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The City of My Summertowering skyscrapers—ladders to the next level ofThe City of My Summer9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
success unknown in such dire places where brown
buildings line every side of the streets in which corner
stores and liquor dominated shops intermarry frequently.
slow steps (public transportation at its best) take you
anywhere, every building ringing with the same familiar
sounds of jarring curses and blaring music echoing in the
gray paved streets—sending feet (young and old) dancing
to the heady rhythms and fingers (both baby-smooth and
wrinkled) snapping to flighty instruments that choose when
they want to jump into the mishmash of sounds then leave
once again; discor
Paradise.My arms ache from digging throughParadise.1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
rough and ruin, in search of
paradise.
I saw it in a whispered dream,
there, nothing hurt;
we were unspoken.
With winter came warmth and summer snow,
And nothing died, just ceased to
walk with me
in paradise.
The Blind WitnessGouging out the innocence from my eyes,The Blind Witness9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Bleeding red under the blackest sweet skies.
When all I witness before me is dour death,
Under bleak air that freezes all but frigid breath,
Where nothing screams but their silent lost cries.
Plucking out the oppulence from my mind,
Burning amber along the whitest loneliest line.
When all I witness before me is stale suicide,
Beside meek water that pleases all but morbid homicide,
Where nothing sleeps but their violet empty wine.
Sucking out the exuberance from my visage,
Boiling green above the gravest murder machine.
When all I witness before me is twisted terrorisation,
Opposite weak sa
Water VaporPut false flowers in your hair to outlast the platinum stainWater Vapor1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Put dark smudges around your eyes so that some mark remains
Even after your orbs are washed away
Put the powder on your skin so a trace still shows that you were ever here
Once your expanse has blown apart.
When she talks, they see laughter.
They hear smiles.
They taste youth.
She wishes they would feel her tears instead
Smell the void.
At night she lies in bed and stares at the walls.
She can dream fine but it is postponed
She will do it later.
For now the washed away orbs focus on the substance before them
She does not wish to break it down.
She hopes that one
Floating on FireThe warm air buffets me upwardFloating on Fire10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
into happy delirium
only to fall and again
be scorched.
The Venom and Three FriendsFloating sickness—The Venom and Three Friends10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
falling from my side
with quick motions, reaching
for the next person in line;
trying to spread its fatal [or nearly] poison.
three friends, the number the venom managed to
catch before it caught my attention.
instigating insomnia—staying awake until
2 a.m., preventing friends from
dying by their own hands.
simple flicks of a wrist, razor buried
within their veins, scarlet essence
flowing in steady streams.
"I could never cut deep enough."
grasping hands—reach for their own throat
breath choking through a self-closed
airway—five days later, 213 miles of distance;
"I'm okay I just passed
The Knot Tyers[We are the knot tyers]The Knot Tyers6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
We braid our sturdy bones
To find some type of legitimacy
Beneath our vain skin
[Hate is skin deep]
I watched for love
On a birds eye view
And found renaissance
[The past has come to collect]
Death is as bright as life here
Once you get past everlasting grins
Life is as free as death here
Once you start to bleed
Dry Swallow--C.You have a nasty habitDry Swallow--C.6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
of touching me where it bleeds,
ragged fingertips catching
rubbed-raw skin.
There's no scab there;
that wound has never healed,
festering yellow and oozing pus--
and each morning breaks
another plastic seal,
white bottles and tiny blue pills
leaving the bitter taste of almost-tragic
on my tongue.
Swallow dry;
that stuck feeling passes,
replaced by lethargy
and the diluted memories
of a time you made me happy,
when each morning broke
under a red sunset, the sheets
strewn around us.
It's fantasy now,
but I still feel the weight of you
during quiet moments.
ArnoldGlasses—Arnold10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
cracked lenses, broken frames;
Pasty skin—
freckles galore, scars placed, areas untamed—
Arnold: the kid that no one knew
Long sleeves at all times of the year,
Heavy sweatpants—black normally—even
at the height of summer heat.
Clothing aside, no one heard his voice—
high-pitched, low bass, graceful medium (no one knew)
hidden behind clunky glasses, his eyes were another mystery.
What they did know was circumspect:
wiry frame—lanky, as if he never ate enough
lean face—sometimes covered with a bruise
arched feet—as if they had been forced that way.
weird gait—too long ye
ScarsI can be your best friendScars8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and your darkest secret.
I can cause happiness
while causing great pain.
I can be obvious and scream on you body
or silent and hide in your mind.
I thrive in trauma and fear
then drown in compassion and comfort
Over time I will vanish
but I will never go away
You will always be my victim.
every second of every day.
For I am your scars
GoodbyeGo on, thinking you know meGoodbye8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Go on, pretending you're right
I'll just close my eyes
And you'll disappear from sight
All the pain will evaporate
With the words of a lullaby
As I fly away
You'll whisper goodbye
Beautiful Twisted MindBeautiful Twisted Mind8 months ago in Philosophical More Like This
Some people say,
that an artists mind can be compared with
the mind of an insane
Some people say,
that there is no difference between an artists mind
and the mind of an insane
I say, they are right.
But they miss out an important detail.
You can imagine the mind of a person
who can not control his spirit as a labyrinth.
Endless corridors of twisted thoughts,
desperately running through the nightmare,
no way out of the madness.
You can also imagine the mind of an artist
as a labyrinth.
Endless corridors of twisted thoughts,
but he needs only a deep breath
to destroy a wall.
Only a slight move to create a new path.
Endless wa
The Five People You Meet On EarthWe are mortal. We are not everlasting, and our journey must someday come to an end. Whether that someday be next week or in 50 years, it is never foreseen or wanted in the slightest bit. We, in our youth, roll our eyes at the mere mention of death as if we are invincible when, in reality, death is as real to us as it is to a cancer patient. Death is the top feared in the world, above all else. What is there to fear of death but the pain of losing someone, though? We've all had that someone whom we assumed would never leave us, but is now nothing but an unadorned memory. In my case, this was my grandfather.The Five People You Meet On Earth2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
1 MONTH
"Hey do you want to come?
BlissDrenched in the gold of late afternoon sunlight,Bliss8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
we can begin again.
We are born of the light and the sound of our name.
Born to be the sun's blissful creatures,
leaking out the light for all of the world to see,
carrying the torch to the dead of night,
calling the bones
to take to flesh again,
to love again.
Did you know a smile is a stamp upon the world?
If I leave you a chunk of beauty,
will you promise to carry the torch
as a creature of bliss?
DenialI'm in Denial,Denial8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I accept with a smile
That I'm running from the Truth,
And hiding from You.
Don't be upset.
You might regret
That I breeze over feelings
So deep and scary,
But I've a right to be wary.
Day by day
I come your way,
Accepting little
By little.
Denial just means
You mean a lot to me!
Last Words of the BeginningI hover over a blank sheet of ivory paper while my pen drips snowflakes made of ink onto the uncharted territories of the unwritten. My dainty writer's fingers shuffle amongst themselves as the minutes tick on and the pages remain as blank as untouched fields of snow. Just start with a sentence...a single letter- I plead, attempting to coax my words into action, to make them spring upon the page in a fit of inspiration. My frustration doubles to the tune of the faint tick-ticking of the clock. Beyond that, the room remains silent.Last Words of the Beginning6 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I admit, the obstacles outnumber the writer by far; my defeat is acknowledged by the screeching of my chair's
FriendsFriends?Friends8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sure, I have
several.
But when you leave
the playground,
the whole world
changes.
How selfish am I
to even consider
tainting,
corrupting,
someone else's life
just so I
might feel
a little better?
Am I lonely?
Perhaps a little.
But
I am surrounded by people,
and our conversations are
entertaining
if not meaningful.
It seems
as though speech
has become a distraction
or a means to an end
and not
a pursuit of truth.
Why would I expect more?
Why should I want
to open myself up
and spill my guts?
Entrails aren't meant
to leave the body.
I'm not hiding anything
but somehow
this still feels like
a faç
Science Fiction or Fantasy (Commission)castles intrigue me, yet they fail to hold my attention—Science Fiction or Fantasy (Commission)9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
when it comes down to it, I'd much rather the harsh
metals of a hulking space ship traveling across the
starry galaxies and exploring planets yet unseen…
truthfully, I prefer science fiction over fantasy.
I'd rather you whisk me away with streamlined armor
and hefty guns of utter mass destruction than with a
swishing, swash-buckling cape and hard-plated chainmail,
rough to the touch and unappealing to the ear, the small
clinks and clanks unable to compare to the shcwons and
schwacks of futuristic battle suits and plasma-loaded
weapons…so yes, give me a choice a
4:00 Insomnia4:00 Insomnia4:00 Insomnia6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Every morning.
Bedded by insomnia
Sight, barbed by black
daisies.
It is the same dream,
The fantasia breaks in
My head, splinter
Of light bulb ashes
no fixed
Form
No
Form
Only the cerebral
imagery
It is not a form.
Only
A half pence
Tin, and broken
Oily and screeching
Yet no sound is made.
A waking vision
I cannot wield
The need
That narcoleptic need
You
used
To
Help
me
sleep
s o
s o u
n
d
l
y.
Exequywhere the streetlightsExequy8 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
still flicker on and off,
there still resides a
long forgotten town.
the smell of gasoline
is still pungent
as it creates a
petroleum rainbow
beneath my feet.
the howl of the wind
reminds me of the
church-bells from home,
oh how I miss them.
cracks: vascular and plentiful,
provide the streets
its only characteristic
of life.
it's constricting,
as I wander the insides of this
emaciated empire--
I cannot even breathe.
the sky is pregnant
with the stories,
abandoned conversations,
and distilled memories.
But where has everyone gone?
The nurseries are empty,
screaming for the unborn
and reaching out
to the skies.
Frostbittenmy once warmFrostbitten10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
fingertips have
become frostbitten
by your absence,
and the rosiness
of your cheeks
have turned indigo
without my sweet
and comforting whispers
bouncing off them.
the once welcoming
serenade of
your being
has become an
echo:
and it resonates
incoherently within
my heart.
golden pastures
of laughter have
been replaced
by the frozen tundra
of your silence.
i am left
shi-shi-shivering
while the salt
of my tears
numb my already
frozen eyes.
there is no view
of the sun in my sight;
and i already
can't feel my legs.
How much longer does my heart have?
Note To SelfTruth is, I don't know anymore.Note To Self6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Every string, unwinding, unweaving.
The unlikely demise of a tapestry.
The tapestry.
My tapestry.
I'd like to remind you of… well, a lot of things.
Everything.
Everyone.
And I'm sorry, but there's no theme.
No message to be had.
These are just words.
I am just words.
the man on the moon.tonightthe man on the moon.10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the sky is overcast, and it tells me
That if I want to make my stupid wishes,
I'd better come back at a better time.
tonight
the clouds are being overprotective
And covering the moon with their hair so
Us humans cannot see her cry.
tonight
there is no wind to blow our
American flags, and if I close my eyes,
I think I could imagine myself there.
tonight
I think I can see his steps treading
On the face of the man in the moon,
The steps that will stay longer than the man did.
tonight
I flip through the pages of my history book,
And watch the night out of my window
As I read the same name over and over again,
"this is
Seven Books, One StoryAn old, forgotten cupboard;Seven Books, One Story7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
a dusty, small shelf;
seven old books, waiting to be read once more.
A mother opens it,
and shows her son.
"What's this?" he asks.
"My childhood" the mother answers.
And so the boy begins to read;
he reads about a marvelous world
of wizards and witches;
of magic and friendship;
and a far away school...
First, he reads
about a Boy Who Lived,
about a powerful stone,
and a magical mirror.
Second, he learns
about Basilisk fangs,
Phoenix tears,
and the Sword of the brave.
Third, the boy finds himself
surrounded by a kind werewolf;
and a betraying rat.
and an innocent person
believed to be guilty.
Fourth, he witnesses
a Tournament take place;
he sees dragons and merepeople;
and a Dark wizard come back.
Fifth, he hears
a prophecy;
lies being spread;
rumors being told;
and a terrible end.
Sixth, he mourns
the death of a wise, old man;
the start of a war;
and of an impossible journey.
Seventh, all hope seems lost.
An impossible journey,
stained with Death
Sta.sh
