Actinium DreamsY'all have any idea how downright frustrating it is to be the granddaughter of one of the most powerful and celebrated superheroes ever Ulysses Randall Martin, the iconic Mr. Uranium and yet have no special talent of your own?Actinium Dreams4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I mean, it's not like I don't have my own elemental superpower: like almost all of Grandpa's progeny, I do. But how much good is the ability to produce hard-hitting Alpha and destructive Beta rays if you can barely control it and never quite turn it off? At least I'm not as bad off as my son Frankie; I love him to death, but when left alone the poor boy is totally unstable and downright dangerous: the worst possible mix of autism, Alpha rays and ADHD.
And I do at least have my own nemesis, of sorts: the cadre of good ol' boys who call themselves DOTA, whose main ability seems to be workin' together to nullify and trap super-powered elementals. But t'be honest, they don't seem to have anything against me personally; I think they just have a ge
HugsCan I have a hug?Hugs9 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
WHat Kind of hug?
Like I didn't Have to ask for it...
FriendshipWhy do you make me feel awful?Friendship11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You picked me up and then put me down
I thought you were my friend
Well there is something I want to say
Because you need a little education on friendship really means
I am not your plaything
I can't be pushed around when you feel like it
I am not your servant
And I will not bow to your every wish
And I am not your soldier
I will not come running to solve your every problem
I am not your delivery boy
I will not cater for you left right and centre
Yet you do all of these things to me
Who do you think you are?
You picked me up and then put me down
I thought you were my friend
if Zelda CD-i were a novelif Zelda CD-i were a novel5 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Gee," Link exclaimed, stretching out his arms and letting out a great yawn, "it sure is boring around here..."
King Harkinian was standing across the room from the elven boy. He was tipping a large, stout, purple goblet back as he drank a hard rum.
"My boy," the King began, lowering the chalice from his orange-bearded face and twirling a pointed finger into the air philosophically, "this peace is what all true warriors strive for."
Link shrugged casually and rolled his eyes, "I just wonder what Ganon is up to."
Many a year had indeed passed since the last slaying of the dark wizard known as Ganon. Hyrule had seemed to be at peace now, and that's all that had really mattered... for most people, that is. Link, however, lived for the adventure. He had, after all, been destined to be Hyrule's savior. By now, his insatiable hunger for a battle was all that overcame him.
A small red dot appeared to zoom across the cloud-dott
kindTo BE KIND is MOREkind4 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
important than to be
right. Many times,
what people need is
NOT a brilliant mind
that speaks, but a
SPECIAL HEART that
by Inspirational Quotes
RammsteinThe poet's on fireRammstein5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But he doesn't mind
He has been burning before and this will not be the last time
He knows how to stay alive in the flames
The band accompanies the burning man with beautiful music
Hard as velvet, soft as a mountain
With a voice that is deep and dark with the softness of a loving heart
The large man sings from the fire
Songs that caresses my ears and soon I can't feel my body anymore
He sings about life and death and love and loss
It feels like he sings from his soul
And my heart aches
His song gets stronger
And I don't even notice that he has stopped burning
Because even though the genuine fire is gone
My soul is still in flames
Fishbowlborrowing,Fishbowl4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we breathe like
navy stripes on rice paper
and life for us is only
canary sidewalks and
shorelines like the
soft soft curve of
your parted lips,
but a gentle storm
is still a storm, and
this we know well.
and what do you think we are made out of,
star-flesh and street dust,
molded slowly into
spidery eyelashes and glowing
and knuckles like crushed roses--
art is a human thing
even when you crumple
into the plush carpet
to lie for days
and days and
[do not forget the things i tell you,
liquid whispers on harsh nights--]
we pluck nerves like
tulips in a sensory garden,
only for play and
never for work--daylight
is an unwound tendon
wrapped tight around
wide wide dream eyes,
glassy and knowing
like the whole ocean in a fishbowl;
i tell you for the last time,
i love you.
BalanceBalanceBalance3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Killed a cat; uncertainty
For all the hurtingfor those who have been where ive been...For all the hurting4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
those with the knife in their hand
those with the plumetting drop before them
those with nothing to lose
and nothing to gain
those with noone to turn to
those who can call ourselves surviors
even if were only one day into the battle
those who fight the pain
and sinking feeling deep inside
every single day
or just once
for anyone whose been there
YOU ARE A HERO
to me and thousands maybe millions like us
the ones who thought we were crazy
or maybe felt so sane when we wanted to end it all
for everyone whose still here
you found inner strentgh
maybe someone helped
maybe it was faith
maybe just a voice deep inside saying dont so it
but whyever your here
thank you, you give me hope that ill see another day and not regret it
To Write Love on My ArmsBefore you read, I want you all to know that this was a letter I was going to submit a while ago to the To Write Love on Her Arms site.To Write Love on My Arms4 years ago in Letters More Like This
At first, I was embarassed by it only because I lived and because when I found it, i just felt stupid for doing it...
I didn't want anyone to read this had I lived, but now that I look back and read it, I think it should still be out there...
Not for me, but for those that didn't make it. For those that fought long like me if not longer and couldn't find the will to face themselves.
I still struggle, but I live. I live to do a few things. That's why I lived.
to tell what I lived..
So without further comments, I hope this reaches you in some way. It meant a lot to me, and hopefully it will to someone else.
Never forget that Hope is real and help is real.
I knew I was BROKEN.
Said things about not being perfect,
not being wanted,
not being whole.
Went along with scars
inside and out...
Crying every n
Fen'HarelFen'Harel4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Being a slave to a magister was not all that bad to the elven boy. It was definitely not the best, but it provided food. They boy had been taken along with his family. His sister and mother had been forced into slavery alongside the child, the magister loving the 'beautiful elven children' and for once being kind, not wanting the children to be without an authoritative figure. The elven boy was the only slave the Magister needed, though he kept the others only to appease the boy.
The boy's eyes were green and large; when docile, his eyes could be described as those of a puppy's and when angered, they could described as the eyes of a wolf. His hair was silver, a mistake from birth; 'Leto' he was named, a name his Master wished sincerely to change.
It had been years since the boy's capture. Leto had become a fine teenager, obedient to anything his master ordered; if a small threat was issued. His toy.
Leto sighed, the collar on his neck and the chain that stru
WhispersFollow the angel with the broken wings,Whispers6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
pay attention when her voice sings.
Lose your senses to the imagery of winter,
listen carefully to the night's forbidden whisper:
Feel the sensation of the subtle wind,
forget about the things that you have sinned.
Watch the rock carefully skip on the surface,
allow yourself to fall into the deepened abyss.
Try not to escape life through your expected doubts,
living in fantasies will lead you another way out.
Don't be afraid to disguise your leading eyes,
the only people who'll keep your secrets are the spies.
The moment comes to find the story untold;
secrets and disgrace shadow the way of the wolves.
The fallen rhythm for the preserving snow,
only death can be found in the shades of the crow.
Watch your actions and how you live to behave,
only one more sin and you can become a meaningless slave.
Not all feelings are better strewn acrossed the floor,
take a grasp to lead you back to the life you knew before.
Out in the distance there is a mist,
Something in the Way?Something in the Way?4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
At first you bought a gun, but instead used drugs.
What made you change your mind?
Was it the way society functioned?
Did you think everyone was shallowly blind?
Did you do it for Frances
To save her from you?
Over her, you'd obsess.
I bet, 6 feet under, you still do.
Keep her from what? The source of your angst?
Couldn't handle it, could you;
If she grew up wrong, you're credited that "thanks"
but that's where your fans misunderstood you.
You were the leader of a generation;
a lyrical med for the unstable
and that began the devastation
of no other being able to bring what you brought to the table
which won you the label: King of Grunge.
Scream into my heart,
April's satirical fool!
You died at the month's start
and with every beginning, there's an end.
Made for life with your mental pain.
Is it too late for your heart to mend?
I'll grab the needles, Mr. Cobain.
Patch you up, stitch you, anything you need!
As long as your lungs work again
maybe then your genius can breed
but never now.
I have never. . .I have never sat next to you,I have never. . .2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but I can feel your presence.
I have never heard your voice,
but I can hear your whispers.
I have never seen what you see,
but I can visualize your soul.
I have never felt belonging,
but I can feel your comfort.
I have never held your hand,
but I can feel your warmth.
I have never told you a lie,
but I can trust you with my past.
I have never cried on your shoulder,
but I can believe you're here beside me.
I have never tasted your love,
but I can imagine its sweetness.
I have never dreamt of this life,
but I can tell you're someone special.
I have never known we would meet,
but I can be forever thankful we did.
Alive and WellYou see me walk away but you do not dare to say..Alive and Well4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to keep me.
We sing with velvet lungs
powerful, precise, but not quite loud enough.
For no one hears us.
No, no one dares to check up on us.
We're bound in shackles close to earth;
the place we're soon to become a part of,
soon to become one with.
The moist feeling in the air,
it fills our lungs with sweet and potent life...
But we are well.
no matter where we are, we are well...
We bang our heads against the walls,
kick and scream to be sent free.
But they dont care.
We're fed, alive, and well.
The midnight fears, the burned out fears.
But why does it matter?
Does anyone care?
We are alive and well.
A Letter To Lillith Kellogg.Yes, of course you can borrow my white dressA Letter To Lillith Kellogg.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with the rope straps, and my swirly silver
peace sign necklace. In fact, you can have
them both, because what else can I do? After
all the glorious gifts you have given me, how
could I ever repay you? And of course I will send
your ex-boyfriend Kjel's graffiti guitar, so
perhaps the neon pink and green flower, and
the Milkman Dan comic stained faintly purple
and blue will be the last thing your eyes ever
see. I will give you two hundred dollars for that
beautiful thing, that girl with the blue face covered
in bubbles and stars, such a peaceful expression, such
color, such dimension. I will give you anything you want
for it. When you are sad, don't worry, I will send you a
few grams of pot in the mail, from all the sunshine states,
delivered directly to your cold dark basement. When you
are living in an attic in Louisiana with no money and no
food, I will send you art sup
004 Creepypasta _Are you thereYou may not be real. You may not exist. Your idea of life may simply be a fabrication of thought. Everything you know and love may disappear in a fog at any given moment. That mouse thats held between loose lipped fingers might suddenly melt, may cave in upon itself and cease to be. The beating heart in your chest can stop beating. Your breath could collapse in your throat, wedge itself between vocal chords and solidify. The life you hold so dearly to your charcoaled soul may splinter and leave you gasping for air.004 Creepypasta _Are you there7 years ago in Horror More Like This
All it would take would be one thought, one question of, am I real? to start the chain reaction. Everything will deteriorate, decomposing and decaying faster than you can answer your own question. When the foundation of ideas crumbles, everything that idea has spawned will slowly fade away.
Look down at your hand.
Doesnt it look paler than before?
not perfectI may not be perfectnot perfect4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
but at least I'm not FAKE.
How To RememberI have no advice that was handed down to me from sage lips, or dying maternal grandparents. I don't know how to deal with neurotic night time episodes where if I listen closely, I swear I can hear farmers in their fields after midnight, shooting gophers when I don't live anywhere near a field. My window is a cavernous maw, opened wide to swallow my tousled head and suck the garbage of dreams from my soul. On those evenings, I can not look outside.How To Remember4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Insomnia has always wrapped its icy fingers around my limbs and tugged at me, one way, then another, ever since I can recall the need for sleep. It is like breathing, or eating, to me. It is commonplace. I am trapped in a web delicately touched with morning dew, my eyes rimmed with black, sunken, every morning because I am literally devoured whole by my past in my dreams. After closing my eyes, I sometimes find myself back in a tiny flat over a chocolate and pastry shop, living with my older boyfriend, tripping at three in the afternoon on la