I get so mad. . . .I get so mad. . . .9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I get mad
when I write my name,
and I know how it should look,
but it looks wrong.
My father says writing isn't easy.
I just get mad.
life isn't fairlife isn't fair10 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Sometimes I feel
As though I'm dead
I can't do anything
I've reached an end
People hate me
No matter what I do
I don't want to live
My life is crud
Try being me
See how long you last
Think it's easy?
Kiss my ass
Course it's not
Don't be dumb
My life is sad
Never any fun
So leave me here
To rot and die
Happiness is hard to find
It can't be bought
Let me die in peace
No one to care
I don't want to live
Life isn't fair.
TimeTime5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Time ebbs, leaving the past behind,
as the falling tide leaves an empty beach.
Only our crumbling relics remain,
those moments, now sea-changed, when hope
and intention might have coalesced.
Or should I change
the metaphor? Time is a ravening demon,
it swallows all in its indifferently rapacious
maw. It leaves no trace
of images and dreams once close encased
in the brittle, discarded skull.
Time has fullness, when its harvests
are ripe, yet always plenty decays,
the mighty sun gutters, all that
remains is endless night.
Grain of SandGrain of Sand9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I can't cry
My tears are dry
Grains of sand
In an ancient ocean
The scent of despair
Clings to my hair
My skin, my hands
I touch but feel empty.
The ground shakes beneath my feet
Along with my deafening heartbeat
A tattoo of a thousand wardrums
Pounding in my head.
Can I trust you when
I'm on the ground again
The heat coming from the mud
Blazing in my skin
I can't let you win...
Mr Rutabaga's Clockwork MinceOh what a thing you are! I am one too. So, incidentally, is Mr Rutabaga, the third thing we've come across in as many sentences. Mr Rutabaga lives in Cardiff and grows things in buckets, for he cannot afford pots.Mr Rutabaga's Clockwork Mince8 years ago in Humor More Like This
He has recently planted some Nazis, but the results have so far been futile beyond belief. He is a young woman, plastic cups taped to her arms (for feathers are hard to come by), leaping and flapping and flapping and leaping. She will touch the clouds only in her dreams, and even then with gloves on.
After one such afternoon spent leaping off makeshift ramps and toying with the notion of using polystyrene cups instead of the conventional plastic ones, the young woman comes home to an uninviting meal of toast and mandarins, cold from the tin. She scrapes the toast off her plate into her cat's water bowl and climbs into her hammock for another desperate dream.
Thirty days of futile watering later, Mr Rutabaga has still to see even the peak of a cap sprout from any of
nova smilenova smile9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
6am: Rising to crackled reception,
this, the mimicked serenade to sunrise,
performed the whole world over.
8am: In the kitchen,
and a coffee cup
invite me to breakfast.
I count morning on both hands,
four espresso ribbons,
draped over the pages,
filling where ink cannot.
12pm: I lie on the small square of grass
looking up into the apex of cerulean.
Up on the gutter,
sits a bird, still,
below thick down,
ticks suck out birdsong.
one of quiet tragedy.
3pm: In the supermarket
I watch people stocking up,
The Story of the Quiet kidThe Story of the Quiet kid10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The Quiet kid
Ya I know him
he sits there in the corner
listening to weird music
I used to make fun of him
I Don't any more, I swear I don't
The Quiet kid
He just sits there drawing
what, I don't know
Just go and look
See for yourself
The Quiet kid
At lunch he sit alone
at that table all by himself
Eating a sandwich
and reading a book
The Quiet kid
says he writes poetry
He says it quiet good
With a sense of deep emotion
I just laugh and say
"poetry is for pussies"
The Quiet kid
In gym class
So scrawny in his shorts
his skin so pale
white like milk
I say "go outside and get a tan you little freak"
The Quiet kid
Sees Me trip and fall
in the hall way
And as I get up
I am staring at seven inches of gunmetal
in the Quiet kids hand.
The Quiet kid
for the first time I hear his voice
"all I wanted was a little credit,
All I wanted was to be accepted,
For who I am,
And not who you want me to be"
His hand is steady, unwavering
As he points it at my head,
I cringe back fro
What do you expect from me?What do you expect from me?9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I expect fear.
I expect suspicion.
I expect your anger.
I expect your tests.
I expect to be questioned about my motives.
I expect to be a disappointment.
I expect that you will see nothing worthwhile in my friendship.
I expect that you will cut off my hands when I reach out to you.
I expect you to abandon me,
but I keep trying anyway.
Because I do not fear your touch;
I only fear being alone.
- In My Eyes -- In My Eyes -9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I tried to listen
To the things you said
But I couldn't stop the voices
Inside my head
I thought it would end
If I could forget
I tried to pretend
And that I regret
Because it's eating me alive
It never ever goes away
It's strangling me inside
And suffocates me more each day
It's driving me insane
I can't take this anymore
I hate myself, I'm a useless bitch,
A filthy fucking whore
I can't see anything but red
I hate this place inside my head
I'm fucking crazy just like they said
I'd kill myself, but I'm already dead
'Cause I ignored it for too long
And I believed in my own lies
Now it's too late, my soul is gone
You can see it in my eyes
__. I'm sorry__. I'm sorry10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
By Tony Tran
I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when it was your 5th Birthday. I wasn't able to see the happiness striking across your face, the anticipation running through your veins at the point of opening your presents. The blissful joy of all your friends and family around you as they sang happy birthday, that day was a memory I never had the chance to remember.
I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you had your first day at school. It was like a new world for you filled with friendship, independence and above all, fun. I'll always regret not being there to pick you up after school and having you run into my arms at a thousand miles per hour, as though you hadn't seen me in years. Those days when you came home and started humming a harmonious song that you learnt, it was a tune I'd never hear.
I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you were eight years old and just learnt to ride your first bike. The breeze going through your hair as yo
How to write an exciting blog1How to write an exciting blog19 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
How to write an exciting blog in 10 easy steps!
1: Live an exciting life and write about that. If you don't have a great life, make up stuff you COULD have done during the day.
2: Update atleast once per day. You don't get those all important pageviews if people don't come back every day.
3: Provoke your readers. Politics is a great way to do that. If you live in the US; write about why you support Bin Laden. If you live anywhere else; write about why you support Bush. If that fails you can pretend to have homophobia, hate _all_ animals, be a racist or become a nazi.
4: Tell about your sexlife. If you don't have one, make one up. The more sexpartners, the better.
5: Write horrible things about your friends, family and coworkers. Don't leave anything out!
6: Take and post a lot of pictures, often. Clothes are no good, try to aviod those. If you don't own a camera you should steal other peoples pictures. You should atleast get a webcam to show off yourself, and your cat/dog/whatev
Metal Gear SolidMetal Gear Solid8 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
METAL GEAR SOLID
EXT. SKY OVER HIMALAYAS - TWILIGHT - NIGHT
A semi-futuristic transport plane streaks high over the
mountains at a very fast speed. We see it from many
angles, especially the decal on the tail that reads
FOX-HOUND with a fox holding a combat knife in its teeth.
A Crab Eyeing A TouristA Crab Eyeing A Tourist8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Find out what you are,
Where you are headed.
Find your own moon and land on it.
A chair scraped across a vinyl floor and made an embarrassing sound.
"My name is Alex and I have a problem."
Someone waved their hands. "Does this problem involve an actual child actually being raped?"
Alex thought about this. "No," he decided.
"Then continue," the group leader said, bowing her head.
"But this child who was definitely not raped, and not by me, his name was Thomas."
All around the circle, a gentle ripple of applause broke out.
"Thank you, Alex," smiled the group leader, "that was very brave. You can sit down."
Alex sat, being careful not to make the chair scrape this time. Next to the group leader, a man nervously raised his hand and said, "Erm, if I may, can I ask, uh, a question. A question to Alex."
"N-" said the leader.
"Sure," said Alex, smiling, "I think we should be totally open. After all, anything I have to hide must be illegal, right?"
The group leader smiled falsely and
Memories of my dreamsa child lost and forgotten in a daydreamMemories of my dreams9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
dreams in motion and play
for I am a child
and have nothing but my dreams
now a boy on the verge of manhood
with hair on my chin and bass in my voice
I wish for the days of my youth
my dreams have been stolen from me
I have new dreams now
dreams of a brighter and better future
I no longer dream as a child
for I am now a man
and have no use for childish ways
I have forgotten my dreams
I am an empty hollow man
without hope or ambition
for I have lost my dreams
tossed to the wayside
like so many memories
into the sands of the ages
as the time slips through my fingers
now with hands gnarled and hard
I clutch at the passing memories
Memories of my dreams.