A poem full of hope and thanksA poem full of hope and thanks.A poem full of hope and thanks3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Though with a depressed state of mind
And lack of enthusiasm
I do have much to be thankful for
Though none is thankful for me.
And even though I am not appreciated for what I am.
I look forward to being appreciated for what I will become.
I'm thankful for the persistence I've created for myself to push on in this
Hard time I've stumbled into.
I'm thankful for the hope in my heart that everything will get better.
I'm thankful to know that someday I will be truly loved.
The magic in me shines bright with hope and endurance.
And that's what helps me push on
And I am very thankful for that.
The strength in my heart.
It's Called Love- CH3It's Called Love- CH34 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The rest of the day studying went rather peaceful. Alfred seemed to be really impressed by my drawings, even though I think they didn't really look as good as he told me, but still it made me a little happy to see someone impressed about something I made for once. This didn't happen often.
We stayed at the library until it closed and afterwards we wandered around on the street for a bit, Alfred still giving small glances to my bruised hand every now and then.
"Artie, I wanna come over to yer place!" Alfred said excitedly. Unfortunately for him, I never let someone get near my home. I didn't like it if people got ideas about what was going on in the household. It's none of their business.
"No," I replied shortly, not caring about explaining; It'd cause me even more trouble.
"Aw, but why, Artie? We're friends!" The other guy now pouted. Damn git
"Just because I don't want to. But we could eat something before going back home?"
"Yes! Okay, sounds awesome, I wanna ea
Mortician's DaughterI saw her walking down the street, her dark hair spilling like ink over her shoulders, her skin the color of alabaster. She moved with ease as she passed, focusing on some far away object I'd never know. I watched as she moved away, slipping from my grasp with each step. I wanted so badly to call out to her, to ask her where she was going, and if I could join her. But I didn't stop her; she kept moving, never noticing my existence. I watched her walk around the corner and the one fleeting moment that she was in my life ended.Mortician's Daughter4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I found her again two years later, when I was in college. I was taking an art course and there she was, sitting two rows ahead and one seat to the right. I recognized her immediately, the same beautiful hair, the same flawless skin, but she didn't look my way. She continued to take notes, her black hair falling from behind her ear. How I wanted to reach and place it back, but I resisted the urge. I just watched her, glances from the corner of my eye, to
Prisoner ::PruCan::He obediently walked to his doom, wrists cut up and cuffed behind his back, a cocked and loaded gun pointed at his head. Dull red eyes watched the ground and lead legs dragged themselves along the ground as the enemies from all sides ushered him forward nervously. One pushed open the door, stealing a quick glance inside, before dragging the defeated man forward and into the room. The door shut behind him, temporarily throwing him into darkness before dim lights switched on.Prisoner ::PruCan::6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
A tall man looked up from where he was pouring vodka into his glass cup and smiled. "You're here! I'm been looking forward to this for quite some time~" He finished pouring the liquid and poured another one for his guest before picking both in one meaty hand. In the other hand, he twirled around the small silver key to the cuffs. "I'm very happy to have you here Prussia, you know that don't you?" He sings as he approaches.
Pale and bitten lips pulled back into a snarl as Gilbert shows the shackles to the taller male
If Only You KnewI like you, but what can I do?If Only You Knew4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You want her, though she isn't true.
I could be the greatest,
But sadly, this is no contest.
I understand, I hope you know,
It is something I try to show.
So you see and wouldn't fear,
When she decides to come near.
I can wait, this is certain.
And I don't wish to be a burden.
I don't think you can really see,
Just how much I'd like you with me.
Probably not best I'm writing this.
Because stating my feelings could go amiss.
Above all I wish for your friendship,
Even above a fruitful relationship.
If only you knew.
Son of Difference ::PruCan::"I'm sorry for being alive." A man with curly golden locks matted to his face murmured to his plush of a polar bear. He winces at his own words, but makes no note to change his words for the future. It's a habit that he will keep on saying. He will keep on saying it until something comes along that makes him think otherwise.Son of Difference ::PruCan::6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
He shifts in his place in the mud and peers up at the tall canopy of trees, watching as the rain washes over everything and wipes all impurities away like the dirt on his only companion's fur. He presses the toy closer to his chest as he bitterly wonders if anybody even remembered that he was out here.
"I bet nobody even remembers me." He tells the bear, picking up his empty basket and placing it onto his head for some shelter against the rain. He blows the one curly strand of hair away from his face and watches it disappear from view and appear again. "Maybe I should just stay here and die. It's not like anyone will notice " Matthew mumbles into Kumajiro's
Brony dictionary version 2Chapter 1: brony EnglishBrony dictionary version 25 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Chapter 2: fan terms
Chapter 3: shipping related terms
Chapter 4: general equestrian terms in reality (may not hold true in the show)
Chapter 5: general equestrian terms in the show
Chapter 6: pony abilities and tricks
Chapter 7: meme
Chapter 8: G1 to G3.5
Chapter 1: Brony English
1. Anypony = anyone
2. blank flank = a young pony without a cutie mark
3. cowpony = cowboy, cowgirl
4. Everypony = Everyone
5. featherbrain = a term for a pony that is forgetful
6. Fillies and gentlecolts = Ladies and gentlemen
7. Hay yeah! =Hell yeah!
8. Hayseed = 1. It's an expletive Trixie used when she talked to Applejack. 2. Hayseed is also the name of a pony.
9. hoof-biting = nail-biting
10. hoofmade = handmade
11. hoof-picked = hand-picked
12. hoof-shaking = hand-shaking
13. hoof-wrestling = arm wrestling
14. hooved-stitched = hand-stitched
15. Hooves = hands or feet
16. Horseapples = expletive
17. It's time to pony up = it's time to man up
stuck in transit.Time bends and snaps the spine of reality between its hands.stuck in transit.6 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Desires bleed like the ink you've left smudged and faded on my hips. The room is empty without your breath to swell the walls; my bed is cold without the warmth filtering through your pores. The clock is manipulated and broken, the ticks becoming distorted screams, the silences becoming gasping moans. Sleep flutters behind eyelids and drags at the exhausted mind until I am writhing under the sheets that smell like you, nails biting my scalp, body contorted against the pressure you kept at bay.
My memory sinks and anchors on the same parts:
The honey of your tongue and the heat of your sleepy lips against the back of my neck. Your palms following the nerves radiating under my skin until they quieted and fled. Soapy shoulders and sticky, peanut butter kisses. Murmured Whitman as we sprawled on bench swings and echoed songs as we shot down back roads isolated in sound.
Memories drag me down and pull me up, wring me dr
TimeTime5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Click. Click. Click.
Her heels made the same noise over and over again as she ran down the elongated hallway. Would she reach them in time?
Her rust colored hair flew in front of her face as she quickly turned right and left. Her hair got stuck in her lip gloss but that was the least of her worries. She turned her head slightly, past the pale pink walls and beyond the window she looked. In the depth of the gold from the setting sun, she saw Aaron.
Would she reach them in time?
I wish you were Music - 5 of 5I wish you were here,I wish you were Music - 5 of 58 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I wish you were music,
The blessing of calling you my own
And though all the critics said it would never happen for me,
That altos and sopranos belong to theaters and dreams,
And the music of your ballad would remain an epic figment,
But to their surprise our concert was heavenly melody,
Featuring all celestial choirs; audience of bards, poets and cupids
writers for truthif i had children, they would be artistswriters for truth8 years ago in Socio-political More Like This
not bankers, nor politicians, nothing wasteful
and if they were writers, they would not write for money
they would write for truth
i know you can't dictate to your children
only install in them values
i think art is an underated value
Plagues, Servants of Death ((Prologue))Plagues, Servants of Death ((Prologue))3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Servants of Death
White HeatWhite lightsWhite Heat7 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
In the hospital.
I feel so sick
While I lay in the dark
You stripped the walls
Taking away all evidence of me.
Like threads slowly coming undone
For a few hours
I was gone.
While I trembled
You unraveled the pieces of my life.
You buried words and poetry
Broke the strands of atmosphere
And erased my memory.
While my soul crept into quiet death
You let my fingerprints drip away
The wall was white and empty
As you lay me down in boxes;
A quiet burial in cardboard decay.
Just like in the hospital
You sterilized the walls
From illness and unhappy mind
Stroked underneath the bruises
And papered me away.
When I returned
Desperate for security
For something to hold
To my chest
To keep me from
Out of reality;
I found myself
In an empty white room
With every piece of me
And every word
slimy little sweethearttoday somethingslimy little sweetheart5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i realized the importance
of having a body.
why we are just not
spirals of sweaty souls
i think it is because it is important
to be touched
to know that your mouth
is warm. to throw my arms around your neck
in a sloppy, slutty wreck
to look at you and not be able
to see anything else. to find you
undressed, unguarded and regressed
into a slimy little sea animal.
unbeautiful but most beautiful just
because you are, honey
and also. because
it is important to see
how ugly and terrible we really
and glory came.he lives in the cityand glory came.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
they wrote about in
magazines and all the
newspapers, and he
still believes in being happy
and living life alive.
she lives in the greener
grass we dream about; except
it's only green in color
with no metaphorical
his favorite word is hipbones
and he tries to use it
everyday but all it gets him is
funny looks on the subway.
he's not crazy; he just
likes words most
people don't know
her favorite song is
absolute silence because
her parents took her voice
away; but she's still
singing life like she
she's a pretty girl; but she knows
that won't get her
life and love.
it's saturday night and
they are alone.
he broke into a hospital to
see his best friend; but
his best friend hasn't been there
in weeks but he still believes.
that's the problem with
people these days; they put
hope their in the hopeless and
try to look on the bright-
side when dancing in the dark
is so much more fun.
she broke into the
they don't have words for thisi.they don't have words for this5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sometimes i can't breathe because i realize
how many choices i make in a day and i become
terrified that i will never again make the right
series of decisions to make me feel whole again
once upon a time i knew who i was but lately
it feels as if i'm getting lost; i've moved to new
streets and fallen asleep to a new smell but
nothing is setting my crooked pulse right
when no one's home i fight the urge to crawl
into bed and close my eyes and relive the moments
i want back the most; i tell myself that when i
open them my life won't be just in my dreams
and i'm starting to think that maybe i took too
many chances and fell too many times in my life
but if someone knows the secret to living without
a tumble then they know the secret to not living at all
maybe i could fix this if i slowed my breathing and
let someone into me to tidy up and make me whole;
maybe i could fix this but this heartandsoulache is
the closest they've been to feeling in a long time
the edge.i'm afraid to write of love because i fear that if i do, i will only stumble into the sky and fall with the stars, and you'll never stay to wait out the crawling-spider nights again. i'm afraid to write of love because i cannot let myself love. (but i think it's too late for that resolution.)the edge.5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
and i've broken so many promises along the way that i don't know how much i have left to go on. so i'll weave together the lies, half-truths, and pure honesty, and hope that in time, not even i will know the difference. no one bothers to ask for the truth, anyway. (and neither do you.)
and maybe you'll believe me when i tell you that i'm only a work of fiction, the pieces of an amateur's less-than-perfect work of art and the bones of a carcass long-extinct, molded together into some kind of monster. and maybe i'll believe me, too. but i know that in drawing nearer, you're slipping away, because i am not real and you are too threaded to this world to even care.
so now i am watching from beneath the
dear humpty dumpty, i win.i'm stuck,dear humpty dumpty, i win.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i never wanted it to be this way,
dirty rotten confiscations are filling my core,
i am losing myself,
within my own bones,
my frame is a tunnel,
a maze of fucked over everythings,
holding up simultaneous nothings,
what if east isn't east?
what if west isn't west?
don't even get me started on
north and south,
those mother fucking directions,
are stretching me at the limbs,
a golden gate bridge of sorts,
i have a feeling it is only a few more days,
until the apocalypse of my arteries,
before i snap,
my body becomes its own
there will no longer be a pangaea named,
Her Darkness Before the Always DawnDirty words can’t hideHer Darkness Before the Always Dawn2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What you pull into your lungs.
The dark filth that creeps out:
It’s burned into your bones.
She constantly coughs it up
Just to swallow it down again,
He shuts his eyes to her smile
But his embrace is all the same.
Their world is a crashing inferno-
Empty attic minds full of ghosts.
All seems quiet for a minute,
Then a spray of what they fear most.
A blazing flash of black,
She screams for what she once knew.
Rotten wood encases her past,
Buried six feet beneath fading boots.
The stars are falling from the sky
But the night will carry on.
He kisses her scars, one last goodbye
Before the always dawn.
Suppressed BrillianceAm I insane or philosophical?Suppressed Brilliance2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Are my theories minute or astronomical?
Irrelevant or significant?
Are the machinations of my brain
Foolish or magnificent?
Thank God that I am resilient,
Because you have been suppressing my brilliance
All this time telling me that I am crazy
But you were wrong all along
Failing to see that I fit the pieces
Of life’s puzzle together differently
To compose a unique song,
Just because you don’t understand
My thought process,
Doesn’t mean that you are smarter than me,
Watch me create a wonder,
And you shall see….
smile, touch, movehide, pretty girlsmile, touch, move5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
they want to get
in your head, and
hold you like a pen,
thumb on the ribs,
index on the spine,
middle on the neck
and stroke this
they want to
by the waist
teach you to
In A NutshellI met you. I didn't meet you. I met you again. We laughed. I laughed. You laughed. We laughed again. We found meaning. We looked at little things. We talked. We loved. We looked at worlds in different perspectives. We understood eyes being windows to souls. I liked yours. You thought mine were pretty. We found balconies insipid. We found doorways ironic. We thought stars were overrated. We circled around discomfort. We circled around love. We circled and circled and circled...and then you told me you loved me. We smiled. You asked me to run with you. You told me time and space were ours to take. We were invincible. Stars became ours. Ours became different. Different became a problem. Your friends. My friends. Your ideas. My thoughts. You laughed. I didn't. I laughed. You didn't. The world was harder. Your eyes were colder. Balconies became escape routes. Doors were meant to be closed. Stars disappeared. Discomfort became natural. We argued. We fought. We stopped running together. TimeIn A Nutshell5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
tell me when your heart stopswe are laying in cradles of heart stopping emotions, running through our hair on a sunday morning, and after confession and around mytell me when your heart stops6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
rose colored rosaries. i want you to know that when you leave, i will be watching from our curtained bed room window and i line up plants under my feet because if i am going to cry the water might as well be
put to good use. tell me when you stop thinking, or stop breathing. tell me
when you hear silence so keen in the air you run back to me and realize,
i am gone. i never existed. tell me
when you loved me.
so that i can forget.
now you know betteryou were never one for shakespeare's iambic pentameter,now you know better5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so you nixed the meter and measure the gods composed
and wrote your own sonnet in time with the beat of your heart
and the shiver of your tapered spine.
instead of crisp and company issued egg shell paper,
you dragged the pen you bought yourself back in sixth grade
across the smooth canvas of tanned skin, littered with sunset bruises
and did not mind the clashing of colours.
you always wondered if it were true what the newsstands said,
that art flutters to life when misery takes shape
but you never really believed such nonsense,
until your spine shattered, your inkwell ran dry,
and tanned skin was just a distant memory you associated with the sun.
now you know better.