Coming...Coming...8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
no-one to talk to
nowhere to go
i carry my hurt
where it cannot show
as the light falls away
alone yet in company
aware but in pain
a mistake made in coming
realized too late
trouble then in coping
will i find a way?
Almost ThereI'm almost thereAlmost There8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Scratching the Big Empty,
Where the biting winter wind
Holds my hand and
Tucks me in,
The chaos of change
Lies open and breathing,
Swallowing me like a hungry prostitute
Spitting me back into me-
I'm almost there
Scratching the Big Empty,
Where what was and is
Alter and swell, and
What will be is
A twisted kaleidoscope,
Like looking at stars
From the bottom of the ocean-
I'm almost there
Scratching the Big Empty,
And the telephone speaks in tongues and
Where the second hand
Gives me the finger, but
All I can do is laugh
While I pull out my hair-
Scratching the Big Empty,
Giving it all up
On a wing and a pair.
A full house of cards
Where the deuces are wild, and
The Joker is mooning
The Suicide King
Something ElseI heard the doorSomething Else7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As you left
The last time you left
And I'm here
By this bed
Better than fair
But it wasn't enough to make you
Keep your heart
In this one
Now the card that I have
With the glitter hearts
And the flowers rotting
On the windowsill
Reflect your face still
And I hear the couples
Outside my door
Whispering their reminders
That I'm in here
With my thoughts,
And something else...
Did you win
The radio call-in
The ski trip for two?
Which two were you?
All your words
The electric fingers
Exploring other slopes
Your tongue seeking warmer climes.
I thought I saw you yesterday
Your face in the storefront
When I looked again
It was me
don't want to face front
That I don't see you
Just my thoughts,
And something else...
Now this day for lovers
Like a tsunami dawns
Pounds my blood
Into my brain
One red fist
Into gray finity
I sleep not at all,
The jazz has lost its flavor, and
Sgt. DivineSgt. Divine11 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
A few of the men say this used to be a church, but it's hard to tell anything in this storm. We are pinned under a black and violent sky that has held us inside this crumbling room since we arrived yesterday morning. The water slides along the cracked ceiling and bombards us from different spots.
Captain tells us to keep our weapons dry, but he knows it's impossible. The floor clutches our boots with three inches of sucking wet mud. If the wind ever dies down we'll have a better look around this old place, but for now we just listen as it batters the trees into the stone.
None of us know how long we have to wait here. Captain says we are to protect this structure so our side can launch rockets from it if the war ever begins. Barnes says there isn't going to be a war. He says neither side is willing to start it; but here we are, drenched and freezing, just in case.
In the brief moments when the wind and rain pause we can hear the water trickling down through
Remake meIf you need to remake me, then please,Remake me6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
take hammer and chisel and start.
I'd recommend taking the edges off,
and patterns do always look well,
if you need to remake me, then please,
do as you want to and start.
If you need to remake me, then please,
do it right this time, from the start.
The Official Ode to the ForumsThe Official Ode to the Forums11 years ago in Ballad More Like This
I can't stand to see another thread,
beating a horse that's already dead.
Do you like "s3ks" and what does art mean?
A poorhorse cult for illiterate teens.
The forum descriptions must be Greek,
or maybe the newbies only read 1337.
The Welcome Center to get a tour.
Thumbshare Forum for commentwhores.
'Deviator' no longer exists
(The Forum's still there 'cause jark insists)
Don't post there- it's useless you know
Read the thread that tells you so.
Elite ForumWhores: they're better than you.
Accept it now you know it's true;
If you see a lot of the Blank Stare guy
stupidity is the reason why.
For those with a brain that can't be found
watch out for curran if he's around.
With legendary wit and sarcastic replies
he cleans up the forums (or at least he tries).
We interupt this poem to distinguish
that "kewl" and "k@wa1i!!1!1" are not English.
If those are in your vocabulary
please buy yourself a dictionary.
Do you think you are a squirrel
instead of a normal boy or girl?
The Gargoyle and The MermaidThe Gargoyle and The Mermaid10 years ago in Children and Teen More Like This
If you traveled far from where snow capped mountains make their berth, through golden deserts on camel back, and over countless emerald plains you would find a beautiful ocean, blue like a Himalayan Poppy and as fresh as a baby's first breath. It flows with fish, all colors of the rainbow, and within it is a kingdom constructed of both sand and coral. Along these sandy roads swim not only whales and goldfish but the prettiest of mer-people too.
Their skins are shaded in a multitude of color like the fish, ranging from lilac purple and sunshine orange to coal black. The luckiest of them even have tails that reflect different pigments, as though carved from diamond. The mer-people spend a great deal of time indulging on oysters, adorning themselves with pearls, and playing silly love games. They court each other day and night, the mermaids batting their lovely lashes at the handsomest boys, while the mermen performed daring feats before the most beautiful girls. At night they gather upon
The Value of a SecondThe Value of a SecondThe Value of a Second8 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
The Hyperectus malmadonus has a life span of 23 seconds.
What? Charlie turned to Eve. She was sitting across the rickety table from him, sipping her coffee slowly. He had been looking out the window, watching the endless stream of people walking by.
The malmadonus, a single-celled animal living in the intestines of the swamp cows of Zavijava IV. They are born, reproduce, and are eaten by their offspring, all within 23 seconds. Eve wound her finger around a long strand of her black hair.
Oh, Charlie replied, his attention already drifting back to the passersby again. All of them were different. Some short. Some tall. Black, white, brown. But they all seemed to merge together. Neo-metal punk hippies with staples in their eyelids somehow blended in with the goofy college kids donning white baseball
__. I'm sorry__. I'm sorry11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
By Tony Tran
I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when it was your 5th Birthday. I wasn't able to see the happiness striking across your face, the anticipation running through your veins at the point of opening your presents. The blissful joy of all your friends and family around you as they sang happy birthday, that day was a memory I never had the chance to remember.
I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you had your first day at school. It was like a new world for you filled with friendship, independence and above all, fun. I'll always regret not being there to pick you up after school and having you run into my arms at a thousand miles per hour, as though you hadn't seen me in years. Those days when you came home and started humming a harmonious song that you learnt, it was a tune I'd never hear.
I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you were eight years old and just learnt to ride your first bike. The breeze going through your hair as yo
Beautiful FriendshipCommodore Seamus Bander. "I don't believe I'll ever grow tired of that title," proclaimed the sea captain in his intelligible selkie accent. "It has such a nice ring to it." He leaned carelessly on his pilot with winsome smile, staring off into the distance at the blue against the blue. "And Captain Thomas can even set it to a tune."Beautiful Friendship9 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
The pilot glanced at his illustrious and admirable captain, a man who had saved him through countless gales with his cunning and quick wit. "Aye, sir, but Bander the White Lion has a ring to it too." He returned the smile; the pilot had served under the Commodore for as long as he could remember, and never once did he lose faith in the man.
"Aye," he chuckled, "'tis very true, Mr. Pratchett." Salt air filled his robust lungs. He would always love the sea; it was his home above all else.
"Cap'n, a ship!" called a crewman from the bow, running up with his spyglass.
The Commodore righted himself into a more authoritative posture. "What are her colors?"
FateFate11 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A sunny day in the park. There is a single bench CENTRE stage. GOD is sitting on the LEFT side of the bench. He has long, white hair and a long, white beard, and is wearing a simple white robe. He is reading a newspaper. Enter PETER from the RIGHT. He is wearing black pants, leather shoes, a white shirt and a garish, comical tie. He is carrying a paper bag. PETER sits on the bench next to GOD, setting his bag next to him. He folds his hands and admires the weather.
PETER. Beautiful weather today.
GOD [focusing on his newspaper]. Mm-hm.
PETER. [Extending his hand] The name's Peter.
GOD [shaking PETER's hand]. God.
[GOD returns his attention to his newspaper.]
PETER. Um… God?
PETER. Not to be rude, but… your name is God?
GOD. I am God. Or at least I was God.
PETER. I… see.
GOD. You don't believe me.
PETER. Would you?
GOD. No. But it doesn't matter whether or not you believe in me.
nova smilenova smile10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
6am: Rising to crackled reception,
this, the mimicked serenade to sunrise,
performed the whole world over.
8am: In the kitchen,
and a coffee cup
invite me to breakfast.
I count morning on both hands,
four espresso ribbons,
draped over the pages,
filling where ink cannot.
12pm: I lie on the small square of grass
looking up into the apex of cerulean.
Up on the gutter,
sits a bird, still,
below thick down,
ticks suck out birdsong.
one of quiet tragedy.
3pm: In the supermarket
I watch people stocking up,
Waiting for the rainHere,Waiting for the rain10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the earth cracks like unpolished leather.
A woman sits nursing,
(her life drying up like an ancient waterhole)
and dreams of verdant green.
Spring, she reads in an old school book,
is found in lands that have time to blossom,
while she waits for the rain.
Black BirdI've told you I'm staying in tonight,Black Bird10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you, as usual, haven't listened.
Negligent out of pain, perhaps
a thorn lifted off some nightmare
flower. You ask me to remove it,
have tried a shower. I'm thinking
if the water can't free it, how will I?
Besides, I've seen a bird, which,
as it starts to trill, suggests were I
such a thing, I'd rather be dumb.
Still, my not singing like a bird,
does it mean you can't call me one?
Again, you're not listening. And
it's flown off now into that gloom
where everything feels heavier,
but I don't suppose is. It presses
like the sloping walls of a Gallic
town, spied from an odd angle.
Six feet UnderNothing is what it seemsSix feet Under6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
six feet under.
I keep catching flies
with an open mouth
and wonder why
voices speak of me from a distance.
and break the daffodils
perched precariously over my head
and the sky feels so blue
it hurts my eyes.
I can hear the secrets
that make the grass go green
and birds' twitter sounds like
little old ladies
playing gin rummy
and cursing under their breath
over the gossip they're missing.
But the worst part is
I smell the reek of winter
seeping through dirt
in dry roots
pushing up dead daisies
some lazy relative left
as an after-thought
and know a sickening truth
lonely has become
my new best friend
and no tears
will ever keep me company
The Fork and the Porcupine.The other day, I met a furry porcupineThe Fork and the Porcupine.10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
He laughed, and offered to tell me of pain
We talked for hours about many things; of life
and its struggles; of misery; of death.
I walked away with a newfound knowledge
'Twas then that he stabbed me with a fork
"Hey!" I cried. "You stuck me with your fork!"
He laughed, and said "It's the way of the porcupine;
We stab you after sharing our knowledge."
I said morosely, "I'm in great pain."
He replied, "You mustn't fear death,
After all, I can just try to bring you back to life."
I simply laughed. "What do you know of life?"
He grimaced, and again brandished the fork
"Do not forget that I can bring about your death.
There is nothing more fearful than a porcupine.
We can both heal and bring great pain
For both burden and bliss come from knowledge."
I cried out in anguish, "Damn your knowledge!"
When he spoke again, his voice devoid of life,
he said, "I can understand your pain
So here, I entrust to you my fork
If you wish, you may kill this porcupine
turningturning11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Leaves fall like golden flame on to the road,
the sky stands still and blue.
The earth bears fruit, bright berries, purple, red.
The sun weighs heavily
in the autumn air-- fragrant, ripe, and warm,
like an apple ready to be picked.
There is no death here, only gentle turning.
A blush steals over trees
as they drop their many children to the earth.
Soon they will fall asleep,
exhausted by their own fecundity,
and winter's white blanket will cover them.
Sunflower FluxSunflower Flux11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
He played hard this month: She played well this month:
Mortgages prefixed sales Chlorophyll quotas left in the wake
and rows of steadfast hotels, of cushioned lovers and tickling tiny noses
plastic monuments saluting a gaudy cannon