Flush and Pale in PamplonaFlush and Pale in Pamplona9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
We have never seen a dawn
that has not died within an hour.
But here's one now,
and, unsure if it has lied or not,
I check your eyes:
The sun's still struggling to get inside,
the small bright spots of fingertips
tugging lightly at your lids.
And I, from a family of cowards,
am hesitant to wake you,
though not so much as to stop my lowered hand
from moving upwards,
stilling only when you start to stir
and stretch; and then exhale
in a way that makes me flush,
then pale, as I, too,
drift back to sleep,
to wait until the midday sun
has come and gone
and left us one.
The moon is out
and so are we, sitting, nestled
in the busy market, free
from the deaths of bulls
and those who claim them.
A man, old, weighted
by a wedding ring,
sells flowers for the women
of men in love. I am,
he says, a king, and you agree,
with daffodils to please your smile.
And here, we have no fear,
just the whispers in our mouths and ears
in the way we drink each other's beer.
We pause, quiet, and know then
Hypodermic DemonsI wasn't always afraid of needles, or squeamish in intravenous situations. The first time I remember being hesitant to get a shot was when I was about six, and let my mom go first. It was a small clinic in Seattle for low income families. It was the only clinic I had ever been to. I watched the nurse try to get blood from any available place on my mother's body, but there was just no reachable vein.Hypodermic Demons8 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
A child's mind does strange things, because as a child, one is so intuitive and at the same time so naive that everything one sees is absorbed and processed for 'good' and 'bad'. That moment registered needles for the first time as 'bad'. That wasn't it, though. I am not so easily put off.
Needles ended up being a recurring motif during my childhood and it's during this time they gained their horrific connotation for me. I watched my mom disappear into bedrooms and come out droopy eyed and distant, stumbling and almost falling asleep. On the dresser, through the cracks, I would see hypoderm
louisaI bet you're beautifullouisa8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
before the mirror wakes up
before the sun fills its silver cup
what do you have up your sleeve
besides a bruise?
where would you be if you could choose?
and the hands move
to apply make-up and remove sleep
and eyeshadow implies
some light from inside
and something in it's way
(the days start like cars
in this parking lot life
we cough and crawl off
towards some distant light
and the cold smoke just hangs in the air
daring anyone half awake to attempt to care)
what do you have up your sleeve
but a bruise
baby where would you be if you could choose?
I bet you're beautiful
before the mirror wakes up
cherry julyhe says lovecherry july8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and almost believes it
she says love
and almost believes
it will echo back to her
took a thousand polaroids of fire
taped them along the outside of your house
thought I captured you
thought I captured youth
stood and watched them flutter
like angels' wings shot through with color
she says love
and almost believes it
he says love
and almost believes
it will echo back to her
Miles.You aren't him.Miles.9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But he won't have me.
Because I've had you.
I have learned to tuck away the truth.
And lie to myself,
Because I am an illusion.
You and I are an illusion.
A diluted idealism that will never
Develop into anything true.
I would give anything to feel.
But I hate this feeling.
Because you and he are both so far away.
You don't know that he is asleep next to me.
But it wouldn't matter anyway
Because there is a 2,000 mile void in between us.
And he doesn't know that I am sending love poems to you.
But that wouldn't matter either.
Because you are 2,000 miles away, too.
I wish I could do something about
All of those pretend lies.
All of those false accusations.
I wish I could heal our broken promises.
Mend our emotional abuses.
And do some
insomniacrobatrevolutioninsomniacrobat8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a word once whispered, died for
now used to sell razors
with one more fucking blade
saw they took hope
and stuck it in the title of a sitcom
and in the last two days
I've only heard love
in reference to a cellphone
and the american dream?
the insomniac asks an empty room
standing at the window
scratching his arms like a junkie
across the street is a billboard for a pharmaceutical company
a giant white pill
with a flag etched on the side
underneath, a tagline that reads
"White Flag Sleeping Pills
for when you've given up on the day"
and I want to excavate the underground railroad
leave through the coal mines
find someone to hold my hand in the dark
and walk by my side
but they're all so afraid once the bird starts to sing
Painting PerfectionI guess I could paint the sky wonderful, and put color into open wounds of grazing grass. Backward moments in frayed, feathered heavens, that reflect a twinkling hell. Looking up, you can't really help looking down. Starry moments in weathered skies. Mildew and water stains. I can't help but look at you. So beautifully morphed and sagacious. Sanguine...sanguine...veritas...requitas...oh that both could be so easy. But veri- in all its endings eludes my true meaning. Counterbalanced with an unrestful requi- that seems to never dissipate. Sand isn't all it is. Holy sands, holy beaches, holy waters. Bottled and sold at fair market value because what else can you do? Oh, your sighs. Deep in the back of your head. Oh, oh, my imitation romance caught up in a whirlwind of feminine mystique and illusion. Were it so complicated. Sagacious? The syllables I put into your vagabond being that will follow mine into green plains that I'm going to think I've been to before. Your Anglo-Saxon, Germanic,Painting Perfection8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The Worst Case Scenario His heart pounded in his chest, screaming at him to turn back.. He licked his dry lips and shuffled awkwardly into the center of the room, his legs barely moving. The sound of laughter and haggling was all around him. fifty feet in front of him was the table. It was swarmed with squealing and giggling girls, all fawning over the pamphlets scattered across the table top. He was beginning to wish he had never taken this bet.The Worst Case Scenario7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He stopped in the middle of the room, lifting a determined chin. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He clenched his sweaty hands. This was it, no turning back. He worked some saliva into his cotton dry mouth and finally managed to work his mouth. Then before his survival instincts could stop him he shouted at the top of his voice.
The dealer hall instantly went dead quiet. Over one hundred heads suddenly swiveled in his di
the great leap forwardthe great leap forward4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wu xian shen
my father threshes
the thin green grass,
sets it aflame.
our mother gathers
the cinders, mixes
a meal into grey.
here, a dish born
of a dying garden
my brother is the first
to eat he does not die
so we follow,
joking about the smoked spice,
laughing until our tummies hurt:
after the other.
we huddle around the shithole,
our faces wrung like rags
father leaves as we enter
Roman HolidayRoman Holiday11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The gypsies pick my pockets, pick my purse
Their clever fingers deftly, softly pressed
Against my skirted hip, my sweaty breasts;
On swelt'ring, crowded buses, tourists curse
And slap the hands of gypsies; none the worse
Are they for failed attempts to cheat their guests
They disappear like ghosts into the rest
Of those who guard their pockets, guard their purse
'Gainst thieves on such a hot, unpleasant ride
'Til I, a naïve trav'ler, turn my head
Then gypsies press up closer to my side;
Pretending not to notice hands that tread
Across my body; I will let them roam
For through their gestures, I am part of Rome.
The brutality of loveA person is molded and woven together in his mothers womb-The brutality of love6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Vibrant, creative, a creature set apart to roam the plains of earth
filled with potential to procreate,
to be fruitful, to be himself, the only one like him, a unique work of art.
Until they speak.
They speak death into his mind, alluring mediocrity
they build their structures to constrain him
they place fences to withhold him,
to deter him from living dangerously
with passion and meaning.
The world fears when an individual awakens
and steps up to the stage in boldness with fire in his heart.
They fear passion, for it challenges their cowardice,
like finding sharp pins in the comfortable couches they sink into.
Reality is scary.
Love is scary.
I mean real love...
Forget pretty flowers
and little red hearts
teddy bears and
cards with angels
Feel the bitter pain
as love creeps through
the blood that covers all,
all those deepest, darkest stains.
Tremble in reverent fear
as love takes up a cross
Beautiful DisasterSky laughed quietly as the drunken woman spun around in a circle in the plaza of the old church. She was laughing as well, her jacket unbuttoned and her blouse not tucked in and her hair spilling around her shoulders. Her shoes were even sprawled on the stones next to the fountain, forgotten for the joy of feeling cold stone under her soft feet. This Sarah Brown was looser now, freer after the sweet milk he had ordered for her. Who knew that a little rum in some milk could make this girl interesting? This woman was so different from the Sergeant Sarah Brown he had met in the New York mission.Beautiful Disaster7 years ago in General More Like This
Suddenly, she stopped and swayed, one hand flying to her head. He reached out to steady her, and she looked up at him.
"Mister Masterson," she declared loudly. "I think you are taking my inhibitions too lightly. They may be loosened by that drink, but they are not gone!"
Sky bowed his he
Black HoleBlack HoleBlack Hole9 years ago in Open More Like This
like a butterfly
happiness drifts near
in the air
guilds cheek and hair
light and color
to the dark star
of light and color
slips it's bonds
to darkest thought
golden strands of light
and hold it close
I need the light
how can happiness
along a bleak
all light all color in
yet, all light and color
.I would shower
……lush green life
..in that dark
…I would give
…..all my light
BlurHe was there once. In some ways, he had always been there. He was greater and weaker than inspiration, her lifeline and her killer. She used to believe in fairy tales, clung to them like a child desperate to be loved. And when he came, she clung to him, and then when she fell to her knees and did not feel him help her up, she wondered if she had passed through only mist when she had lunged for his arm, and she shunned the touch of every other fairy tale that came to her after that. This confused the fairy tales, of course, for they did not believe in reality. They did not understand that although he had been a dream, he had also been reality itself. He was something more than family, more than friend; he was a wish.Blur6 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
He was there once. And in some ways, he was there still.
That was why she kept trying to blur the line. She was not quite sure what she meant by "the line"; she figured it meant the barrier between who he had been and who he had become, or who she thought or hoped he was an
The shield.The shield.4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Come take my hand
And leap with me
We'll fly through the moonbeams
And land safely
Into your nightmares
But I'll be your shield
I'll shine away the demons
And kiss away your fears
We'll jump from that vantage point
And fly through the stars
Don't be afraid to touch them
Only I will they harm.
So come take my hand
And walk along with me
I'll give you the petals and keep the thorns;
Only I will have to bleed.
Snapped --Mature--Sitting at your seat, your elbows leaning on the bar top, your senses are tightened by the sudden sensation of the hairs on the back of your neck standing to strict attention.Snapped --Mature--8 years ago in Horror More Like This
A scent curls by your nose, scattered by the smell of alcohol strewn through the bar, the smell of sweat from the dozens of men sitting and drinking, mostly just having gotten back from their jobs.
Even buried beneath all the sharp, unpleasant smells, this smell stands out. The only way to really describe it, would be to imagine a huge red line painted mid-air...
Your head slowly turns, your eyes dart to their left corners, as you watch the door to the place swing open. The small bell above the door jingles with the person's entry, some people looking up and looking back away, as a natural reaction.
As the door swings open, hints at smells from the street pour in. Normal people smell nothing but air, but then again, you're not normal, are you...?
Your nose is as sharp as a bloodhound's.
And the man in black jeans
MilesThere's all these miles between us,Miles8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but I see you all the time.
A 1000 laughs between us,
to keep me going every day.
The miles keep us at bay,
I still feel your heart beating.
The miles disappear,
when I think about your face.
I'm all alone,
your always on my mind,
I dream of you,
cant get you out of my head.
Even though I'm here alone,
your never far away,
I see you when I close my eyes,
In my mind its only you and me.
Every thing you do,
everything you say,
your always on my mind.
All the miles between us,
could never pull us apart.
It gets hard sometimes,
all the miles could never keep us away.
Pledge to sephirothI pledge alligence to SephirothPledge to sephiroth9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and the black materia in his hand
for the destruction of which it sends
one world,under him
with death and destruction for all
friendsI cryfriends8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sweet MemoriesThe memories are so sweetSweet Memories3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They are what keeps me going
Throughout the days
That I do not see him.
The beating of his heart beneath my ear,
His arm around my shoulders,
The way his hands moved over the piano keys,
Skrillex playing in the background,
Paper flowers taking shape beneath our fingers,
The touch of his soft fingers against mine,
His adorable shyness,
And his warm lips against mine,
A blush spreading across our cheeks,
And wide, happy smiles.
If this is what love is,
I don't know why
I've always pushed it away.
I think I will start welcoming it
back into my icy heart.
He's breaking down my walls,
I'm scared and elated at the same time.
I can't wait to see
What our future holds.
The Soldier's Wife -Part OneThey had warned her of marrying a soldier many times before her wedding day. They described short tempers and muddy boots, while her friends teased her about long and lonely months when he was away at war. Her father, a Lieutenant of His Majesty's Army at the time, had explained it took a woman of a certain fortitude and grace to bear the responsibility because wedding a soldier meant marrying into the politics of war. Just as she had to be loyal to her husband, society would require her to be loyal to his kingdom's values. Helen had married Shane Emberley anyway, because she was young and in love. She thought she had heard enough advice to guide her in any situation, but no one had the heart to warn a young bride about tragedy.The Soldier's Wife -Part One4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Her lungs emptied and she didn't have the strength to take another breath. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she replied, "What do you mean an ambush?"
Master Sergeant Lansberg, the officer-in-charge at the Imperial Army's office in the city of Br
over-extensionhere i am cultivating my little garden of loneliesover-extension3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a sponge, a chair, a shoulder
here i am with a wad of cotton batting, filling up my cadre of empties
line you all up on the shelf in the back of my head
pull you off and hey, lovely, how are you today?
how was the test the date the hospital the visit to the morgue
did you panic did you leave him did you hurt yourself
are you all right?
here i am lab doctor of chemistry far away, drugging up my