MentalityA trick of the mind is all it takesMentality3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To make you make some big mistakes.
Depression Is NotNaïve child,Depression Is Not3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Depression is not
A brief glimpse of
Falling to a foreseeable bottom.
It is not being driven
To the underbelly of Hell
And burned on a stake
By those persecutors.
Depression is not
Simple statements of
Self-pity cooked together
With endearment of a knife
You have just met.
It is not
Half-hearted suicide attempts
Filled with attention seeking.
It is not
A brief glimpse of sadness
Because someone dislikes you.
Has no conceivable stop
It is not a self-inflicted wound,
But a wound that causes
It is no glimpse,
It is not the cause
As it hides you away
From people who love you.
So take no claim to it
If sadness is what you have;
Embrace it, as you are lucky.
Depression is not you.
Stepping Stone FriendI am what you call a stepping stone friend,Stepping Stone Friend3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't really matter to you,
You just use me,
Take advantage of my friends,
And turn them against me,
I did not know I was being used,
But, you were using me.
I was just your stepping stone.
You did not care about me.
You took my reputation,
Stole my friends,
And turned the world against me.
You used me to push yourself higher.
You say this is all I can do,
Be a stepping stone.
According to you I have no feelings,
I am nothing,
But a stepping stone.
It is not enough to writeIt is not enough to put the words on pageIt is not enough to write4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or to align them like cocaine lines
in neat rows of cornstalk paragraphs
fertile enough to bear reviews.
No. One must bleed each period,
each dot-dot-dot like morse code mythology
the Gallic cry at the end of the telegraph age.
It must become an ocean in you, these voices
swelling to tidal highs, and quiet - never.
You the new folkteller, urban prophet
who can call to battle anyone with eyes.
Ooze it like sap spilling down the bark.
It is not enough to write.
One must expire with each keystroke,
endlessly. It must come from the bowels.
Purge it as infection leaking out of skin;
lance yourself. Choke back tears.
If there is no labor pain,
the words were never born.
This is a death business.
We bleed ourselves onto paper and
slice our brains into vellum sheet
and repeat, repeat, repeat.
Pure person petrichor
deep inside the ink.
The Children of AmericaThe Children of AmericaThe Children of America3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Music that really helped me get my emotions and words straight. I beg of you to listen to it while reading.
For once, the Hero could only stand back in horror at what was going on around him. Screams of terror, wails of agony, names yelled out to every corner of the town, as mothers and fathers and siblings fought back tears at the knowledge of what had happened, and pushing down their fears that they will not see their beloved children again.
To hold, caress, or love....To tell stories to, or to comfort in the night. Their hearts were breaking as the blonde man could only shake. A crack had appeared in his glasses, blurring the foreground before him, trying to warap his mind around the meer information that spilled across the yellow taped lines.
"Why....?" He muttered, his voice lost amoung the sirens, barking, the commanding shouts, and the cries of misery at what had happened. "Why?" He questioned again, stumbl
I Am NosferatuI Am Nosferatu2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And he rose like a dream shrouded in obsidian
“Blood the sky!” – bewailed ravenous eyes ..
‘Upon a world solemn; and the dead betrothed
Where lust a river dark, my ache roams wild
Many moons spent wither’d in winds dreary;
naked in breath of whispered-flame & wine
O’ darkly I hear thee my beloved enchant,
thy seraphic-tongue dripping in Night’s mist
Thou art the evening tide flooding my soul,
— gossamer-wings of a gothic serenade ...
Seek you mine lips in a song of shadows
For in immortal sin we shall not wane
Unto a sea of crimson, my love hath assail’d
From Earth to tomb, I am death & hallowed
— Arthur Crow © 2013
I'm taking whatever it isI'm taking whatever it is that they chose for me.I'm taking whatever it is3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Though, justice in this, I can't comprehend.
But I can just laugh in the face of absurdity.
A good sense of humour - the best of my friends.
A Poem For YouDear you,A Poem For You3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If I could tell you
Of this poetic emotive
Life I lived with our
I would have written you this
Many years ago:
Despite my youth,
It takes a world of disdain
For you to heed
My outward prayers of no.
I tip my world
To hide underneath it
Shrouding away from the
Secret we hold in our bosoms
Splintered by your hands.
I taste the poison
Of lips I think I have once held
But uncertainty reigns
My once sharp mind.
I disguise the now poisonous
Memories we hold together
Yet type of how we have
Slept of nights in terror
Of ourselves and one another.
We have been transfixed
In hatred and blood,
Destined to ruin ourselves
By a touch of one another.
You dishevel your once
Serene life and I wander off
After a knife that shows
The sparkle of my smile as
I hold onto recklessness
In this chaotic life.
And years have passed
Since that fateful day,
In a basement filled
With shadows you emerged into.
And as you bound
my hands together,
You unraveled my mind.
You will fall
The chosen: Chapter OneThe chosen: Chapter One4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Train En Route to Ponyville - 5:15 AM
It would take about four hours to get from Manehattan to Ponyville. I wanted to use the time to catch up on some much needed rest, but despite my best efforts sleep was just something my body refused. I spent an hour staring out the window before I decided to do something else instead.
It was about time I caught up on the newest issue of "The Adventures of Captain Baseball Bat Boy", an import graphic novel from the human federation and still my favorite graphic novel since foalhood. It mostly dealt with a hyperactive human kid that solved his problems by cracking heads with his baseball bat. In this month's issue, Captain Baseball Bat Boy was up against his most dangerous nemesis; the nefarious Maxwell's Demon and his army, The Freaking Demons from Outer Space. It was good stuff that made the last leg of the trip bearable. Still, it wasn't that long and I finished it in about a half an hour.
It was a guilty pleasure, and one that at least kept my h
Ashen Sky-Ch.1 Revised"I always knew the zombie apocalypse would start in Chicago. I just never thought the zombies would be trying to buy life insurance." Matt Owens chuckled as he glanced over his shoulder to his cubicle-mate.Ashen Sky-Ch.1 Revised4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Tess Abernathy rolled her large blue eyes at him and sighed. "As much as I absolutely adore my job in data-entry here," she began, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I love your amazing ability to come up with the stupidest ideas ever even more."
"Aw, c'mon, Tess!" said Matt, laughing. "Seriously, though. I had to look this guy up 'cause his address was wrong, and the database says he died at an old address about a month ago, but he's alive at a new address now. Weird, isn't it?"
Tess rolled her eyes again. This was common practice when it came to Matt. "He was probably trying to jump rent or evade taxes or something," she dismissed, glancing at Matt's work before frowning and turning back to her own pair of screens. "Matt, you're doing that thing with your finger again. Would
The PullWhen I was younger, someone showed me a video gametoo weird for me, but it made her laugh, and she was pretty. You played as this little guy with a squishy hammer for a head, and you rolled a sticky ball around in front of you. As you rolled it, things got stuck until the ball was gigantic. And then... I don't know. I don't remember the point of the game, nor do I remember the name.The Pull3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
But that image comes back to me every time I am anxious. I am that little person running around, pushing a ball, and things stick to it. Only they aren't cows or trees or parts of buildings: they are things that make me nervous. The attention of people. My sparse resume. The way I can never look someone in the eye when we first meet.
Oh. And I don't have a squishy hammer for a head.
Regardless, today is like that. I've talked to too many people and some weird man had told me he was my father and my mother was on the back of a book with a different name but the same damn face.
While I was walking home,
Girl as ColorColor the girl shell pinkGirl as Color3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or magnolia -
some rare vintage of wine
or a bright Italian circus,
and I shall call her mine.
Color her starling grey
or a sudden shade
daylight glistening like a puzzle
and I will claim her mouth.
Paint us both some new corner
a fresh tone of orchestra
and ripened lemons,
and I swear I will be true.
Bipolar DisorderShut up.Bipolar Disorder3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Don’t. Say. A n y t h i n g .
“Are you okay?”
P an i c .
Close the window.
Open it again.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I’m losing control.
I am Bipolar Disorder.
… “I don’t know.”
You don't seem to notice (my scars)-i-You don't seem to notice (my scars)2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
He and I were eleven when we met, the first day of the sixth grade. No particular moment served as the spark to ignite our friendship. As children do, we started talking as if we were already good friends, and were inseparable from the start.
There were rumours, but we didn't understand half of the words the other kids had picked up from R-rated movies, and neither did they. We were called King and Queen by a crowd of boisterous first-graders who followed us around at recess. He joined the choir and the school play just because I did. It didn't take long before we weren't allowed to sit near each other on the school bus because we caused too much trouble, and eventually we weren't allowed to sit near each other in class either. One day, more quietly than I had ever heard him, he asked me to be his girlfriend; I blushed and said yes.
We never once invited each other to our houses. We each had our reasons, but never knew the other's: a silent agreement to n
The Lost Timeline Ch. 3The Lost Timeline Ch. 34 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Homura was in shock the whole walk home. She replayed the events at the cafe in her mind. She remembered Sayaka's energy, how could that all be fake? How could she be covering up such sadness so well? Homura felt sorry for Sayaka. She...must be hurting tremendously... she thought. She unlocked the door to her apartment and flopped into a chair. Her mind was racing. When will the Witch strike? Where is Kyubey in all this? Why haven't I seen him? Homura's head started to hurt so she took some medicine and went to sleep.
Homura woke up in a cold sweat. She had been having a terrible nightmare. "That dream..." In the dream, she and Madoka were separated by a wall. They could see each other, but not touch or hear each other. Madoka was crying and no matter how hard Homura tried, she could not break through the wall and comfort her. She was sobbing, and banging against the wall, but all Homura could do was watch. That was a terrible dream... Homura put her han
A Soul's Forbidden Love INTROA Soul's Forbidden Love INTRO4 years ago in Settings More Like This
Wishing, wanting, your's for the taking,
Just sneak out, don't tell a soul goodbye~
It was dark...cold...the skies growing gloomy with the clouds of the upcomming storm...
They searched, they fought, they gained, and they lost...And all they wanted was home. "Home"... the simplest whisper of the word only brought upon pain of every kind...Mental, heart, and everthing in between. They looked for food, for weapons, for any saftey at all, but all was so scarce. The group was so big, but in this apocalypse "Big" is such a various word. There was 12...then it was 9...now all there are is 6. Sounds like such a small number but now-a-days 2 people are big enough. These poor lost souls think this is is...there was no hope left in the world...they were all thats left...
But hope comes in many ways.
To All Of YouTo the artistsTo All Of You4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to the dreamers
to the believers
to the cloud watchers
to the daydreamers
to the fractal makers
to the photographers
to the 3d modellers
to the writers
to the poets
to the wishers on stars
to the fanciful
to the unrealistic
to the rebels
to the rule breakers
to the outcasts
to the dark
to the light
to the night
to the day
to all of you
I Salute You!
Girl as NudeYou are in your Picasso moodGirl as Nude6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
soft nude blues
and sharp grey
I like you better
as Van Gogh
daft as a brush
while you dance on tables;
or maybe Gauguin,
curving under a palm tree,
full and nut brown -
flirting against my shirt;
floating on lilies -
that kind of red
I want to devour
Ryonell p.7Ryonell p.74 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Wybiegł na zewnątrz. Nie zauważył wcześniej, że zapadł zmrok. Niebo rozpościerało się nad światem szafirową kopułą. Nie zasłaniał jej najmniejszy obłok, gwiazdy jaśniały. Biegł przez miasto szukając zaułka i kamienicy z dziwnym maszkaronem. Słyszał jak wiatr szepce w zakamarkach miasta. Wreszcie dostrzegł widzianą wcześniej kobietę, jak niknęła w wąskiej uliczce. Zacisnął mocniej palce na rękojeści miecza. Ostrożnie wszedł za nieznajomą w ciemność ulicy. Stała odwrócona do niego plecami. Czerń sukni zlewała się z otaczającym mrokiem, światło księżyca padało na jej odsłonięte białe ramiona. Zdawać by się mogło, że na tej jednej postaci skupiła się cała uwaga otaczającego świata
Sex is...Sex is sacred,Sex is...3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sex is dirty.
Sex is bodies driving against each other for pleasure,
For reproduction, for love, for need.
For desire and lust, and want and passion.
Sex is something that every human wants to do,
Needs to do,
Sex is the driving force behind our minds,
Pushing us forward and preserving us in time.
Fucking and loving, caressing and holding.
Tongues moving together and folding
Bodies against bodies, and sex against sex.
Sex is the want, sex is the need.
To push together and forward, spilling the seed.
Sex is beautiful, sex is rough.
Sex is grinding and moaning
Sex is gentle and moving.
Sex makes us cry, sex makes us laugh.
Sex is a secret, hidden away,
Sex is a pleasure, brought out to play
For new life or for fun, sex will be had
And if you don't like it, well that's too bad.
I Am SchizophreniaShh.I Am Schizophrenia3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"Are you okay?"
Turn off the light.
"What are you doing?"
You can't fight the shadows.
They'll kill you if you tell.
Rip your hair out.
Cover your eyes.
Cover them again.
Lock the door.
Now you're trapped.
Lock it again.
Don't take the medication.
Don't drink the water.
Don't eat your dinner.
"I don't know you anymore. Who have you become?"
I am a nobody.
I am Schizophrenia.
I am death
"... I don't know."
specteri'm sorry, ghost girl.specter2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i don't know if i can
lie with you in this grave
anymore because you're
rotting away faster than
Schizoid Personality DisorderSolitude -- My Sanctuary.Schizoid Personality Disorder5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Silence -- My Llullaby.
Observation -- My Occupation.
Intelligence -- My Curse.
Please, don't invite me to an outing that a normal person would attend in a heartbeat.
I won't hesitate to turn you down, I'm perfectly content being alone, in fact I would much rather be by myself.
It's not that I hate you, in fact I have no feelings about you, I just don't like people.
I can fully focus on my thoughts when I am free of outside distractions, such as the mindless drabble of the masses.
Solitude is My Haven, My Utopia, My Sanctuary.
Silence is golden.
The world needs a mute button, the noise is suffocating; I can't breath outside.
I yearn for sweet silence, all I want is for a few moments of absolute silence when I unwillingly leave My Sanctuary.
Once I finally get silence, I can't help but smile and allow myself to get lost in nothingness.
Silence is An Aria with no words, A Harmonious Composition, My Llullaby.