DareI dare you to be creative.
To express yourself in ways that only you can.
And in being creative, you can spark inspiration within others.
That inspiration can swell up and blossom inside them.
And from the blossomed inspiration, dreams are born.
Dreams, that can change the world.
So, in acceptance of this simple dare.
You may unknowingly inspire.
You may unknowingly plant dreams.
You may unknowingly change the world.
Are you up to it?
NamesNames are not found in dictionaries,Names3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Names don't tell of one's status, ability, or personality.
Each name is unique.
No matter how common it is.
For although others may share your name.
Share it right down to the last letter,
There never has been, and never will be,
another you again.
And that fact is what makes you, you.
Old HabitsI feel sickOld Habits3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like the emptiness is eating out my insides
and vomiting up my heart
the loneliness is choking me,
and old habits die hard.
Whenever I close my eyes I see red.
Ignore AdviceWrite ten bad poems.Ignore Advice3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Write one hundred
Write and drink.
Keep a notebook with you,
write in public
and make sure that others
know that you are, in fact,
Write a love poem,
then throw it away
because all the good ones
have already been read.
write about the decision
instead of the feeling.
Write one sentence
say to yourself that
this is it, THIS is IT.
and tell yourself that again.
Reading Why do you like it?Reading3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It's such a simple question, yet she finds it hard to answer.
Does she like reading because it's in some way forbidden? She must read fashion magazines, yes, but real books? Of course not!
Does she like it because it's somehow an escape? Is it the fact that she lets her tea go cold because she's a million miles away, chasing a world that does not exist? The fact that, when she has to tear herself away, she's afraid that the story will continue on without her?
Does she like the fact that it's a distraction? How trivial do mere bruises seem when soldiers are being struck down in battle? What are a few harsh words, when she's learning of women who were beaten down so hard and yet still managed to stand and fight?
Does she like it?
How she hates the way her mind has faded, provided with so many glossy images that she's been left unable to conjure any of her own. She can go about her day without acknowledging this horrible thought, but only by leaving the
I write for MEI don't write to please,I write for ME3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I write feel well
And be free
Let my thoughts land on paper for others to read
I don't want to keep them in
If they can help others
Let them read and see
If they ever felt the way I did.
WordsmithsHow long did you thinkWordsmiths3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we could pound our vocabulary with hammers
before it fell flat?
SympathyMurderer of mine, why are you still here?Sympathy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Can't you see that I have died?
Leave me in the cold, till the snow covers me up.
My soul now forever embedded in the frost.
And this is dangerous
These feelings you have for both of us
Murderer of mine, why do you seem sad?
Did you mean for me to die?
Throw me in the water
Don't think about the splash I will create
Remember all the things you just escaped.
And this is torturous
These choices you make for both of us
Murderer of mine, why are you still here?
Can't you see that I have died?
You tied me to the tracks and waited till the morning train arrives
You never looked back, I got to see the sunrise
And this is murderous
This obsession you have of us
Murderer of mine, why are you crying?
It's not your life that has been lost.
Just leave me in the rain
Wipe away your tear stain
I didn't expect you could feel pain
Drag You To Hell Stiletto knives coated in jealousyDrag You To Hell4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Are sharper than my forked tongue;
I am ready for you, this time,
And the next steps you dance
Will be in secret, with Hades' wife.
We'll start off slowly, one step at a time.
I'll smile, and whisper my lies. I'll draw you close to me,
And hold you one last time. You do not smell the scent of
Pure envy, for the scent of her perfume is much stronger.
I'll take a step toward you
And whisper my venom into your ears.
You'll hunger for more, until I end it
Abruptly, with a sudden step backward,
And a deceitful and depraved smile.
You'll miss me. The taste of me on your lips,
My smell, the way I feel under your fingers
You will crave me. You may beg for me, and
Reach for me, but it will be too late. I will be beyond
Your reach, and your only company will be the souls
Of the dead.
These lost souls will mock you
like fiendish friends,
gossiping in the dark.
The Sound of SilenceAre you mad at me?The Sound of Silence3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
No answer. It was no use: Kenneth had removed his Ear Ports, which linked Lukia into his mind. She couldn't connect with his brainwaves now. Bottom lip curling into a pout, Lukia sniffled at the rejection of contact. It was so unfair when Kenny got like this, cutting off mental transmissions so she couldn't understand what he was thinking.
It was unnatural to live in such silence. That empty period when thought streams ceased and when the only words in her head were her own terrified Lukia. But Kenny enjoyed it. He had once even claimed that the real silence was in the air, and that words were supposed to be formed with lips, teeth, and tongue to be spoken out loud, not passed from brain to brain. He had tried to show Lukia, but the loud, jarring growl that Kenny had labeled a "Whisper" had hurt Lukia's head so much that she'd had to clamp her hands over her ears. Though Kenny had apologized, Lukia had vowed never to take her Ear Ports out
I only cry in the darkI only cry in the dark,I only cry in the dark3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Where no one else can see,
The tears streaming down my face,
So they think I'm still me.
The silver blade moves forward,
Shining like the moon,
My diary gets another page,
They'll be none left quite soon.
I wish someone would open the door,
Walk in and switch on the light,
Comfort me, help me,
Save me from my plight.
Eye ContactHold these thoughtsEye Contact3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are a
You are waiting
for the flowers
to murder you.
You are drugged up
on mental chemicals.
You are lonely.
You are every dark secret
every act of kindness.
You are nothing
But do not believe for a second
that you are a ghost,
drunk on freedom.
The woman with the stroller
The man rubbing his glasses
with his mouth half open
and the white-knuckled toy
and watch as if
the whole world were new
and a man who could pass through
walls and skin
was something special
and worth attention.
nervosa.i.nervosa.5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
i was six years old the night my mother crept into my room, spread a second quilt on top of me, and began to quietly brush the hair of my barbies. she laid down on the cold wooden floor, one ear down - as if she could hear the small specks of dust moving across the downstairs hardwood.
"we're moving to waterford," she said, staring fondly at my lovingly-kept pocahontas doll. i hadn't seen her swipe it, and she played with the silky ends of the doll's purple-sewn hair in silence.
"i don't want to go," i told her, bleary-eyed and whining, "who wants to live in a place named after water? don't they have anything exciting to name it after?"
she stood with a thoughtful smile, something twisting in the murky brown pools of her eyes.
"water is like magic," she said. "water grows beautiful things."
and with that, she patted my foot, looked me in the eye, and took pocahontas away to the hall with her.
"she is beautiful," my mother told me softly. "i want her."
i closed my eyes
IronyI asked for it.Irony3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I wanted it so desperately.
Oh, how I thought I needed it.
I pathetically yearned for it,
making stupid reasons as to why it should be mine.
It would be everything I needed and more.
It would calm me in times of anxiety.
It would raise my spirits in times of sorrow.
It would accompany me in times of loneliness.
I had given everything for it.
Then I realized
it only brought upon me more stress
it only brought upon me more sorrow
it only brought upon me more loneliness.
I asked for it,
I received it.
I never wanted it.
NobodyNobody3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Just add an X to show that you're incomplete, you lack what makes you human and you now belong to them.
They give you a number to show that someone is always your superior and to show that you aren't that special.
A tile is given to you, it makes you think you are needed, when in reality, they can dispose of you with a snap of their fingers.
He said that he can give you a purpose, but why didn't you have one before?
He said that he can give you answers, but how can he answer all the questions swirling through your head?
You think you should be feeling nervous, but nothing comes.
You don't feel anything, you can't cry and you can't hate.
The smile you put on you face is forced, the laughter is fake, it wasn't always like this was it?
"You were never meant to exist" the truth, as much as it is hard, makes sense.
Your nothing, you don't feel anything and you shouldn't be.
You have no heart; you're just an empty shell.
You're just a nobody.
Tick....TockTick...Tock,Tick....Tock5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A distant world
Beneath my eyes
Wake me up
Wake me up inside...
In the darkness
My heart attempts
To beat in vain
My only will
To wanna see
Higher and higher
Wake me up...
I stand up
The aroma of
I'm counting away
Until i break
MurderI had a feeling my husband was going to shoot me tonight. You'd think I'd be worried, but all I could think about was how it would happen. What caliber would he choose? What make? Would it be a revolver or a pistol? Maybe it would be a shotgun. Would he sneak up on me or make me get down on my knees and suck his cock one last time with the trigger pointed at the back of my head? Would he wait until I was alone or do it to both of us as Allen was on his way out the door? Would it happen in the kitchen or the bedroom? It would be more embarrassing for us if he did it in the bathroom, although I doubt he had considered that. Would I put up a fight?Murder4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Did I think I deserved it? I wouldn't condone it but I wouldn't blame him either. 25 years, shattered like my face would soon be if that's where he decided he wanted to shoot me. I met Allen at his office Christmas party. All he had to do was shake my hand and I knew we were going to do things my husband never dreamed of. We started
The Annihilation of Everything as We Know ItWe all wonder, what will be the last straw before the world is utterly and completely destroyed? Earth has been teetering on the edge of extinction and has been escaping certain death for centuries, but its luck will run out eventually.The Annihilation of Everything as We Know It2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
‘Religion!’ you say. ‘Lack of resources!’ shouts another. ‘Hoarding of wealth! Nuclear bombs! Politics in general!’ cry the masses in harmony.
But you are sadly mistaken. Although these are all very plausible suggestions, you clearly underestimate the power of human stupidity. Many of these factors came into play, but the definitive moment happened long, long ago, back when the people of Earth got along quite nicely, until that one fateful day.
It all started with an alarm clock.
Once, a very long time ago, a massive power outage at 6:53 PM struck the serene, peaceful world. It wasn’t a terrible catastrophe, per say: there were no earthquakes or tsunamis or fires erupt from the depths of @#!*% ; the blacko
I Eat My Own Poop: Poems for DogsI Eat My Own Poop: Poems for DogsI Eat My Own Poop: Poems for Dogs3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The sun comes up,
it's time to play,
Time to start
A brand new day.
With a wag of my tail,
and a bark so loud,
My human awakens
but he doesn't look proud.
He lets me outside
As he wipes his eyes
I prance around
And he just sighs.
I start to question my existence
Just what am I?
Am I of importance?
The squirrel ran away
O' woe is me.
I feel so alone,
in my own company.
I pad through the grass
Alone and sad.
I begin to whine,
but hey, it's not all bad!
I hear a voice!
Oh what a sound!
I look around!
But nobody is found!
What could it be?
Who could it be?
Where could it be?
Ah, what a relief.
I really had to go.
I wag my tail
but I'm still alone.
I look around for something
But my tiny brain doesn't know what.
I'm a dog, so I'll rhyme something with something,
I start to chase my tail.
What is this monster,
that rests upon my butt?
I will chase it.
I will chase it.
I will chase it.
I will chase it.
I will chase it.
I will cha
when a muse stands silentdo you know what a feather is?when a muse stands silent3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a whimsical quill,
drooped at the top
like a willow tree's branches
hang their heads.
the ink at the tip,
a tear on the corner of an eye
smudging a porcelain face,
a writer wiping it away with his thumb,
the rest of his fingers
cupping a chin,
and he chokes out whispers that embrace
his broken muse.
(nothing)Sitting on this bus,(nothing)3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I know that I am distinctly
I am the absence of this bus,
and the other passengers
There is some sort
of truth to this;
some sort of credence
that I can't
place my hands on.
(I am not the paper, only the folds
made by my fingers.
I am not the blankets,
only the indent left behind.
I am not the rain,
only the dry spots
marking the pavement.)
Even when I'm standing still,
I am not the air.
(I can only hold it in.)
Think"So. You started exhibiting abilities…?"Think2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Um… three years ago? Yeah, three years, and it was May I think. Fourteenth or maybe sixteenth, I don't remember exactly – I just remember that it was my last semester. Yeah, three years ago, May."
"Fourteenth or sixteenth?"
"Yeah, one or the other. I remember that because I has these huge goddamn exams, you know, one was on fourteenth and other on sixteenth and it was during one of them I heard it for the first time. Can't remember which one though, just remember being a nervous wreck. I studied of course, I mean, hello, you know? But test's a test."
"Right. It started during an exam then? In a large crowd."
"Well, large enough. I didn't go to a big school – hell you should know, you probably have my files and everything. Don't you? I mean, don't people like you have files on everything, even someone like me? Or should that be especially someone like me…"
"How large was the crowd?"
"I don't know. Twenty f
A Note on DrowningI am writing this letter for myself. If you have found this letter, please give it to me. If you find that I lack the will to read, if my mind is gone, if my hands are bloodied, tell me at least, that the song is near its end. If I am dead [indistinguishable]A Note on Drowning3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
[Written in the margin: IF I AM DEAD THROW ME TO THE SEA]
In laying out the bones of my terrors, a solution may be found.
I’ll start before the beginning, when Mother took me for walks on the beach and told stories. Together we missed my father, who sailed the sea. These are my earliest memories, but I remember things had always been this way. We walked together, and I counted my many steps and Mother’s few. When I stretched my legs, I could make it so my path went over only her footprints.
The sand was soft where she had stepped. Elsewhere was gritty, and unclean.
I was young for all of Mother’s stories. Here I will write the relevant one as best I remember.
“A sailor was on a ship. This ship was far of