Llamas with hats scriptCarl: Oh hey How did he get here?Llamas with hats script4 years ago in Comedy More Like This
Paul: Caaaarl, what did you do?!
Carl: Me? Uh, I didn't do this!
Paul: Explain what happened, Carl!
Carl: I've never seen him before in my life!
Paul: Why did you kill this person, Carl?
Carl: I do not kill people. That is that is my least favorite thing to do.
Paul: Tell me, Carl, exactly what you were doing before I came home.
Carl: Alright, well I was upstairs
Carl: I was uh I was sitting in my room
Carl: reading a book
Paul: Go on
Carl: And, uh, well this guy walked in
Carl: So, I went up to him
Carl: And I I stabbed him 37 times in the chest.
Paul: Caaaaaaaaaaaaarl, that KILLS people!
Carl: Oh! Well, I didn't know that!!
Paul: How could you not know that?!
Carl: Yeah, I'm in the wrong here. I SUCK.
Paul: What happened to his hands?
Carl: What's that?
Paul: His hands. Whywhy are they missing?
Depression and I are Fuck BuddiesWhen I was young I made a friend.Depression and I are Fuck Buddies9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
She was kind of quiet-
a loner, like me.
She wore a long cloak of stars and melodies
that would wrap around us both when she got close.
As we got older
we became closer-
until she was all I could see.
She gave me words of comfort,
whispered when no one was around.
And I would hold her close,
Keeping her curled up inside.
Even when she was mean,
I would forgive her.
If she made me cry,
I would hold her closer.
We are never apart for very long,
though the people around us would try
and rip us from each other’s grasp.
She would simply disappear
for hours or days or months.
And soon she would sneak in my bedroom
with her cloak of starlight and music
and hold me in a lovers’ embrace.
Real Men Write Poetry-Slam PoemHello, my name is Anna,Real Men Write Poetry-Slam Poem3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
or "Blue" if you please.
I am a poet and so is,
Zach, Corbin, Harrison, and Kenji.
We have a passion,
a will to write,
and I don't think you have the right to stop us.
You say that we were just kids who searched for misery,
and you say that boys aren't fit to write poetry.
But those four men I just introduced,
are in my eyes so much stronger than you.
Yes I am a girl,
so call me a hypocrite,
but I'm finding it ironic,
that you think these men,
would have a problem with you.
Maybe you're the little boy inside,
look we get it, wont you just apologize?
Do you know how much effort,
that they put into their work?
I promise you,
that to me they're lifesavers,
They're believers, they're creators,
and all around life changers.
They take me away from this reality,
and pull me into their wonderful poetry.
I can't help but fall in love with their words on the paper,
losing myself in their iambic pentameter.
No matter what words you use or say,
you will never take th
The girl in the pondIt was a warm summer night when I found her.The girl in the pond2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Her dress was white with yellow sunflowers,
and her auburn hair was spread out around her pale face.
It looked like an ever changing halo
moving gently in a soft breeze.
She had lost a shoe
Her deep, blue eyes stared into heaven
and the freckles of her skin drew constellations
against the pale background to mirror the stars above.
Fish gently nibbled at her fingers and nestled in her hair
paying no heed to her ruby lips which her last breath had left open
almost like an invitation.
I looked at her
I loved her...
Thinking it was the least I could do
now that she had been so carelessly abandoned.
It was my duty to remember her.
I took the memory of her and stuffed it away
for safe keeping
The rest was just a shell
now empty and soon decayed.
Then I left
leaving only the pond behind to swallow its secrets.
back then,i was a wildflower girl,back then,10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
(battle the mountain,
savor the rain.)
2 am, this is when i miss you most, because
i am not atlas,
i cannot carry the world
on my shoulders,
in the darkness,
in my shadows,
so i will just tell myself
to hang onto
hope, because i have nothing left anymore, not even
the boy who tasted my name
like sucre on his lips, not even
the boy who knew
every inch of me
in the moonlight,
BuckwheatI bite into an apple,Buckwheat1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hoping that it might grace me with
The juice that runs down my chin
Beautiful.They say I’m beautifulBeautiful.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Because of the way my crystalline heart reflects light off its fractured surface
Well, that isn't a reflection
It’s rejection of the light because it’s all too much to handle
Throw myself away into the dark without even a candle
‘Cause I don’t want to recognize all the pain I’m in
Or realize the truth behind what I am or who I've been
And I tried to make things right but I just keep on making wrong
I never listened to the angel on my shoulder when she called
I count my tears like they’re experience
And my scars like they’re mysterious
And that’s a feeling I’ll remember –
Watching as you left
Watching as you ended what was meant to be forever
And I can see it in their eyes; everyone can empathize
So they say that I’m beautiful because they don’t know what else to say.
But if being broken is beautiful, then it’s the ugliest way...
InvisibilityIt was annoying, really, that Matthew Williams could be forgotten time and time again, but could never disappear when the bullies decided to pick on him.Invisibility1 year ago in Romance More Like This
The young Canadian held his glasses protectively to his chest, fearing that otherwise they’d be broken. It wouldn’t be the first time; the fragile frames always seemed to be the target of fists. Cruel laughter greeted him from every angle. He refused to cry, refused to show any weakness, not in that way.
Not that there was any truth to his desire to ‘remain strong’. He wasn’t strong to begin with. He never had been. Never would be. Alfred was the strong one, not him.
A tear escaped him.
Suddenly a loud voice interrupted the mocking laughter. “Hey!” The shout was loud, angry, rang with a shockingly strong foreign accent. “You leave him alone!”
The first of the bullies glared at the approaching Italian. “Or what?”
Feliciano put his hands up, closing them into fists.
BonesLoveBones1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
is less about flowers
than it is
about Monday mornings,
when all the world
dreads the commute,
to share a space with you.
of serenades and starlight,
I often find myself
inside of mundane fantasies,
of your shower wet hair,
so snugly together
in dashboard light
like lips and hips
in the blue glow
satellite stereo screens,
long to take you
So many men
seek the perfection
that have no basis
want to dive head first
tangled up in every complication
that is us.
My love --
you are the everything
flaws and highlights,
and all of your bad,
of a lifetime spent longing
which only you possess,
am not -ever-
going to give up on
Reality of DreamingAlas!Reality of Dreaming3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
'Twas only a dream,
Yet seeming so
My certainty was pure,
Her embraced in
No boring brown eyes,
Only the majestic
No out dated fashions,
Only silk soft
I am no poet,
Her making me
So know I know,
She's only a
It does not exist,
Dreaming only of
Sleeping like the deadShe is always weirded out by spiders. They run too damn fast.Sleeping like the dead1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Their legs are spindly and black and pointy. Just something so wrong about that.
There shouldn't be anything in this world that exists small, that would be horrific if made large.
He loves bugs. All kinds of bugs. Big, small, green, black. Crunchy ones are best. The ones
that when stepped on make a nice cracking sound and spew guts.
That's what he loves.
She cannot sleep. Not much. Not easily.
She sees arms reaching toward her in the dark. Always in that stage
right before she falls asleep. The bridge to sleep is blocked by
He sleeps like a log, especially after a kill. Always after a kill. The warmer the blood,
the slower the death, the more pitiful the cries for mercy, the better the sleep.
It never ceases to amaze him.
The power of murder.
The smell of autumn comforts her. The cool breeze soothes as the curtains flow outward.
The full moon shines in and she cannot see spider
RewrittenCan time ever be rewritten?Rewritten11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I hardly believe so
Even if I could turn the clock hands back
Am I capable of changing the past?
I ponder this question often these days
Struggling through the daily hours
Watching people safely from my dark little corner
Wondering if I can resist another meltdown
Given the oppurtunity I would rewrite my life
Start another story
A story I couldn't be ashamed of
Then perhaps the last ten years wouldn't seem like such a waste
Can time ever be rewritten?
I know that isn't so
I just cope with the reality of right now
And hope I'm strong enough to live with the past
SolitudeFrom dusk to dawn,Solitude1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
in this desolate place
that we call
I feel that
with no way out,
Without a future,
without a purpose,
my yearning soul...
As the darkness
As the numbness
of my sanity
Everything You BorrowedOn Sunday afternoon,Everything You Borrowed1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
after exiting the church,
you plucked the sun from the sky
and hid it in your palms
so that when I held your hands
they would no longer be cold.
When Monday night arrived
you snatched every single star
and used my tears to make
Tuesday's empty dawn shone
through the cracks of the door--
you stole the promise of what
could never be
and draped it around my shoulders.
After Wednesday's twilight passed,
you grabbed the clouds
and wove a tapestry of lies
that I hung on the walls
of my prison.
Thursday crept through us
on silent tiptoes,
waiting for us to take notice--
instead, we merely waited
for midnight to come.
The dusk of Friday waned
while you stripped it of its sorrows
and sewed them into my skin.
When Saturday came
you tried to steal the moon;
I watched as you stood on your tombstone
and stretched to reach it.
You fell, then--
fell, broke your neck,
and landed six feet under.
I couldn't cry afterwards,
for you had taken my agony
and washed it out to
Ivy and The BirdIvy tangled to the lattice,Ivy and The Bird10 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Cling to the darkest crevice,
Stretching to another thing,
Arms stretched forward toward the gleam,
Bird which suckles the flowered stem,
Sings soul of the ivy which bend.
The bird soared but ivy curled,
Wishing it could see the world.
Ivy envies the bird which sings,
And it’s heavenly daring dreams.
Bird which flutters high in spring,
Flies no more with injured wing.
the math of missing youit would take methe math of missing you1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
to walk from my
according to google maps,
it would take me about
and while that's still longer
than i would like to go
without seeing you,
it a much more appealing
the 3,157 that we
have to wait through
as it stands.
i've never enjoyed math,
i've never enjoyed missing you.
putting the two together
adds up to what is probably
the single most unpleasant thing
that i can think of.
TwiceLet's take a pictureTwice9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I feel uncomfortable
Yet I can't say no to you
'Cause for some inexplicable reason
I told myself you cared all these years
You just wanted to see how much you could exploit from me…
Let's talk, it's important
I'm not a child
I won't fall for the same trick twice
Something PreciousLife.Something Precious1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's a precious thing,
no matter how still,
there's life in them,
I cut through one
and green sap
flowed from the wound
from a paper cut.
Did it weep silently
as it bled?
Did it scream?
Did it hurt?
those that sway
to the wind's command,
they're living, too,
no matter how submissive,
and they die.
how can something
be so alive?
yet no matter
how much life there
seems to be,
it falls, too,
life can fall apart
so easily with
one wrong move,
That's all it takes.
there was a boy
I once knew
who thought his own life wasn't
for him to live,
to deserve to live like
Every night I heard his cries;
He asked the God above
to take away his life.
Adolescent Prisonerin the back of my mind,Adolescent Prisoner1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
there's a child, with bleeding knuckles,
banging against the walls of my hysteria.
i won't let her escape -
because no one will love her.
Proper Etiquette?Set the table, pour the drinks,Proper Etiquette?1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
be sure the silver doesn't clink!
Fold the napkins, make 'em nice-
your sloppiness just won't suffice!
Make sure to straighten out the plates
then go get dressed, you're running late!
Next you'll have to slice the bread,
and put some margarine for spread.
Wait-what is that awful stench?
Oh, you foolish girl, you wench!
You burned the course, you burned the meal,
potatoes, corn, and all the veal!
Now there is nothing left to eat
we have no vegetables, no meat!
Look at what you've done, you fool-
did you learn nothing at that school?
Don't bore me with apologies,
you'll never be a prodigy!
Domestication's not for you-
don't look at me like that, it's true!
You burn all of the food you touch,
you turn the veggies close to mush,
you never turn the oven off-
I give you rules, and then you scoff!
Go fight a war, or sail the sea-
but a housewife? No, you'll never be.
MadnessMadness is a gift.Madness10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
It gives me my best stories.
The words are an offering.
But I pay a steep price.
I lose myself in other worlds.
Reality becomes irrelevant.
All that matters is the stories.
The characters consume me.
I create and destroy worlds.
Words are my weapons.
Words are my freedom.
Yet I pay for these words with my mind.
Madness is a gift.
It becomes my greatest muse.
I just offer myself to the abyss.
And the words come running in my place.
un-writers blockI've been in a good head space my mind has been freeun-writers block4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Recently nothing's been bothering me
The problem with this is I had nothing to write
The blissful acceptance blocked my sight
The tables are turning things are troubling me now
The flow gets easier, it's freeing some how
I don't like this cycle the pain let's me speak
Silenced when I'm happy, frustrated when I'm weak