DrownedHer fan conceals herDrowned1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
As tears fall like dead blossoms
Eyes already drowned.
Graviton BombI shall start at the beginning. Now, while this is usually the logical place to start anything, it will become apparent that, in this situation, that is not nearly as simple as it may initially appear to be.Graviton Bomb7 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
A beginning signifies a single point in time; a position in one of the four dimensions we inhabit. Of these four dimensions, we transverse three of them on a daily basis with little or no concern. In contrast, we have no direct control over the fourth dimension whatsoever. Irrefutably, and indefinitely, time flows from the past to the future just as the grains of sand fall through the globes of an hourglass.
This single fact could be the cause of the situation in which we now find ourselves. Mankind has never been satisfied with what we are naturally capable of. Simultaneously, this lust for improvement above and beyond the boundaries nature has imposed upon us is equally our greatest strength and our greatest weakness. While our ability to engineer and adapt has allowed us to reac
White HoleI found myself watching the device over steepled fingers, pursed lips resting against my thumbs. The keyboard in front of me lay silent, while the display on my monitor continued to flash ominously, reeling numbers increasing more quickly than the eye could track, while a second set counted down at a more sedate speed.White Hole6 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
The device itself was little bigger than a credit card, but I could hear the reinforced steel of its cradle groaning beneath its weight. That iconic white faceplate no longer seemed quite so clean and innocent; there was something sinister about the glossy surface. Saruman the white revealing his true intentions to Gandalf.
At the end of the day, it was the damned theoretical physicists who were responsible. But they couldnt really be held to blame. Its always the way with incredible breakthroughs; no-one ever considers the long-term implications.
Infinite data storage seemed like such an amazing concept. I think everyone could agree with that. I dont b
BruisesBruises3 years ago in Romance More Like This
She’s gone off half-cocked again, thinking she can take on the entire world all by herself. When she finally returns home, cursing and making an ungodly racket, he sees that she has more broken bones and bruises on her than he’d like to count.
Bolin tries to help as best he can, but she just dismisses him with a wave of her hand and tends to her own wounds. But she can barely heal herself for crap (some great master waterbender she is), and she’ll never ask for help. Never.
At least his brother can get close to her, not that he wants to. No, this firebender would rather not. Let Bolin play the nurse, let Bolin take the abuse. Mako’s just too damn sick of it all.
Besides, if he were to make a move to come near her, she’d just bend him through a wall or tell him to fuck off with such ferocity that she might as well have crushed him into the earth or slit his throat with her stupid ice dagger. He’ll never know why he puts up with her to begin wit
Bucketsi.Buckets3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
before I'm 30
I want to die
to be buried
even with the decorations
& bodily equations
laid out over my skin
like tapestries of
to have "Edge" read
by a woman who leapt
over the edge of sanity
but held out her hand
to help me across the
to leave my body
to the science of
& all the crows that
followed me from
home to home,
never asking why.
before I'm 30
I want to not die
to lick the condensation
from the window
of my life
& see the world clearly
for the first time,
to be reborn
to hear a song
that tastes better than
& all the time I've spent
milling around inside
from winter to winter,
checking for ghosts
to taste the sugar
of the promised
& feel every inch
of my past slipping
into a darker hole
than I've ever
to truly live.
Jesus' PoemI am...Jesus' Poem3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I came down
To die on a cross,
And to make
Can get drunk on.
You do not whore around,You spend your nightsYou do not whore around,1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
for Apollo’s robes.
You’re as hot
as New Orleans
in mid-July, and
as her gumbo.
But, he is light-years
away and your fingers
ache with tired
a disaster in
Even if it fucking hurts,
you can still taste
his heat on your tongue.
Gods be damned,
you’re a butterfly-
( even if mounted
to a bed. )
you will find yourself
and fly away.
I am girl.Other boys tell meI am girl.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I’d look best
& they know
I am girl-
from the curve of my hips,
to this jutting collarbone,
lonely of love bites
But, your hands shape
falsities out of my limbs
with a tongue speaking of me
Why do I allow your body
to find rest against these bones
when you don’t even recognize
the taste of my moon skin
between your teeth?
Crescent Moon: Chapter OneCrescent Moon: Chapter One7 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Chapter one: Feeling a bit light
The snow crunched underfoot in the city square. What seemed to be an old man walked through the bustling crowds with careful deliberateness. For an old man he had good posture. His face was shaded by a hooded cloak and in his right hand he held a walking staff. The ends were scarred from years of use. The crowd didn't take notice of this traveler. Those who did saw only a man about five feet eleven inches tall with a walking stick. What they didn't see was the pair of double-ended throwing knives strapped to one hip, the rolled up square-foot of leather that contained a set of lock-picks, the cotton bandages wrapped around his hands and forearms, or the eyes of the man. His eyes were green with a sunburst of yellow around the pupils. If one could have seen his eyes, they would have known that this man was of noble birth. He was a part of the royal family of Kranna.
The Kranna region of Illorium was notorious for hosti
blue sky Pilotsof blue sky Pilotsblue sky Pilots8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
draw their breath white
lines Crossing the calm
we measure distances In lungs
shaped like a plane spread
against same ozone
these years To last for miles
KissKiss3 years ago in Romance More Like This
He’s gone too far this time, said the wrong thing at the wrong time or maybe she’s just reached her limit. Probably both. It doesn’t help that he’s so damn smug all the time, thinking he’s always right. She wants to humiliate him more than anything, to drag him down to the same level.
This time she decides to strike out with her hand. A slap. Maybe she’d leave a bruise or a scratch—a reminder of his humiliation. But for once he’s too fast for her, anticipating the blow, and he catches her by the wrist. He smiles that damnable smug smile of his and suddenly dips his head downwards, capturing her lips with a kiss.
Her eyes open wide in shock, locking with golden irises that seem to dance in the moonlight and dare her to pull away. When she doesn’t, he takes that as his cue to deepen the kiss and wraps his free arm around her waist, pulling her in close. When she finally closes her eyes and gives in, he tentatively releases her wrist a
quacking jokesthree ducks explodequacking jokes5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Dear Poetry,You will find out that I am not a strong person. Dragons do not make a home beneath my skin to hoard their treasured princesses. I am not that lucky. For I have misplaced collarbones just as quickly as I’ve misplaced hearts, a pulse still rhythmic against my fingertips. I am a monster of words, devouring Cummings and Plath with no ounce of self control left in my body. I promised myself this weight would not fall for the sharp edges of stars ground into your knuckles. But, write air into my lungs, poetry. Give this wild thing a reason to learn the definition of tamed.Dear Poetry,1 year ago in Letters More Like This
Write me a poem, and I will promise to fall in love with you, slowly and then…all at once.
Existential CrisesThere was an odd feeling that washed over her on Saturday mornings. She sat dazed between unfinished paintings, white canvases with specks of reality, and piles of unorganized papers; they seemed to magically grow and multiply as if by an imaginary stroke of the hand. Some were bills she always forgot to pay, or letters from Dylan that always ended up, with the envelope still tightly shut, in the trash. You can read a person's personality, right to its gritty core, simply by examning their trash. She had Ding-Dong wrappers, ice-cream containers, sketches of people and people that were no-longer, and a rotting carton of orange juice with a long-past expiry date, sitting solemnly with only each other for company. The letters that occasionally found their way to the heap of undesired items would recite their lyrics in a monotonous tone, while the decaying remains of food would "ooh" and "ahh", absorbing each syllable, decomposing the crumpled paper.Existential Crises7 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She moved out of her childhood home two
This Art Is ShitIf I knew then what I knew now, maybe I might have appreciated my work a little more.This Art Is Shit4 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
I always used to compare myself to the other artists that I would see, artists much older than me, with the training and the experience I didn't have. It didn't seem to matter to me where they came from, just that they where good and I was not. If I had understood at the time that someday, with perseverance, study and practice that I too might be ask good as them, maybe I might have worked a little harder, studied a little more and not been so down on myself.
Now I look back on a lot of the artists who were my idols, megabytes worth of their art saved to my ancient drive in the basement for reference and inspiration. I realize, they really weren't that good. Some of them were actually quite bad. At any given time, if your art sucks to you or even thousands of other people, it is amazing to someone and you are inspiring someone else by sharing it with them.
If it seems like you are not improving at all
PressurePressure:Pressure2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You try to breathe, but you're barely breathing,
You can't think clearly; you can barely speak.
Your mind is filled with needless thoughts.
Your cheeks are red and feverish...
You know what you must do,
But you can't bring yourself to do it.
Instead you jump into a thousand distractions...
Mindlessly seeking the thrill of the 'anything',
You cringe at the progress of time on the clock.
And with lips gone dry from an internal hell-fire
You continue to evade what you cannot face...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 22nd June 2013
to map sunrises...one day I will tell my daughter to touch herselfto map sunrises...6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
before she ever lets a man do it for her, to learn
her body-secrets and the shape of pleasure. I will
tell her that San Francisco always keeps your heart.
that her skin is a blank canvas, that hair grows,
the value of the right kind of disrespect. that the older
we get, the more we need the people who knew us
when we were young. I will tell my daughter
to give away the secrets that keep her up at night,
and that there is never a wrong time to love someone,
but sometimes a wrong way. I will teach my daughter
to travel without makeup; that sometimes forever means
morning and sometimes the ends of the earth means
Africa or one city over. that it's okay to be afraid of
I will tell my daughter that life is teetering across
the bridge, that the panic building in her chest is okay;
that good love is waiting on the other side; that better
love is holding her hand; and that the best love is her own
voice in the back of her mind, saying "