p r o m i s e."I need you."p r o m i s e.4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
"I love you."
Not so irrationalI crossed my legs under my skirt,Not so irrational3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wishing away promises,
I feared he would keep.
The PlagiaristI am a plagiarist, I am a thief of words.The Plagiarist10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Nothing I say is my own
Everything I have heard before.
Not a word original.
So heed this warning:
Before you read poetry,
Before you read prose,
Check over your shoulder
Around the corner,
In the closet,
Under you bed,
Don't think too hard or I might yank words directly from you head.
Because I am a plagiarist, I am a thief of words.
I just take the words you say and jumble them all up
So you don't realize the words I'm reciting
Are really…………your own.
Jack of the GreenEvery step outside you takeJack of the Green6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Every time you pick that flower
Every time you scale the tree
Gouging it cruelly
Every animal you spot
Every time the robin bows a greeting
Every perfect sunset you watch
Caught in the moment
Every time you drive the car
You may as well run over him.
Every time you turn on a light
Wire him up and blow his fuses
We're killing him.
He was like a father
He taught us how to use the Earth
How to survive
We have abused his gift.
His name is Jack
Jack of the Green
Son to Gaia
Father to all
Like everything else
We are killing our father...
Aren't you proud?
Meeting my PriestessMeeting my Priestess4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
In the middle of the night. I'm lying on the cold floor of my own room, there's a scented candle beside my head. It's wafting its mellow scent over me. I pull my blankets over my naked body and close my eyes, breathing deeply.
The world starts spinning and I find myself on my familiar tundra. I smell the coming snow and the tarry smoke of my fire. The she-wolf sits beside me, waiting. She's smiling at me and I get up and follow her.
I turn around and start walking up the woody hill. I follow my guide, she's flitting in and out of the woods. She stops on top of the hill and as I catch up to her, I see a long house, there are torches on either side of the doorway, smoking in the wind.
I start feeling nervous, start trembling. I feel my physical body trembling; I want to open my eyes and stop here. I decide not to. This time I will go in. This time I will see her.
The wolf sits beside the door, watching me. Again waiting for me, she knows I'm nervous. I shake myself, shaking the feeling o
after elizabeth bishop (and for a friend)after elizabeth bishop (and for a friend)3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
last night i dreamed that
you loved me.
you took the moon
from its place in the the sky
and laid it in the white palms of
my open hands,
which set the white orb free,
the gentle toss becoming
the flight of wing on salty breeze.
its reflection passed over
deep and limitless,
but spangled with phosphorescence
mimicking the aching starlight above,
and then the bird was gone...
my hands left open
a silver basin of borrowed light,
shining from the night
of another poem.
brotherbrotherbrother2 years ago in Letters More Like This
wrapped in your name is a hundred games of hide and seek, afternoon tea parties, and the squiggles of letters as i taught you to read goodnight moon and if you give a mouse a cookie. we were ten dirtstained fingers, one broken arm, four firefly eyes, two dark heads bowed as if in prayer over your broken-syllabled benediction.
every shopping cart is a cage from when we were wolves caught in the grocery store, growling at strangers until our mother made us get out and walk. the nightlight still plugged into the corner socket glows with every breath you took as you fell asleep when they moved your crib into my room.
one day at school they told you the rainforests were disappearing, and you hid in your bunkbed and cried for hours. when i finally found you, you made me promise we would both give our entire allowance to protect the trees. we washed our hands and said grace and ate dinner, and you never stopped caring about beautiful things.
i taught you how to read, and
Read Me RealRead Me RealRead Me Real4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I am the person to breathe you real
Reawaken perfect in any age
I house every moment you hold dear
Receptacle of your every hope and fear
Witness to your anger when you engage
Returned again to breathe you real
Memories still fresh of how we feel
Locked together on third eye's stage
All the moments that I hold dear
I can hear your voice when I hold you near
Give you my mind, free of your cage
A playground for me to breathe you real
Come with me again on time line's wheel
Do not be afraid to turn the page
Our story has all the moments I hold dear
It's our voices on the wind we hear
All it takes for me to be assuaged
Stories on the wind when I breathe you real
Stories in my mind, moments I hold dear
HomeWhat is home?Home5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That is my only answer:
And all the things that involve:
the office with two computers
side by side,
the fireplace and the floor
where I sometimes curl up beside you,
the poetry books,
books on everything, anything,
the bed and the soft smell of your skin.
I need home.
C.O.D. The tattoos, they caught on incredibly fast. I mean, it only took about half a year after the Death-caster came out. That's what the press called it, the Death-caster. Anyway, about 6 months after the first televised prediction, these tattoos starting showing up everywhere. It went from fad to craze to routine. Everybody did it. You would get some blood drawn. The machine would quiver a bit and hum. You'd get your paper and you'd go straight to the tattoo shop. Pretty much everyone has their cause of death, their C.O.D., tattooed these days. The accepted place to get it became the top of your left arm. Every time you go to check your watch, there it is in simple letters with a line underneath: Fire, Gunshot, Car Accident, Suicide.C.O.D.8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Walking down the street you can see it all. Plane Crash and Brain Tumor are holding hands, window shopping. Prison Riot pauses to let his dog urinate on the curbsi
Seeing GhostsStartled by the momentSeeing Ghosts3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when I looked at the woman
checking me out of the store
with my trival gatherings
and I said thank you
on a thankless day
and suddenly this teenage girl
looked back at me for a moment
a fresh spirit unburdened with life's insults
and I could see it
and feel my boys reaction to all those bright spirits
seeing all the ghosts Of Christmas' past
My Beautiful DisasterMy Beautiful Disaster4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
STOP! Before you read this fanfiction you should listen to Kelly Clarksons song Beautiful Disaster. It will make this story SOO much better!
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler and sadly never will. *cries in corner*
Title: Beautiful Disaster
Pairings: Sebastian/Ciel (yaoi)
Rating: T / Pg-13
Summary: I am a demon and my life revolves around devouring souls. However, soon I start to serve under a young boy, who not only smells like heaven and sin combined, but has the most broken soul that is the most beautiful disaster.
Timeline: Actual universe. Also known as 21st century.
Warnings: Slight yaoi. Nothing too bad. Slight OOC, too!(I tried my best for what I had to work with) and then is also slight fluff/angst. o.o Okay a lot of it. Sheesh. *walks away* Oh and one more thing. There
Rainforest FinalOnce there was an old woman who lived in a rainforest.Rainforest Final7 years ago in Children and Teen More Like This
She needed a walking stick.
And so she made one.
The walking stick was strong, and it gave the woman new strength and she found it easier to walk around the leafy, cluttered forest floor.
The old woman and her tribe were called the Penan people. They lived in the rainforest on the island of Borneo.
Living with these people, the walking stick learned about them and the way they lived in the forest. He listened to the old woman tell stories to the children:
The forest is our home, but it does not belong to us. The land belongs to everyone, and so we take what we need and move on
The walking stick loved his home with the Penan people, he loved the hot, steamy, wet rainforest and he loved the old woman.
But soon the old woman grew sick. Walking grew harder and harder. It was hard for her to get up in the mornings. And then one day, she didnt get up at all.
She was buried, and the Penan people moved on.
They left her w
Rock BottomSmashed like a broken mirror are my dreams.Rock Bottom9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
The hopes I had are gone. Buried beneath earths soil.
Twisted memories of how I once was. Discomforts me in many ways.
I used to be so cheerful, and happy. But, that all was fake.
Deep inside you'd see the hate. And, my disappointing fate.
All the songs and all the composed music, all should be burned or thrown away. My dreams are dreams of yesterday. And, now I have nothing to go by. Sadly moving through this life. Full of hateful memories and lies.
No use in me walking this earth. When a person with a life could push on through. Hopeful there dreams don't get smashed. Like mine do everyday. Feel like taking the dive of "freedom." Then, just turn and walk away.
Neco AvisThe birds preach:Neco Avis3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"empathy, all things
beneath the arms of oaks;
all the wingless toilers of the earth.
Turn a kind eye on your lot
and we will gaze down upon you,
And the men beneath,
so busy carving arrows
do not reply.
Digimon Fanfic Page 4Digimon Fanfic Page 44 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Machinedramon growled. "You think he's a challenge for me?" He snickered. Machinedramon fired his attack but Sphilomon's solid metal claw incinerated it with a swipe. Sphilomon jumped off the ground putting great strain on his hind legs. He did a flip through the air and swung the prison ball attached onto his leg by a thick chain at Machinedramon. "Prison Break!" The Steel ball slammed against Machinedramon pushing him back, Sphilomon roared loudly as he landed on the ground on his four limbs. He launched himself again for another attack. "Prison Break!" He swung again and had the same reaction from Machinedramon. Then again and again. Sphilomon was out of breath after commencing a metal clashing battle between him and Machinedramon. Machinedramon attempted to slam Sphilomon with his claw, the human like Digimon dodged the attack. "Giga Blaster!" Metalgreymon fired. It sent Machinedramon back giving Sphilomon a chance, Kitsunemon joined in. "Prison Break!" "Fox F
FireFightgas is leaking from theFireFight5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tank again, leaking more
than just tragedy. the gunfire
is closer now, and i need to get
away from this danger zone.
offer me some scones,
and jam and cream, and
some lovely tea. this fine
china tastes like pain, and
this jam smells like slander.
you tried to catch a spider,
but ended up with a fly instead.
you held the match, and showed
them all how to steal the show.
now you're glowing blue and
red, listening to high pitched
screaming and watching
Dark Handskeep it together,Dark Hands5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
keep it all
t o ge th er
[that is what they keep on saying]
just don't look back,
[that is all they scream]
seedlings planted in fire, will
sprout only violence, trees
watered with gasoline
will bear only hatred. nature
can be turned, by
perversion of the soul.
dark hands, boney and
transparent, pen the words
of a new age the devil is
hiding in the etchings, waiting
to devour the reader. subtle and
all i need is earth,
all i need is air,
all i need is water
The Angel's DeathOnce there was a girl whose only passion was to draw. Thats all she did during the day, sitting up in a tree, drawing anything and everything.The Angel's Death6 years ago in Spiritual & Occult More Like This
She drew trees, herself, birds, and one day, even a sleeping bear.
With drawing, came the understanding of things. She understood love, nature, but could never understand herself.
One day, when she was climbing her tree, she slipped and fell, only to land in the soft grass.
A huge lion was hovering over her. She gasped. Understanding fear, she never screamed. She just looked at the lion and smiled, trying to calm down her thrumming heart.
The lion's eyes looked kind, and old. He did not attack, but lay down next to her, purrs coming from deep in his chest.
She closed her eyes, listening to he breathing of the lion, hoping he was nice, and not just tired.
The next day when Lilly went outside to draw, she noticed the lion following her in the woods. She drew the lion that day. He sat, starring at her, as she drew every detail she saw.