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Dream A Better DreamDream A Better Dream10 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Where's My Mommy? Where's my daddy". I'm sorry little one, they're no longer here. Close your eyes, go to sleep, and dream a better dream.
They may not be with us anymore, but I know where they'll always be: In your heart and in your dreams. So dream a better dream.
When you're scared. Just close your eyes and dream your best dream. In your dreams, you're safe and sound and you make your world your own.
In your dreams, you'll see them there. In your dreams, they'll always be there. I'm sorry they can't always be with you. I'm sure they're sorry, too. Just close your eyes and dream your dream, and make a wish, too.
As you dream a better d
12 Days of Band Camp12 days of Band Camp12 Days of Band Camp3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
On the first day of Band Camp my Director gave to me,
A piccolo Under the Sea
On the second day of Band Camp my Director gave to me,
Two Klutzy Trombones
And A Piccolo Under the Sea.
On the third day of Band Camp my Director gave to me,
Three Tone Deaf Trumpets
Two Klutzy Trombones
And A Piccolo Under the Sea
On the fourth day of Band Camp my Director gave to me
Four Fainting Flutes
Three Tone Deaf Trumpets
Two Klutzy Trombones
And A Piccolo Under the Sea
On the fifth day of Band Camp my Director gave to me
Five Water Breaks
Four Fainting Flutes
Three Tone Deaf Trumpets
Two Klutzy Trombones
And A Picco
The Visitor From Curtisville--Ch. 4 Past HistoryThe Visitor From Curtisville--Ch. 4 Past History1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Chapter 4--Past History
Town (1)
A herd of twenty licorn glided out of the surrounding forest, spiral horns and fluffy silvery hides glinting in the moonlight as they clattered across the cobblestone streets. They splashed in and out of a shallow creek that meandered through the front yard of one of stately townhouse, throwing up liquid moonbeams from their flying deer-like hooves. Finally growing weary of their wild games, they broke up into small groups, wandering up the hedge bordered streets to graze on lawn grasses and clover. Suddenly one of the licorn snorted, as a s
AnniversaryAnniversaryAnniversary3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
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Their meetings were always hurried, full of touches that were just a little too hard and kisses that involved too much tooth. Neither complained, there was no time for them to argue now. No time for prolonged, wordless struggles as to who was on top, no time to tease. It just happened.
It was only in the afterglow, the bittersweet sweat and laboured breaths, that they talked. Quiet murmurs accompanied by lips on skin, a squeeze of the hand on a hip.
"I haven't got long." Jaye would say, his once perfectly straightened and styled blond hair now a m
SolsticeSolsticeSolstice3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
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Medici castle was on a scale that was rarely built on these days. Three hours ride out of Argonia at a gallop, it sat atop a cliff set just in from the sea, proudly overlooking the de'Medici's traditional holdings to Argonia's west. The land had been in the family for generations, and their line could be traced back even further than that. They were a force in politics, a well-worn family name that would come to Argonia's aid when asked and their constant grip on land so close to the city proved that.
However, it hardly made the place more welcoming in the winter
Hot Hotter Hot Hottest IntroMy balls were sticking to my inner thigh like a baby seal clinging to an Antarctic shore. Unfortunately, the camera was pointed right at me, so I couldn't do the leg-shake maneuver to get them loose. I saw the set of “’Hello, Good Morning!’ with Buster” through two pea-sized holes drilled into my velvet helmet. Crayola had puked on the walls, the floor, the blocks, the rug, and even Buster. That was me, the rainbow-colored dog that came up on TV from dawn ‘til noon. Outside of Buster’s Play Pen was the black, soulless collection of cameras and producers and directors sitting in fold-up chairs who occasionally yelHot Hotter Hot Hottest Intro4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Midnight SnacksI hope that my leaving is just a minor hurtMidnight Snacks4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Yet knowing that worse leads to worse
And how fretting multiplies, but starts inert
I will remind you of what we have with verse
Our love is like an ice box that sits bold
In the corner of a kitchen, dormant and hushed
A warm lifeline feeding and keeping the insides cold
Even as it works at its own pace, never rushed
The best goodbye would be in the box’s back
Taken only when loneliness paints the dark skies
Then, it would be drawn from the very last rack
Like a pint of rocky road in “Comfort Me” size
So I say, with love entwined in lines and feet
Despite the curving
SelfishSelfishSelfish4 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
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It was a hurried, messy meeting. Over a month had passed and while neither of them particularly liked the risk involved, what was meant to be a quick report had rapidly turned into a fully blown make out session. Mattie, tall, dark and still clad in his three-day-worn military colours had made short work of shoving all of Marquis’ neatly stacked paperwork onto the floor, pressing the smaller man down onto the varnished wood instead. Marquis would have protested were he not so occupied by the tongue down his throat and Mattie’s heavy hands tugging at his hair. He’d
Four over Five - KiribanFour over FiveFour over Five - Kiriban5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
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Whoever’s idea it was to host a bar in the beached hull of a long-forgotten mariner should be labelled a genius. The black sea sloshed sleepily outside, blanketed by a sky loose-knit enough for the stars to peek through. I’m romanticising it all; grungy high-rises pushed the beach back day by day, sand was doped up on forgotten syringes and Heaven lay like some beached whale against the moon.
Heaven. Stupid name for a bar, really. I’d lost track of how many drunkards had shambled in hollering for entertainment, having mistaken the buzzing neon sign outsi
Re: sound of raintiptap on tin roofsRe: sound of rain5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
as the world cries a message
that we fail to hear
To be a Guitar+istLike from afar, the guitar mumblesTo be a Guitar+ist5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The buzzing crowd then heaves and fumbles
The leering ceiling shudders--
My sight blurs with sweat as I make the strings purr
Love is such a lazy note
Nevermind if alluring fingers always find--
They strut and dumbly dote along
The wanton path paved down my spine
The melody's beat swirls 'round my fingertips
The mellow bass suddenly invades my veins and I'm speechless
Metal cords smile into my skin-- make my back stiff
She smiles and sways while she's falling off her feet
Love goads me to play
Crackling lightning inside of me is all I can take--
The old hollow in me is missing today
My filtere
SleepSleepSleep5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
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Oh gods above, what had he done? The memories were fuzzy and vague, although there was no reason for them to be. He’d walked for hours, he remembered that part, though it had felt as though he had hovered above his own tired, charred body. Charred? A fire, he guessed, that he’d somehow been caught up in. The sand was surprisingly cool beneath his cheek as he lay there, mind and body numb with confusion and the clench of guilt. Guilt, he realised now, sat where he’d always thought love would, just below the ribs; a solid pressure pushing to meet his spi
The place stories come from'Sometimes people wonder where stories come from. A person can tell a story about something so unbelievable, yet so wonderful that it seems real. That's because it is.The place stories come from2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I don't wonder about it, though, because I know where stories come from.
It's a magical place with thousands of enchanting creatures, beautiful plants, trees as high as sky scrapers and heroic people. Whatever you can think of, it exists there.
Every once in a while, people come to witness all of this. They watch the talking trees, dance with the fairies and feel the heat of a dragon's fire. Eventhough there are many people at the same time, you don't walk into them. No m
StarChild35 months ago in Introductions & Chapters
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StarChild25 months ago in Introductions & Chapters
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TheAssassin5 months ago in Short Stories
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LiesThat moment when you know someone's lying.Lies6 months ago in Sketches More Like This
and you're not sure if the truth will hurt more
Sparks of the SelfWhence does it hail from,Sparks of the Self6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the magic that feeds those moments?
Those moments when the breath catches in the throat,
when an internal grin, rising from within,
transforms into an external one;
yielding to the fierce exultation
brought on by this mysterious magic of the mind,
of the self,
of which I speak.
Those moments when you run on nothing but impulse,
the guidance of aught besides whim, the wind, and what's inside;
when control is relinquished
to the hand that resides within and around us all –
the hand of capricious fate;
allowing us to give in to ourselves,
to our true individual nature.
What ethereal force, then,
unlocks
Cursing IntelligenceWhat do you do at five in the morningCursing Intelligence6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
When everyone else is asleep
The mice aren't moving
The birds aren't calling
The only noise is the wind.
In the pitch of night,
You are truly alone,
With only your doubts as company.
The walk up to you and say their spiel,
Leaving you in tears.
Intermittently, a light shines on you,
Whether it be electric, or joyful.
It takes you to a brighter place,
Showing you the path in front of you,
Before giving way to silence.
A bat flies over your head,
Getting its daily supper.
Not a care in its mind,
Beyond, of course, the mosquitoes at your buffet.
How envious it is is,
To not care beyond yo
FatalisticThis continuity inside of this little obscurityFatalistic6 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Is all broken, shattered glass that's never spoken
Taken for granted, now it's just something that's implanted,
Beyond magnanimous than the highest opinion unanimous,
Hatred! in an engram in all it's abhorrent glory is just a scam
Kill the pictures painted black,
Your paintings bring me nothing but pain,
God! is lingering inside of your mind,
And so is your conscience, so kill,
Kill your death in memoriam,
Your desolate road through life,
Silence! the hum of your beating heart
There is no room for it here,
Is a commonplace just for lies?
Only the receptor will know,
Impediment fou
TranslationIt so happened that a man once approached meTranslation7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Confident and sure—a purveyor of things to be
Feigning the tone of one weathered by strife
He asked me how I'd like to spend my life
I said that I wanted nothing more than to translate
I said I was amazed that one word could equate
To an array so vast of concepts and meanings
And how each one carries with it its own feelings
How in the labyrinth of language one could behold divinity
In an expanse matched only by the breadth of infinity
And in a premature huff, the man cut my thought short
In his haste to prove me wrong he shot me a cold retort
He told me that my hobby would soon go
Morning FrostThe golden sunriseMorning Frost7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
bathes flowers, covered in frost.
They look like a sea
comprised of frozen tears.
There is a melancholy in the air.
Winter is near, these flowers will die.
But, rejoice, for they will be born again.
Such is the beauty and horror of time
It is not the darkIt could have been a century on serif wings,It is not the dark7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Or a second's blink from a blinding sun, on a swaying leaf,
Clinging, stubbornly to autumns vines.
There were many color in our eyes,
Each placed and painted by mother nature's supple fingertips.
We sent wishes up by the thousands,
Millions.
On candle tips,
Wrapped with paper lanterns' patterns.
Wondering if the wind would get to them,
Whisk them away,
Or snuff them out.
Emotions,
Like colors in the air,
That tingle,
Sting, or wrench.
There is one far away,
To be plucked at,
Staining fingers many colors.
Remember,
The way it feels,
To fall asleep,
Heavy and uncertain.
It coul
Northbound Somewhere on a silent hill,Northbound7 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
where tree roots crinkle through stone
and a lonely crow melts into bone,
my left hand turns pink and blue
holding onto a cigarette I named after you;
and once before on this quiet hill,
when it was just as cold
and our bodies were just learning
how to fold
into the shape of something new,
I never thought I would have to think of us
in terms of two -
but now this hill screams
with a bitter wind
that blows both hands
into my empty pockets,
and I realize that this cig
Sta.sh
