SCARSScarsSCARS3 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
Aria - Partie 1- chapitre 01Aria - Partie 1- chapitre 014 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
Escapeless Doom PoemEscapeless Doom Poem3 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.
RapHis little girl cry's out in the still of the night.Rap3 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
Ghost ArmorComing back soon... to be published within the HOAX #22 issue of antiTHESIS, a Melbourne University publication. xGhost Armor3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The Sociology Student - WGProfessor Hargreaves, what ever will I write my phD thesis about? I am fresh out of ideas.The Sociology Student - WG5 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
RealizationI am a ghost.Realization3 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 blueBeach3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
In light and dark, as restless
Ocean meets still sky.
DO YOU AGREE? some people...WHEN SOMEONE TELLS YOU YOUR ART SUCKS, ASK THEM WHY THEY CLICKED ON THE PICTURE IN THE FIRST PLACE!DO YOU AGREE? some people...4 years ago in Comedy More Like This
The timeThe time3 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
The bearOne day in august, three rocks rolled down the stream of chocolate.The bear3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
KABOM, fell a plane.
NORMANSCRISMUSNORMANSCRISMUS10 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
They Told UsThey Told Us:They Told Us2 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
melusinemelusinemelusine12 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
YouYou,You3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Are not what you do for a living.
Are what your passion is.
boys who love their grandmothersnever fall in love with a boy who loves his grandmother.boys who love their grandmothers1 year 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,Genocide5 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.
How Do You Feel?Currently I Feel like,How Do You Feel?3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I'm a sailor lost at sea
a prisoner dying to be freed
A withering flower loosing it's seeds
a grumpy old woman regretting her deeds
In the future, I aspire to feel like,
an ambitious girl following her dream,
the wife of a man to whom she's a queen,
an open book with no secrets in between,
a wise lady with the spirit of a teen.
The Murderer Called SpiteI know who you are,The Murderer Called Spite3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I see that glare
That look in your eyes,
Says you really don't care.
Another victim is all you need
To hurt and humiliate is your goal
One more stab to make me bleed
You're satisfied, you've played your role.
It's just a bruise, no need to apologize,
What was that? Of course! You never say sorry,
Forgive me for the hatred in my eyes
I'll be a good girl, correct every folly.
Only a fool would anger you,
A fool I have proved to be,
Challenging a train racing towards you
is like facing an invincible enemy.
Xanadu Among HorsesXanadu Farm.Xanadu Among Horses2 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.
Jack the Pumpkin KingJack the Pumpkin King2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Jack the Pumpkin King
Was such a wonderful thing
He was as good as anyone could be
Yet he still had something that needed to be
He felt empty and alone
Like all he had done had come to nothing
So he left his home in search of something
And what he found was truly amazing
Something so odd and strange that he could not believe
He spent the whole day there, late into the evening, not wanting to leave
Such extraordinary things he had seen
They filled him up with wonder and glory from what he'd seen
And so he went back, to show them what he had found
Everyone thought his head was in a cloud
Once he told then, every one
They all got together to create a Christmas as much as they could
So they went to work, to create a Christmas no one would forget
While they sent some to get the great Santa Clause
It was all meant to be fun and games
But the Oogie Boogie had his own games
Everything was going as planned
They were going to reach the day, they could do it without end
Mickey Mouse______________$$$$$$$Mickey Mouse3 years ago in Sketches More Like This