The Friends of the ChampionThe Friends of the Champion4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Complete antidote to my last fiction, haha. This little bit of silly takes place long before the previous post when Kirkwall sat in the eye of the storm. Hawke and his companions enjoy the peace, unaware that - between them - it is they who will bring about its end.
Just a bit of stupid fun, but bitter sweet if you know what's to come ^_^
"Okay so - stop me if you've heard this one."
It's late, probably very late, in the Hanged Man. Cortland Hawke looks absently around the room, as if the time might just leap from the boarded walls and make itself known.
Heaving another draught from his tankard, the newly-dubbed 'Champion of Kirkwall' gives up any pretence of caring what time it is anyway and lets his head rest on his arms, his gaze moving toward the party's resident healer. Anders is holding court, having seemingly nominated himself as entertainer for the latter part of the evening in the absen
Hate"I hate you."Hate5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Klaus smirks, sucking more fumes from his cigarette. It floods his lungs, coating them in a thin layer of comfort, before exhaling. The calming chemicals linger, though, and that's what he's after.
"Love you too," he replies, sarcastic, obviously not thinking about what Ben is really saying; not thinking, or just not caring.
"I mean it," Ben says, voice heightening slightly from Klaus' nonchalance.
Klaus rolls his eyes and flicks his dying cig off the roof. He doesn't need to look to see the thin, glowing trail as it falls; it's a brief thing, and he doesn't care for those things any longer.
He leans back against the roof, lingering warmth of the tiles against his back. Ben is diagonal to him, on his left side, sitting huddled by one of the many chimneys. Klaus can just make out his figure, cloaked in his dark uniform; his hair, though, catches the moonlight, making it easier to distinguish.
"And why, pray tell me, do you hate me now?" Klaus drawls out, remnants of smoke
WomanhoodI was seventeen when I first understood what it was to be a woman. It wasn't the moment years before when I began my period. It hadn't been the instant in which a boy first touched his lips to mine when I was twelve. It wasn't when I put on my first prom dress, or the first time I wore heels. I knew that women had breasts, and men did not; men were taller, and stronger than women; women were fairer and meeker than men. That was the way things were, and always had been. I was born and raised to accept those facts, and that is exactly what I had done.Womanhood9 years ago in Open More Like This
I watched the deep, crimson blood drop and fan out in the water beneath me. It was like dropping food dye into oil, or dropping paint onto wet paper. It spread through the basin, dancing slowly over the white porcelain boundaries. My hips and legs and stomach ached for the fourth day in a row despite following the directions of countless concerned friends. "Drink water", "avoid salt", "exercise", they said. I had shaken three cylindrical br
ten years ago.ten years ago iten years ago.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
knew i was still
a romantic because
my dreams were still
filled with white dresses
and golden rings and
now, i know i am
a skeptic because
i am haunted by
and heated passion
and the faces
real, too real.
CourageThe world needs more courage.Courage11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Courage to fear.
Courage to hope.
Courage to hurt.
Courage to cope.
Courage to laugh.
Courage to cry.
Courage to live.
Courage to die.
Courage to love.
Courage to hate.
Courage to leave.
Courage to wait.
Courage to jump.
Courage to fall.
Courage to run.
Courage to crawl.
Courage to go.
Courage to stay.
Courage to work.
Courage to play.
Courage to fail.
Courage to try.
Courage to wish.
Courage to fly.
Courage to fight.
Courage to talk.
Courage to stand.
Courage to walk.
Courage to win.
Courage to lose.
Courage to dream.
Courage to use.
'tis the seasonanother december's defeated me'tis the season6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
one more winter
to the ghosts
who keep leaving me
choking on hope
'til I'm hoping
they'll leave me be
'round my bony tree
forced to flee
a certain we
surely she loves
but her I's
keep deceiving me
as snow melt
as they appear
when the numbers
have no meaning
about the year
dirty musicianthe street lights pukeddirty musician6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
cloak of yellow
and black spit away from cracked-
and it was
as if this man
or had been
to the place
from which he played
probably stolen from
or hell's only
a pawn shop
dollar bills fell
into it's coffin
as if hypnotized
by the guitar strings
in a slow-
sway only found
How Are The Cats?How are the cats? they say to meHow Are The Cats?6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the space where How are the kids? should be
As though compelled to obey social pleasantry
But confounded how to categorise me
When I'm clearly such an anomaly?
Not a mum, not a career girl
What else is there for a woman to be?
So I see them thinking.
Time after time I see people fall
At the how-are-the-kids fence
Like it's the barren elephant in a sterile living room
My supposed heartbreak, a 'fact' that must never be mentioned
A woman my age without children?
Why, it can only mean one thing
Especially when you look at the family history,
They whisper soundlessly, pityingly, thinking I can't hear them
Just because the words aren't spoken aloud.
I observe the delicate verbal tiptoeing
And feel touched and frustrated both at the same time
How I long just to tell them the simple truth:
I don't have kids because I don't want kids.
But I've seen it too many times now:
The surprised look, the puzzled frown
something to write about...I'd been drug sniffedsomething to write about...5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
addled & otherwise
by agents in
points of origin
hope to heart to god
like father thought
hand to fist to mouth
like mother taught
as if no one had
colored those pale
so I shook
as all good books
to the shape
you've made me
I tried to trace
as a map
but found you'd
P.S.I'm not writing this naked,P.S.5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
But my heart is.
And it writes with all the partially healed wounds of yesterday,
Beating perilously strong with this love of you.
jokesi promise that i will always amuse;jokes6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
proud pieces of promiscuity
and vivacious displays of vulgarity.
surprising fountains of profanity
spouting from the mouths of barely babes,
but i want you to know something.
i am not the laughs under your tongue
i am not the smile upon your lips
i may never be without one of the two
but they do not define who i am.
there are half-baked scars burned, but raw
stretching across my face and they
curve at the right piece of time,
parting for the red sea of dead cells
i'll pretend doesn't exist at all.
just because i'm the funny girl
because my nose is a touch bulbous
my voice a sound raucous
and because i never seem to cry
doesn't mean i don't.
jokes have feelings, too.
if i'm not speaking, maybe there's a reason.
i'm skating on thin ice without blades
a shuffling across frostbitten souls
i'm ready for the lake to break apart
and leave me sinking to the bottom.
i'd tell you that i want to die.
but i've got a better punchline.
OscillationsGirl, I'd write you a poem.Oscillations5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'd write about your inflected accent
how it tickles my ossicles
with violent flutters
until the whole damn chamber
clutters with echoes
all the while
my heart's torm-
ented by the silent passion
in your eyes, and I
shrink away from you
like a Gorgon
from a mirror.
But words alone they mean but little,
and are fickle, and verbose;
and the Poem often withers
even faster than the Rose.
SupermoonI sit here, quietly battling my demons over a cup of tea,Supermoon5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you at the other end, receiving my transmissions.
We talk, or I do tonight, because I have things to say, mindless things
like how my hair breaks, the random coldness of spring, what I said to this and that and nobody,
how I have a black hole for a heart.
You listen. You disregard the fluff. You reply at the right moment, every time.
We've danced this one before, after all.
Outside, not far from my window, a guy is shot in the head. He dies.
I take a sip of tea, tell you more about my problems. They fill my mind entirely.
His body lies immobile, more shots are fired, two others are hit. A black car disappears into the night.
I tell you something about how I can't get my relationships to work. This seems important.
They find the car in flames some miles away. The killer ghosts have vanished.
You tell me to sleep. It is a full Moon lunar perigee. None of us are superstitious.
The night is impenetrable, dark, claustrophobic. I reme
fire works...america (the beautiful?)fire works...9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I courted you cross-country
and it was no easy ride
remembering time well wasted
with purpled mountains
and darkened skies
but your love leaves scars
and only sometimes
please pardon these promiscuous thoughts
scattered like miles left behind
and the last remaining years of youth
we've yet to let die
I've seen some
and rapid decline
grown tired of windswept plains
languishing in the shadow
of their great
and terrible god
on freedoms promised
and equality implied
US (that's) All
House of Good SenseI want crawl insideHouse of Good Sense6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a cleft in your
& live among people
who don't know
under typewritten words
the print mistakes
the white page,
my passion diffused.
In a world of
like the static on
the Hollywood sign,
I could be small
I wouldn't shake
from the lapse
I could be
the future inside
like film screens.
endless endingswellendless endings7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the spark took a twist
scissor-spit from her lips
a subtle shift and infinite
is simply split into bits
you're spinning sick
sinking quick and unmissed
every cheap trick unveiled
now scratched from your list
but that itch
it still persists
perching there on your wrist
sits downsleeve from your heart
or what's left of it
and what's this?
love's laid to rest
without a proper obit
transmit to your wits
that demands you submit
is a doubt
the charred remains
of a fire once lit
punchlines for dummies"you can see babies kickin' to this ultra-sound"punchlines for dummies6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i like your shoesyou stamped your cigarette outi like your shoes5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the bottom of your untied shoe.
(that you deny)
that i'm infiltrating
your already weak immune system.
you say, about your fake disease.
i'm terminal, too, you know.
you walked away for five minutes
(an estimate, you say)
i stole a cigarette of yours,
among other things.
i'll admit i'm a