A Friend Like YouA Friend Like YouA Friend Like You8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Not many people can do what you do
To listen and care and talk and help
But you're always here,
When I need some of your time
And all I can do is give you these lines
I wish I could give it all back
With a hundred times more
Because it's more than I could ever deserve,
Even more than I asked for
So I thank you with all of my heart,
For keeping that wide, open door
I thought I would never find
A true friend like you
I never thought we'd be this way
I thought it would never last
But it has all stayed together,
The heartache left in the past
This is all that I have
To give you my love in return
Please know how grateful I feel
And just in case we one day grow very far
Just look up, and we might be looking at that same star
I Love YouYou say 'I love you'I Love You7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Everynight, before I lay my head down
It helps me dream
You say 'I love you'
Everytime, I'm hurting
It makes me feel better,
I just forget the pain
You say 'I love you'
When you have nothing else to say,
It makes me feel loved,
You said 'I love you'
Everynight, before I slept.
You said 'I love you'
Everytime, I was in pain
Now, you can't even look me in the eyes
I am exactly what you feared I'd become,
I'm no longer your little girl
I now cherish all the times you said 'I love you'
Emo 101His girlfriend just dumped himEmo 1018 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
some freshmen just jumped him
his lifes got him stumped and hes so depressed
so now he wears makeup
to hide all his screwups
he says life is pain were not impressed
same pain, different poem .
Were all being whiners
lets put on eyeliner
your lifes on a timer in Emo 101
her converse, his girl pants
My Chemical Romance
so many depressed bands in Emo 101
hes feeling poetic
but all those cosmetics cant help him write
hes drinking and cutting
with boys now hes smutting
the world doesnt get him so he cries all night
same pain, different poem
Were all being whiners
lets put on eyeliner
your lifes on a timer in Emo 101
her converse, his girl pants
My Chemical Romance
so many depressed bands in Emo 101
dont forget to scream out on the very last note .
later that school year hes not glad to be here
hes pouting cau
When life gives you LEMONS...When life gives you lemons, SUCK THEM.When life gives you LEMONS...7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When life gives you lemons, squirt lemon juice in their eyes.
When life gives you lemons, give them back and demand for chocolates.
When life gives you lemons, paint them red & call them APPLES.
When life gives you lemons, throw em hard like hand grenades.
When life gives you hand grenades, paint them yellow, disguise them as lemons and pull the pin.
When life gives you lemons, make lemon peel wings and fly too close to the sun. Trust me, they won't melt.
When life gives you lemons, shove 'em thru yer ass and die.
When life gives you lemons, use them as a dildo.
When life gives you lemons, feed yo mama n make her so fat so people can jog around her for exercise.
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. No no, you eat those lemons, THEN sell your PEE as LEMONADE.
When life gives you lemons, THEYRE THE NEW GREEN DAY HEART GRENADES.
When life gives you lemons, PUKE.
When life gives you lemons, who needs plastic surgery on yer chest?
When life gives
...old song...The sea in the throat of a shell...old song...4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The wind blowing over the steeple
Faith in the voice of the evening's last bells
Life in the murmur of people
A song for the final embers of day
Made from colours plucked up by the wind
As it slipped through the grass, tangled in hair
Swept the blush from somebody's skin
Older than cities, though sung in their voice
In the late afternoon's lilac haze
Older than voices, than shells, bells or gods
A song for the last light of day
a shut in placeMeg's world is a world of uneven earth and blue skies, surface rock cracked and blown about by howling wind. She runs through wasteland, stumbles with purpose towards a wooden desk in the distance. She runs and runs, dirt and stones scuffing Mary Janes, but the writing desk is a finish line she can't reach.a shut in place4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Why a writing desk?" her friend Alex says when she tells him about the dream. He emphasizes the question with a hand, waving the sandwich he's holding towards her before taking a bite.
She's left out details: how she is smaller, younger, a smooth-faced child with little hands dressed in her Sunday best instead of the twenty-one-year-old English major she knows herself to be. How the desk speaks of a familiarity she can't place and screams of a significance she can't understand. How she's been having the same dream for weeks and how it haunts her every waking moment with an urgency of impending consequence and menacing complexity that reminds her of Kafka.
Meg shrugs, the motion cau
Retrograde Scents from inside the suit intertwined their intentions with the sights of tangled and tessellated hair illumed by firefly LED's, spiking my circulation with memories and murmurs of dopamine.Retrograde4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I took her by the gaze; she steered her sight away from mine. I led her through a glance that involved no scuffling of hands.
She was one of two wayward strangers passing in the cosmos; two separate glances met as objects in motion tending to motion. People aren't the same however.
Drifter was the term we were known as, people cast off of vessels and ships, mostly by accident, condemned to trudge about the universe until starvation kicked in or their oxygen-starved filters were finally incapable of operating. My unplanned departure from the mysteriously flaming
Becoming BrianThe soldier coming up on him was swaying, limping, climbing wearily up the stony street towards the terrace. He walked like an old man, thought Brian Strong, though he was scarcely older than Brian himself. He dragged himself along, tripping over the cracks in the cobblestones, hauling behind him a filthy rucksack all covered in gray trench clay. Pausing by the café, the old boy took off his garrison cap and worried it between his black-tipped fingers.Becoming Brian4 years ago in Historical More Like This
"Well, hey," said Brian Strong. "Sit down and have a drink on me."
Regarding him for a moment, the soldier conceded and sat.
Brian Strong ran his hands over a perfectly polished uniform and propped his shiny-shoed feet up on the trumpet case under his table. The fellow soldier opposite him rested his head on his hand and, though his eyes seemed hollow, Brian thought with a good night's sleep and a shave he'd be right as rain. He looked like a man who had seen things, thought Brian, and done things. A worldly man. He saw now that t
So Long, I Must Be GoingWashington - The American space agency Nasa has lost contact with the 9-year-old Prometheus I space probe to Alpha Centauri, officials have announced. Prometheus was the first to pass through the Oort cloud and send to Earth close-up images of comets and proto-comets found there, on its way to our nearest neighboring star system. Catastrophic hardware failure is suspected, perhaps as the result of collision with space debris.So Long, I Must Be Going5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
As it turns out, the galaxy is teeming with intelligence, and I found it. Or it found me. Wait, let me back up and start over. I'm new at all this story telling stuff. Never had to do it before.
I'm a deep-space probe from Earth. I'm not going to bother explaining where that is, because if you're from there you already know and if you're not, you probably don't care. It's tiny, an insignificant spark orbiting a medium-sized yellow star that's all you need to kn
Tutorial +How to RP+How to RP ♥Tutorial +How to RP+4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Okay, first of all. What is Roleplay (RP)?
'Roleplay' or RP is the term used for 'acting' as a character, controlling their actions and words and allowing them to interact with other characters through your posts. Alot of people RP their OC, Fursona, Anime Characters, Horses, Wolves etc.
Now, there's NO need to be 'embarassed' about RP, I've seen alot of people say "I want to RP, but don't tell anyone". Why? Because, the second you mention Roleplay to someone who isn't farmiliar with it, they think of either Cosplay or Sex. To people who participate, RP is to act as your OC, Sona etc. Most people RP like this...
// Rose: Hi I'm Rose [offers hand] nice to meet you! //
// Edward: Hey Rose, my names Ed [smiles and shakes hand] the pleasure is mine //
I hate this RP 'style', I call it MSN RP.
MSN RP vs. Story RP
I'm not saying there are right or wrong ways to Roleplay, but it's so much more interesting and interact
for exit 165.in the outstretched wingspan offor exit 165.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tuesday night you'll find them:
the foothills slumbering jagged under
sixteen inches of loose sand and
the city hushed and glowing, lines
of porchlights strung together in suburban rows like
beads on a chain
your house was cavernous hollow like a lung
the colors were dim and
jaundiced, a quiet rush of tepid water
bent the silence while thirty years of
smoking hung ownerless
in the air like the cling of a dead moths to a wall
you tell me of a dream that's vague like
clouds in the sky like
clouds in the sink with
your body limp and damp like
hot tea bags and
your face like spilled milk
all of my angles bisected by your limbs you say
you're frightened to nightmare
of rotary telephones and roadkill and
of a morning where there isn't any water left
to fish or bathe or drown in
of birds that
hang all over the mazarine sky like
tiny perforations in the
infinity of the skyline.
FirecrackerFirecracker3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Let's take a look at the list of things to do:
First, we're going to rob a convenience store.
Everything is going to go horribly wrong,
As our surveillance man didn't notice
The cop in the back,
Buying doughnuts of all things.
We'll run away, because we have no guns,
The cop will probably break out laughing.
I have a shipment of illegal fireworks,
And I plan on selling them to a 12 year old.
He told me he wants to strap them to his skates
And see if he can fly.
Oh, before I forget, the boy will brag to his girl,
The girl will tell her father, who'll tell the boy's mother,
And she will call the cops.
So bring your best running shoes.
Next on the list,
We are going to pass off some counterfeit money.
Of course, we'll have the one cashier in the world
Who checks five dollar bills.
So we'll get busted trying to buy a pack of cigarettes.
She'll call the manager,
The manager will walk up to me.
He'll ask, "Why have you chosen such a life?
What inconsistency in your life has led
SalemI.Salem4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the bright scarlet egg of dawn
nests in my head.
when it is time, it will crack my
skull like a shell
and be born.
I have a witch's fingers and a
witch's eyes, rough pewter lenses
through which I see the world.
I have sabotaged their crops,
I have plagued their children,
I have eaten their livestock in the night
(so they say)
and I hear the whispers in the streets.
they will be willing to kill
for their conviction, though
I am not willing to die for it.
I am no longer human.
I've been branded
with an ugly mark
of fear and desperation,
one terse syllable that cuts
like a switch.
a thin reddish line splits the horizon;
I set my ribs on hinges
so they can get to my heart.
a damp wooden platform,
a rough rope necklace
I am not a Spartan
carried home on his shield.
this is not an honourable death.
DepressionDepression2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
General sadness: This sadness is unexplainable. It appears and brings a superficial despair. It has no point, and seeks the misery of others. It feels like a humming in your nostrils, and watering in your eyes. You desperately need to cry, but cannot.
Fear of Complacence: Life is an endless loop, into which we are thrust and unable to escape. Tomorrow shows no signs of being different from today. Sadness is much deeper than general sadness, but is blunter, like trauma without pain.
Severe Burnout: Usually, burnout occurs after a long day. This occurs after a long year. The cause is the same as complacence, but lifes endless loop is physically and mentally exhausting. This type of depression is most likely to cause a nervous breakdown or panic attack. While many people dont want to get up in the morning, severe burnout ensures that getting up in the morning is emotionally exhausting. Your body, particularly your eyelids, feel much heavier, as though the weight of life is cru
Crows don't careCrows don't care3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She brought him water. She wasn't supposed to, just as she wasn't supposed to approach him at all, but as customary, the guards rarely opposed the Daughters of the Merciful One in their charitable deeds. They did object though, given the nature of the convicted, yet she was still admitted at the gallows, with her white tunic and the bucket of water.
She stood on a cranky stepstool to reach him, and waved away the birds perching on the wooden frame the man's outstretched arms were tied to.
"The bastard ain't dead yet," one of the guards said, "but crows just don't care bout it, I s'pose."
There was a sad irony in that, she thought.
Crows and men alike.
She helped him to drink, even though the task proved to be more difficult than expected: the man had almost no strength left to keep his head from hanging against his chest, and seemed barely able to swallow. She was patient though.
Day after day she kept coming, bringing water, and when the guards allowed her, even some bread.
Buford"They're gone again Mom!" The distraught wail of my son wafted in through the still open door.Buford4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I pulled my head and a load of flailing clothes out of the dryer. "Oh no, sweetie, you're kidding!" I followed the cold draft to the open door. Buford was standing at the bottom of the steps, tears welling up in his blue, seven-year-old eyes. He pointed to the spot where his Jack-o-Lantern used to sit.
My own heart sunk to the spidery frost formations on the steps. He was a timid kid, Buford. He was fiercely intelligent, and he took pride in his work, but he got discouraged easily.
His grin had been so unreserved last night when he had shown Bret and I the lop-sided cackle of his Jack-o-Lantern, his bright little face smudged with the orange-yellow juice and webs of pumpkin guts still trailing from his elbows and fingers. It had been a project of many hours of scooping and carving and even more drawing and redrawing the perfect face. It was his second one this year.
"You said it wo
The Business Wolf stopped gnawing on his third plate of Lapin Bleu d'Auvergne and pointed at Deer with his fork. "The problem," he said, "is that you've got a bum deal going on with your agent. You're paying him far too much if all he was able to get you was public affection. I mean, there's what-- thirteen million white-tailed deer in the United States alone, right?"The Business4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Deer looked down at his glass, which was half-full of some white wine. He was a little unsure whether or not he liked it, as he didn't really know what made wine good or bad or even what type of wine it happened to be. He'd looked at the menu, become flummoxed by the French, and had simply asked the waiter (in English) for something vegetarian with a suitable wine. This was his second glass or maybe his third; he'd already forgotten. He swished it around a little.
"Thirty million, actually," said Deer. "Not thirteen."
immolatethe first stepimmolate4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to sadness is to
punctuates the bruised
shorelines with broken hearts and
shore creeps up, kisses
my feet. sometimes he rips through
the distance between
the air here
vibrates to a fire,
sparrow's heart humming in c
major. it does scare
how i might love you
more than ibuprofen, or
the way the light might
through an ether storm.
the person i am now is
with who i
was before you. but
how do i scrape myself out
from under my own
we caught the
moon between our feet,
heads falling behind us.
things i will
you: how you can't stop wearing
lemongrass and how
the smell hides
away under your
collarbone; the way you wear
saturn on your ring
keep neptune's rings as
keepsakes when you come back from
the sky [to remind
my favorite colour
GrievancesGrievances3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Turn down the frigging music!
For the record,
I wear noise cancelling earphones
And they look silly,
And they do nothing against your bass.
Your bass shakes the damn walls!
Stop banging on the walls!
Im trying to write a peace treaty
In here, and if I dont focus,
Ill end up starting a nuclear war!
And Ill blame my next door neighbor,
Who couldnt wait until 8:00 am
To hang up a stupid poster!
Stop smoking weed all damn day!
You suck, and you smell like suck!
And you suck the clear air
Out of the room!
And your suck sucks the suck into
My room like a damn suck vortex!
And you suck! You suck! You suck!
Stop playing that awful music!
Nobody needs to hear the N word
From all the way down the hall!
Its awkward, and you make us
ALL feel awkward!
Nobody has ever organically
Sworn that much! Its unnecessary,
And youre unnecessary!
Stop doing these things,
And Ill stop shouting this crap all day!
Ill stop complaining
And we can live our
BirdcageNothing ever happens the way you read in the history books. In war there are never two armies, there is only a field of men. Never a number of dead; but individual lives snuffed out. That is what the subject of history is, years shelved and decimalized. Birth and death, graphed to the simplicity of lines. Great wars a footnote to the next great war. The achievements of men and women plotted out against the bookmark of day, month and year.Birdcage5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
And somewhere amongst this, my mother breathed. Somewhere danced in now long-closed nightclubs, laughed at jokes told by a younger version of my Father. And then the unpin-able moment she fell in love with him, after which she would have sworn there was no moment, that she'd always loved him.
I try to place things, to tell the story to myself, but you cannot know the story of a life; you can only tell a new story from theirs, as one cannot speak with another's tongue.
Whilst other children would be given sweets, I would have to excavate them. Taught t
Girl in the WarIt did get easier, once I started to imagine things were moving fast, too fast to fathom, too fast to see the stars but only feel them intrinsically on my skinlittle pinpricks, little bubbles of air to touch my cheeks or take my breath. Or, you know. The sort of rambling things I was letting myself think, so long as it kept me distracted and living.Girl in the War4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The window was damp with me leaning against it, and in that position the teeth-rattling rumble of the ol' greyhound's engines was churning my stomach much the same way a headache had been thrashing behind my eyes for the past month. I rubbed my ragged sleeve into a patch of fogged glass and turned away from the dark outside and looked instead to the darkness within. A few lights pricked the arid gloomreading lamp, a cell phone or so. It was a heavy sort of stifled, in here, and it smelled like old cloth and travel and musty seats. Someone was coughing.
But cold. Why is every freaking bus always so cold? I hunkered down, tugging
and it came on in waves.and it came on in waves.5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Big Sur was a name that lived in the mouths of surfers and the words of Jack Kerouac and Henry Miller. Spontaneity drove me to this place as I ventured away from the Los Angeles wasteland back to the Silicon graveyard called home. The boredom of business for a whole week might have been the true cause. I'm never one not to take an adventure.
But California natives drove smart. To cross from one side of the state to the other, you took I-5 or 101. We laughed at the idiots who took the "scenic route" for pleasure, not for business. You only took Highway 1 to access the beaches. With the twists and turns, possible motion sickness, mudslides, rockslides, fog and constant construction, Highway 1 was a tourist's wake-up call-- not all is sunny-sexy in the Golden state. Seeing as I lived four years away from home, where the Northeast's transportation circulatory system pulses strong, fast and easy, I did an un-native thing and turned off at Pismo Beach for Highway 1.
Driving this road a few h