20. FeatureHere are some of my latest favourites:
Hope you like them and support these artists!
Bulletproof by Thinking-Silencebloody Mary by SatoshiKaito
Morning fog in the forest by guillermocarballacamouflage by tasiyPeaceful morning by Mickyjftw
dead tree. by AltingfestSilver Scales by RaijuTheoryLast Glow by halfpastoctober
girl with a red baloon by takmajGemini Residence 4 by NightlineA janela em fernte by vlad-m
Thank you for sharing these beautiful pieces.
Your Abuse Is Over NowIf I'm black and blue will you love me then?Your Abuse Is Over Now4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If I let you hit me again and again
If I cry and hide and bruise and bleed
If I follow you while you take the lead
If I hold your hand for the dance of death
If I let you beat me 'til I'm out of breath
I love you so much, but you knock me down
It's so tough to get off the ground
I can't take this any longer
Like a broken bone, I'll come back stronger
I'll stand and rise from the floor
I'll be better than before
I'll end all the lies and deceit
With a smile so wide while you watch me leave.
broken hearti.broken heart3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
my heart is just paper for muscle and ink for blood, but i like to think that if i tore out a few pages and bound them in leather, it might just mean something.
and i tell you, i want to tell you, no, i am not more than that. i am not human, made up of muscle and bones that break, but words. i am books and flowers and the coffee i had this morning because, no --i cannot be me. i cannot be this.
i don't want to be here, scared these little sinews are snapping like dental floss between my hungry teeth.
i've smeared my make up over your neck and collarbones, wrinkled your shirt with my paint-chipped nails, and somewhere between the first pain and hiccup of a sob, i've forgotten how to speak. you hold me tighter each time it steals my breath and listen to make sure i remember how to after it passes, say my name softly to remind me to stay with you.
and you've pressed your hand over my chest, as if keeping it there will hold the weathered organ together.
/ we smile at the universe with ashes on our lips. there are boats inside of our veins. the blood is a metaphor and, hell, i can't even begin to write about her./2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
i could tell any story. if i wanted, i could write a novel about my mother and how beautiful she was a sixteen or i could make a lighthouse a person, but i cannot tell you the color or her eyes. it's that that i don't know it; i just can't tell you. it's not a color, it's a place.
her eyes are like Chicago. there's life and lights and lakes, but there's a sadness, too. even so, it's a happy kind of sad. the kind that gives you hope.
sometimes when i'm high i think that i'm dead, because i get numb. not physically senseless, but just mentally dazed. i forget where i am. i like that. it seems sometimes like i am a place, i am all the street signs and the cracks in the road and badly painted house down the way. see the really faint dot on the map? that's me. scribb
DecremationShe laid him to rest,Decremation4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her poor-boy love,
in a bed of cinnamon and myrrh.
The world felt cold to him,
the sun-bird of Heliopolis,
born of flame.
Where You LieYou once told me to dry my eyes, but that is not where my hurt lies.Where You Lie3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
swallowI had beat the sprinkled sugar,swallow2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
clouding my breakfast's better judgement this morning
off its crunched, French toast wings, took a
sip from a mug that was yearning for more
coffee and I broke both their hearts because
mine was feeling lonely
so I ran to the bus stop to find
my old company waiting, snow-clad
like my coat but still hollow
like the rusty copper sky above them. top
of the morning to you too
I broke a few more on my way
to the mayday parade at work
only to find that tonight my
words were going to threaten me till
I bled some more,
I hadn't read these before but you
could shut up and stay in
the back of my head till
the rest of me is biologically ready
to have you back
in an incomplete circulatory
system; please stop making your
monumental alabaster feel
so much like home, stop
being home for me right now.
yes, breathe a little slower, I can feel
my breakfast return to my mouth but it's
better than having your words at my
cracked winter-dry lips.
don't ask me what you can do
oh my archimedesthere is a mediterranean maelstromoh my archimedes2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
inside of me, and frankly these demented bones,
are inventing a thousand ways to drown
my soul inward,
the curves of my cartilage are overripe vineyards
for myriads of apprehensions blossoming
age, insipid sand charting the honeysuckling
progression of snapping parabolas
the tempests swat opposing ranks
& I am afraid that I have begun to lose myself
between the roaring of my ears,
torrent in a can,
a soulless man -
and what is a man without a soul
[ I'm lighter than that]
these mythical caverns of what once was my days
are condensing into dripping pages,
I want the books to etch my ru
Two Hundred Miles WestI sat looking west in the MojaveTwo Hundred Miles West4 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and I thought of your burning, Los Angeles,
your phosphorescent nighttimes,
your heavy exhalation of industrial smoke.
I thought of your burning, Los Angeles,
and the edge of the west transfixed
in your heavy exhalation of industrial smoke.
The seeping toxins of Tijuana
transfix the edge of the West
in currents of chemical unlife.
The seeping toxins of Tijuana
are in our black breakers that role in the night.
Currents of chemical unlife
in the red drinking water of Vernon,
in our black breakers that role in the night
where America ends in the sea.
In the red drinking water of Vernon
we swallow factories for hope,
where America ends in the sea
of water pollution, light pollution.
We swallow factories for hope,
longing in the thirsty darkness
for water pollution, light pollution,
looking always West from a Mojave.
The Root of All EvilPeople always talked about killing Hitler. "If you could go back in time and kill Hitler, would you?" The answer, resoundingly, was "Hellz yeah." Until now, however, the question had been entirely hypothetical. Fredersen was the first person with the opportunity to actually do it, but Fredersen had bigger plans. He also had no intention of setting foot in that machine himself. He had once sent half an avocado twenty minutes into the future just to test it. He didn't know why it had re-emerged as a plasticine walrus, but he sure as hell wasn't going to stick his head in to find out.The Root of All Evil3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Robot!" He clapped his hands to summon the device. It was a cheap one. He had little money, and if this worked he would have less still. None, in fact: nobody would. It would be worth it, though.
The robot wheeled towards him. "Please enter command." Its voice synthesiser was truly terrible: like nails on a blackboard, if the blackboard had laryngitis and was trying to sing Carmen.
"Your job," he
Sarah: He Who Laughs LastI laughed:Sarah: He Who Laughs Last4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What a ridiculous notion!
Me: a mother?
At my age?
We've been waiting for years,
and always: nothing.
You said and you promised,
but always: nothing.
Believe you now?
Not gonna happen.
What a wonderful moment!
Me: a mother!
At my age!
And yet -
after waiting for years,
and always: nothing,
I laughed at your promise,
and now, there's something!
Now this has wiped
the grin off my face...
you're laughing now
at this gobsmacked woman -
me - who laughed
You left us waiting for years,
and we saw nothing,
but you've done as you promised,
is impossible for you.
And now, I am sure
you're laughign much louder
than I did before.
Rebranding the Black Throne “Thank you...erm...very much for coming here.” The Dungeon Lord wasn’t accustomed to being polite. “I realise this place is...some would say it’s a little out of the way.”Rebranding the Black Throne1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“Well,” said the interior designer, “I suppose it helps to keep undesirables out.”
“Ah.” The Dungeon Lord raised a begauntleted finger. “Funny you should mention that. You see, while obviously any normal person would consider the rusty iron spikes, booby traps, whips, shackles and torture devices to be a deterrent, I’ve recently had a slew of visitors who mistook my little setup here for something...” he leaned down and cupped a hand to the interior designer’s ear, “...erotic.”
“Oh.” The designer raised his eyebrows. “I see.”
“Now, I don’t want to do anythin
The RitualFor three moons, no rain had fallen. The grass had yellowed, died, and blown away beneath the sun’s fierce heat, and the earth had split, the cracks between the shattered pieces wide enough to trap a goat’s foot. The tribe did not turn to magic lightly, but this time the choice was clear: something must be done.The Ritual2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
With great ceremony, Akana stepped inside the grave-hut, the air sweltering even in the shade. Surely even the ancestors, their bones secure in sacred urns, must feel this heat? And so Akana was confident when he came to speak.
“Wise ancestors,” he spoke to the painted urns. “For three moons, the sun has beaten down upon our land. Our crops have died, and our goats and cattle soon shall follow. Take pity on us, please, and make this great drought stop.”
But three days passed, and still the sun beat down, and still the drought continued. From the ancestors, no answer came.
“This is not the way to summon rain,” said Suro. And she to
Six Word AutobiographyCouldn't find mySelf;Six Word Autobiography4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Started creating it.
In the Rain"I could be a soccer player," I said aloud, to no one in particular. I gave the crumpled soda can another good, harsh kick, and sent it rolling down the street. Rain was drizzling lightly, but still seemed to wash away all color from the deathly quiet city. "If I ever finish high school, that is."In the Rain3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was tedious, walking by gray walls, gray stores, and gray people. Everyone had some place to be, something to do, someone to be with. Not me.
I kicked the can again. It crashed against a garbage can, inches away from a sleeping homeless man. He immediately awoke, and his face melted into this uncontrollable, raging monster.
"Watch it, damn kid!" he yelled, glaring at me. "What the hell you doin'?"
Another person who hated me. What's new? I tuned out the rest of his curses, and walked on.
Taking a left, I crossed the street, not bothering to check for cars. A taxi can come hit me anytime now, and I wouldn't care less. I heard screeches on brakes and shouts from angry city drivers
Through the LightThe cancer took Mary on a Friday, just after three in the morning. She was laying in bed, sleeping. I sat in the chair near the window, reading something, I forget now what, trying not to think about the moment, only thinking about the moment. It had just finished raining, and I had the window to the room cracked, the scent of fresh condensation floating in from the garden outside. The air smelled pure and relaxed. It was lovely.Through the Light2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I was dozing slightly when the EKG started to beep. It took me several seconds to realize what exactly I was hearing, not that it mattered much. By the time I was out of the chair, the nurse had walked in. She moved down the corridor from the lobby to the room with calm purpose, her steps quick but not rushed. She kept a forced, tiny smile at the corners of her mouth, an expression I’m sure she had used hundreds of times, and nodded to me as I dropped the book. She went straight to the machine and silenced the godawful alarm.
She checked Mary’s pul
I'm asexualWhen I was a teenager I tried to find out what my sexuality was.I'm asexual4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
For some reason I tried to stray away from the norm, which to me was heterosexuality.
Was I gay or bisexual? I wondered.
Even if I deep inside allready knew part of the answer.
Now me and my thoughts and understanding of myself has matured enough to see things more clearly.
I'm not gay, I'm not bi, and neither, am I straight.
However, that does not mean that I am incapable of loving a person.
On the contrary I get attracted to people I barely even know. That is, in fact a reoccuring problem of mine, even.
However, I am not attracted in a sexual way, no, what I'm attracted to are their souls, or to put it in other words(because "soul" sounds a bit raw, allthough that is how I see it), their mind, how they are as a human, what their interests and their humour are as well as their morals. I think that combined, these things are what makes a person beautiful.
Aparrently, what I am, is correctly labeled as an "ase
de la bellei have been told thatde la belle4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my cheeks seem to slender
like the stars.
truth be told i
inhaled until my bones
bloomed through my skin
and i sunk;
licked my kisses chapped
'til they reddened
like the roses;
contracted so i'd esvaniss.
i had once hoped to find
it there, the beauty
but instead i
always found space.
She chased wolves all the way back to the sunSunsets would break and collapseShe chased wolves all the way back to the sun2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Between the gaps of her spine
Sliding past the summers aching breaths
They’d reside in the hollows of her eyes
Cold lucidity seeping into her ivy sewn ribcage
Her songbird synapses collapsing into the skies
As they caved in upon themselves
When the earth opened up and swallowed
Her day dreamer retinas
And pasted over them in night time symphonies
She was Pegasus palpitations hung up to dry
When the stars could no longer bleed
And the trees would split into a thousand storms
Held tightly under wraps by green eyed spirits
And hungry wolves clawing at her open palms
Lions den whispers echoing between bated breaths
She'd tear the sun apart
To feel the liquid light filtering through her veins
Swallowing down the liquid heat
Of lonely summer days spent
Hiding on scraped knees
Betwixt negative space and human nature
She was the weather torn kill joy
Hunting the sunsets to carve her name into the sky
There Is No Need To Be A Siren, GirlYou whispered your secrets intoThere Is No Need To Be A Siren, Girl1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
a conch shell and wished
that the sound could reverberate
You dream of being the
center of the universe
with stars and planets
circling around you, but
you are rotting away without
(Your lungs have a hole
and your call is full
of discord and lopsided notes)
But there is no need
to be a siren, girl,
when your limit is
Forget sea salt stained cheeks
and rough hair burned
in the sunlight -
you see no way a
rotting heart can
ever be loved
You'll turn into
Azure RayShe was an ocean depthAzure Ray4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of deepest blue,
She was shallow, and sweet,
With a warm heart it seemed,
Until you wandered too far,
And found yourself,
Lost in corals with
Seaweed tangling around your ankles,
Tying you to the seabed floor,
She was mermaid foam,
Glistening in early morning sun,
Causing rainbows to shine
In her silver hair,
Reminding us of what we forgot...
Of the things we once believed in,
Our childhood reminiscing.
She smiled at the horizon,
and she was swept from the edge of the cliff,
Landing as the foam, and waves,
Faded into her eyes.
Fortune TellerHer teacup gathers words,Fortune Teller4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
under the rim,
spilling temptation like a raven's wing.
She says my future's bright -
a ripe, fine apple
to be plundered,
my hopes a restless treasure
to change direction
and drain the danger
at her edge.
Alone In The CrowdHelp me shed this cloak of confusionAlone In The Crowd3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And take me back to my home,
I'm tired of this seclusion
Slamming lies into all I've known.
I'm counting eternal hours
Numbers in nocturnal sleep.
The glass in which we shower
Can't hold back what you keep.
I want you to help me dream
And show me how to act.
From a river, into a stream;
What is it that I lack?
The gleam of your necklace
Reflects all of my want.
Is it because I was reckless?
Is it me that they haunt?
Ushered into an unwanted grave
Bound in chains, drowned in steel.
I was made into a social slave
And died as if I were not real.
The Warrior Who Won't Come HomeThere once was a warrior, so sweet, so kindThe Warrior Who Won't Come Home1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
She knew what she wanted, and she got it on her own.
A man she had found, so faithful and true
But she had another calling
To leave her lover behind.
So valiant, so brave, she left her whole world behind her, saying,
"I shall be back in a year, no more! I promise!"
She went to the land of the poor, the sick, the helpless
She saved lives by the thousands.
There were so many thanking her, their souls all in debt
But she was so humble to not take the fame.
A year passed, having done so much,
but she couldn't break free.
She said to her fiance, still waiting for her at home,
"Boy, how I love you and miss you greatly!
One more year, then I'll rejoin you."
But the year came and went, the warrior still valiant,
Still brave and so true.
3 years passed by, her marriage postponed,
The Nutcase SuiteBarry danced and twirled, the tutu fluttering unenthusiastically above his hairy man legs. Prance, prance, pirouette, he danced across the stage. He wasn’t on top form—even he’d admit it—but this was just a rehearsal. The real performance would come tomorrow night.The Nutcase Suite2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Barry was proud to think that he’d worked his way up from the bottom. He’d built the stage. He’d swept it. Soon, he would perform. “Soon,” he said aloud, “I will be a star!”
“Not if you flap your arms around like that, you won’t,” came a voice from the audience.
“Shut up, Craig!” shouted Barry. “You don’t know nothing about nobody! I’m gonna be a superstar ballerina! You’ll see!”
“Fair enough, your footwork’s getting better,” said Craig, more diplomatically, “but you definitely should watch your arms. Move them nicely, gracefully.”