RealizationRealization3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My breath comes out short,
My vision begins to contort.
All i see is the blood around me,
As she stands above me.
That feral look of hers, electrocutes my skin.
Her tattered brain, couldn't handle being a has-been
True i stole her everything, the things that made her smile.
Maybe I wanted to be special, if only for a little while.
Yet here i lay, on my hands and knees.
A bullet in my gut, because I'm who she wants to be.
I thought i could just throw her away, like yesterdays trash.
I'd never guess she'd spring up, and become uncontrollable whiplash.
I'm in the house she's dreamt of dreaming.
I look at the tile, as my blood keeps on streaming
The man she'd die for, is happily mine.
He left her heart to cauterize, she couldn't handle it this time.
Toxic envy poisons her thought.
From all the love, friends, family, and things we bought.
She slowly pulls her hair, utterly distraught.
Why couldn't she have all these things?
Shes dying for answers, but questions ring.
She splintered, alone,
EggsYou didn't eatEggs2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all my sins
that last night
you were in the city.
You said the taste
what you remembered -
no herbs or rocket
or strong black
fell from my bones -
a roast of haunch,
delicate as almonds.
You thought it would be
the spoiled yellow
and just enough
to keep you
My Worst EmemyI can't stand her,My Worst Ememy4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The girl in the mirror.
She's me, but not me.
She's the girl the world sees,
Happy and always laughing,
Always kind and polite,
As friendly as she needs to be.
That's not me.
I'm sad and feel like crying,
Kind to only the people I know and like
Faking friendliness to strangers when I have to.
I can't stand her,
The girl in the mirror.
She's annoying with all she pretends to be.
I want to be someone else.
I'm tired of the constant fights with her,
She always wins.
So I take it out on her when I'm alone,
And no one can stop me.
I'm my own worst enemy,
Mentally beating myself up,
Trying to make her want to hide.
That never works,
So I move on,
And dig my nails into my flesh.
I'm my own worst enemy,
She can ignore the pain,
And the marks always fade away.
So I move on,
And pick up the knife.
I'm my own worst enemy,
I make the knife slide across my wrist,
Leaving a bleeding gash
That even she can't ignore.
When Dreams Aren't EnoughWhen Dreams Aren't Enough4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
wind and falling leaves
like whispered words that redeem
me and soothe my soul
RetreatI have abandoned battle, savored peaceRetreat3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and lost my weapons deep in sacred ground.
I have sought sweet mercy - God's own release
and prayed for his swift justice to abound.
I have walked past the soldiers in the street
and heard their cries run shameless without sound -
the tired, shuffling resonance of feet.
And in the morning's chilled and angry blast,
I recognize the music of retreat
as if I saw the ghosts that knew my past
gathering at the tables for a feast.
Then God allow these thoughts to be my last
for I have hopes my blessings will increase
and the dark symphony of war will cease.
You and meIt all begins with a word, It always do, It's weird and amazing how you suddenly know that, that person that you want to spend the rest of your life with, my heart skips a beat everytime I see her, It's just lovely, I want her to know that If we weren't meant to be together I am not going to forget her, She'll always be my special thing, my favorite person, my precious, the one, my dream girl, She Is special, she might not read this, but I hope that she knows that she is special to me, no matter what happens between us.You and me4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Love,What does it mean? Like my English teacher said "Every heart has a shape inside of it, and only one person can fill that shape."
And you don't want anyone to be with but that person, she sure got me, I want her to know that my life isn't complete without her, Love hurts I agree, but does it worth the pain? God, Yes.
When you are on the edge of breaking down, there is no one else around, no one but you, what possibly would you do? Well I
SubtractionWhen the scything was not yet doneSubtraction4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she sat, a run of sweat between her breasts,
a nascent blister on her palm--
before she took the whetstone to the blade.
Lower down the hill the horses grazed,
tails brisk against the flies,
coats damp in the torpid air.
Robbed, she was.
The day was loud with birds and bugs;
the mowing smelled like lust or love,
She sat and watched the silver sky
and felt the wetness dry along her ribs,
along her thighs and tired arms.
She watched the swallows courting.
One plus one.
Reboots Welcomed?: The New 52Reboots Welcomed?: The New 524 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
REBOOTS WELCOMED?: THE NEW FIFTY-TWO
Written by Diane N. Tran
Yesterday, on Wednesday, August 31st, DC Comics scrapped its entire publishing line for September in order to reinvigorate itself with a reboot or a relaunch, as they're calling it. This historic event consists of the release fifty-two first issues in a span of one month, starring rejuvenated versions of its iconic comic book heroes, such as Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, etc, and a storyline that had been previously rebooted twenty-five years earlier in CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTH. Fan reaction has been mix, from massive issues like the paraplegic Oracle walking out of her wheelchair to the tiniest issues like Wonder Woman having retractable pants.
While I personally disapprove, strongly and pessimistically, of this reboot for countless reasons that are my own, the NEW FIFTY-TWO has started with a bang, whether good or bad and is, t
A November WalkDown a knobby treeA November Walk6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Two hungry squirrels race.
The one with no walnut
Jealously gives chase.
The rest keep themselves busy
Up and down the trees,
For next season's freeze.
Though the trees are now bare,
The shrubs are still green.
Though it's past autumn's prime,
It still makes quite a scene.
As I walk on a carpet
Of orange and brown,
I think back to before
The leaves had fallen down.
Before shedding their coats,
The trees make one last stand.
Before choosing to slumber,
They make themselves grand.
Hanging above my head
There would have just been
A canopy of yellow,
Red, orange and green.
Below one young tree
Lie gold leaves on the ground.
They would have clothed that tree
Like a bright yellow gown.
But more than fallen leaves
I think that I might
Prefer a new carpet,
One that's soft and white.
A fresh winter blanket
Giving the land its rest,
I think that's the season
I've always enjoyed best.
When the snow gently falls
And covers a hill,
One can peacefully wander
then i changed.Home used to be a place.then i changed.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It used to mean quiet mornings with loud sibling voices, sunlight streaming through the dust speckled windows to paint the room with summer. I remember being seven and waking up to my parent's laughter, stumbling into the kitchen of oak to watch them leaning into one another over the coffee table. The tile on the floor was cold, but I remember thinking that the house was warm.
Home was a place of safety during the storms, where rain could batter but could never get in. It was the cream colored carpet and the fire blazing during the winter months. It was where I chased the small lop-eared puppy up the stairs and where exhaustion trailed after me on the way down every morning. It was comforting and familiar. It was where the smells were always sweet no matter whether it was half-baked cookies or lemon wood cleaner. It was mine.
Then things changed. I changed.
The walls dissolved and the people dispersed. Home became a word I didn't have a definition for. I
German poem:The Mind Of A WolfEINES WOLFS GEDANKEN - SOURISGerman poem:The Mind Of A Wolf8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Ich lese deine Worte gern -
auch wenn du noch so fern
Für mich bist du so nah
Und alles ist so klar.
Deine Stimme berührt mein Herz,
Nimmt mir jeden Schmerz
Und als ich dich endlich sah
Wurd's mir ganz wunderbar.
Mein liebenswerter Sonnenschein,
Ich bin auf ewig dein,
Doch zum unendlichen Glück
fehlt noch ein schlichtes Stück
Könnten wir uns spürbar halten,
Würde ewige Ruhe in mir walten,
Der Schmerz würd' schwinden
und unsere Seelen sich finden.
Mein Wunsch dich zu berührn',
Die Wärme deines Körpers zu spürn',
lässt mich träumen ewiglich
so sehr lieb' ich dich
Mein Traum ist's dich in meinen Pfoten zu wiegen,
Einen sanften Kuss von dir zu kriegen,
Mit dir zu sehn' des Frühlings Triebe
Und dir zu beweisen meine unsterbliche Liebe.
WindowsThe entry to the soul,Windows3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the objects that always tell the truth.
Eyes that judge.
Eyes that love.
Eyes that hate.
Eyes that wait.
That simple orb,
with an array of color.
Eyes that are cruel.
Eyes that are perfect.
Eyes that are regretful.
Eyes that are broken.
eyes are never the same,
be it emotion or color.
Eyes that close.
Eyes that open.
Eyes that freeze.
Eyes that burn.
That simple color-filled orb,
that shows the soul filled with love,
or that can be cold as ice.
Eyes that are filled with hope.
Eyes that are filled with confusion.
Eyes that are filled with sadness.
Eyes that are filled with nothing.
As bright as day,
but as cold as ice.
Eyes are that small window
into the soul,
that we always try to hide.
Questions for CharactersBeyond The Basics in Building CharactersQuestions for Characters5 years ago in Profiles More Like This
(Or making your 'house' come alive with interesting tchotchkes)
This isn't going to be the typical character questionnaire that asks what the character's height, religion, job, ect. I like knowing things about characters beyond their likes, their height and weight, parents' names, and such. I like putting them in hypothetical situations and watching them come alive, so to speak. If naming and assigning appearance to a character is laying the foundation and giving them background information is building the house, then think of this questionnaire as filling the place with tchotchkes! Sure, you might not mention Bob's scaly feet in your story, but it's nice to know something about him besides his being five feet three inches tall and bald. Yeah, there are 75 questions. I'm sure there are other things I could have asked, but have fun with the ones I have here.
1. Would your character rob a bank if they knew they could get away with it?
untitledseducing the writeruntitled2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
he'll seduce himself
if you're silent.
Act of the GodlessThere used to be the comfort of the words-Act of the Godless3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
bereft, bereft, a woman drips her opalescent tears,
where thin-lipped men look on, away.
As common as cats, lives are.
love's austere and lonely officesi.love's austere and lonely offices3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
ronnie picks rose petals
and eats them, chews the pink to yellow
in his cigarette teeth. his sister, peggy,
asks how they taste, and he says, "good,
like whimsy and perfume," and picks three petals
fat with pigment and water; she tastes the first
and likes the second and the third is the sweet on her tongue
when ronnie dies of liver failure. she eats the reddest
blooms on his casket.
if tommy were a girl and jenny a boy,
the children would be perfect:
tommy with impish nose and nymph hands,
jenny rumbling with the rooneys from new city,
and mother frets for both their blond[e] heads.
peggy buys the twins paletas
but ronnie spends most days with grandpa.
he comes home and tells jenny they're blackfoot:
she could have been a warrior woman,
tommy a medicine man,
and mother wouldn't fret when tommy kisses jason.
ronnie is sixteen and thin.
willy is the youngest boy and clings to skirts,
plays with dolls because eva smothered him. tommy
pushes him down the stairs because jenny w
IntimacyI asked to be slapped—Intimacy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and your palm met my cheek
with constraint, cupped to lessen
the ensuing redness, the responsive tears
that welled but only in my left eye.
There are things like tealights
and dinners after midnight that we agree
to be romantic: that we consume
through antique filters, lace
between our fingers, but your palms
sweat when we hold hands
and I've never liked skin webbing,
nor the catch of calluses—
So, I propose to rewrite
a definition: mostly for my sake,
but also for the sakes of others
who have found themselves wondering
if they might be a-something
because they don't like to be touched
softly on the skin
or loathe surprises of any sort,
who would like to make love
then smoke a cigarette,
go for a jog without meaning insult
to the man in their bed—
Because when I asked you to slap me—
I meant to say I trust you,