We Are All GoingThomas Edison's last words were:
It's very beautiful over there.
And Mr Barrie said: I can't sleep
Before he dreamed his way to Neverland.
And seventy-four years later,
When it was Mr Jobs' time to go
He said Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow
Before he left this world.
Let's go and see the other side
And touch the clouds with our lost lives.
But maybe there's just plain old darkness,
That's familiar even though it's cold.
Mr Darwin said he was not afraid,
And Ms Austen asked for nothing but it
The revolution that was Mr Marx said:
Last words are for fools who haven't said enough.
And no they didn't, they never said enough.
You may never have known these names
Until my inky sentiments for their last words.
Just another jumble of letters on the list of the dead
Yet there's something wonderful in what they said.
When McKinley was shot
And didn't die for days
His wife screamed: I want to go too.
And he just said: We are all going.
I suppose Mr Edison was righ
Death Will See You NowI'd like a holiday,Death Will See You Now3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A pool in Dubai
Or a weekend in Paris.
But you watch,
Someone will drown
Or choke on a baguette,
And I'll have to do some overtime.
No, I'm not a doctor,
These aren't healing hands,
Quite the opposite.
Do you know when you plan
To kick the bucket?
It's just I'd rather you made
I can pencil you in
At half past nine.
That's not too early for you is it?
No, you can't cancel.
But I assure you
A spring funeral
Is always lovely.
A School for the FutureTrace the carved names,A School for the Future2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And peeling doors.
The scent of dust,
Long lacquered wood,
And cheap perfume.
This was your world.
It was tired,
And getting on a bit,
Anonymity was just a word,
And you were safe,
Thinking it would never end.
It's gone now, what was yours.
Dug up and rethought,
Shiny and new.
They've ripped it all away,
The stage and the walls.
But please remember,
It was just brick, tile and mortar,
Its heart still beats,
Dusty, yet glorious
And forever yours.
SundayOnly the birds speakSunday3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And a battered aviation radio
Mumbles a reply.
Through a glass door,
To a pretending Wonderland.
Warm stone and bare feet,
Parched grass and puddles,
Somewhere a hosepipe leaks.
A very English summer.
It doesn't feel like
The fifth worst city in the world.
Not on these mornings,
Tale 2: Worlds in the AtticHe was very old by now. His long, white hair, uncut for fifteen years, was loosely spread all over the back of his coat. His shoulders were brought forward by age, his fingers weren't as deft as they had been. If there was one thing he was very happy for, it was that when he had started, he had used the higher shelves first. It meant he didn't have to climb steep, uncertain ladders all the time now.Tale 2: Worlds in the Attic4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
There were hundreds, thousands of jars and bottles and little tin boxes neatly stacked on the shelves, hung from the ceiling by thin chains or ropes, some small and precious glass containers brought together by ropes hanging from the ceiling like clusters of grapes or braided into garlic-like strands.
The man had wanted to be a writer, or a sculptor, or a painter, or some other sort of artist that could show all the worlds that lived inside people. A long time ago, he had understood the fact that he had no talent. It didn't affect him now. He was content to be nothing else but a keeper of w
LateBeing late was something that she had never been any good at. For twenty-seven punctual years she had made the point to be ten minutes early to wherever she had to be. But everyone has to be late at least once in their lives, and she was ten minutes late, which for her meant that she was twenty minutes late, and perhaps to those that are somehow always ten minutes late she was right on time or maybe even a little early.Late3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She flashed her ticket at the bleary eyed man-who-looked-at-train-tickets-but-she-didn't-know-what-that-was-called and was impressed by the lack of humanity in a place where humanity thrives. There were no husbands waiting to meet their wives off of a platform, and there were no children screaming for sweets whilst their mothers sighed, and there was no babble of noise that hid stupid questions, and 'Sorry-did-I-step-on-your-foots?' which she also thought was a stupid question. There was only her,
WoundWe are a blade and a bullet,Wound3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And we hurt in different ways.
Let's agree to disagree,
On my flaws, and on yours.
On occasion we were a storm
And more often than not
We rained on our parades.
But then we drowned in the dust,
In the ashes of quick remarks
And shades of misunderstanding.
I do not apologise, and nor should you,
For I am me and you are you
I wish you the very best,
And hope you remember me,
In the days of new black
And silly midnight secrets.
NarcissusWhen it came to homosexuality, Miles was old-fashioned. He was embarrassed, a little ashamed and had waited until both of his parents were dead. He was a little disconcerted by the world of modern relationships. The physical aspect was embarked upon immediately. Love, however, could only be mentioned when the couple had been together for a suitable period of time. The rule was you can't love someone you don't know.Narcissus3 years ago in Scraps More Like This
Miles had fallen in love with Brett instantly. Helplessly. He'd never experienced such panic and hope. Sex seemed inevitable, completely out of his control. But it hadn't happened. Affection hadn't materialised either. Reality reasserted itself. Brett didn't feel the same way about him. Brett didn't feel that way about anyone. There were countless admirers surrounding him male and female. He was young and beautiful. Astoundingly beautiful. Miles would have done anything for him. Which is why he'd made the mistake of agreeing to become his agent.
It was only a small mo
Poetry,She is stardust leaving sweet bonesPoetry,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in her wake. A trail of poetic destruction
conceived in verse--answering questions
with kisses. There is a hunger in her
freckled constellations, like spider webs
woven together with golden thread.
Like the wild roses she braids in her hair:
She walks backboned and head held high;
the strongest of letters on a page
left to rest in your mouth.
261 Prompts1. Violinist.261 Prompts3 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
3. Paper aeroplane.
4. Dandelion seed.
6. She sings.
7. Dragonfly toes.
8. A stolen ring.
9. Broken wristwatch.
10. Missing tooth.
12. Fairytale gone wrong.
19. Lucky rabbit's foot.
24. Paper birds.
26. Puppet show.
27. Triskaidekaphobia. (Fear of the number thirteen.)
29. Letters to the moon.
31. Ballet shoes.
35. Tachycardia. (An unusually fast heartbeat.)
38. Strobe light.
40. Fake quirks.
41. Contact lenses.
42. Siren. (Either the mythological creature, or the object.)
43. Comet in a bottle.
46. Tarot card.
51. Everyone was dancing, but me.
Lionheart (with an indigo tongue)'You need to stop swearing', I think, every time I remember what words you'd useLionheart (with an indigo tongue)3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to colour the air in your choice shades of blue mist. I think of what I'd say to
you if you used any of those words about me, but I recall that I am the size and
embodiment of a mouse: small, shy, timid, and definitely not able to stand up for
myself in the face of someone so brusque and indigo-tongued.
I could have the heart of a lion for all you know, though, if you'd bothered to listen to it.
The sort that beats forty times per minute, rather than my pace of ninety.
The sort that will not hesitate to roar in your face in a flurry of mane and cat's claws, the sort that will recline
in the savannah and not rely on human voices and petty remarks to confirm its power.
I'm not a lion. I am a haphazrd chemistry experiment, lithium and a red flame.
I'm a mockery of a mockingbird and a plagiarism of a peacock. I'm what happens
when someone pours an ounce of poetry into a tin of glitter, mixed well with
MEi. I fell in love with a girl who catalogued darkness,ME2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sat in her room with the blinds closed and wrote down
187 ways it felt
in all of the different times she couldn't see.
My name was one of them,
#143, ash velvet, and I didn't know what she meant at the time
but the only description she wrote beneath it
was good night for stuffed animals
bad night for worn pillows.
And I'm sorry I made you dream of the rivers.
ii. I fell in love with a girl who never looked in the mirror
but dressed to perfection, somehow
in her blue skirt and black socks
white tennis shoes
and a smile crooked as the bottom side of Indiana
yeah, I fell in love with a girl
who could never quite get it straight but hey,
I've never been 100% straight either,
and the one corkscrew curl you have
opens me up like fine wine
each time I see you smile in that cracked bathroom mirror.
Makes me half-drunk,
iii. I fell in love with a girl who was depressed by Paris,
but loved Italy beca
Tomorrow is BelievingYesterday I considered myself a dust moteTomorrow is Believing3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and climbed out of my window into the helixes
of peoples' ears.
I think I am a monarch butterfly surrounded by
peppered moths here.
They're all a hive of bees and what am I?
Perhaps a bluebottle on the wall.
They are ever-ready to say that there is no tomorrow
'I give up' 'I quit' 'There is just nothing for me
or for anybody anymore.'
They pulled me with their hook fingers and sat me down
and told me that there was once constellations, the clink
of champagne glasses against curved lips and they
once rode in the passenger seat of a car doing a hundred
and twenty down a motorway with the windows open and
the hot summer in their billowing hair.
They tell me that they wished at eleven minutes past
eleven and spent years perfecting recipes to what they call
'the perfect life' only to one day stop believing
when morning came knocking for them.
'Tomorrow I'll be sailing off to a new state
of apathy' I hear a body breathe.
'No, you won't. Tomorrow is m
Question Me."You didn't bother to think." Your gaze, accusatory. It always is. Without fail.Question Me.4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
"Since when did I think?" My gaze, avoiding. It always is. Without fail.
You've wondered for a long time what the words hope and pain meant to me. Want a dictionary? Sure. Go ahead and read the definitions. They don't mean a thing to me. What about truth and lies? Let's see. I never bothered to look those up. Why not? Oh. Yes. Because they don't have definitions, love.
"That's the problem."
What's the thing that you call it? ...Oh, yes. Right and wrong. Rules. Definitions. Fences, borders. Whatever it is. Apparently I cross those too often. Apparently my head needs to be screwed on straight. Want some news? Maybe you're the one that's confused, love.
"You're always evasive."
It's a statement.
Logic, isn't it? That's what you depend on to tell you which way to go in this crazy maze, right? But didn't you forget-- mazes are
Learning To FallI finally fell in love and I don't think... you really don't get it do you?Learning To Fall4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I finally fell in love and I think... you might not have?
MockingbirdI could write to you a thousand timesMockingbird3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I could keep writing of how you're gone
I could keep writing a million lines
But you would never hear the song
As the mockingbird sings the notes it hears
As the mockingbird mocks the cries
As the mockingbird sings through countless years
Heaven remains too far to fly
I can visit you and talk to breeze
I can remember all the days
I can trust myself what I can't see
But you won't reply to what I say
The dirt can settle over tombs
The dirt can hide your life
The dirt can block the sight of you
But like the mockingbird you can fly
So fly higher than the mockingbird
So fly as far as you can go
So fly above and over Earth
Please friend fly till you find home
I Just Don't Understand..."You see..."I Just Don't Understand...3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"I don't. Explain better."
a recording (12:45 a.m.)a recording3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Okay. Let's hope this recorder works, right? I'd write a letter but my handwriting is like crap.
(Nervous coughing, tapping.)
Okay. So. This is for my future baby.
You know, when I was in the middle of my teens I used to wisha desperate, sobbing, emo girl wishthat I'd wake up on a white sheet bed and there'd be a doctor telling my mom that I wouldn't make it. I wanted that so badly, I just wanted to be gone, I was begging to be gone but I couldn't get the courage to do anything because I was a coward. Or maybe I was just smart enough to know not to. I'm still not sure.
Worse was the fact that my mom knew I was buying scar cream and she didn't say anything. I think I made it obvious on purpose, leaving out razors and stuff like that because I wanted her to care, internally. I wanted her to say something like, "Oh Moe! What're you doing to yourself? Of course I care!" Then there'd be some Disney-style tear
WordsThey're only words, a bunch of letters,Words5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Black marks on a bright screen,
So why can't she bring herself to delete them,
Put them where they'll never again be seen?
All it would take is one push of a button,
And they would be gone for eternity,
She wouldn't have to endure them,
Those loving words of agony.
She doesn't understand,
She's not a glutton for pain,
Yet she can't tell anyone about it,
Else they'd think her insane.
But as she gazes down at those beautiful words,
She can't stop the glittering in her eyes,
Can't she keep them a little longer?
Just until her love for you dies?
She hates herself for being so weak,
And she knows what she should do,
But she's afraid of doing it,
Because she's terrified of forgetting you.
Only one thing she knows for certain,
And it must stay true,
She can't let you know how much she hurts,
Because she knows it would kill you.
Doomed LoveIf a demon heard an angel sing from above,Doomed Love3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And an angel and a demon fell in love,
Once they answer to passion's call,
Does the demon rise or the angel fall?
And though they may love in the truest way,
Where in heaven, hell or Earth could they stay?
Hunted by those who can't understand and those who refuse
And soon, so soon, they would have to choose
Between loving together, or saving each other's souls
And be left with a grief that could not be consoled.
Forever they would wander, longing for the other's embrace,
And wanting nothing more than to see their lover's face.
Their doomed love would destroy them, it would tear them apart
And they would slowly bleed to death
from broken hearts.