The Life FantasticThis wall ought to be broken down,
For the crime of standing between
But I know it's not merely a wall.
It is miles and years and fate.
Things that can't be broken, ever.
Because if they were, well,
That would be it, wouldn't it?
We can't be too selfish;
Other lives are involved.
We are too good, too kind to allow our own wants to endanger two worlds.
Why can you never have any good luck?
Why does the universe feel the need to always punish you?
You have done nothing but generous acts,
Shown only mercy,
Still, somehow it is always you who pays the dearest price.
Somehow you're never given a break from the any of it:
The heartbreak, the soul-ache, the mind-numbing pain.
Nothing you deserve.
If it were possible, this wall would be down.
The miles would be gone and those years would disappear.
Fate wouldn't even be a factor.
We wouldn't have to be selfish.
This wall would disappear and you would come back
And this ache,
InspirationAh, assignments!Inspiration5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"One poem about the thing that inspires you most."
Inspires me to what?
Or get up every morning at 5 a.m. and drag myself to this joint?
What, is this prompt supposed to inspire me to write about what inspires me?
Isn't that a little counter-productive?
I can't think of what to write.
A great many people write about the rain.
Or the moon.
Or love once lost.
I am rather fond of the moon.
And the rain is nice.
Love is something silly.
But none of these things evoke any passion in me.
They don't bring any fire.
So I think on it a while.
As I ponder, fellow classmates are scribbling furiously,
Perfecting their poetic pieces.
"What inspires you the most?"
Do flowers inspire me?
The ability of true love to flourish in a world so distraught by bad music?
The wind in the trees?
How trees manage to rid themselves of leaves once a year
Then grow them back five months later creating a magical regeneration?
Angeline Miller's un
:I Miss You:I Miss You.:I Miss You:4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I Miss You -
Three simple words
On one little page
But so is the feeling that can't be tamed.
I Miss You -
One small breath
Can utter this phrase
But it will never be said in hate.
I Miss You -
There are only three,
Three syllables that haunt.
Pathetic? Of course.
But if I didn't say them I'd rot.
I Miss You -
The one thing to say,
And that is all.
Is that I Miss You,
But I'll let you fly for me to fall.
A Beautiful ThoughtOh, we're so brilliant, aren't we?A Beautiful Thought7 years ago in Other More Like This
We're so freaking lovely.
We're filled with glowing rainbow pride
And we're so pretty it's ugly
Our self-made wounds throb with beauty
And you'll paint your face with hypocrisy
We're everything we're believed to be
We're saviors and artists and celebrities
We're gulping down ego and inhaling pride
We're gestating self-worth in our insides
We're icons of envy to all of our peers
Self-assured by attention attained all these years
I'm something you need and something you're not
She's almost so hideous that it's something I want
But I did say almost
(But you did say want)
Oh, we're such liars
It's a beautiful thought.
Monologue: Cue the violinsIve given this a fair bit of thought, and Im pretty sure I know, now, what the worst part is. There are plenty of miserable aspects to choose from, but after much consideration, empirical research and general moping, here I am with a definitive answer for you.Monologue: Cue the violins7 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
Cue the violins.
The worst part is that the whole damn thing is such a hideous cliché, but even though you know that, you cannot however developed your sense of irony may be you can not bring yourself to find it funny. I want my sense of humour back. I used to be hilarious.
Say it with me, will you?
Un re qui ted love.
And you cant be original about it either, can you? Everything thats ever been said about hair the colour of a ravens wing and eyes that ought to come with some sort of disclaimer and a smile that could launch an armada is swirling around at the back of your head, being obnoxious by being true. Sometimes its in iambic pentameter.