* I LOVE YOU FOR WHAT YOU ARE *I love you for all the boys I never knew* I LOVE YOU FOR WHAT YOU ARE *3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I love you for all the times I spent with you
For the smell of the sea and warm bread
For the flowers that you put near my bed
For the pure animal that lies within a dove
I love you for all the boys I do not love
Without you I can only see the wide world
The mirror cannot produce the image that was destroyed
The moment between what was and is today
And by forgetting the road I was well on my way
But the hole in the wall did not reveal a lot
So I had to learn about life by the pieces I got
I love you for your wisdom that is not mine
I love you eventhough people consider this a crime
I love you though I know it is all illusion
But my heart is beating in restless confusion
You think you are doubt, but you are reason
You are the sun that will be present every season <>
End RemembranceEnd Remembrance3 years ago in Historical More Like This
Remembrance Day originates at the end of World War I. The idea is to honor those who died in the line of duty, defending their country from enemies. For all its pompous words and fancy granite memorials littered with colorful flower bouquets, Remembrance Day and others like it have failed miserably in achieving this goal.
I've often been criticized as having no respect, and that can be an impediment when discussing certain topics. However, I am often in luck – hypocrisy deserves no respect. What changed as a result of the enormous sacrifice of those who died in WW1? As the first bombs of WW2 fell just two decades later, millions once again obediently lined up under various pieces of colored cloths to slaughter and be slaughtered. It became obvious that absolutely nothing had changed, and that the millions of WW1 had died in vain.
Most would agree that all that lip service paid to the sacrifice between the two world wars wasn't good enough. To truly honor their sacrifice would be
Becoming LessDo we live because of love, or do we live to be loved,Becoming Less3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Because life is a broken heart.
At some point in life we shatter
And have to piece ourselves back together.
Or maybe our whole life we're broken.
Searching for our lost pieces.
Never to be complete.
Always to be missing.
Or to be grounded down
Into a million tiny pieces.
An impossible endeavor
Never to be put back together.
Which one am I?
I think not.
I'll find that piece.
I'll create something from those glass shards.
I won't bow down.
I won't be reduced.
I won't become
Forgive MeI'm tired. Loki. Why are you coming in so late in the night?Forgive Me2 years ago in Drama More Like This
What is it that you want from me, my son? An apology?
Oh, that's what you want, then? An apology for my actions so many years ago?
There is no way I can apologize for what happened. You were already torn from my arms. You were already stolen off. You were already reared by another. No mere words I speak now will be able to undo that. Nothing I can do will bring you back into my arms.
How could I ever apologize for doing something so egregiously wrong?
I left you behind.
I left you behind!
I didn't mean to. Of course I didn't mean to! You were our boy who would grow into our son. Our precious baby.
Once the Great War started, once the blood of our brothers began to guise our true purpose, my priorities began to shift in the wrong direction. I could not think evenly when our--my--people, those whom I had sworn to protect until my dying breath, were being slaughtered. They became the priority.
I had to eva
The Ice AngelThe Ice Angel3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
An Angel on this Field of Ice,
I hesitantly step on this,
Field of Ice.
This surface of ice,
It is but the most slippery,
Field of ice.
I try moving slowly,
On this surface of ice,
But my Crooked skates,
Knock me off balance.
As I start to fall,
For the very first time,
I accept help,
And In no time,
A hand catches me within the fall,
She catches me from my misery,
And helps me escape the pain,
Field Of Ice.
With the sweetest voice,
Asks me,"Are you OK?",
Even though I seem afraid,
I nod aimlessly,
While I reach for her fragile hand,
I grab her hand firmly,
With the the grip even death itself,
Knows to be too tight.
This grip is,
And Almost unbearable.
Even though it is so hard,
For her to bear,
She continues to hold my hand,
Helping me inch forward on this slippery,
Field of Ice,
At first we move slowly,
But our speed gradually increases,
She lets go,
Telling me, "I will be back"
I watch her c
DGM-Confessions: Chapter 1DGM-Confessions: Chapter 14 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
My name is Road Kamelot and I am a Noah. This is my confession.
When I was young, I lived with my mother and my father. My father died when I was ten years old. My mother had been absolutely in love with him when he died in an accident. Although she knew I was involved with his death, she never mentioned it or tried to talk me through it.
I knew from the beginning that I was different than the other children in my school. At first it was little things, like the fact that I never seemed to get sick with colds or the flu. Then a strange incident occurred.
I was always a hard child to manage due to the fact that I was, and still am, easily bored. While walking home from school with my friend Robert one day, something caught me eye. I ran off to check it out, and because I was so focused, I failed to notice a carriage travelling down the cobbled path. Because I darted out, the horses pulling the carriage became spooked and r
untitledseducing the writeruntitled2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
he'll seduce himself
if you're silent.
Musings Of a Foggy MorningTo the left is a meadow,Musings Of a Foggy Morning3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sun rising just above
that surround the dew drenched grass.
A perfect Sunrise,
all purples and pinks and cream
shadowed by the remnants of Night,
and accented by fire in the sky.
Opposite that is a field
by a river
And all that the Fog touches
Rusted trucks and weeping trees
none are warm
none touch the Sun
so close at hand.
And on the rural road between
We AreWe Are the generation who never learned how to speak.We Are5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
We Are the offspring of the decade
20 years hence.
Post 60s love, 70s drugs, 80s hair.
We don't know where we fit. Not yet.
We were the last to grow up on Sesame Street before it was unsuitable for children.
We are. Statistics.
Lost in a world that doesn't recognize us. We let our different colored ipods define us.
We are. Plugged in. To every one else.
Caffeine-addicted alcoholic cyber-socialites.
We are. 3-am internet junkies.
Learned our 1s and 0s before our yes's and no's
We are. Complacent uncaring electorates.
We think joining a Facebook group is an act of protest
We are. Godless. And Godful. Indifferent and morally pretentious
We are. Affixed to our LCD screens.
The Network manifest, Viral Video machine.
We are. The self-destructive invincible
We are. The philosophic insomniacs
Unread blogs of misplaced ideals, deified.
We are. A cavalcade of unwavering conformity
The will of the collective unconscious.
KushThe more I think about the thingsKush2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
which transcend this physicality,
the less I want to smoke.
HisOn an underwhelmingly pleasant day, Sherlock decided John was his. He came to the conclusion while he lounged on the couch in their flatshooting holes in a picture of Mycroft he had pinned to Mrs. Hudson's already damaged walland began to reason out why exactly John was his or what John was to him that he could own him. It was not often that Sherlock couldn't put words to his thoughts, and it was not often that he was so stumped that he considered asking someone. Of course that wasn't actually an option, so he shot another three holes before he reloaded the six shooter pistol. He raised, aimed, firedHis3 years ago in Romance More Like This
One. John was not his friend. Sherlock Holmes did not have friends, unless it was beneficial to say so. He talked to John, and he knew John's habits, but normal people were so simple to catalog. They were boring but
Two. John wasn't boring. He was often near Sherlock on boring days but was never a cause for more boredom or grief. His blog could be quite an annoyanc
my body is a funeral servicethis morning i emptied your ashes into the sky, hoping to watch them sift through my fingers like an eagle taking flight. but the wind carried them backwards and my face became an ashtray for memories. you came back to me, like you always do, like a kiss or a reoccurring dream that i can never forget. i became cloaked in black grain, the remnants of your body. your cremated smile was caught somewhere between the stinging in my eyes and the ash on my jacket.my body is a funeral service3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
in that moment my body became a funeral service. my lips preached your names to the trees. i forgot what it was like to feel anything but hymns pressing down on my back like the heat of the sun. i smelled of incense and bones burning in a fire people are paid to create. it was more than i could bear. for weeks, i obsessed on how someone could lift a motionless shell of a body into an inferno, watch people die a second time and accept their paycheck at the end of the day.
i wanted to step into that crematorium and pluck pulses like f
Gospelsend a messiah,Gospel2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a handsome blue-eyed hero,
a wise-worded miracle maker
that run off our backs like water,
forgotten at the hand of the next writer;
divinity who patiently sews together
an everyman's problems,
asking for no pay but a loyal follower;
one to rid the country and a world
of hungry mites and dust
pushed under presidents' persian rugs,
unafraid to do what's right
in spite of wealthy condemnations;
superman or jesus will do.
Monster -- scene prototype Liza Provita weaved her way through the forest, drenched. Having been left behind by her relatives in their rush for cover, she was only a little bit lost, a situation aggravated by the worsening weather. But it wouldn't be dark for several hours, and she knew the manor couldn't be far. So she pushed on.Monster -- scene prototype3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
With an exasperated sigh, she bunched up her infinite skirts in her fistsonce pale-blue, now muddy-brownas she tromped through the mud and the rain in a most unladylike fashion. She herself couldn't care less about what she looked like, her thoughts more preoccupied with the current task of getting home. But she could imagine even now the acute displeasure that would be her Aunt Yvette's. She envisioned the tall, bony woman in her mind's eye, saw her thin, painted lips puckering as they always did whenever things were not going to her liking. Liza, she would scold, her eight-or-so layers of skirts forcing Li
19:38-21:23i have not prayed since i was a child,19:38-21:233 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
unless You count the times i disregarded formality
and addressed You coarsely or candidly.
that's not to say i don't believe in You
or have disavowed your Grace,
but i think everyone's noticed You don't pick up the phone
or maybe You just have a lousy secretary.
i'll make this very brief because
and i have work in a few hours;
when i thought i saw You on the horizon
somewhere beside the setting sun,
taking the shape of a cloud more violet than the others,
were You there or am i desperate? were You there
or was i reaching for nothing?
You don't need to respond,
but i'd appreciate it.
Unrelated Poemsone. Trust IssuesUnrelated Poems2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'd prefer less dependence on water; I'm shy
of commitment to things that keep me alive or
purge toxic entities who may have had the answer
to the question I've yet to find.
two. Elyn Saks
Empathetic to Schizophrenia—
brief sketches in the radar flicker to paranoia,
an almost understanding of something that isn't there,
yet inexplicable to a man passing on the street,
his shoes casting loud shadows up to the doorway:
inherent to metaphysics, your hands shake,
cusping on the sensation of something observed.
three. Fixed Reality
You died but are capable
of imagining yourself a hero: retrospective texts
written the night before,
pressing into the mass of circulation,
influencing your remembrance as historians shine
the gilded calf.
four. your fascination with geology has made me—
evidence of your inadequacy surfaced
in the wrinkled striation of your unwashed laundry:
browbeaten by her repetitive questions,
eons elapsed in the span of a guilty confession:
dishwateryou learn to fix their mistakesdishwater2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
while cleaning dishes:
scrub glistening gristle
that would have fallen off the pan
if someone had just rinsed it
when it was still hot-soft.
The Peers (draft 1) - Ch 2The Peers (draft 1) - Ch 23 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
She'd seen him, she was sure of it. Amidst the crowd of savage faces, amidst the hundreds of marchers as they'd emerged from the end of the hazy street, Lark knew she'd seen her father's face. He needed her help. She needed to find him, to take him far, far away from these terrifying people before it was too late.
But Lark's quest was cut short when she was swiftly and suddenly swept off of her feet and flung over someone's shoulder.
The nine-year-old shrieked in protest, kicking and struggling with all of her little girl might. But from the height at which she'd suddenly found herself, there was no doubt as to who her captor was.
"Mr. Borrows!" Lark cried, pounding on the cabby's vast shoulder with tiny hands. "I saw Papa! He's here! Let me go!"
But Borrows had other things to w
U TurnU TurnU Turn3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
who i used to
even be recognized by
so ugly to you that I cannot
now when did I become a person
scars never heal
back to where my
and makes a U turn
blacktop of treachery
One Way ConversationOne Way Conversation.One Way Conversation3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Why are you like this?
You're driving yourself to insanity.
I really don't know.
Its how I cope with this reality.
You shouldn't be this way.
It's a destructive mentality.
Father's Day Fic: Idiot ApprenticeFather's Day Fic: Idiot Apprentice3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
When Allen Walker woke up this morning, he felt really weird. His throat hurt, his head was pounding, and his nose was so stuffed up he could barely breathe. He sighed miserably. There's no way he could be sick, not today. There were so many debts he had to pay off, and fast the boy cursed his master for how recklessly the womanizer spent his money. There was only so much an eleven year old boy could take!
Allen shivered when he wiggled out of the covers, the morning air attacking him immediately under his thin night shirt. He clenched his teeth, standing up shakily from his bed. He stood for a few seconds, then wobbled and fell back onto the springy mattress, feeling as if some cruel being had come by and sucked all the energy out of his shivering body. Allen groaned and tried again, this time a bit more slowly, and he eventually managed to stand on his own.
This sucks Allen thought bitterly. He stumbled across the tiny room to his closet and pulled on a pair of trouser
GlitchGlitch3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She'd heard the word from Theodore Rhodes first.
Age eleven at the time, he'd been deeply engrossed in one of his more barbaric videogames when something odd happened: an object, not one of any obvious importance or appeal, had somehow wound up in the middle of his digital path. The brawny thug under his control had inspected the object, jumped on it, punched it, and finally shot at it several times before Theodore decided that the object was just an error, a mistake. A glitch.
And Glitch fancied herself just that.
But even now, as the approximate seventeen-year-old sat at the end of the table two years later, it was clear to her still that something was indeed wrong. For although the girl should have been obvious with her brightly-colored clothing and her friendly demeanor, the people with whom she sat seemed hardly aware of her presence.
There was an odd quiet that hung over the family of five as they a
SpoonA/N: This randomness comes from an equally random conversation with Kuraun Kuraun. Enjoy.Spoon4 years ago in Humor More Like This
Disclaimer: I do not own DGM.
Allen was simply eating his breakfast one morning, after a long mission in which food had been moderately bland and not nearly as plentiful as one would find in the presence of Jerry. This is when the local red-headed maker of irritating situations decided to make him his newest target. Walking up behind the unsuspecting boy, Lavi deftly reached down and snatched the spoon from his hand. He took a step back with his prize, a wide grin spreading across his face.
Allen looked up, grays eyes widened in astonishment. Did his friend not know what meal it was? Out of all of his many feeding times breakfast was the most sacred of all! Without breakfast, life would crumble into a horrible oblivion of hunger. Not knowing what to say, Allen went with the usual, "What are you doing?"
"Stealing your spoon," Lavi replied calmly, not missing a beat, all the while grin still in plac