That Which Has Not Yet BeenIt is such a splendid feeling when one forms an idea.
Even more so when they bring it to life.
They give it a soul, a body, a mind, a belief, a personality, a goal, a past, a present, and a future.
But then, when it is ready to be brought to life, it is vanquished due to events beyond its control.
It may yet live another day, but till then, it must sit and wait.
A story yet to be lived is right around the corner.
It will forge bonds of friendship, of hate, of respect, of contempt, and of family.
It will remember what was lost and lose what was remembered.
But new goals, new dreams, new allies shall be found.
The mind and body will change, but change is what it will seek.
Though it has yet to live a day, that day shall indeed be lived.
Watching From AboveI see you from the background. I want to be near,Watching From Above5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but I must stay in the shadows.
I cannot speak to you, nor may I touch you.
I must watch you only from a distance.
I can only watch you from a distance.
Watch you grow.
Watch you shine.
Watch as the sun envelopes you in its nurturing feeling,
turning you from a tiny bud that could die from the slightest
change, into a blossom that shines brighter than all the rest.
To help shield you from the bad things that frighten you
and to destroy your obstacles that block us.
To congratulate you would be my dream. But I can only
watch you from the shadows, never to be basked in the
sun. Only dream of seeing you face to face, eye to eye.
You'll never know how much I love you'till we meet in
But you'll never know until we meet again, my daughter,
for our bond shall never be broken. It is the love of a
father that keeps you shining. And remember, those
rainbows? Those are just me from the heavens telling you to
never give up. Don't ever
Adventures of YaoiBeing remarried must be rather stressful. Nonetheless, a proper wedding was required by the ever-so-persistent mother. My grandmother actually. Poor Aunt Jen was pulling her hair out over the colors and flowers for March. Now I was stuck glaring at myself, from all angles. The fitting room was lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Wearing the oversized dress practically falling off my shoulders was not my favorite way to spend Saturday morning.Adventures of Yaoi6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
My mom, as usual, was commenting on 'how gorgeous' I looked. One of the most embarrassing ordeals because the short, pale, skinny girl glaring back does not exactly fill out the chocolate brown dress. After half an hour of painstaking pining, false complementing, and jabbing myself on the needles sticking out from the dress, it was done.
So as a youre-such-a-good-patient-girl-so-Im-gonna-treat-you-like-a-little-girl my mom took me to Borders. A new store, plenty of books to look over, I scoured the store for all of
between ribbons and bonesbetween ribbons and bones6 years ago in Scraps More Like This
saturated red-ribbon neck with
wavering wavelengths and
tremulous perches, your angry
bird heart peels my skin away
like it's been burnt.
hollow bones have forsaken you
again, tempting flight and
effecting fall. [flying is just
falling in reverse.]
chipper beaks and waterlogged
ears sink faster than stones.
not land, not air, not breathing,
[dear bird, do you hurt like me?]
skinned and sorrowed, broken songs
radiate from broken bones on a faulty radio.
a jump and fall,
you're going nowhere.
you hit zero with the rest,
crash and burn with the best,
you're just like nothing.
drowning in water is a lot like falling
through air [but burnt lungs sting and rot
and falling feels like flying, if
you do it right.]
you're just a pseudobird with murderous laments
and hollow bones to match your heart.
sweet little faker, you're a dusting of
aspartame. lovely pretender,
i watch as you try to fly,
yellow bird.yellow bird7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
yellow-bird with coffin breast,
roosted sling of matchsticks and spider legs-
Ive watched her strip them in twilight
from bulging blood bodies, grapes shell eat,
wine to throat, a song to sing beneath slated roof.
A screw, a bolt, Ive turned a winding fir
branch into mechanics of hands and clutching.
A trap: salted fish with thumbtack scales-
an unkeeping of flight, on the snow of the perch.
I sweep song to ring with muted clapper,
between beak hammered shut,
wool-bite moth with snap-close wings,
pinned to a curl behind my ear.
Prove Me WrongProve Me Wrong11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Advanced Bodies Absorbing Advanced Minds..
Still in a crippled state of mind.
Why has the majority chosen to do so little with their gift?
Blindly, yet faithfully following a system of duplication...
trimming power, leaving evolution up to another kind.
Even the genius with the perfect inventions...
sit and wait for the so called "right time"..
to release creations from their mind.
I fear their reasoning may be intimidation.
Knowing that if releasing creation right now,
they would be forced.
Forced to come up with something bigger..
Maybe it's the hesitation of their capabilities.
So as accustomed...
they simultaneously sit and wait...
While people below travel, work, pray, and patiently anticipate,
never even acknowledging their own existence...
Always shading themselves from their own reason of being.
And so words are said:
Be polite, and celebrate your date of birth..
because it's the "right thing to do".