Grima's LamentGrima's Lament4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Why do I dwell in exile here,
In Isengard's tower, far from home?
All I wanted was her love...
I was the king's trusted servant,
His counsellor, his eyes and ears--
He should have let me have her,
His sister's daughter, golden Eowyn!
I turned to the wise and powerful one,
Trusting the White Hand to give more freely;
He promised me riches, power, and more--
The woman I desired, if I but served him...
All I did, I did for love, not greed;
And how was I rewarded?
Lies and empty promises
Have soiled my proud name...
It was Saruman's doing, not mine;
And now I rot with him in Orthanc,
Laughing bitterly at his defeat---
At least he now shares my misery...
Tips para ser mejor ArtistaTips para ser mejor Artista6 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Tips cómo ser un mejor artista
No, no he venido a decirte como ganar más experiencia en tus habilidades artísticas u obtener tu propio estilo. Vengo a hablar de cómo ser un mejor artista en tu mente, eso significa cuando se es un gran artista incluso mas allá del papel. Carácter y sabiduría
En lo que te conviertas al final es tu camino o responsabilidad, (la cosa es que depende de ti...)
Esta es mi opinión, no tienes porqué estar de acuerdo, espero que lo estés.
1.- Trata de tener un sentido de calidad y estética primero, trata de tener una ética de trabajo o disciplina
2.- La fama y popularidad no hacen a un buen artista y no es un indicador de crear "buen arte". Ignora Internet y a los besatraseros
3.- La arrogancia no es un método para mejorar tus habilidades artísticas
4.- La intolerancia a otros métodos artísticos te vuelven cerra
My Wildest DreamsI want to travel to places I’ve never been yet seen thousands of times through photographs and books. I want to meditate in a Buddhist temple for a few weeks. I want to see the ruins of past cities, I want to study them. I want to learn the ancient languages that have been almost completely forgotten. A friend said I could put money into my retirement fund but with the way things are going now by the time I could retire I might be dead. I told my mother I want to go to Africa. She looked at me like I had lost my mind. “It’s dangerous!” Really? Is that all she thought of? There’s so much more than the danger lurking there… the beauty, the culture, I want to see it and experience it. I want to take my camera with me on this journey around the world. I’d love to see the remains of the rainforest before they are wiped out completely! I want to climb the highest mountains and see the great beauties of the land below me from such a height. I want toMy Wildest Dreams2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
The BridgeThe Bridge2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Among the Wooden Paths,
I stride alone in the Empty Forest,
The wind behind my back,
Blowing softly and pushing me forward.
Moments in time suddenly seem to halt,
As I watch from afar,
The bridge that lies before me,
Am I strong enough to lay my hand?
Across its wooden surface?
Can I cross it?
Find the path hidden in the shadows ahead of me?
Can I find Courage in the darkness so bleak?
To find a light that will guide me?
Seconds fade away.
Across the Bridge,
Across the Gap,
Leading to my pride,
Leading to my Courage,
Leading to my Hope,
Leading to my Love...
Flash Fiction: Good Business We're finished, Madame. How do you feel?Flash Fiction: Good Business6 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
The sound of knuckles popping echoed through the dilapidated ballroom. The silver chamber set up in the center hissed loudly as it opened.
I feel.... ah... A woman breathed deeply, then sighed happily. I feel fantastic. Slowly she stepped from the blinding lights inside the chamber, dressed in a black smock.
Would you like to see your new body? A tall man in a grey uniform stepped forward, motioning towards one of the few mirrored walls that hadn't been smashed. Most of our clients don't care, but I knew you'd like to see. He pointed her towards the mirror that had been cleaned of all dust and grime.
Red vs. Blue vs. Star TrekRed vs. Blue vs. Star TrekRed vs. Blue vs. Star Trek7 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
The scene opens with the familiar animated star field. A familiar ship comes into view flying on a tilt. It passes the viewer at high speed. The saucer bares the familiar name and designation of USS Enterprise NCC-1701 but it looks like someone spray painted Sarges ship over Enterprise in red. The view pans over the top of the saucer of the Enterprise to focus on the bridge. Inside are four Spartan soldiers attending various stations. They are the red team from red army, Sarge in the captains chair, Donut at the Helm, Simmons at sensors, doubling for communications, and Griff at the second station next to Donut.
Sarge: Sarges log today. Whatever today is
Simmons: Its a stardate, Sarge. Technically today would be stardate 13-88.5.
Sarge: Shut up, Simmons. Let me do the log.
Simmons: Can do, Sarge.
Griff: Why dont we just go by the normal time stamp? You know, Month, day and then year.
Simmons: That is how a
The Stranger (Dangers Below)High on the vapours.The Stranger (Dangers Below)2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
High as skyscrapers.
Car fumes, perfumes...
It's all in the papers.
Black and white print.
Street corner mints.
Pop to the shops
to find out you're skint.
City life slowed
in the alley, you go.
Beware of the stranger
and dangers below.
Der Riese FinishedDer RieseDer Riese Finished5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Electricity emerged from the mainframe outside of the secret factory of Der Riese; with a bright light the electricity subsided and four men were standing as the light faded. Looking around quickly the American; Tank Dempsey was shocked.
He quickly turned to the three behind him; the Russian Soviet Nicolai was on his knees holding his stomach. The two above him the Imperial soldier Takeo was grasping the tilt of his katana with his right hand while looking outwards. The German, Doctor Richtofen was putting a magazine into the MP40 he wielded.
"What the hell just happened? Everyone ok?" Dempsey asked them at once.
Nicolai groaned as his stomach began to play up on him, which too add that he said "Ooh, I think I will throw up...."
Richtofen knelt down, set down the MP40 and patted the Russian on the back, which he said to him in reply, "A mere side effect Russian." Then Nicolai threw up on the ground with finished with another groan.
"Everything is normal."
Takeo looked at the
NumbI woke up this morning,Numb9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
and applied my face.
To hide the tears of last night.
And now scrape it away,
see the skin under my fingernails.
Can't feel a thing .
So god damn numb.
So tired of falling .
Maybe I'll wake up one day.
You see through the smile on my face,
like I thought you would.
You linger inside.
Where I'm cold, hollow and numb.
Where my soul rests until I release it next.
Help me feel something.
Don't want to be numb any more.
Come and save me.
Please oh, god, I think I'm falling.
I close my eyes.
And you there,
You say you want to know everything .
All I want to is to feel something.
Instead of all this pain that here.
I thought today i was happy,
For the first time in ages.
My fingers start to itch .
I need you.
I'm so used to this numb sensation,
My body tingles, as my soul awakes.
My arm itches and I feel faint.
I can't feel that I'm tearing my arm apart because of you.
Because I'm so Numb.
Please, make me feel,
make me real, once again.
exhibit.Nanny thinks the carpet is too softexhibit.3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
to be my torturecage
and the sofa and endtables are poor
jailbars, but we
are feline and we're too tough to care
bigsister and littlesister are lioncubs today
baby lionesses, authentically,
we even lap milk from
ceramic bowls, bellies swollen from
the orders we give: 'emily, you're the
Get us more milk.'
She hates serving us, she's only four
but she's getting strong and someday
she'll earn predator status.
(give thanks that we do not consume you, emily,
your fingers peek through the cagebars and
they are white and young and blood
is sweeter than breastmilk)
Roar. We are learning to growl
I tried to wrestle littlesister but we collided with
Nanny's gnarled sandalfeet and
So am I, Nanny.
I am a lioness today and I
Sarah tosses her mane and I explain patiently (she's only six) that lionesses are free,
don't need manes to chase antelopes
she's too young to care
if her imagination grants her maned masculine lion
Sound in my SoulSound in my Soul4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
My heart begins to beat
To the silent,slow and sweet
Sound in my soul.
I began to lose control
Of everything I know
I felt as pure as snow.
Out of everything I had
This feeling made me glad.
How could I have survived so long
Without this beautiful song?
Im starting to believe
That this feeling will never leave.
I begin to sing aloud
Im on the brink,
About to overflow
Lets get this going
And start the show.
and it came on in waves.and it came on in waves.5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Big Sur was a name that lived in the mouths of surfers and the words of Jack Kerouac and Henry Miller. Spontaneity drove me to this place as I ventured away from the Los Angeles wasteland back to the Silicon graveyard called home. The boredom of business for a whole week might have been the true cause. I'm never one not to take an adventure.
But California natives drove smart. To cross from one side of the state to the other, you took I-5 or 101. We laughed at the idiots who took the "scenic route" for pleasure, not for business. You only took Highway 1 to access the beaches. With the twists and turns, possible motion sickness, mudslides, rockslides, fog and constant construction, Highway 1 was a tourist's wake-up call-- not all is sunny-sexy in the Golden state. Seeing as I lived four years away from home, where the Northeast's transportation circulatory system pulses strong, fast and easy, I did an un-native thing and turned off at Pismo Beach for Highway 1.
Driving this road a few h
CuttingMy hunger for pain is unquenched.Cutting11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
For long have I unknowingly
craved the sharpness to cut myself wide open.
Baring the fiery passion
that has kept me alive in the darkness.
The red finds its way to the surface as
the silver relieves my soul from
The skin splits,
sorrow spilling over the sides.
My Heavily Caffeinated Heart 4My Heavily Caffeinated Heart 44 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
My Heavily Caffeinated Heart
Macchiato Part 2
The coloured lights pulsed and reflected off every surface, every cocktail and every bottle showcased in the shelving behind the bar. The sweaty throng of dancers flocked together, twisting their bodies to the rhythmic shapes of the music in the humid air. They worshipped the DJ, elevated on his podium. They were his disciples and we would join in their cause.
"What do you reckon?" I raised my voice to ask Chris.
"Seems alright but I want a drink." He responded and turned to the bar
"Nah, no, no, get out there and scout the war zone. I'll get the drinks."
Chris raised his blonde eyebrows once, glanced towards the bar longingly and then finally spun on his heels and trudged towards the dance floor. I swaggered up to the bench, looking around at the other people eagerly awaiting service. I ordered two beers for Chris and myself. Turning abruptly, I accidentally knocked the arm of a dark haired guy who was carrying three drinks, causin
StreetsideStreetside4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it trembles, a
crooked form caught
in a black sea,
stagnant now the
still waters rumble
with the passing of cars and
unmoving eyes, casting deep
shadows over its
it croaks, a feathery wing outstretched,
a mouth, wide open
unable to utter a single
I Hate ItI Hate It3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I hate it, when the reason for my depression
Is the person I love the most
Thank YouThank You3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I survived the fall
I won in the end
I was there
When you crawled
Begged at my clawed feet
Kissed my bleeding, flaming skin
Yes, I remember so well
I laughed that day
Where would I be without you?
Who would comfort me?
I've many demons in Hell that I'm sure will comply
I will never need you
I hate that I thought I did
Have I really fallen that far?
I feel more as if I have awakened
The blood, the screams, the gore
They seem as familiar friends now
Things I have always done
That I have yearned- no
I want this Hell
I want to bathe in it
So, thank you
You led me here
In payment, as I have some mercy
Your death will be quick
Cigarette BreakOnly started work an hour ago and already I want one,Cigarette Break3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'll sneak off outside and enjoy it in the morning sun.
The world slows down as I take the first drag,
I'm just an observer while I'm smoking a fag.
As I sit there, only moving to raise my hand to my lips,
I see a man burn his tongue on the hot coffee he sips.
Cant help but smile, especially with the look on his face,
As my attention is drawn to a couples embrace.
The tear in her eye tells me he's leaving,
His comforting hug says he'll be back so there is no need for grieving.
As the smoke swirls around my lungs,
A coach pulls up and its packed full of nuns.
Are they on business or do they seek sun, sea and sand,
Clearly they're not heading for Bangkok or Amsterdam.
Looking around at the different cultures and races,
All with different emotions on their faces.
Children all happy and excited,
Couples saddened at being divided.
A father seeing off his daughter with a lump in his throat,
I see it all as I sit here and smoke.
when writers cryAwake on strong, black coffee drinkswhen writers cry2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Words on paper, liquid ink
Dreams of pen tips, future lies
Tragic stories, quotes of the wise
Nights have carved their dark, deep valleys
In the hollows of my eyes
For you see, my friend, when writers cry
There are no tears, their cheeks are dry
But ink dipped fingers, worn out wrists
Chewed up nails and bloody fists
You see, it's strange when writers cry
Their hearts are true, their words don’t lie
They mourn in silence for a few days
Of paper cuts and tear-less haze
Of coffee mugs and smoky paper
Liquid spills, and water vapor
Sorry dreams and wasted hours
Putrid smells and dying flowers
(Torn to pieces from inside
Tears are hidden by our pride)