...old song...The sea in the throat of a shell...old song...4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The wind blowing over the steeple
Faith in the voice of the evening's last bells
Life in the murmur of people
A song for the final embers of day
Made from colours plucked up by the wind
As it slipped through the grass, tangled in hair
Swept the blush from somebody's skin
Older than cities, though sung in their voice
In the late afternoon's lilac haze
Older than voices, than shells, bells or gods
A song for the last light of day
The Glass RoseThe Glass Rose5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"
"Huh!" waved the young man sitting at the table. "I guess not. I mean, I suppose you could sit here if you liked, but "
"Now now," started the newcomer. "I'm going to be here whether you need a drinking buddy or not." He took a causal swig from the younger man's glass, and smiled at him. "What do you want from me? It's mine anyway."
"Pssh! I could care less what you do. There are bigger things on my mind than some street bum."
The older man (who was not old, but rather young himself), smiled and hunched over in an attempt to look as dirty as possible. "If I was a true bum, like you say, I would have asked for your seat with this!" He took out a knife and waved it playfully at the young man, drawing looks from the nearby patrons. "Tell me though, what's got you so grouchy?"
Traitor. Lover. Trouble.I wanted to be the very best like no one ever was.Traitor. Lover. Trouble.5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
To catch them all had been the only test.
To train them had been my cause.
I travelled across the land, searching far and wide, but for each pokémon that I understood and their powers held inside...
I don't want to catch them all...not anymore and you probably wonder why.
Why did the Grandson of one of the most respected pokémon Professors suddenly throw it all away?
Well. I didn't throw it away completely. I wouldn't not for Red or Oak. But of course they notice now. Of course he sees my potential genius when I'm running with Team Rocket. The typical attention seeker? A sob-story. A statistic. Don't pity me. I don't want it. It amuses me how fickle you can be Grandfather...and Red. I'm doing this for you.
"Why...Green? Why?" He sounds pathetic, he knows he does too. Red looks at me, my heart rate speeds to a painful and loud beat. Damn it Red! Why do you make me feel this way!? I did this
LDR Guide Part 2Long Distance Relationship Tips!LDR Guide Part 25 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
By Michelle Williams
31. Show The Love After An Argument
Yes, we all argue and we should every now and then. But nobody likes to keep resentment after an argument. After an argument, BOTH people should apologize and you should then proceed to make up. Holding on to any negative feelings only makes the situation worse for both of you. Also, stay with each other after an argument, don't just hang up, block them, and storm off. Once again, this makes matters only worse. When you abandon the argument in a bad mood, you avoid fixing the problem entirely and leave room for more tension to come. Both of you can take some silent time to cool off, just stay on the line with each other.
After an argument, strive to still go on to say "I love you". It can be immediately after or half an hour after, but try to say it within a few hours of the argument. The sooner the better, and showing that you still care and love your partner even after
2nd person fiction and YouYou like fiction written in the second person. You may not admit it to yourself, but deep down, you really do. It teases you with its confrontational otherness, its flamboyantly displayed post-modernism, its teeth.2nd person fiction and You5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Do not look at its teeth. You do not want to look at its teeth.
Fiction written in the second person and you have a long history of denial. At first, you were sure it couldn't be done. Then it was done, and it was done to you, and you liked it, too, but it was only the one time and you were kind of drunk. It was an experiment, and it was interesting as an experiment, but that was all it was.
Only, of course, it wasn't.
Fiction written in the second person has invaded your dreams, and what's worse, your sexual fantasies. You'd be picturing a luscious blonde, rubbing her rubbables, yearning for your touch, when suddenly a voice would pop into your head, calmly narrating what you were doing: "You are picturing a luscious blonde," the voice would say, "rubbing her rubbables. Hey
AkuNo-Our love is Random pt. 3MachineAkuNo-Our love is Random pt. 35 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
He follows his old schoolmate into the hangar, his footsteps immediately drowned by the cacophony of soldiers shouting orders and mechanics laboring over the enormous militia machines. Reno is rather stunned by all he sees; the towering forms of the war suits stand identical to one another in their designated space like a repeating mirror reflection, waiting on Colonel's orders to serve and protect. It was so different than the hangars he and his fellow aviators work in.
"Shit, Axel," Reno comments, giving a small whistle, "you cavalrymen compensating for something?"
Axel doesn't give him the sarcastic answer he is looking for, and it bites an irritable nerve in him. He still doesn't turn to meet him eye to eye when they arrive at his suit.
"Hey, c'mon Ax, is this how you treat old friends?"
Axel lets out a disbelieving laugh, and finally looks at him with a patronizing tilt of his head. "Oh, is that what we are now?" He rolls his eyes and begins climbing the metal colos
Rise AboveI can feel the bitter sting of another day spent wasted dwelling on what has gone,Rise Above4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Teased and tormented by the tragedies that seem to linger on too long,
I look out into the shadows left behind me,
Stare into the darkness and see the demons yet to find me,
And cry out to the sky, why did it all go so very wrong?
I stare into a candles flickering flame and dream of prayers and ancient spells,
Cursing, begging, pleading to unseen spirits to deliver me from my hell,
My eyes are trapped inside the dancing shadows,
Instead of focusing on the flames ebbs and flows,
The haunting doubts linger on, the fears I just can't seem to quell.
Every kiss comes with the bitter sting of knowing it will end,
Someday we all feel betrayed by our closest friends,
We can cry about it, let the tear drops burn our eyes,
Lay ourselves on sacred down and lay prone until we die.
Late in the night I reach out in the darkness just to find there's no one there
I feel the sadness fill my every cell and swear tha
DoItForTheLulz x FlowingAwayThe following is to be read in the voice of Morgan Freeman.DoItForTheLulz x FlowingAway5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
FlowingAway battled internally with his innermost feelings, but eventually his raging dilemma gave way to a smouldering passion, the likes of which the world has never seen before. His throat ran dry, his fingers twitched as electrical impulses ran through his entire body, and his frontal lobe erupted with images of DoItFortheLulz, sprawled in revealing poses.
Allowing DoItForTheLulz to brush his fingers through his flowing hair, FlowingAway looked into his lover's eyes and smiled.
"I love you, DoItForTheLulz," his whispered hoarsely, "I've never been more sure that someone was right for me. I need you in my life, and if you listen to your heart, I think you'll feel the same way."
DoItForTheLulz smiled gently, taking FlowingAway's hand and leading him to the back room.
"I've got something you might like," DoItForTheLulz chuckled demurely. "It's made of leather, and it's covered in zips and buckles..." As he pu
Dear Remains of Osama BinLadenDear America,Dear Remains of Osama BinLaden4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
can't you just hold on a moment
I understand your anger.
along with many others,
was the reason hundreds of people lost their lives;
the reason that thousands of people are now
widows, widowers, orphans, friendless;
I wanted justice too.
The day the Two Towers fell
was one that I don't remember well.
I was young,
and I didn't fully understand.
I understand now.
I've seen the memorial,
I've seen the faces
of dying survivors.
I've seen the planes crash,
over and over again.
But two wrongs
don't make a right.
he plotted the demise
of thousands of people.
But does killing him
avenge those people?
Maybe it does.
But I don't believe so.
of people just lost their leader,
maybe even a family member,
just like we did.
someone does something that terrible,
doesn't mean that we can just kill him.
What justice is found in the
Twilight-Uncensored Ch.6ReviewTwilight-Uncensored Ch.6Review4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Review of Chapter Six
By Stephenie Meyer
So after many long days of keeping this thing as far from my physical person as possible, I must return to complete my duty. What is my duty you ask? Killing myself very slowly in the worst possible way ever. So, in order to do this task, I grab Sheepie and the copy of Twilight I borrowed from the bookstore with no intention of returning. [No, I'm dead serious, I may have apprehended that book without legal rights to do so.]
For a brief [and we mean brief] recap:
Bella Swan moves to Forks.
Meets Edward Sexy Pants.
Nothing of importance happens.
There. You're caught up.
I mean, I could delve into unnecessary detail about what happened in the five previous torture sessions I've put myself through for your sick entertainment, but then you'd just be lazy assholes. Go read the previous five chapters, you bastards.
I'm just kidding, I love you...somewhat.
So, I begin this chapter with Princess Bella reading Macbeth like the
AkuNo - Cakes and Boy-bandsAkuNo - Cakes and Boy-bands6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Cakes and Boy-bands
The fruitcake sits idly on the kitchen table, its sticky gloss gleaming under the fuzzy lighting of the ceiling lamp. It's not that Reno doesn't like cake--he likes cake as much as the average person celebrating surviving for another year--but he really doesn't like fruitcake. In fact, he can go so far as to screaming proudly on the rooftops that he fucking hates fruitcake. So why is there one sitting wrapped in cellophane topped with an obnoxious red bow?
Because Axel likes to piss him off, oh, does he ever. It's like a sport that often ends in name-calling and bloody noses. This time he does it with another terrible birthday gift just to top last year's CD of some dying boy-band dating back to the 90s. Reno doesn't even know who the fuck the guys were.
"I made it, y'know," Axel says with a grin.
Reno lifts his eyes and wonders just how much it would hurt Axel to shove the brick of pastry up his ass. "Y
A Corpse a Bride and a FuneralIn satin cream, from head to toe,A Corpse a Bride and a Funeral4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Veil and lace disturb the peace,
Of soft fine curves.
No one notices (or they don't care),
Seeing her face doesn't make her there.
She's not there,
Not a soul knows,
This room is full of ice cold bone.
So sweet and delicately limp; lifeless,
But alive with ember eyes,
Blood stained hands from yesterday's sins,
Thus creating her demise.
In the night they say "don't listen,"
For you cannot recall what has become,
Of the woman we once loved.
The woman we once loved,
Tattered and torn with trickery up clear sleeves,
When you sleep she finds you and troubles you in your dreams.
You spoke to the night,
When they told you naught;
However your bride,
Is forever lost.
That day in black, she gouged her eyes,
You watched her fall in denial,
Buried in white (some call it red),
Forevermore still, on her death bed.
what humans do0:00what humans do5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
she met him when she was fifteen, stupid, and willing to do anything to get out of her own head. it was winter, new snow sticking to the ground in snowbanks - like a naked blanket, cold on cold with ice. houses were lined up on the streets, chimneys blaring smoke, colors sticking out against the sky's dull grays. cars rolled by, marking the streets all with the same, parallel tracks, like fingerprints with chains attached. thick exhaust fills her senses.
he seemed weird to her. not because of his cocky, laid-back appearance, but because of the complete fresh and virgin ardor he gave her. it wasn't that kind of sense you get when you're born - the average, cliche smell, taste, touch, sight - but when you pass the age of twelve or thirteen.
he was the untouchable, the near-unforgivable. the sweet fruit to adolescence. the thing you taste when you want something new - lips on lips, tongues tying, tugging on piercings - the umph to the skinny jeans, the belt loops
Elle and Mias: Chapter 10Elle was trembling as she watched the scene before her unfurl. She had no idea what to do. She believed Mias deserved a good wallop and a stint in prison, but not death. The uncharacteristic expression of pain and torment didn't suit the dark featured man at all.Elle and Mias: Chapter 104 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Oh God, please stop this," she said in a whisper. Mias' death would mean she'd be trapped in this world for the rest of her life. Even if she ran away, she could cling to the hope that she might one day see the streets of her home town again and the faces of her family. If he died, so did her hope.
"The title of head of the family is mine Mathias!" Elias declared as he raised his dagger.
Mias glared at him, refusing to bow his head in acceptance to this fate. He refused to be murdered in such an ugly manner. But what could he do? His entire right side was paralyzed and his left wasn't feeling much better. He could barely move or summon the strength to cast a spell. He was losing blood too quickly to think clearly. For the fir
AnthemAnthemAnthem6 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
So many times,
I have questions,
I need answers that,
Just don't appear...
But I hold on to who I am,
Even in the face,
Of all my fears...
And I get so tired,
So very weary in my soul,
But no matter what happens...
I choose...to not...let go...
To never, never let go!
This is my voice,
And I lift it up,
I sing so loud,
That it can't be stopped...!
This is my anthem,
This is my song,
And I will sing it,
Until my days are done...!
This is who...
Who I am...
And this is my...
So many times,
I have fallen,
Fallen so far,
Without quite hitting the ground...
But I don't get lost,
In the pain,
I refuse to drown...
And I get angry,
So very furious indeed,
It's what keeps me learning,
And keeps...me burning...
The fire that is me...!
This is my voice,
And I lift it up,
I sing so loud,
That it can't be stopped...!
This is my anthem,
This is my song,
And I will sing it,
Until my days are done...!
This is who...
Who I am...
And this is my...
Is my voice...
Single's Dating AdviceI am baffled by the expectations women of youth have on dating in this day and age. Take advice from me who over the past four years has had eleven "boyfriends" IT ISN"T WORTH YOUR TIME.Single's Dating Advice4 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Besides there are others, many others, than just me who want you to hear this out.
Also with rape and sexual abuse in young couple on the rise, teenage pregnancy shooting through the roof and depression after breakups I don't see how one would ever think this to be appealing. Of course I am one to talk, having that fairy tale belief that I'd find a man who'd love me forever when I had barely stood straight in high school.
I am here to reach out and give advice to single women ages 13-20 on why dating is a good thing but don't go overboard with it.
1.) You WILL NOT find the "perfect" man on the first date.
Explanation: Trust me, those miracle stories about people being high school sweethearts and marrying most likely happened after they broke up. Life does get in the way; priorities have to come in orde
Shatter ChildrenBipolar turns you into a maelstrom. It brings you to your knees and makes you ache. You are naked and raw, your skin a patchwork of fused nerve-endings touched again and again; hot flames and burnt knives licking and lacerating your soul. It smashes you against oystered rock; mad ocean waves in a dead sea. You are no longer in chaos. You are chaos. You become the fuel to set yourself on fire and you can’t stop burning. You can’t put yourself out. You have to burn the flesh and wick and wax until there’s nothing left but fumes and the fire burns out to ash and cinder and black coal, and a toxic wasteland where smoke fills your lungs in soft grey and deadly plumes becomes your body’s home. And then, you re-light. You, your chemistry, a mysterious god, or the world strikes a match.Shatter Children1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Schizophrenia makes you shatterglass. You splinter into shards which split and fracture and melt through your hands to vanish into ether. You are thin air treading the spaces between dim
stay upnight flies over landstay up4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
worries aspirations uncertainty
curled up under covers
some survive in dark
keeping wheels in motion
or haunted by memories
a graceful odd collage
jumble the dim peace
to silent lines
the night closes shop
delights hidden by sun
the magnificent go to slumber
(dedicated to all of us who would choose to live after the sun sets)
alivei want to be buried inalive4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a grave made of water
because i write poetry
but don't understand it
because i know how to feel
but not how to cope
or how to tell you what
it feels like to die
my mother will cry and
her garden will still grow
but she will not take down
photos on the windowsill
she will age dutifully and
retire, travel the world and
i will only regret not being
able to see her finally happy
my brother grow up without
knowing how much i cared
but he will still think
of me on his wedding day
his eyes will be a window
not to his soul, but a world
of pain and loss and he will
wish that i could say sorry
and the boy who knows that
he was the only one i loved;
he will lose himself in the
thought that he had the chance
to save a life, but didn't;
he will read my poetry and
not understand why but know
that i loved him more than life
i will fade to dirt, and from
me will grow a peach tree, with
the type of leaves that children
will make boats out of, sail
across their puddle oceans
Mias and Elle - Chapter 6With breakfast set hastily on the end table, Mias' eyes scanned the bedroom and in to the washroom through the open door; both were empty.Mias and Elle - Chapter 64 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
He was quite sure by this time that he would not receive a reply, but it helped to temporarily sooth his temper in a way that he could not understand. Perhaps she was playing a game. It was something in hearing her name; it invoked pleasant thoughts of her face that he could not repress.
"Where are you, my pet?" The amusement was fading quickly, "Elle."
Now stepping across the room slowly, Mias called out to Elle a few more times as he leaned in to give the washroom a more thorough visual inspection. Each step he made with caution, not knowing entirely what to expect. It was hard to contain his amusement when he saw the discarded wet towels on the floor, yet he was also disappointed that he had missed out on a delicious opportunity.
But, there was no sign of Elle anywhere. He could feel his blood starting to boil, his cheeks burning red visi
Divided We StandBrother, little brother, why did you let me go?Divided We Stand6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
You let that Slavic giant steal me from my home
He dragged me from you through the cold, cold snow
Believe me, brother, I put up a fight
But I was no match for my wintery foe.
Brother, he made me build a wall through Berlin
I know it's separating our people from their kin
It's a dividing line stopping me from seeing you
So tell me, brother, do you miss me too?
Brother, it's been a while, and my people have changed
No longer do they speak the language called after your name
Even I learned his strange alphabet, but I'm growing weak
Communism isn't all it's cracked up to be;
Brother, you're lucky to have a democracy.
Brother, it's been longer still
And as the years go by, I'm growing ill
For these people will forget about their once-proud nation
And they must welcome these changes with forced elation
Brother, I tried to cross the wall
But the guards shot me, and down I fell
So I had to settle for va
your warmthyou stood in the doorway, damp orange light falling across your skin, black hoodie falling from your shoulders gently, hair a mess - and you were all but perfect. you stood, leaning against the door frame a little too drunk, and smiled at me. it was that kind of smile that i knew meant more than it should have, the one i have seen too many times since - the kind of smile that meant something. i'd like to tell myself it meant the world - that when, for the first time in a year, our eyes met and you told me something that wasn't a lie - the stars had aligned or the universe corrected itself - but i know that's not true.your warmth4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
we kissed that night, the alley way beside your house. you ran your hand along my legs, along my ripped tights, and i could feel your heartbeat under the sleeve of the shirt i had always loved. you stared at me, face relaxed, and told me that you had wanted that for a year.
sometimes, i think i have too.
my heart didn't explode though, and my knees didn't shudder undernea
clarity and insanityshe was the kind of beautiful that you couldn't get out of your head. the kind that had nothing special - no golden curls or perfect curves - but whose eyes read the entire world for what it really was. she had the kind of stare that you knew understood you for what you really were, even if you didn't understand it yourself.clarity and insanity4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
he was more the type to do nothing with himself, only because he had never known how to do anything else. in his mind, he could see the whole world expanding beneath him, creation and destruction in their rawest forms - but his little day dreams never really found a way out from behind the almost-black of his irises.
he would always wake earlier than her, just so he could hear the slight rasp of her smoker's throat as she untangled herself from white bedsheets. he would make her breakfast and sing along to her favorite love songs, even when she would moan for him to stop. he did not just love her, he would tell his friends, but he couldn't really explain what it