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
FrogsHop hop hop,Frogs10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Senses so keen.
With that tongue that I so love
Powerful legs to lift you above
My hands whilst I try to mend
My little froggy friend.
You sit by my pond,
Singing your froggy song,
That little croak, so distinct,
I wonder, could you live in my sink?
I'd like to keep you as a pet,
I'd always take you to the vet,
You'd be my favourite little froggy,
Much better than my dumb old doggy.
Unlike the French, I'm not so keen,
Of eating little leggies green,
I much prefer the alive you,
Rather than see you in a stew.
My little froggy friend,
You drive me around the bend,
You hop all over my garden path,
I'd even put you in my bath.
But I don't think you'd like the suds,
For froggies, they aren't so good,
You prefer the icky weed
Of my pond, where the cat has peed…
With your little toes, and wriggly eyes,
Eating bugs, and catching flies,
With your wiggly legs, and slimy skin,
I take you to the pond, and drop you in.
All froggies should be free,
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
Try To UnderstandYoure not close enoughTry To Understand6 years ago in Other More Like This
Youre never close enough.
Leave your clothes on, thats not what I meant.
Then what do you mean?
I dont know, all I know is youre not close enough.
You seem distant. It hurts me.
I can get closer.
Dont touch me like that. Thats not what I want.
I dont understand you! I cant get closer if you dont let me!
(youre screaming, stop screaming)
I said dont touch me like that!
You said I wasnt close enough! Im trying to get closer to you!!
Thats not what I meant!
You seem even farther now.
I havent even moved away!! Im right here!
Youre getting farther!! Stop leaving!! You cant leave me!!
Please dont leave, all the progress weve made!!
(youre crying, stop crying)
I HAVENT MOVED! What progress? You never let us get any farthe
LookingLooking11 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
LOOKING WHERE I DAREN'T, SEEING WHAT I MUST
At least everything had been cleared out of the room by then.
All the forensic equipment and the evidence markers and the yellow tape, all the police and the government agents and the reporters—oh, the reporters and the endless questions they'd asked about everything in the room.
The room was silent, now, a dead chamber full of books and curiosities, statuary and bricabrac. Full of things but completely devoid of sound, of movement, of life.
The lighting remained the same, the colours, the textures, the smells. The lamps still glowed, the soft blue light still diffused from the huge tank of water that dominated one wall. The windows still admitted muted sunlight, the kind you found in old bookstores and antique shops. A warmth remained there, but it was distant, the warmth of something that had sat in the sun and had only just been brought into darkness. The scent of old things, the scent of time and dust and books, of wisdom
Existentialist PizzaExistentialist Pizza11 years ago in Spoken Word More Like This
I was eating pizza the other day
but it wasn't pizza, it was a kind of 'not' pizza
the kind you microwave
and then stare at the greasy cardboard for five minutes
before taking a bite
it isn't real, but it IS pizza
in a kind of existential way
it's like an iPizza
it's semi-transparent, comes in five trendy colors
and is in no way compatible
with your current pizza cutting tools
it's got me thinking of real food
of pasta, and ethnic delicacies I've never experienced
things to transport me
anywhere but here
not this freeze-dried memory on a tray.
I wish I had the drive to cook
or the car to drive to go and get anything
or any idea how
to make the dough and cut the meat
and spread the sauce and bake the crust
but I don't
and I'm not very good at faking it
I'm just the worlds used pizza box
living without purpose like this
wishing I had the drive to plan ahead
and a car to get me there
any idea on how to afford it
or be decisive
but I'm just destined
Thylios's TaleThylios's TaleThylios's Tale9 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Thylios left his house, a bag slung over his shoulder and his hair tied back in a peice of cord. He was worried. Mercury -an odd specimen indeed- had just delivered a son, and Asp had rewarded him richly for delivering the naget. Going out into the forest, he began searching for herbs that grew under rocks and at the bases of trees. Those nagas that knew thought that Mercury was an abomination. Thylios refused to allow himself to judge Asp's choice of companions, but he was concerned that his business would be hurt if others found out about his decision to help them. Asp, apathetic as he might seem, had done several things in the past to help him when his patients couldn't afford to pay. He was charitable, and Thylios hadn't been able to turn him away. King Kave was beginning to press him for taxes, and Thylios had needed the business from Asp. At least it had given him a chance to further observe the oddity Mercury presented. Placing several bunches of herbs into his ba
Single isn't Misery"You don't have a boyfriend.Single isn't Misery7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
this coming from a ten year old,
I only level my gaze upon her own,
and shake my head,
"No, it really isn't"
while deep down,
I'm agreeing just because
I'm the kind of girl
who thinks the world ends
each time I'm single,
just as I'm not lying to her
to save myself from the truth.
The reason my heart
screams in unison with her words
is because there are some things that I wish I could still have:
He made me laugh
like sorrow was nothing but dust,
even if just days before
he did something stupid and left my heart
treading in water that was too deep for it not to sink in.
He turned me in ribbons
and gift-wrapped life
so he could show me what it meant to live,
and living with him beside me
was almost like knowing that life wouldn't end
so long as we kept going strong.
He made me see the things
that no one else was able to,
especially if the things
he pointed out
(without actually doing anything)
The womens five sensesFive sensesThe womens five senses8 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Every morning I awake to the sweet smell of my husbands hair. His long, dark brown hair tangles with my own during the night. After a few deep breathes of his musty skin, I travel out to the deck. The smell of the salty sea overwhelms my senses. When you spend months at a time on a ship, out in the middle of the ocean, you think you would get sick of the smell. But I dont. Never have, probably never will
The feel of his skin against mine is odd. His skin is cold and dry. Usually rough to the touch. But I dont care much. His skin isnt at all like his lips. Those lips are soft and warm, gentle to the touch. When he holds me, I could fly, you have no idea. His touch is like poison to me, but I cant stop going back for more. The only time I can sleep is when I feel his body along mine as we lay next to each other. It is amazing
Seeing that man, the one
Verb - To Fuckkiss, tickle, nibbleVerb - To Fuck13 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
twirl, tease, tangle
see, touch, taste
makes a playground
of the body;
maybe we could
bite, scratch, flick
lap, lick, suck
leave your mark
oh, do it
one more time
live in almost
like it were a day
when my name echoes
from your lips
i\'m gonna make you
just a whisper,
PrussiaXReader Colds Travel but Doctors CurePrussiaXReader Colds Travel but Doctors Cure3 years ago in Romance More Like This
You look up from your book when a pounding could be heard at your door. With a frown you marked your place in the book and stood from the couch, stretching your arms as you did so. Sadly you had just gotten comfortable with some tea and a nice book and you weren't expecting anyone to be coming over. 'Who could it be?' you thought with flinched when the pounding at your door became more erratic and louder. "I'm coming, I'm coming! Calm down!" you shouted and walked over to the door, you yanked the door open and the person knocking on your door nearly hit you right in the face with a hand. The man outside your door currently had a bright red nose and looked almost miserable. "What are you doing here? I thought you were sick and staying home with Germany," you said slowly, taking in his appearance. He man laughed, 'kesesesesese' and muttered something about being 'awesome'. "I am sick, so let the awesome me in," he replied and his sorrowful eyes flashed misch
God Is DeadGod Is Dead11 years ago in Humor More Like This
God's robes flapped around him as he looked over the edge and onto the street below.
"Don't do it! Don't do it!" cried the security guard behind him.
God said nothing, climbing onto the raised edge of the building. Five storeys below, people were beginning to take notice.
"Jesus Christ! Look!
"Oh my god!"
"Where's my camera?"
He turned and faced the security guard, who stopped walking and gazed upon the face of God. He'd been crying.
"But... why? You've got so much to live for..."
God gave a wan smile. "So have all of you."
He spread his arms wide, closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh, falling back and off the building.
* * *
A crowd was gathering around the black, sticky mess that remained of What-Once-Was Our Lord.
"Is he dead?"
"Who is it?"
"Where's my camera?"
The bystander effect was operating at maximum efficiency, causing everyone to just stand there and looked at the mangled remains. Presently, however, a fine upstan
asea, tonightasea, tonight11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I'm at your door; can hear the brass and bass,
the snare drum, through the glass. It's jazz, tonight.
You let me in and suddenly I'm in
a room of profound poets, who sing their verse
through shining horns, sweet saxophone riffs.
The solos drift so richly, dance among smoke rings—
tonight, when everyone's somebody's cool cat.
There's a girl whose trumpet weeps when she woos its keys,
those wailing notes like Miles would have played.
And the long-haired bassist pains his face as he plucks
away at the tired shape the body makes,
he sways. And when the guitar's clean strings do sing,
it's melody carries a twang so sweet—it's jazz,
tonight. Tonight!— We can be alive, tonight.
And I'm in the corner, no horn in hand, not even
a cigarette for now. I'm just a shadow this evening,
no harmony for me. Just silent taps
of thumbs on thighs; of a breath before sirens sing.
Tonight, blue tunes knew the way through a smoky
sea—found me… Last I heard they were still awaiting
For I have SinnedFor I have Sinned10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I once had
An affair with Jesus,
When my legs were swollen
And my eyes looked like heat
It was kept quite hush-hush
Afraid that Hashem would find out
And no Holy Mary's or hall-
would save me . But his voice
Beat wildly with the
Promise of a fake honey heaven
Complete with wings that would
Be glued onto my shoulder bones.
And I suffocated under
The red light from his
I didn't believe in
Men nailed on crosses
But I needed a cross-heaven
With twinkle angels
And winged warriors.
I kept waiting to be kissed
By fate, to be swept up
In the arms of forgiveness
And to elope with
A man who had scars on his wrists
Like my own.
But he chose
Millions of women
In white and black,
With purer thighs
And glass eyes
their eyes closed.
Jamie's Morning7:00 AM and my eyes flutter open as Im pulled from my sleep by the insistent blaring of my alarm clock. I lash out with my hand to hit the snooze button, and Im rewarded with the sound of my fist flattening the alarm clock like a wad of tinfoil and smashing through the nightstand as though it were made of balsa wood. With a rueful moan I rub the sleep from my eyes and look to the floor where the crumpled alarm clock lies amidst the splintered remains of my bedside table. The device offers a last plaintive wail before going silent, the red digital numbers on its face fading to black.Jamie's Morning8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Sadly, this isnt the first time its happened. Lately Ive been going through alarm clocks like most people go through underwear.
With a heavy sigh, I pull the blankets off of me. I have to use two to keep myself coveredone for my lower body and one for my upper. Then with a grunt, I propel my hulking body in
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?
loveSome people would say that Im taking a chance by giving you my heart, the truth is that I already know that eventually youll break it. The real chance Im taking is whether or not itll be worth it in the end, whether or not the good times will cancel out the bad. And Ive decided that youre worth putting all my chips on the table even if there still is the possibility I may never get them backlove7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sometimes the worst part of having a broken heart is that even after they leave your heart shushed into a thousand pieces, you can still feel the pain The rest of your body is numb, but your heart still feeds you emotion. No matter how hard you try to pretend that you cant feel anything, you still miss the butterflies.
I hate being around you because when ever you come within ten feet of me I start falling. And I hate falling, but I still love you