Dandelionsi.Dandelions5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When my mother told me these beautiful dandelions
were nothing but weeds, I knew I was destined to
disappoint her, for I am the devil in her bed of roses.
The day she called me selfish was the same day I
learned to laugh, because I do more to make her
happy than she'll ever choose to realize.
After that teacher called and her idea of a perfect
son shattered, I reassured her that I would never
be appreciated for the beautiful person I'm not.
She dreams of seeing grandchildren I hope not to
have, but I pray she'll be gone long before I can
give her a reason to love me.
dreamworlds die in sun... EOWwhen the world ends, white dust will fall, like the curtain at the end of a play. it will coat the burned bodies of the people who jumped from big skyscraper buildings. falling like leaves. men with shrapnel in their eyes will be tripping over the barbed wire of the warzone waged in the streets as they choke on destruction. screaming women clutching babies will be pulling out their hair, picking through the debris for anything.photographs.letters.anything to remind them of the worldoncewas.dreamworlds die in sun... EOW5 years ago in Horror More Like This
the last words of the human race will be spoken into a cell phone.
perhaps it will come like a thief, stealing away the night. step by step. invisible. Cities will die from the inside out, eaten from the center by termites and spreading its disease like ringworm. factories will slowly fade away as corporations crumble, disintegrate and disappear. global warming will rise the ocean tides with acid rain water. the stock market will crash causing a pandemic of pandemonium
My Own Service I close my eyes, and I can't remember ever having opened them. I forget about all the mornings I watched the sultry light rising through the spaces between my curtains, and focus on staying completely buried in my thin red sheets. I can hear the clock outside, signaling my moment to rise. I cover my ears; I can wake on my own, and I have no need for diversions. I'm stuck in my attempt at living in the moment.My Own Service6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
With a sigh I take in a breath of humid summer air, and for a brief second I let my mind stray to another time, another place- and perhaps another feeling entirely. This thought pleases me, however I know it's wrong to aimlessly hope for something unlike your reality, so I sit up in my bed and rotate slightly to my left, letting my feet abruptly hit the firm oak floor. I wonder why I'm so incredibly calm.
Scampering into the bathroom, I draw myself a cool bath and delicately submerge myself- letting the refreshing water b
abracadavergod is a magicianabracadaver6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
out of his hat
it's that much more
clever to speak
with your tongue
in someone else's
Untitled 28Time ticks by as I lay by your side,Untitled 285 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Thinking of all the tears that you've seen me cry.
Running a finger down your sleeping face,
I know there are millions who would take my place.
Laying there safe and protected in your arms,
Thankful that I fell for your undeniable charm,
I think of how many times you've dried my tears,
Picked me up, helped me through and calmed my fears.
I feel you stir and I let out a sigh,
The tilt my head to see those gorgeous grey eyes.
They're beautiful, yet have a dangerous hint,
And looking at you now I see a mischevious glint.
Trailing my fingers across your skin,
I return your look with a devilish grin.
Watching those eyes, like a stirring storm,
Watching their depths change and transform.
I raise my head to your passionate kiss,
And I wonder what I've done to deserve such bliss.
I snuggle in closer to the warmth of your side,
And am thankful you weren't scared by all the tears that I cried.
Now my eyes are dry, there are no more tears,
And I no longer have
branching pathwaysa box of nude erasers,branching pathways6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
scattered like freckles,
lie abroad polar tile in offbeat positions.
ditched like balloons on a gale day,
pile in the corner;
my right hand,
married to this pen,
aches with debt.
the groom doesn't lift the veil.
something is brewing,
sweltering the room i'm alone in.
the light flickers. a fly,
zapped repeatedly curious.
i'm alone again.
comb sentences with my fingertips;
smudging words that resemble
mascara puddles in pores of
my face when i cry.
the light seems brighter.
no longer flickering; swaying.
altering a staccato feel of
frizzy rabble with prude intentions.
i write wearily as my lips submerge,
and my body envelopes porcelain
against silent waves.
never getting out
(of this bathtub)
the bitter from sweetshaking off the memorythe bitter from sweet6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
unfinished closed circles
falling back and forth
unraveling your voice in my head
shaking off the memory
spring is dreary this year
the cranberry juice
the cold cereal will soon
i'm not eating
i'm not drinking
sleep isn't raping me
billowing clouds of pot
force me to breathe easier
i lick my fingers to clean off
desperate to avoid a shower
desperate to avoid getting up at all
it wounds me
i knew you'd be the one to leave it open
Copyright © Ashley Saylor, http://iampoetry.deviantart.com 2007-2009. Please do not use my words/poetry without permission or without noting its origins.
SafeThe usual items-televisions, radios, computers,Safe5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
money we left lying around-
were all missing.
The obvious sort of missing,
as blatant as the crack in our door,
which the thief needn't have even kicked in!
We had left the front windows ajar
in that Indian summer.
In the bedroom lay
a clean empty square, dust settled around it,
where the safe had been, resting
on the ground in the closet.
I imagine the thief opening it in evening light,
a night tiger at the river where he drinks alone,
lapping at the secrets of our precious lives.
I think of him pulling out the hard black gun
in its sinister pieces,
the silverware from Aunt Lori,
my father's class ring,
black stone, white gold, crest from the Midwestern
school which he abhorred,
the watch, passed down
and never worn
by my father or me, as if it could not take the sun,
as if time need never be rewound,
as if we should keep the hands-
seven past three-
in their place,
where they stopped, hell
probably back in the
and it rained lightning.hello grandson;and it rained lightning.6 years ago in Other More Like This
the night hell froze over
i was sitting on the hilltop
hurling lightning across the sky.
it was raining hellfire comets.
they sizzled and rent holes in my skin,
ate through my hands with a pleased serpent hiss.
(i felt nothing)
and i was afraid.
my past glories were damned
to a foreign god's pit, and the blood
of his martyrs
tainted, ruined, despoiled
the sacrifices they once made to me.
there is no place
for old gods, Hades told me
the day before Lucifer ate him.
we used to be something, grandson.
now the mortals pray after another dream.
eyebright, they stare up at hungry clouds
and see floating gates and pearls;
do they remember the gods they used to fear.
we showed them an anger, a glory,
(hate anger jealousy pain rage fury)
that mirrored, too closely, who they were.
They did not want to see, and now
they long instead
for new gods, they fear
DN: The Decorative KindHe lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes that appeared black in the rooms dim lighting and arms and legs spread across the mattress as if he was tied by the limbs to the bed posts. For nearly three days hed been in this position, and though they all tried countless times none of the caretakers managed to rouse him from his stupor; they couldnt even get him to eat when they tried to force him on the first day, he gagged and threw up over the edge of the bed and after that no-one even dared to bring food in for him.DN: The Decorative Kind7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Wammys House was just as he expected it to be: a large, brick structure filled mainly with children who cried inconsolably and adults who walked around with fake smiles on their faces because they knew of no other way to deal with the misery that surrounded them. Wammys House was an orphanage, a place children were sent when they had no place left to call home or (in Beyond Birthdays case) when they had a home but were
PerceptionsPerceptions5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
An age of aluminum shells,
Shiny, shiny, shiny
Like a greased axle
Spinning and moving.
Swift machines, active, alive.
A wet smudge of oil across a cracked lens;
eyes of the world.
It is an era of stainless steel coffins,
Iron mausoleums. Our shattered eyes
Perceive no more than hollow,
Gray cocoons, the graves of butterflies,
Shriveled husks of corn.
Where is that beauty
Promised us by the generations preceding?
Has it built a coffin
Bound tight with bolts, a hideous
Under the crushing weight of steel?
Smeared with glossy
Oil, slick as tongues? Naked
In the cold, serrated air?
Frozen in a stainless tomb?
Your obvious beauty
has been trampled under our boots.
The Writer Finds BlissWhat is to be gained from feeling this way?The Writer Finds Bliss5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(these anxious emotions)
In an unsightly play of loss and grieving,
I settle my heart.
I have nailed it to concrete, pinned it to cement,
Locked it in love-awkward chest,
But remote as it is, it pulses in silence
Unforgiving, a terrible stress.
Tie me together with all of my grandeur,
Allow me pretence in words;
I carve out these letters from somewhere within me,
My fragments are broken, insensible ramblings
From the mind that attempts to conspire;
I don't wish to bore you by stating my trauma
But still, I place my whims higher.
And it is selfishness! the destroyer of pride,
Of reason, of thought,
Why do I strive if not to fulfil?
I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
I smile on the inside,
I wonder at who I may be,
The road stretches on, distant and long
My heels are blistered, soles are scarred,
Ankles are chafed.
At least now, I understand.
I love you, I love you,
That may change with the
The Peaches in the PeachboxMy mother asked me what hadThe Peaches in the Peachbox5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Happened to the peaches in the peach box,
But I could not utter the words.
My hesitant teeth bite into soft,
Fuzz covered skin,
Juice drips down my elbow
As I devour the tender fruit.
It seems almost sinful,
To destroy something so perfect.
And wonderfully innocent.
My mother asked me what had
Happened to the peaches in the peach box,
But I could not utter the words.
38. AbandonedAnd I would die for myself38. Abandoned6 years ago in Typographical More Like This
If no one will do it for
I don't need your help
I don't need your help
Need your help
I know the answer
Elusive[door opens, hurried footsteps, door slams]Elusive6 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
Writer: [out of breath] Look, I dont want to do this, but Im going to have to start imposing curfews if you dont start listening a bit more! I know you need your freedom, but cant you be a little more considerate? I am responsible for everything you do, you know!
Muse: [stiffly] Im sorry.
Writer: Are you?
Writer: No. I know that look. Ive seen it too many times already.
Muse: But do you understand it? Can you comprehend me at all?
Writer: How can I? You dont make sense! Youre so capricious you taught me that word and I cant I cant even trust you.
Writer: Look, Im not asking for much. Cant you just not hang out with her?
Muse: [muttered] Whats the matter, jealous?
Muse: Im not sure I understood your request. What exactly is the issue at hand?
She isThey saw one day, a girl with distressed features, ripped clothing and a poor figure. Her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks stained, stood alone in the pouring rain. Her hair tangled and torn flustering in the wind, hands clamped tight together, lost in shame.She is5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Could they tell that with each step closer her shoulders shake?
Barefoot against the concrete, how could she not be cold? Here take this blanket, take this coat, shelter you from the rain. You'll catch a chill y'know; look at you you're shivering, have you eaten yet? Would you like a warm drink?
They left her be, she never thanked them, she stood still, her knees quivering, her throat aching. Beneath the warmth, she still shivered. Take me home, save me, save me. Her clothes ripped, dirt smeared, she stood still, shaking.
What are you doing here? Don't you have a home? Here take this Can you not move? I'm trying to help you, don't try my patience, and here grab this. Grab it! What? Don't look at me with those sad eyes of yours,
our livesour lives5 years ago in Horror More Like This
bright cloudless skies
kites without anchors
sound of wind
and refreshing spray
motion as you spin
letting go control of your arms, and of your speed
green tickling meadow grass
look up to heaven
feel sun on your face and arms.
sitting on a beach
yellow sand under your toes
warm orange sunset
so many b l u r r e d c o l o u r s .
sigh, watching the lulling sea
speak to your happy, laughing friends
and your favourite sister.
you're so calm and relaxed
and you whisper to the wind
bold but kind
nothing in this world would scare me.
we are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams
and we need never grow old.
your eyes relax
and sink into sparkling bliss
the darkness envelops you
in glittered spirals of nothing
it feels good
far too strong
your bedroom hidden from sight
behind a flimsy white fog
Do The DewDo The Dew10 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
An empty Mountain Dew can sits boldly on my beaten and bruised computer desk. It's metallic green curves reflect back at me with resent. The can is a soldier, and I - the enemy dictator. Already, the white dollar store trash can next to my desk is the eternal resting place to seventeen cans. Purple hearts for them all. Bravo. My nerves are on end, electric with caffeine. An acid tasting ocean fills my stomach, and my head feels heavy. Tossing my hair has become a risk I'm not willing to take. Long blonde strands stick to the light moisture on my back. Breathe in, breathe out. When did the simple task of inhaling become such a pain in the ass? A dull fan blows dank air, in a pathetic attempt of cooling me. Dust and dirt clings to the blades. The room is now polluted. Thank you very much, you pathetic hunk of plastic. Absent mindedly, I throw the can at the spinning blades. It hits with an ear splitting clink, and spins back at me at an amazing speed. The dented alum
Soulmate"He told me that I was perfect." She stares off at the sky. "He said that I was everything he wanted in a girl." She's sitting at a picnic table, the kind of thing you can get splinters from.Soulmate5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Mmhmm." I sit with my legs crossed about a meter away on the ground. I reach down and grab a random blade of grass, twirling it.
"I was the right height, for starters." She's taller than me.
"He seems the type to be picky about that." I yank the unlucky blade of grass from the earth and bring it closer to my face for inspection.
"And he was into the blue eyes, brown hair sort of thing. He said that blonde was too popular, or something like that, and that brown made a dull eye colour." One of her eyes is bluer than the other, and her hair is just dark enough to count as 'brown'.
"I think his ex was a brunette, although I can't be sure about the eyes." I let the light breeze steal my prize, and then I reach back down to run my fingers over another blade.
"He was a hockey addict too. He told me that
WorkshopWorkshopWorkshop5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
'She bats her eyelashes like a cat sheathing and unsheathing its claws. '
'She' s all manners and no morals.'
'She's cold air. As your lungs fill up for the first time you realize the wonder of breathing but afterwards you'll have influenza for a week.'
My burger sweats constellations of grease. I listen to him; the meat is pulverised in the back of my mouth. As he talks, he moves his hands as if to measure out the air of the room.
'She's like your grandfather's bone hunting knives, so beautiful on the mantelpiece you forget what they have done and what they could still do.'
He's been talking for a while now. His girlfriend, Amy, is lining up fries into the shape of a flower. Her eyes glisten like blackberries. The fries shine too. The room is lit low but everything tonight has a slick gleam it.
'She's the hangover and the intoxication. The Shakespearians called orgasm a little death,
The First HourI'm lying here, staring blankly at a barren ceiling. Emptiness fills my mind with thoughts of despair. The darkness of night is beginning to blanket the room. Obscurity, mocking me straight into my eyes and mind taking away the minuscule amount of happiness left over from another passing day.The First Hour5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Really, where has life taken me? This moment was never in my plans. What is my purpose? No one has an ounce of trust in me. What should I do now? Reality seems to be such a cruel world to live in.
The first vicious battle has been won, but does the war ever end?
Now looking out a slightly frosted window I see a single star brightly glaring amongst a thinly clouded night sky. I am no longer alone in this sea of dejection. Light from a single star has ignited positivity in my mind and emotions.
Is this a new beginning? The dust of massive destruction is starting to clear. Am I born again? This is the first hour of a new life. Where shall I begin? Admissio