O, For A Muse Of FireShe liked to watch him play the violin. She wasn't sure why - but she could not truthfully imagine anything more pleasurable than crouching down near to where he stood in all his rag-festooned glory, the ground at his feet littered with old newspaper and discarded plastic cups - and just listening , her bright eyes fixed on the long, crooked nose bent toward his instrument and the lengthy shadow he cast, set to trembling by the flickering light of passing subway cars.O, For A Muse Of Fire8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It gave her a curious sense of ownership, and of pride, to know that she alone, out of all the people who had ever heard this music, understood the melodies that this man wove like tapestries of light over the deafened ears of men and women who rushed past day in and day out. She, alone, knew that to fling coins into the battered violin case sitting open beside him with that careless flick of the benevolent, alm-giving wrist would be as much of an insult to him as a slap in the face - perhaps moreso.
He was not an old man
a city in rhythm and jazz -..an entire city in tearsa city in rhythm and jazz -..8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
singing jazz and rhythm
and jazz and the blues,
singing rhythm & jazz & the blues.
an entire city in tears
with hands held
twisting the wind into whirlwinds of sound
& a red handkerchief flicking on the wind,
whipping & lifting the sound of the wind
& the necks of the crying
in one motion, one
waving, swaying, lilting, loving manyperson,
singing rhythm & jazz & the blues.
an entire city in tears
craning from windows & weeping,
sweeping the dust dragged past the parks
with their eyes.
with their eyes: dust-dragged
past the parks with woodchips & leaves.
with their eyes: worshipping
the centre of a congregation of walking widows
When Your Heart Stops Beating When Your Heart Stops BeatingWhen Your Heart Stops Beating8 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
My first thought is that she pronounced his last name wrong.
My second is that she's lying.
When you think of a person, a tiny file of memory opens in your brain, containing everything you know about them. All the good memories you've made, stupid jokes that have been laughed at, every tear that you may have shed think
Bird on the WireLately when I talk to my parents on the phoneBird on the Wire8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my mom thinks the hummingbird in my voice
is pecking at her, so she hangs up the line.
I listen until I hear the dial tone on my side
and thats when the hummingbird flies away,
back to the treebranch left of my shoulder.
Then, my throat is a garbled empty nest
and thats when the whole laughing-crying
business starts in.
My one self sobbing shudders of tears.
My other self chickadee-fucking-cackling
at how stupid, how incredibly infantile.
After a while, my body gets tired of all of this
and I fall asleep, hands like talons interlocked
and tucked between my knees. Folded petal-like.
Then the bees come, and the hummingbird returns,
and I dream I am better.
EdieEdie5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Her skin of powdered rice paper
the scent of rotting orchids,
a drug-induced Noh dancer with
slow-writhing limbs akimbo-
silver-gilded girl of the moment
at the factory that turned out
Monroe silk screens, and porn
to the drone of a refrigerator,
from asylum to the Big Apple,
the apple of her father's eye
and of his desires, she'd sleep
among the gay lovers, pretty boys
with erotic names of exotic birds,
knowing she was safe for a while
as they quarreled amongst themselves-
who'd bring her chocolate shakes,
and chauffeur their princess
to her doctor's for injections
(she was too much a lady to do it herself)
until her fingertips became match-heads
setting fire to hotel rooms,
flailing from inside a closet
while bellboys stole her furs-
face of a comatose junkie drawing deep
on filter-less cigarettes
(she wasn't afraid). And yet, what deeds
have you, Edith, what deeds?
But wasn't she fabulous! remembering
back when she and Suky spent trips
screaming from an open convertible
The Origin.The Origin.4 years ago in Horror More Like This
November 16, 1995
While at Cinnabar Island on the coast I met a strange Pokemon, it looks like blocks put together to make a backward 'L'. So after observing it I decided to catch it.
After observing this strange creature, I decided to see how it fought in a Pokemon battle. After training It seems it uses water gun a lot and sky attack, so in conclusion I think it's a normal/flying type.
Today it evolved into a Kangaskhan for some odd reason. It looked like normal, but it had an egg in it's pouch.
November 23, 1995
The egg hatched, but the Kangaskhan won't care for it at all. I tried to feed and play with it but it still won't do anything.
November 24, 1995
I've decided to give the infant Pokemon to a trainer in Lavender Town. He said he would take good care of her.
November 30, 1995
Honor Your FallenOne for the man who answered the call.Honor Your Fallen3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
One for the brother taken too soon.
One for the man who gave his all.
One for hearts made heavy and sad.
One for families torn apart
One for a boy now without his dad.
One for the endless tears,
One for the new struggles.
One for so many lost years.
One for the mother's only son,
One for the memories;
One more, one more until this war is won.
One for the brother coming home under his Nation's flag,
One for the ultimate sacrifice,
One for the man in the body bag.
One for the love of the fight,
One for family born not of blood.
One for that final flight.
One for the free.
One for you
Until it's just me.
A final salute for those who no longer hurt,
For the boys who paid the ultimate price;
Twenty one guns for my family in the dirt.
House of Good SenseI want crawl insideHouse of Good Sense5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a cleft in your
& live among people
who don't know
under typewritten words
the print mistakes
the white page,
my passion diffused.
In a world of
like the static on
the Hollywood sign,
I could be small
I wouldn't shake
from the lapse
I could be
the future inside
like film screens.
How Are The Cats?How are the cats? they say to meHow Are The Cats?5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the space where How are the kids? should be
As though compelled to obey social pleasantry
But confounded how to categorise me
When I'm clearly such an anomaly?
Not a mum, not a career girl
What else is there for a woman to be?
So I see them thinking.
Time after time I see people fall
At the how-are-the-kids fence
Like it's the barren elephant in a sterile living room
My supposed heartbreak, a 'fact' that must never be mentioned
A woman my age without children?
Why, it can only mean one thing
Especially when you look at the family history,
They whisper soundlessly, pityingly, thinking I can't hear them
Just because the words aren't spoken aloud.
I observe the delicate verbal tiptoeing
And feel touched and frustrated both at the same time
How I long just to tell them the simple truth:
I don't have kids because I don't want kids.
But I've seen it too many times now:
The surprised look, the puzzled frown
jokesi promise that i will always amuse;jokes5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
proud pieces of promiscuity
and vivacious displays of vulgarity.
surprising fountains of profanity
spouting from the mouths of barely babes,
but i want you to know something.
i am not the laughs under your tongue
i am not the smile upon your lips
i may never be without one of the two
but they do not define who i am.
there are half-baked scars burned, but raw
stretching across my face and they
curve at the right piece of time,
parting for the red sea of dead cells
i'll pretend doesn't exist at all.
just because i'm the funny girl
because my nose is a touch bulbous
my voice a sound raucous
and because i never seem to cry
doesn't mean i don't.
jokes have feelings, too.
if i'm not speaking, maybe there's a reason.
i'm skating on thin ice without blades
a shuffling across frostbitten souls
i'm ready for the lake to break apart
and leave me sinking to the bottom.
i'd tell you that i want to die.
but i've got a better punchline.
dirty musicianthe street lights pukeddirty musician5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
cloak of yellow
and black spit away from cracked-
and it was
as if this man
or had been
to the place
from which he played
probably stolen from
or hell's only
a pawn shop
dollar bills fell
into it's coffin
as if hypnotized
by the guitar strings
in a slow-
sway only found
page 10it's coldpage 105 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and my saliva
to prevent me
from spitting icsicles
out the window;
is in the passenger seat
at the car-
like an alternate-
speaking to me
until we past a man (dead
or just shy
to the side-
by his own
(and she finally
of shopping bags
like the petrified
muscle tissue of aparitions
searching for fame
or a place
in the highest branches
of the naked birches
that only flaunted
No Chance -Dirk/Jake-"Ooooo Jakey,"No Chance -Dirk/Jake-3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Hehe, you're certainly a hoot, Jake!"
"Jakey Jakeeeyeyeyeyeyeyyyyyy have 'nother shottttt!"
Your name is Dirk Strider and this is maddening. It would have been maddening enough if it was just regular girls swooning over a boy, but it makes it even worse that it's your two best female friends swooning over your long time crush.
Wow you really want to slap all three of them in the face.
You grit your teeth, shifting in the booth that you're sitting in, all alone. You were sitting with the three of them in the little diner, a woozy Roxy falling all over you until she got even less sober and went to Jake. After a while, it was sickening, so you moved to the next booth over. You can still hear them, though- the slurred words of Roxy, the amused speech of Jane, and the British-tinted voice of Jake.
You hit your head on the table repeatedly, not caring if anyone hears. You turn your head, resting your cheek against the chill of the plastic table, and an e
SupermoonI sit here, quietly battling my demons over a cup of tea,Supermoon4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you at the other end, receiving my transmissions.
We talk, or I do tonight, because I have things to say, mindless things
like how my hair breaks, the random coldness of spring, what I said to this and that and nobody,
how I have a black hole for a heart.
You listen. You disregard the fluff. You reply at the right moment, every time.
We've danced this one before, after all.
Outside, not far from my window, a guy is shot in the head. He dies.
I take a sip of tea, tell you more about my problems. They fill my mind entirely.
His body lies immobile, more shots are fired, two others are hit. A black car disappears into the night.
I tell you something about how I can't get my relationships to work. This seems important.
They find the car in flames some miles away. The killer ghosts have vanished.
You tell me to sleep. It is a full Moon lunar perigee. None of us are superstitious.
The night is impenetrable, dark, claustrophobic. I reme
punchlines for dummies"you can see babies kickin' to this ultra-sound"punchlines for dummies5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A cup of NoCoA Cup of NoCoA cup of NoCo4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
As the rescue boat sped away the teens (along with a television host, a mountain of a chef, and what to the casual observer would appear to be a mummy strapped to a dolly) could still hear the sounds of an erupting volcano in the background. There were only three of them sitting on the rear deck of the ship, a guy and two very strange girls. One of them was bench pressing the ships anchor, and the other was scratching behind her ear with her foot. But still, both were every now and then sneaking concerned glances at their short friend who was doing nothing but staring into the sea.
His name was Noah, and the reason he was receiving looks of concern from his odd female friends was that on their boat the only other conscious people were the pilot, the medics, and another young man with a gap in his teeth and a history with Noah.
i like your shoesyou stamped your cigarette outi like your shoes4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the bottom of your untied shoe.
(that you deny)
that i'm infiltrating
your already weak immune system.
you say, about your fake disease.
i'm terminal, too, you know.
you walked away for five minutes
(an estimate, you say)
i stole a cigarette of yours,
among other things.
i'll admit i'm a
too much alonewe live for days off,too much alone4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
days away -
we earn our keep,
keep the peace,
one piece at a time.
we work for freedom from work.
find nothing is free,
not clean air,
not even freedom.
we eat to live,
not to eat,
wish not to be eaten,
we pay for walls and a floor,
for locks on a door -
for falsified news,
for calsified views.
we, who do all the work,
are thankful -
for what good there is, and
give what we can.
they, who profit from our work,
show little thanksgiving -
that they can't keep it all.
we treat each other formal.
we wonder what is normal.
we know -
this is NOT it!
llp - dec2010 - dA
ghosts in a slideshowghosts in a slideshow5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
the skysick sun, fading woozy, throwing up.
dripping on the backs of conveying camels.
bodies of water, yes, every touch moves through.
grassland often. skinny belly atop the garden hill's slope.
train-track thap-thapping. smile, God's tap dancing on a saturday sundown.
you're watching the show frontrow. i'm watching you.
i say, "those mistakes on your arm look nice in this light." but i don't. not aloud.
instead i say, "do they hurt when it's cold?"
and you say, "it's not cold right now."
so i say, "i didn't notice." but we don't. not aloud. not allowed.
so i say, "you look hurt." no. i say,
"you look pretty."
yeah. i said that.
then you looked at me. then you cried. because i'm a liar. only to you.
i mean, to you only, i am a liar.
i mean you see me as a liar.
but you know what? everything's alright in my mind.
and that's good for me for now.
"hey, V?" that's what you said.
"yeah?" i said.
"where are we?"
"we're here, dear. we're right here."
tell me i'm lying. tell me there's a me a
A Christmas SurpriseDisclaimer: I do not own Total Drama or any of the songs used in this fanfic.A Christmas Surprise4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
A/N: I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to do this when I'd gotten the notification about the NoCo oneshot contest. However, now that school's out, I think I may be able to finish everything that I've been working on and FINALLY be free! XD But enjoy this fanfic! It's my Christmas present to all!
A Christmas Surprise
In the calm town of Toronto, Canada, snow fell all around the small suburban streets as few people walked around on sidewalks beside ice covered roads. The winds were blowing ferociously every now and then, the weather being rather indecisive around this time of year. Residents of the area were covered in almost three layers of clothing as they walked over to their destinations- most of which had been the mall. Shopping was their main priority, as one of the most important days of the year was on its way.
Sale signs populated about than 10 percent of the mall, and the other 90 pe
earthly mattersexistence is a shoreearthly matters3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we arrive to/depart from
everything interweaves here
waves rumble and break
grinding, eroding, wearing
bring life, growth, death
synergy and symbiosis
drifting up and sifting down
this planet, and we, so evolve
llp - jan2012 - dA
radiant childwho painted yourradiant child4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
shades which haunt
while they still live
who set your place
with empty plate
at the Odeon
perched on Mulholland
to prophesy to
cry your death
over fading California
to inject those tropic
and (never) wake
as the meridian
the lost can sing
the history we bleed
on city streets
the same old
same - oh
and plaster your name
while angels weep
and color shrieks