A long way from New OrleansNumber nine, the speedo needle roars of the engine underneath.A long way from New Orleans8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Yank the throttle, glimpse the horizon, I'll go there,
wherever I want to.
She stood at the roadside, now where did she go?
With me, of course, let's ride into the nothingness,
talk the tales of your tall dreams at the stops we make,
breakfast at noon and tap three times when you need to go.
Cause it's a long way from New Orleans, babe.
Hollywood, hell, I just like to ride,
'specially with a pretty girl at my back.
You told me of your dreams when we stopped for coffee that time,
I smiled politely, cause I barely knew your name then, Kate.
Back when you only had your coat, your sunglasses, your dreams...
You really were a dreamer.
We'd set off again, you claimed you loved the ride,
I claimed I loved the company,
and we'd ride till the sun went down.
Gradually the motel rooms became room,
beds became bed,
and we went from travellers,
Kate, I never forgot the first kiss we shared, over fast-food
scaredI wrote this more than a year ago.. but I haven't submitted anything in so long.. I figured I would. plus, I just found an entry with it. so I hope you enjoy, if not.. oh well. we can't always please everyone :]scared11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
N <3 J
Delicate GashesThe sun set upon the saturation of my bloodDelicate Gashes12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Rich and dripping
Red anguish set upon cold broken skin
And this act was yours...
Intricate destruction of the work of beauty that is me.
The dark is in its deepest metamorphosis
So deadly still, yet churning all around me.
You clung to my chest
Flesh wounds inflicted
By the sharp softness of your tongue
And you drank
Of every pure emotion I had to give
Drank my warmth until you could find no more…
Then disappeared in search of something richer
Leaving only the toxic suffocation of your memory
And here I lay on a barren earth
Paralyzed shards of pain
For the shiver that is my skin
And the lifeless black that is my veins
To open to the possibility
That you missed a drop of my heart
Deep within my bones
My eyes glaze toward a darkened horizon
Unaware of breath
Waiting for the cool glow of morning,
Far away but always unfailing,
To reach for me
With a moment of barest light
To remind me
TrainTrain12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Where are you going my train(?)
with a clank-and-grind steady movement,
and red blink
I could hop on, hobo-style
and ride to San Fransisco
on stale bread and a sway of Jack Daniels
howling with Ginsberg
in the clankity night of
refugee-riding away from conformity.
Travel on the road
with my good friend Jack,
who's got the look of highway in his eyes,
small-talking into crazy dreams
and ending up in Mexico.
And me and Walt,
we could sing the song of ourselves
to every passing black cow in Iowa
and still have room for laughter.
hop on and never get tired,
howl and travel and sing,
but each time I hear that whistle blow
my mind says get off the tracks,
but my heart starts running for the clankity-clank, clackity clack.
The DancerThe Dancer12 years ago in General More Like This
She was either autistic, mentally disabled, or insane. They didn't know. Some days, she could appear normal. Other days, she rocked and danced. Her boyfriend loved her either way. He took care of her when no one else would. She loved him. Today was a bad day.
They were in class, and the teacher was sneering as she sung to herself. He tried to catch her attention with his latest project: a mural, where she could dance and be the centrepiece. She was too far gone. The teacher expelled her from the class.
She stumbled outside, still mumbling. Her boyfriend followed her, yelling something at the teacher.
He found her gently hitting her body against a wall, humming, and he got to work. He knew how to take care of her when she got this bad. He took cut out newspaper pictures from his bag and taped them to the wall around her, giving her a still life,
My AnorexiaMy Anorexia12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I wish I could tell my mom,
Why I cry,
How she thinks I eat,
But I don\'t,
I wish I could tell her about
the war inside my head.
I wish she understood my Anorexia.
Cheri Nichols June 16th 2002
Amber Pools - the whole storyAmber Pools - the whole story11 years ago in Teen More Like This
Prelude: Dream of Me
I'm not sure how I ended up in front of the church, but at the moment it didn't seem to matter. I stood at the foot of the stone steps in a deep blue fitted gown. Blue? What happened to black? Well guessed I must not be there for a funeral... With blue flowers in my hair and a white rose in my hand, I wandered through the large wooden doors, hoping I looked like I belonged. I'm not sure why the sudden impulse to go there, I just knew that I had to.
No one seemed to notice me as I made my way through the church halls. I walked easily, letting my feet guide me as if I had been there many times before. I came to a chapel decorated with pink delicate roses. How nauseating. I slipped into the back pew and placed my rose beside me. Things were making little sense. I looked around me, not recognizing anyone. Why was I in a church at a wedding?
The AstronomerThe Astronomer12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The night is a skin around me
I poke holes in to see the stars.
Wakeful hours, wide-eyed trying to see
out there while perched on the trunk of my car.
The night is a skin around me.
Blue-black, straining to see
myself in the blue moon, red of mars.
Inside of me
so many fireflies, in too many jars.
Night. Skin around me
reaching out in tiny puckered pores.
Image through the lens, tiny planet sea
of sometimes sparkles, desert land, drying shores.
forget the scope, forget mars.
The night is a skin around me
I poke holes in to see the stars.
Remembering - yourebrokenIt all seems fairly straightforward. Where to from here?Remembering - yourebroken10 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
And then onward toward happiness, and after that, bliss, and maybe a little later it'll turn into love.
The perfect roadmap.
Why the hell doesn't she have one?
Breathing is good.
Oxygen is your friend.
Air tore into her restricted airways. It clawed its way into the tiniest membranes, tearing her chest apart. Oxygen rasped in her throat, making a horrible wheezing noise. She convulsed, sitting up sharply. Water sprayed across the bathroom, and sloshed in the large tub. Ada sat, gasping, as water dripped into her eyes. Sighing she rested her head on her raised knees as more memories swam forward, inescapable as ever.
Cold air, bright moonlight. Night from another person's life.
"Here," Lily held out a cherry flavoured lollipop to me, smiling. "The towel was a great idea."
"I don't know, there's something about sand in my knickers that's just so yummy," I drawled, unwrapping th
Bus Thoughts - The BoyBus Thoughts - The Boy12 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
The bus was packed. She had someone pushing her in the back, thrusting her into the man in front of her with every turn of the road. Her fingers accidentally touched the hood of his fleece, and the guilt nearly killed her. Another jolt in the dark. He smelled... a mix of washing and sweat and deodorant and sex. She was in love, and could only see the back of his head. She stared at his hair, and longed to feel it between her fingers, dry and rough. Another turn and she bumped into him again, her whole body holding her back and pushing her forward. He was talking with a friend who was at her height, who could see her obsession. She was so ashamed, but she longed to touch him again. Any part of him would do. She peered around and, seeing no one was watching her and her sin, reached out and touched his shirt again, stopping herself before she could reach his hair.
Spin Spin Spun.Spin Spin Spun.10 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
They didn't have a bottle. It wasn't that kind of party, or that kind of crowd. There were only three of them: Annie, Martha and Lesley. They were having a sleepover, knowing all too well they were too old, at nineteen, to be indulging themselves like this.
They were too old to lie around, in their pyjamas and nightgowns, in their sleeping bags, in their giggles and laughs.
They knew, without saying it, that it was one of the last sleepovers they'd have together. University was coming, along with commitments, money problems and husbands. People would talk.
They didn't have a bottle, but they had a cork. The girls couldn't remember where they'd found it. Probably in a junk drawer or a ditch somewhere. The cork had a screw in it.
"Martha, did you kiss Bobby Miller at the spring fling?"
Martha giggled, but shook her head. "I didn't. I swear I didn't. He kissed me!
DatingDating12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The first time we met,
I knew she was the one.
She said she'd think about it.
The second time we met,
I asked her to be my wife.
She told me to leave her alone.
The third time we met,
We made love on the beach.
She called the police.
The fourth time we met,
I took her back to my place.
She never left me again.
Read MeRead Me12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i am a book with a shattered
i\'m missing the page with your favourite
you\'ve read me so much you know me by
the scraps and dog-ears have left their
with your name tattooed inside my
i am forever your literary
Cubically ContainedCubically Contained11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am a cold-blooded reptile in the refuges of a crystal clear fish bowl
With water so murky it will walk away
A photo mosaic replica of a once dying breed
Engines spinning, shriveling, sniveling
Pick-me-up lines fed like billy goats at a children's petting zoo
Hands outstretched like a deflated jellyfish
Jack-in-the-box rhythms producing these walls of no sound
Emptiness echoes louder than the ears can withstand
Hands on the panes of glass feeling numb to the stillness it holds
Seeing your headstone in solitary plotted acres of yellowed land
Bar code on my wrist seals my fate within this plated universe
Continuously wandering but with no displacement
Veils cracking on thin ice of eggshell whites
A thousand quandries fall prey to my tongue
Swallowing I will taste none of it
Slimy dust of destruction spikes my defenses
Offensive language slurs from my lips
Trying to excavate my body from this place
A hermatically cubically contained cell of despair
Balloons of your riddles float into the
Can Christians Like Dragons?In other words, can a Christian morally have a love for dragons? The logic behind the question is that dragons by Biblical standards seem to be evil creatures. Therefore it should be incompatible to follow Jesus Christ and love dragons at the same time, right? This is what I've been accused of many times, being a firm holder to Truth yet having a soft spot for dragons. I would like to answer in detail these accusations, thus the reason for this article.Can Christians Like Dragons?6 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Let us look at dragons from every angle, starting with what The Sacred Scriptures say. In The Holy Bible the Hebrew word used for dragon(s) is 'tanniyn' and shows up 29 times in The Old Testament. But, do note that dragons are not always referred to under that word in Scripture, so the count is higher. I've divided these verses up into groups, mainly general and specific cases.
**Dragons in general
--in The Bible we see that dragons are often used by God as curses. Examples are the Babylonian Empire (Isaiah 1
01-08 - Terapia Pt 301-08 - Terapia Pt 39 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
- Do que tens medo?
- De falhar novamente.
- O medo de falhar não te faz querer ser melhor?
- E não achas que és melhor?
- Na prática, não.
- Na prática?
- Sim. Quando penso nisso, sei que é o que preciso para não cometer os mesmos erros e para não falhar novamente. Mas sei que os vou cometer.
- Como podes saber disso?
- Vejo-o. Repetidamente. Inúmeras situações. Inúmeras maneiras de falhar.
- Não será essa mais uma maneira de te torturares?
- E isso não faz com que te impeça de agir?
- Provavelmente. Mas eu também não tenho razões para agir. Prefiro reagir.
- A dependência não te incomoda?
- Muito. E embora esteja sempre só, não consigo acabar com ela.
- Quando é que vais enfrentar os teus demónios?
-Enfrento-os todos os dias.
- E vences?
- Algumas vezes. De alguma maneira ele está sempre presente.
- Não tens medo que quando o enf
ButterflyYou were innocent and flying high when he first becameButterfly8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
enthralled by your purity, unattainable beauty.
He sought to have just a little of all that you called yours,
He reached out so as to hold you, touched your delicate wings,
And in doing so his greed tainted you beyond repair.
Eager he was to watch you, disappointed when you fell,
Frustrated when he could not repair your damaged wings.
Your naivety made you vulnerable, an invitation to protect you,
And still he tried to heal you with his bumbling wounding hands.
He wished he had not the selfish desire to hold you till the end of time.
But he saw you ailing, saw you pining, realised you were slowly dying.
You needed to fly once more, so he made up his mind to set you free,
Pushed you out his window, in naïve hope that you would soar.
But you didnt fly away, my pretty wounded butterfly,
You fell down, your wings burning away.
You tried so hard to soar, but had been forced to forget how,
When your innocence was tainted with
Rose's Are Dead.Rose's Are Dead.8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
"Rose's are dead,
Violets aren't true.
She's growing near you".
Orphans and Tigers and BabiesOrphans and Tigers and Babies12 years ago in Horror More Like This
We were running as best we could, considering the state they were in. We were cold, hungry, and above all, tired. I had the Baby in my arms, and Amy had her crutches. Damian, who was unburdened, was lookout. It was a lot of responsibility for an eleven year old boy, but he was doing an amazing job.
"Stop guys." he whispered. We all stopped on his command.
"There's railroad tracks ahead and a long train crossing and a dozen cars waiting. Tons of people. We better wait till they're all gone. Want me to speed things up?"
"No." I answered, trying to smile at him. "We need to rest, anyway. Look, there are trees over there, there must be a park. Amy, can you kill the lights heading to it? We'll hide out there for an hour or two."
Amy looked up at the lamp-posts and they all shut off gently, as if someone had flicked the switch somewhere. As soon as we had passed underneath and away from them, the lights turned back on, as if nothing had ever happened.
The park wasn't quite deser