Last Thoughts in a Colorless World
A young girl walks down a weathered path strewn with curled leaves, a canvas of criss-crossed dead branches halfheartedly cover the sky overhead. A rough black cloak coversher fragile shoulders, along with a hood that shields half of her ghostly white face- all you can see are her pale pink lips that silently whisper words to an unheard song. Her bare feet stand strong beneath the whipping fabric, caught by the wind.
Everyone had begged for her to stay, but its too late now. She always knew she must go, for the strong must survive.
The forest seems to swallow her up, pulling her deeper into the mass of fallen leaves with each step of her dainty, unmarked feet. She trembles slightly with each shuffling step, fighting against the orders of her tribe- but she had known that she would be the one who was chosen, not her brave sister.
She furtively glances at her surroundings- dead leaves, the sole remnants from the autumn long ago and now just a sad reminder of the cold winter to come. She
ScarsI can be your best friendScars1 year 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 meGoodbye1 year 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
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
"Hey do you want to come? We're going to visit Grandpa in the hospital," my mother said, rather loudly. My grandpa had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and this was the first time my mother invited my brothers and me to come along. I hesitated, debating whether or not to go.
"Uhh... I don't think so. Next time!"
How was I to know he had only one short month left?
Beautiful Twisted MindBeautiful Twisted Mind1 year 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.
Yes, those kinds of people do both have
a mind which cannot be understood by
The small but important difference is,
the artist has the power to control it.
to know, to understand and to feel.
That is what makes the artist an artist...
The City of My Summertowering skyscrapersladders to the next level ofThe City of My Summer1 year 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 streetssending 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; discordant but soothing like the glorious place:
Brooklyn, New Yorkthe city of towering skyscrapers and elevated rhythms.
DenialI'm in Denial,Denial1 year 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,
Denial just means
You mean a lot to me!
BlissDrenched in the gold of late afternoon sunlight,Bliss1 year 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?
Silent GriefStars are falling,Silent Grief1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Like teardrops from the sky,
My heart's cracking open,
Like the earth under my feet,
My words of desperation,
Freezing silently like icicles in the cold night.
Seven Books, One StoryAn old, forgotten cupboard;Seven Books, One Story1 year 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,
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
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
Disengage[in some vague fashion]Disengage1 year ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
she was aware of the i m p e n d i n g blow
but time seemed irrelevant [at the moment]:
struck by a strange--elegance?--
as his palm descended [with all the grace
of a tree felled by lightning];
the m.e.a.s.u.r.e.d, deliberate fall,
almost majestic in its resignation--
c u l m i n a t i n g with
a CRACK of thunder and
a bolt of pain.
Reflections on a Rainy DayDon't ask me dumb questions, you cow. You know exactly why I'm here. I cannot imagine you being so ignorant that you would see through the blaring headlines in the newspapers, or the screaming reports on the morning, noon, and evening news.Reflections on a Rainy Day2 years ago in Drama More Like This
You know exactly why I'm here.
"John, what happened?"
What happened? What...happened? You're really asking me that?
Then again, you are a therapist...you are supposed to ask questions, I suppose. But still...
My life ended, that's what happened.
I can go through all the details, right from the start: the multiple heists, the trial, the strange little man who was released thanks to a bit of blackmail, the slow deterioration of everything I knew and clung on to, the smears, the rumours, the accusations...the way I watched the sanity, if it could be called that, slip away from my friend's eyes, the way that his name was poisoned, the way he was made out to be a...a...
...c'mon, John, spit it out...it'
The Girl Sat In The CornerThe girl sat in the corner, face pressed against the glass,The Girl Sat In The Corner1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Asking herself questions but always saying pass,
The concrete wall separating her emotions from others,
Never giving the chance to Struthers.
Everyone thinks she's happy and fine,
They never knew when they had crossed the line,
Face hidden under a sweep of hair,
Why was she so different from others? It wasn't fair.
She heard a noise and looked up,
Face lightened by the streaks of sunlight,
She got given a sup,
If they had seen past her wall they would have been given a fright.
The girl sat in the corner with a tear streaked face,
With no emotion and with no one caring,
She leaves places without a trace,
Because of how she is people are always staring.
People always thought she was happy,
A little bit quiet and a bit meek,
All that happiness is so sappy,
The world she lives in is like hell and very bleak.
The girl sat in the corner suddenly disappeared without a trace,
Only leaving a suicide note written in blood,
They always t
Changing LanesChanging Lanes.Changing Lanes1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Change is continuous.
Home AloneHome Alone.Home Alone1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Everything becomes so much more dark and sinister whenever you are alone.
You're constantly on guard and overcautious just to answer your mobile phone.
Any slight disturbance or eerie creak and you begin to panic.
Retreating back into your secure settee conjuring up the most dramatic
Scenarios that have virtually no possibility of ever occurring.
But that never seems to stop the cogs from continuously turning.
You fasten all the windows and arm yourself with kitchen based artillery.
And man your position surveying the living room as if you were a member of the military.
Increasing the volume on your television set to distract and block out the noises.
The local neighbors walk past your window but you class them as unfamiliar voices.
You can't help but be on edge until you have some sort of company.
But these common trains of thoughts are expected and customary.
I thought the same until I heard this one story about a girl called Anne.
She was in a similar situation; she was
Your last words.I saw you leaving, without even looking back at me.Your last words.1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
All i wanted from you to say was that,
At some cloudy days, when i will walk on the streets i will look and the grey sky,
the same sky you will see, and i will remember you.
We may have different people in our arms.
we maybe on different continents but at days like this i will remember you.
When I walk alone I will see the sky,our sky, and sed a tear for the things we might had.
The thinks I owned you for the love you gave me, the love I dogged like a bullet.
I'm sorry, I love you in my own special way
I do, don't ever forget that,
All i wanted was those words, to warm my heart, since i knew i could never have you
Paradise.My arms ache from digging throughParadise.1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
rough and ruin, in search of
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
ObsoleteObsolete.Obsolete1 year ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Everyone is too wrapped in their own lives to even care about yours.
But what they fail to remember is that this earth is only the first of many floors.
Tears cascade, smiles appear and fade while the universe continues to ignore,
As they impatiently knock and wait outside life's man made divisible door.
So when they become to self involved in the successes of their own cause.
Purpose.Purpose.Purpose.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
What would a story be?
If there was no one there to read it.
What would dreams be?
If there was no one there to conceive it.
What would a picture be?
If there was no one there to see it.
What would a secret be?
If there was no one there to keep it.
What would love be?
If there was no one there to feel it.
What would a song be?
If there was no one there to sing it.
What would the truth be?
If there was no one there to admit it.
What would advice be?
If there was no one there to give it.
What would life be?
If there was no one there to live it.
Unconscious Epiphany.Unconscious Epiphany.Unconscious Epiphany.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I thrive and depend on your compliments
And it is only then as a direct consequence,
Am I truly able to write with confidence.
Even though your words are only temporary.
I deem your contribution as utterly necessary,
In order to refresh my wavering, selective memory.
My own validation depends on your approval.
Whether it is congratulatory or discouragingly brutal.
Your input is the one thing that is most crucial.
Can I call myself a writer if I don't believe in myself?
When I constantly seek approval from everyone else?
How can I then expect to make any sort of wealth?
Of a craft and skill I still think anyone is able to produce.
Is there any point in me putting my apparent talent to use?
When I limit and submit myself into a negative recluse.
I was told I must have self belief in order to achieve,
The dream that I am so desperately trying to receive.
The body can only accomplish what the mind believes.
I know I must rid myself from any form of self doubt.
I'm Still HereI am screaming again andI'm Still Here1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Throwing my fists into my mattress.
I am laying here trying so hard
To be something more than this.
My sheets are crumpled from
Being horribly wide awake
And restlessly unconscious,
But they still smell like you.
And it is achingly cruel.
I don't believe I will die,
But I do believe in reckless behavior
Because as hard as I try I
Will never be good enough for you.
My hands don't fit in yours
But I keep trying to force them to.
And I know you will let me
Because I am weak and I
Will undress when you ask me to,
But I really hope you don't.
I am screaming again and
It shakes my bones.
I scream until my voice breaks
And there is nothing left.
I am hollow.
I am empty.
I am too far gone.
RunI need to escape,Run1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I need to be free.
I must surely run wild.
I long to laugh and see.
Run, run I shall run out of fear.
I will flee from the threat.
I shall go far not near.
A place that is safe,
That is what I need.
I need no familiar face
So, I take off with speed.
Forget what I have left
For it is surely gone.
Time is running out,
They will be awakened by dawn.
So, I gather my things
And swiftly go away.
There's nothing left for me here
And no reason to stay.
But I'll admit, I'm glad that I'm free.
After years of being controlled, I can finally be me.
GhostThe dream shatters around meGhost1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Like a broken mirror.
Looking at the wreckage,
My reflection unrecognizable.
A broken image.
A broken heart.
I'm cut by the shards
As I try to piece it back together.
My blood sprinkles the surface
Like a red rain.
The mirror is whole again.
What's left of the dream.
I look at my reflection,
And tears finally begin to fall.
Self-InflictedSelf-InflictedSelf-Inflicted1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I just hate myself.
I hate the life that I lead.
I hate the things that I've done.
I keep trying to figure out.
Where it is exactly that I went wrong.
No matter how hard I try to evade
And blame others for my actions.
At some point I am forced to accept.
That the problem resides within me
And the answer remains absent.
I am the common dominator.
I am the back stabbing selfish traitor.
It's nothing to do with how I was raised
Or the credentials and intentions of my creators.
We choose our own paths.
We make our own decisions.
It is only us that determine what kind of life we lead.
There may be externa