Without chainsi. Nightmares fall from my eyes like a thousand tiny stars, glittering like silver doves at four-in-the-morning, when everyone should be asleep and yet no one really is, and there's nothing I can do to stop their fallWithout chains4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
there's nothing I can do to stop your fall
ii. In the darkness, I can hear you breathe.
"Just close your eyes," you whisper, "and everything's going to be all right."
The nightmares keep falling, crashing on the sheets like the lies from your lips.
You loved lying more than you loved me.
IndiaThe sea took'd me...India3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And oh my country of newlywed clouds how I remember you, dust and rain
and mud and spice in air. And in summer, baking roads and hot languages; a million
dialects, or eight hundred: I never learned you, I never will. I only loved you and I think
that is not enough, perhaps it never was, but how do I know? I know loneliness,
and how can you know that? I was a child, am a child, am something less or more now
And how can you think of beauty? Do you hear yourself? Your radios are blaring
noise; your television shows are preaching idiocy to a million people
who hear and conscious or not, listen. I've been away from you so long
that my tongue has unravelled. When I tried, people assured me
I was tongue-tied. Someone told me I spoke true, but I have never
answered you. You have never asked me to.
There's a sadness in me somewhere, now,
it could be hiding in my soul but the
Summer WomanWoman, you are my burnt sienna sculpture on Sun-days.Summer Woman4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are hiding my strength in rufous hair
and I feel you: russet-flushed to the touch,
jagged collarbone curving into neck,
easing into shoulders, into breasts;
woman, you are the warmest stone –
you are summery stone
to my water-drenched hands.
Woman in deepest reverie, you are hiding
my strength in pacific oceans of titian;
in running veins. My grasp
slips from skin slopes of sun and stone,
slips from you.
Woman of ragged flint and oil,
in sleep, your wind-kissed stone-neck drifts,
surges into a soft arch in air –
and does not meet ground;
and does not bow.
Thirst of a Poetthe bards have bumblebees in their mouths,Thirst of a Poet4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for language is babbling,
a brook in a bowl, joy brimming;
billowing, rippling, surging
and spilling; sashaying down,
with a swaying sound (oh-so wistful, oh).
language is burbling,
an impish kiss of mouth from mouth;
bewildering, baffling, bemusing
and tricking; tumbling round,
to touch a fellow Fool and his nought (so wistful, oh),
and disturbs a Poet, who slips
into a dream of a vagabond
"where are you calling from?" he murmurs,
in his sleep, and the newspaper flutters
with a snore; then rests on his chin (just so, oh),
and language sidles past him up to me,
and places a river upon my lips,
EmoEmo?Emo7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is it really that bad?
you cant accept the fact
that i get a little sad?
that i am a little mad?
so i favor black
and i dont like pink
you use those as reasons
to make my soul sink
so some of us cut
and some of us dont
we can smile
laugh love and live
we're just not like the rest
sure we cry
we want to die
but none of you understand
its not like we had planned
to live life like this
to spend our days
depressed and amiss
we're not bad people
we dont worship satan
we're not out to kill anyone
we just dont like the world
as much as everyone else
and we dont like ourselves
as much as we could
but we're ok with that
you can call us ugly
you can call us fat
but you cant change who we are
we are emo
whats so wrong with that?
"Brotherhood""Brotherhood"4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I look around and see people holding out their hands,
But they always come away empty handed.
Everyone acts like they don't see them at all.
They want to be accepted,
They want to be loved or just to have someone help them.
My eyes fill with tears as I see another person trampled under
A new pair of Italian shoes.
Has life advanced so far that we don't need one another anymore?
I sat on my front porch this morning and admired the beautiful sun rise
On the south western sky. The deep reds and bright purples blinded me
And I drifted off into a day dream filled with birds humming around bright
Colored flowers and beautiful mountains in the back ground.
I came back to earth wondering how I could help my fellow man?
This scared me. How can I help man kind? Maybe I should donate money?
No that's too cold. Maybe I should give all my worldly belonging to the poor?
Still to cold and that would make me the poor.
Then it came to me like a bolt of lightning hitting me!
I will start out small by li
Combat ZonesHe wakes up in Vietnam every night,Combat Zones2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
boot-clad feet trudging over mined ground,
trigger finger numb, back sore,
fatigue drenched from the monsoons,
and he prays to go home to her.
He finds himself next to her every morning,
dark bags under her eyes telling him
his twitching kept her awake again.
At breakfast she throws the dishes
and cries as the china shatters against the wall—
cries that she’s living in a combat zone
with a man who’s battling himself.
"Is there anything more destructive
than war?" she asks, and he looks at her
and says, “Love."
Full ResolveThe weirdest thing happened to me yesterday.Full Resolve2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
So I decided to kill myself, right? At the train tracks. Just throw myself headfirst into a fucking train, fully resolved and ready to meet my maker. Well that was the plan, anyway. And it seemed like a pretty good one since I'd deemed myself insignificant to this apathetic world. But then on the way there I saw this old homeless guy sitting on the side of the street in shaggy clothes, leaning against the side of a pawnshop, and I asked him his name. "Mike," he said. He looked at me like I was crazy. I get why. Who in their right mind talks to homeless folks? I asked him if he liked cheeseburgers and he said yes, so I went inside this fast food restaurant across the street and bought a cheeseburger with the money I stole from my mom and was going to buy my last meal with. I brought it out to him and he started thanking me over and over again like I was some Catholic saint or Jesus himself and I just said “you’re welcome” an
to the boy with ghost handsdear boy with the ghost hands.to the boy with ghost hands4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are in my bones, sir.
waiting beneath my pale skin
inside the charcoal grey
leaving me to feel you
send morse code vibrations
throughout my entire body
leaving me speechless
my bones are asphalt grey
but with a hopeful
but with you here
it never stops raining
and i now know
what drowning feels like
but you still wont leave.
even with these raging waters.
you float and carry on
though to another part of me.
just re locating.
please, the rains getting
to heavy and my lungs are collapsing
and i cannot breathe.
from the girl who cannot let you go anyway.
A Changed ManIt's been a few hours since the Briefs had arrived at Capsule Corps, and everyone was either sleeping or just about to. It's been a long day after officially putting an end to the that Buu fiasco.A Changed Man4 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Trunks had been tucked in by Bulma an hour before and was fast asleep. Bulma was now laying down on her bed, patiently waiting for Vegeta to join her. Vegeta casually walks in, but looked distraught and upset.
"Vegeta...Sweetie what's wrong" Bulma asked calmly, trying to hide the worry in her voice.
"B-Bulma...We need to talk..About what happened at the tournament.What You saw me do..." he slowly said while sitting next to her.
"Vegeta. It's alright, you don't have to say anything. I already know, and I already forgave you." She tried to put on the best smile she could, but Vegeta could still see her pain that she tried to mask.
"Ahh that's right...Our bond. So I don't need to explain my reasoning for doing what I did."
"Veg-" Bulma began but was immediately cut off by Vegeta.
The debunking of atheist stereotypesHello~! My name is Maddie and I am an atheist. Recently I've been hearing a lot of "facts" about atheists that've been very offensive to me, so I've decided to set the record straight with a few statements of my own about us as people and what we actually believe in. One or two of the points will vary from person to person so I apologize if I write something that doesn't fit the description of an atheist out there. Let's get started!The debunking of atheist stereotypes2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Debunking number 1:
Atheism is NOT a religion. To put it simply, saying that atheism is a religion is like saying not playing basketball is a sport. It just isn't. The definition of religion is "The belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, esp. a personal God or gods" therefor there is no way that atheism is a religion due to the fact that we don't believe in the existence of gods.
Debunking number 2:
Atheists don't worship Satan. Remember that thing about how we don't believe in gods? Yeah? If we
Linger19-07-12Linger3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Underneath their skylight
I light their candles, I dance my dance.
I am crazy in love with a woman and
I wonder if they know.
Underneath their skylight
I am home, more than in my own home.
Settled on his shoulders, all anybody knew:
I was their daughter.
Once, underneath their skylight
I saw him slowly kissing her, showing me
this is how a marriage ought to be.
So I wonder why I linger.
Because underneath their skylight
I will start again, a new quarter of my life
and still I have not said this thing that
I know they should know.
Well, underneath their skylight, some day,
I will bring her home.
Tobacco and PeppermintWe wait in the car outside,Tobacco and Peppermint1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
my hand dangling from the window,
my fingernails kissed with fog.
Silvery curls of smoke
rise like a dragon's breath
from the thing between my fingers.
You look at me, horrified,
staring at the black and blue
stains upon my tongue,
the marks of damage
cutting deep into my skin,
deep beneath tissue,
deep enough to corrode my bones.
I'm living in someone else's death,
borrowing a pair of cheap, shriveled lungs
that rattle loosely like leaves
in my chest.
I exhale a fresh, decaying breath,
and though I try to be diplomatic,
I know in my heart I'm just mocking you.
"Those things are gonna kill you,"
you tell me, all sage wisdom and disapproval
and sudden concern for my well-being.
"It's six bucks for a pack of cancer."
I try to laugh, and cough
then laugh some more
at the fact that I can't breathe.
In a greasy ashtray, I stamp out
my last flimsy cigarette,
ash and sorrow lying dead
in the dimly lit embers.
If only I could stamp you out
as easily as I've stamped
EmoA tear seems to fall from spaceEmo9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and land on her check.
It adds to a river
that falls off her chin.
The stain of blood on her sleeve,
She looks at her arm
with pulsing eyes she stares at the blood,
like her tears, running.
Afraid of her peers comments
labeling her for something she is not.
Emo, the word rang sourly.
The tears ran faster,
as though racing the blood.
Her black hair clings to her face,
and again she cuts.
One for the laughter,
Once for the looks,
another for her pain,
Her arm pulsing,
One for the names,
One more for the pushing.
She watches her pain drain from her arm.
She smiles, then thinks,
they will pull back her sleeve
and laugh at her pain, again.
Emo, the word rand sourly.
Emo, she thought.
Emo, she said out loud
and she cried.
Worth the fightHow easilyWorth the fight3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Forged from Steel
Heated by humanity
And kept running
Melts at the slightest glance
From your beautiful eyes.
My liquid Humanity,
Red,Viscous and warm,
Runs down my arms
and pools on the floor.
I am not worth
Not worth fighting the World for,
And Yet you do for me,
You are worth fighting every day
just to see your face once.
Hospital Collection: JellybeanWhy Jellybeans Are Better Than People.Hospital Collection: Jellybean6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
- Jellybeans come in all shapes, sizes and colours.
- Some are twisted and deformed, some are broken, some are shrunken and half-formed. But jellybeans dont whisper, persecute of discriminate against other jellybeans.
- Jellybeans have simple needs. And they dont ask for much.
- Jellybeans are bright and smooth to touch.
- With jellybeans, what you see is what you get.
- Jellybeans dont hate or love or feel guilt and regret.
- Jellybeans dont get jealous if you eat another jellybean first.
- Jellybeans are there for you, for better or for worse.
- Jellybeans taste better than human flesh.
- Jellybeans dont require gravestones after death.
I miss you, but I won't give up...I miss you, but I won't give up...3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are my favorite person,
and I won't let you go
Sure, we're out of our
...but it's not over.
You're too special for me to lose.
The Bus Stop DialoguesI.The Bus Stop Dialogues6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A young man at the bus stop
turns to me and softly asks
"Why aren't you wearing shoes?"
He taps the faded leather
of his suedo-skin
and his eyes smile in a gentle lilt
before his mouth does.
I tell him that I like
to feel the earth breathe.
That textures keep my mind alive
and ticking like a clock.
I tell him that I'm trying to grow roots
so my pale limbs can twist into a tree
(the way L and I talked about it in therapy).
I tell him that my soul is lonely
and the ground is the only thing that's always there.
I tell him that bare skin is sensitive
and stroking it with every (twelfth) step
is a soothing form of self-care.
I tell him that I walk on water
and if I had shoes; I'd drown.
I tell him that my soles bruise
until they match my soul.
I tell him that my bones are soft
and the soil sews them back into reality
when I'm losing grip on sanity.
I tell him that I'm praying
one day I'll step on a syringe.
I shrug my shoulders,
open my mouth and say
"I just didn't feel like weari
It's Not PoetryHe's collecting poetry againIt's Not Poetry1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Volumes of words unsaid
Filed on shelves layered with dust
Pages of paper white skin
Etched deep with letterpress lines
White ink on cream
Smattered with coffee stains
From years of strains
Withered leaves tearing apart at the spine
He's collecting poetry again
Every chapters full of the same verse
Lithe lines twine around and around
And he can't take it
But he's collecting poetry again
Bottle blue eyes
Washed smooth by salt water tears
Squeeze in the tomes to fill the gaps
Bleeding brown foxing
Marring engraved words
So clear in sight
But he's a metaphor they can't unfold
Swollen lips clamped closed
And he's collecting poetry again
I never wiped your eyesI was never worthI never wiped your eyes2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
your tears, but I love that you
shed them anyway
10 Flavors: GohanVidel--0210 Flavors: GohanVidel--024 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
10 Flavors: Gohan and Videl
One-Shot #2: Strawberries and Chantilly Cream
She was sitting on the couch, holding a book with one hand, and distractedly picking strawberries, which she dank in Chantilly cream, with her other hand, raising them to her lips. Strawberry juice ran on her fingers, as well as the Chantilly cream, and she licked them distractedly as she focused on her book.
Gohan swallowed. She had no idea what she was doing to him. What he wouldn't give to be those fingers He shook his head. No, he shouldn't think of her that way. They were friends, nothing more.
She lifted her gaze from her book to look at him. "You want some, Gohan-kun?"
Unable to speak, he nodded his head. She picked a strawberry, dank it in Chantilly cream and raised it to the young man's lips. He ate it, not taking his eyes off of her, then licked the Chantilly cream and strawberry juice from her fingers.
Videl blushed slightly, taking her hand back when he was done.
"You have C
How To Fix ThingsDon't pray for meHow To Fix Things6 years ago in Open More Like This
Don't pray for change
Don't pray for peace
Don't pray for truth
Look for truth
Strive for peace
Work for change
Think for yourself
Marinating in the Pervading Loneliness2.37 am sounds likeMarinating in the Pervading Loneliness1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
clenching your jaw
until a crack shoots down
into the nerve endings.
The crunch of bone
splitting and separating
and shearing pain
up into the naive skull,
that hoped for something else
to penetrate the malaise
created by fooling yourself
with love, with money,
It sounds like biting your tongue -
and that flab of meat
chunking onto the carpet
and violating your chin
with its copperstench syrup,
that stains everybody
the same flavour of red -
This is what 2.37 am tastes like.
Like the only warmth is from
that cyaniatic bouillabaisse
created by swallowing yourself:
your blood, and teeth,