spreading of my death
there'll be no fire underground.
Just shrinking flesh and words to sound
for years in print or loving breath.
thalassophobic.when i arosethalassophobic.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with the sun-tinted curtain shifts
in my room, my jaw unlocked
from the rest of my body
like a missile from a submarine.
water flowed between
the cracks of my skin
in an new exodus from egypt.
starfish clung to my elbows,
sucking out all flexibility.
a piece of seaweed stretched
across my mouth like
your letters to my doorstep.
i couldn't breathebreathebreathe.
tentacles drifted from my eyes like the grain.
sea wasps charged towards me
like honey bees with their undulation cries.
they engulfed me, and
the only colour i could
see was black.
and then i tumbled
down into death's arms,
open wide from too many
MiaSo precious and lovelyMia5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Generous and selfless
Just a young woman, really
Who has lived just seventeen years
But who has helped so many already
She deserves so much more
Than all this pain that she has been carrying around
She deserves so much more
Than to be lying motionless
In a coma
She deserves your Angels to come down
And heal her
Ten thousand Angels to lift her from this coma
To bring her back to full health and spirit and energy
There are no words
To say how undeserving
Mia is of this pain
That has been beating down on her
For so many years
My Life as a Companion Ch. 6Mathias and I both awoke to a girl's frightened screams. Libellia sat a little ways away from us, her blond hair covering most of her face and she was clearly embarrassed. "I... I'm sorry," she mumbled quietly. Alarmed, the two of us said it was quite okay.My Life as a Companion Ch. 66 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Are you alright?" Mathias asked and moved closer to her. I rubbed sleep from my eyes and noted that the sun hadn't risen yet.
Libellia was nodding when I brought my gaze back to the pair. "Yes. I'm sorry to have awoken you two."
"Don't worry about it," Mathias and I said in unison, then looked at each other funnily. That one expression caused the Princess to smile slightly.
"I really am sorry. I'm sure you must be tired." She brushed her hair out of her face and I saw she looked pale.
"Is there anything I can do?" Mathias asked gently.
She shook her head. "No. It was just a...nightmare. I'm really alright." She tried to look happy.
Across the Barren DesertThe silence lies over us like dust. He sits in his chair, the newspaper spread before his face. My legs are curled beneath me on the couch as I watch television. The living room is cold.Across the Barren Desert5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
A steady drip from the kitchen faucet reminds me that he has not yet fixed it. I mention it, and he nods noncommittally, murmuring something about the weekend.
My bones ache from this strain between us.
I announce that I am going to bed as soon as the ten o'clock news finishes. He offers me a perfunctory smile as I kiss him on the cheek and ascend the stairs.
Another evening exactly the same as the last.
I feel like my soul is withering in this empty monotony.
Undressing slowly, I hang each item up with care. I hate wrinkles.
The bed is chilly but I have become used to sleeping alone. He usually comes to bed late and I cannot remember the last time I fell asleep with his warmth beside me.
My night stand is empty. I hate for him to see me cry, so I long ago removed our wedding photo.
It rained the day
Life just is.Everything is as though the beautiful, night dreams which keeps on pursuing and binding the live of me when this all is in fact a bitter reality that I am facing through. The laughs, the loves, the tears, the hatreds, the strengths, the weakness, the determines, the pain, the regret, the happiness, the inspirations, the rising, the hard resolutions, the questions and the answers. As the seconds turns to minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, cycling through years and years of tumbling down and revivals. Surviving and dying. It's coming out to me way too fast, I don't realize it's almost a decade now. Crumple in between my hands now is an old, dusty paper that's almost turn into yellow which I hide inside a white, shoe box behind the cupboard over a year ago. There's a written list on the paper; it was full of my writing beginning from when I was just eight summers of age until I grew up and maturing. A tear slides down my cheek and drop on the paper, making a silent sound deafening the eLife just is.5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Relative ValueI wasn't going to write this letter. I saw it as part of an online challenge to write a letter to a teacher and you were the first person I thought of, but I was going to pass on it. I was reading the book you let me check out, "Creative Nonfiction," and I was on the bit about lyric and reflective essays at the time and I used the packet you gave us at the start of the year as a bookmark and remembered that I was going to be writing a lot of reflective things this year. Maybe the universe really wanted me to try my hand at this prompt.Relative Value3 years ago in Letters More Like This
I still wasn't going to write this letter, but then I remembered that I never did write the first essay of the spring semester last school year. So this seems like a fair trade. A letter for an essay. It's far too late for credit at this point anyway.
It's not that I didn't want to write it, or that I forgot, or that I had too many other things to worry about I don't have any excuse at all really except, maybe, laziness. But somehow tha
Cirrus BreakersSo feeling breakersCirrus Breakers5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
pass the edge
of a cirrus strewn and circular sky
In another summer
in another place
I have that bed on which to lie
In grass and thoughts; a fading trace
Of watching you
behind an eastern air.
No ancient halls of Rome did speak
of beauty like your hair
That fell in spells and drew me down
still closer to your mouth
I keep these passing moments held
Of summers in the south
Catch A DreamI'm not sure what made me stop at first. I never stopped for the homeless, not once. They were just a part of the scenery, another park bench, another over-full trashcan, another man with a scraggly beard or woman with baggy clothes and half starved children. I don't know what I saw in that same change can that everyone else sported. Maybe it was the Nikes next to them.Catch A Dream6 years ago in Settings More Like This
Never the less I did stop on that cold May morning in our concrete jungle on Twenty-first Street by the Macy's to drop the change I had into that old baked beans can, and the man behind the beard stirred, looking up at me.
"You may keep your change Ma'am." he said, a little gruffly, then looked out at the urban street again, ignoring me completely.
"I'm sorry?" I asked, affronted. "I'm trying to help." I reached down, a little angry with him, a little embarrassed at myself, and snatched my change away.
"No harm meant Ma'am." he replied. "I just ain't looking for handouts."
I knew arguing would get me nowhere. Besides, I
Transhuman RevolutionWake up to see through different eyesTranshuman Revolution5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A faster world under a wider sky
A stronger body, a sharper mind
Would you be afraid to change?
Humans crawl and humans die
Seeking forms that let them fly
To shed old genes like butterflies
What should we lose? What can we gain?
Purgatory Will Smell Like M...Purgatory Will Smell Like MothballsPurgatory Will Smell Like M...6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I. Possibly Dried Sweat As Well
Dear diary, who guards the diaries of the dead?
Does the same inviolate law protect their innards
as when their writers, still breathing, cried out to them;
or are their secrets sealed by older laws - do readers
of such diaries, gibbering, join the cult of ghouls?
Are analogies more apt - I think they are, and that
the readers of these diaries, tasting sweet, warm flesh
of memory, hunger for its taboo taste again
and so become ghoulish (in a literary sense).
These thick thoughts and others more profane envelop me
as I breathe the mothballs of your attic and the chest
of papers, envelopes, and diaries - neatly pinned
to them your note, saying you want them - wanted them - burned.
II. The Kind of Smells Given Off By Old Places No One Wants to Go
who guards the diaries of the dead?
Does the same inviolate law
protect their innards
as when their writers, still breathing,
cried out to them;
My friendDistances separated two people,My friend5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
different like fire and ice.
A girl, joyful and helping everyone
and a boy, who never had a friend.
But both were more similar
as anyone of them might think.
Both of them, with old scars
that have never healed.
She was the one
who got him out of the darkness
that was surrounding him
because he never could forget
his own past.
Her hand pulled him
out of the shadows
and saved me from being alone
'till the end of my life.
But I was too blind
to see that you were caught
in your own darkness.
we've never talked to each other
because we've just written,
about so many different things,
I never could realize
how lonely my life is
without talking to you.
Now you are surrounded
with even more darkness
and I can't do anything
except standing where I am
and hoping, you get back.
And so I beg you,
I never had a chance
to say thanks to you
and keep my promise,
to see you one day.
Please don't go
She Inspire Me."She seems to never retire, always cheerful, helpful and lovable"She Inspire Me.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A smile would form on my face and my mind would rewind
There was a story I would love to tell the living world
Yesterday always bring priceless, beautiful memories
Of us when we first talked almost about everything
It is easy for me to tell everyone about her
A sentence long is more than enough
"She is no doubt the first female that inspire me big time"
And that is no lie even if it sounds cliche
Day to day she would give me endless spirits
Knew when I'm about to fall down and help me up
Whilst she has her own lovely family to take care about
The business of her as a mother, a wife, a friend, and a sister
But never once did she forget her job to write and just to listen
"She kept listening, reading and I always waited for her advices"
At night I wondered how tired she might be
How she goes on without complaining to everyone
Ranting only about true facts that it awakens people
I wonder... if she would
RegulationsThe new neighbors caused a bit of a stir when they moved in. Ms. Sharp, the HOA lady, was in a right snit over the whole affair. I heard her seething to Mr. Thomas during the summer barbecue.Regulations3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Constance, there's nothing in the regulations about zombies. Legally, we can't fine them over what they are."
CenterStaring up at a ceiling, blank.Center5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Questions, constant, you don't know
the answer, you can't know the answer.
So why bother. Restless and immovable,
how could anything possibly change?
Every dream, every thought, every purposeless
moment you're in this world... can you
figure it out yet? No. So move on,
escape from the bustle, the technological
prowess and the endless noise. Surround
yourself with symbols of peace and love,
see where it gets you. Bring on the feng-shui
masters and throw away your television, because
that's going to help isn't it? Has it gone yet?
Of course not. You know why, but daren't question.
You know who, but cannot sum up the courage
for confrontation. And as for where?
To My Dearest LoveTo my Dearest Love,To My Dearest Love4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
My noble demon heart does pound like nothing before heard by the whole
worlduniverse. My blue eyed vision has been blurred by sweet, sweet hallucinations, calling to me like a skilful temptress. And although I am but a handsomegallant prince of royal darkness, I cannot but fall into the arms of sweetened daydreams. And is it customary to have heightened senses when the mind is invaded by such toughpowerful emotions? For every rose I smell has a oddwonderful aroma and the earth gives away an earthyearthly scent wherever I walk.
Indeed, only one thing I can name can cause such a
weirdstrange feelings for my poor but magnificent soul. My Dear, the only thing that inflicts me so is the love I feel for you.
Yes, I will tell you, gentle
angeldarling that my heart has captured by you.
After I first met you, I cannot help wishing that