Aria - Partie 1- chapitre 01Aria - Partie 1- chapitre 015 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
L'homme arrêta de faire les cent pas et se passa la main sur le visage. Cela faisait une bonne heure qu'il avait été annoncé à la Reine Séphora et il commençait à s'impatienter. Au moment où il allait s'en aller, la grande porte principale s'ouvrit brusquement sur une jeune fille à la peau légèrement basanée, aux cheveux couleur jais attachés sur la nuque par une barrette d'argent et au regard vif. Elle portait une longue tunique en lin immaculée et des sandales aux lanières argentées.
- La Reine vous attend, monseigneur, si vous voulez bien me suivre
SCARSScarsSCARS4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
They tell a story.
A story at least
one page long,
but goes on
are no words,
the jagged lines
They go in
And, as I try
to hide them,
and long sleeves,
they are still
A story about
A girl, who is
broken beyond repair.
A girl who found
one way to cope,
and that only
girl even more
RapHis little girl cry's out in the still of the night.Rap4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Daddy isn't home, He's out looking for a fight.
No money in the bank, no food on the table.
He's in and out of jail so his paycheck isn't stable.
Popping pills till his body is numb,
He swears one day He's going to use the gun.
So he chokes down the bottle, He's a mouse of a man.
He says "It's hard to get by with two broken hands"
He's spitting excuses, He's pushing blame.
But everyone knows "broken records don't change"
So he's off again, searching for his fix,
Throwing women and alcohol in the mix.
Just business as usual, Age old thrills.
Not a penny to his name so He's footing the bills.
He stumbles in the door around 3 AM,
His daughters in the hallway, looking up at him.
Her stomach is as empty as her swollen eyes,
Her tiny heart has been broken one too many times.
Not a passing glace as he heads to bed,
He has bugs under his skin and voices in his head.
He's a disease, a stilt to the limb.
Neglecting his baby becau
RealizationI am a ghost.Realization4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fading in, fading out of lives
This wind is bitter and unforgiving
Like a shark.
I simply float
Like a crisp autumn leaf.
I soar along.
Yes, you fear me.
I would know.
Why shouldn't you? I'm cold; I'm dead.
But I'm not a menace!
A monster, yes
But not a menace.
You can trust me! I promise!
What could I possibly do to you?
I won't hurt you.
I can't hurt you.
I can't even touch you;
I can't feel your skin.
I can't feel anyone's skin.
I'm dead; I'm cold
No warm flesh, no hugs and kisses
I can't feel those.
I can't feel.
I'm cold; I'm dead now.
No more holding hands, no more brushing faces
Fiery heat from across the living room
Is inviting in this terrible weather.
But this room is a ravine
And this is only a dream.
Well, not only a dream;
Rather, completely and entirely
Within a reality of absurd proportions.
And yet, and yet, and yet,
It is still reality.
And that, that nightmare, I can feel.
BeachI see only blueBeach4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
In light and dark, as restless
Ocean meets still sky.
Ghost ArmorComing back soon... to be published within the HOAX #22 issue of antiTHESIS, a Melbourne University publication. xGhost Armor4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Escapeless Doom PoemEscapeless Doom Poem4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Merciless pity put on quite a show,
Put you down to your all time low.
Misfortune surrounds the the pessimist gloom,
Shrouds their soul to a certain doom.
Many a times, a voice had warned,
Many a times, a voice went unheard.
Machete of grim is coming your way,
Finally bringing you your death today.
Slashing high, swinging down low;
Here it comes, the killing blow.
The tiles now shine a crimson red,
Lathered in blood from my latest dread.
Marking thy sign of a final victory,
Kings are after you, time to hurry.
Run for your life, run from the gallow,
Run to the tree with an empty hallow.
Safety is key, but not for you.
Invisible you can't be,
Found is what you are, now ado.
The Sociology Student - WGProfessor Hargreaves, what ever will I write my phD thesis about? I am fresh out of ideas.The Sociology Student - WG6 years ago in Erotic More Like This
You could do mating rituals of the Uru people of Southwest Zambia . Maybe get in a little field work.
Oh, that one's been done to death.
How about a fresh spin on juvenile delinquency?
Professor, there are no more fresh spins to put on juvenile delinquency, its been done even more than mating rituals of the Uru people of Southwest Zambia!
Well, I suppose there is a topic you could try, on which little has been written before.
Oh yeah? I said, piqued.
Yes. You could do feeders and feedees.
It's an intriguing subculture. There are feeders, mostly men, who proceed in, quite literally, well, feeding the feedees, mostly women. The whole process is highly sexualized.
Oh that's nothing. Everyone has romantica
The timeThe time4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Time goes by to fast
I can' catch it
It's fast even when we are not having fun
It gos faste when we do have fun
I don't understand why it does
Just the other day summer started
Now school's starting soon
Summer is never forever but it's never gone
They Told UsThey Told Us:They Told Us3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They told us we weren't artists,
They said that we're just puttin' words on paper...
They told us we wouldn't make it,
Because language isn't unique...
Ta hell with them all I say,
Because I know tha truth they seek ta hide.
We're treated like third-rate artists.
Our hands can't create magical pictures,
We can't create comics ta make people laugh,
Or emotive portraits ta make em cry...
But what they don't see is tha title,
What they don't see is tha description,
They don't even see tha comments or replies!
They look only at themselves,
And at tha talent they seem ta proclaim.
It's like starin' at an old english aristocrat,
Ignorin' us simply because we're farmers.
But what they don't see are the words.
Words used ta give a picture context.
Withou' a title, a picture is just a mix of colours and lines.
Who could understand an image, withou' a title?
If art alone suffices, why not let every piece be nameless?
I'll tell ya the truth, separated from the
NORMANSCRISMUSNORMANSCRISMUS11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
am i mising sumthing?
how did this awl begin
wat duz this holedae
never mined look at all tha presants
a seeson of desepshon
of plesent lys
so cute wen we fule children
wat hapens wen thay find owt tha truth?
wat is tha truth?
never mined look at all tha presants
look at tha presants
stand in aw of tha presants
its all abowt tha presants
you no its sumthing deaper
pretend you no wat it meens
or just enjoy yur presents
and eet turkey or ham
watever you eet evry yeer this tym
and i well call you nayber
and ride yur slay
wen the nite is silent a baby is born
that duznt cry wen thare ar lowd sownds
and sheperds bring presants too
becawse He is speshal
who pepol well always argyoo abowt
Edward Scissorhands - Pt 9Edward Scissorhands - Pt 94 years ago in Sketches More Like This
Nobody was looking at the dark and gabled silhouette on the hill overlooking the town at exactly twenty-two minutes to twelve that Saturday night. It was lucky that nobody had, or more than one of the townsfolk would have added a new chapter to the peculiar ghost story that had insidiously circulated throughout the town over the decades, permeating the life of each and every inhabitant. For one brief instant, every single light in the place had flared on, crowning the whole hill with a blaze of glory.
The man with the scissors for hands had indeed discovered the electricity junction box.
Edward was lying flat on his back, hair alight with blue sparks, eyes rolling back in his head under the pale eyelids, almost out of their sockets. A faint curl of smoke drifted lazily up from the scorched black leather rags that swathed the prone form, and a smell of burning plastic hung in the air. It wasn't the first time and it certain
melusinemelusinemelusine13 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
her name was melusine. she walked into my art class one day, and the teacher announced her. she looked like she didn't want to be there. her hair was this bluish color that i can't descrine, it was a cross between turqouise-like blue and green, not to forget yellow. her hair was the color of the ocean in the tropics, so clear and blue that you can see straight to the bottom. her hair ended at her waist, and it looked like she could be even more beautiful than lady godiva herself, if she were naked and her hair were longer. her eyes were the same color as her hair, and when you looked into them without knowing her you would feel that she was compassionate, a loving person, but that she was very quiet. her wrists were covered in sparkling bracelets. silver, blue, white, yellow. she was wearing an old vintage sundress, with blue sunflowers. the dress stopped midway down her thighs, revealing her legs, which were as pale as white; it looked as if she'd covered her legs in w
The bearOne day in august, three rocks rolled down the stream of chocolate.The bear4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
KABOM, fell a plane.
Xanadu Among HorsesXanadu Farm.Xanadu Among Horses4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It's old and dilapidated and mushy and ooshey and grimy. Most of all grimy. It's most certainly not the glorious
marble palace of Kublai Kahn. It's a proper working farm that demands sweat to seep out of every pore and gives back only
painful calluouses and a sense of fulfillment. The barn was leaning in on itself in a haphazard and careless manner. I'd
had nightmares that the old mold heap would fall down on me in a moist and crumbling vise of a heap. It never did.
Manure and compost.
The stench of them goes hand in hand up you nose and down the back of your mouth to lie it's tired-self down on your
tongue for a bit, for even the odors have to labor away on Xanadu farm. After a while, you'll come to welcome the reek as it
becomes associated with happy memories. It becomes, 'homey', if you can stand to bear it.
Edward - Story of Snow Pt 7Edward - Story of Snow Pt 74 years ago in Drama More Like This
Chapter Twenty Five
Everybody around here knew that the strange boy from the house on the hill had not been born but had been made. He had been created up here, by the old inventor, who had died before he got to finish the man he invented.
Edward looked exactly like the kind of charcoal sketch a disturbed child might draw, all in blacks and whites, with the sticklike figure patchily coloured in, and the face very roughly drawn and hatched across with lines. The hair was a big scribbled mess, the eyes were two big round black holes and the hands had been given great claw-like fingers, much too long for the rest of the body. No child would want to see this nightmarish doodle brought to life. And yet here he was.
Moira had always avoided thinking in much detail about how exactly Edward came to be. But it was really shocking to come face to face with this room full of twisted inventions, and with that, that robot thing with the knives and the buckles, that looked so much like E
boys who love their grandmothersnever fall in love with a boy who loves his grandmother.boys who love their grandmothers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
he will be too gentle with your lips,
too sincere when he whispers blessings into your ears
pleading that he doesn't deserve you.
his tongue will not slither between your teeth.
instead, the heat of his mouth will melt your scar tissue
until there is no trace of your travels.
never fall in love with a boy who loves his grandmother.
he knows patience.
you will try to convince him
that it is one of the many virtues
you don't yet possess,
but he will dig through the flesh in your ribcage
until he finds it lodged beneath everything
you're too scared to confess.
he will teach you forgiveness, remind you that you are not a mistake.
he will wipe the trails of tears that always seem to decorate your cheeks
and replace them with rose petals, saying that he chose the color red
to match the passion he knows flows through your veins.
never fall in love with a boy who loves his grandmother.
he will trace the freckles on your skin
GenocideOur families were gathered, taken and massacred,Genocide6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Shot, beaten, raped, starved. The hatred went, much too far.
Fleeing little children, running from their homes,
Trying to keep on going,
They were left all alone,
Watching their mothers die,
They were forced to hide,
Some barely got away,
But we still survived.
So many gone,
No way to right this wrong,
They chose to deny,
The people that they forced to die,
But we still stand tall,
Carrying our infinite pride,
And well never forget,
The pain of the Armenian Genocide.
HaloHalo4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My shield of light
My defender from darkness
My ring of hope
My protector from evil
It hangs over my head
Beaming, shining, gleaming
It grants us great power
Over the others
We are unseen and unheard
We protect humanity
We are the invisible bodyguards
You hear our stories but we become a myth, a legend
In the darkest times you pray to us
To help you, to save you
We protect you always
Whether you pray or not
The darkness comes for you
You never feel its cold touch
As we will always protect you
For we are your guardians of the light
All our power, all our strength
Comes from your hope, your prayers
We hide it from the hands of evil
The source of our vibrant energy
The symbol for our race
When we cloak you with our wings
The darkness is repelled
By the greatness of our halo
Music Defines FeelingInfinity and beyondMusic Defines Feeling4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am living through a song
My heart is tearing
Need you here
Here and now
My tears are snaring
At my fragile heat
Being torn apart
Listening to a fast song
Feelings of Love
My head says is wrong
Shuffle to a slow song
Now my eyes are gleaming
But the fake smile is beaming
Through clouds of despair
Making others happy
Always drains my feelings
But I do it anyway
Because I know how it feels
So hand me the music
And I will use it
To fake a better life
The Kind of Father I was CH1The Kind of Father I was CH14 years ago in Humor More Like This
The Kind of Father I Was
Author's Note: Inspired after I wrote the fic To Raise a Star. It was a one shot and now I wish I had made it a drabble series but oh wells! There are hardly any past Black Star fics out there so here I go with a short series of young Black Star drabbles. Mild manga spoilers on Black Star's past.
It should be noted, if you didn't know, that Sid was the one who brought Black Star to Shibusen. Not only that, but he was around 11 or 12 years old (he mentions in one of the chapters that he's 25). Also, we see Sid in flashbacks as a mentor/father figure towards Black Star. So, here it comes- Parental!Sid, younger Black Star, and a splash of Sid/Nygus here and there. ENJOY!
Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater or the characters.
Chapter 1: Black Star
It was a simple enough mission, so he couldn't understand why was he fighting back the shutter that went up his spine as he kicked through som