It Was Always You It was a beautiful clearing. I bent and picked a brilliant red flower from the long still grasses and set it in my hair. It was peaceful. But kind of lonely, just another reminder of all the differences from back home. Across the country and all. My mom said Id meet new friends, but so far, she was wrong. I sighed and sat with my back against a large oak tree.It Was Always You6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Id just begun to read my book when I hard the sound of muffled laughter from the branches above me. I looked up in alarm to see a face peering down at me from the leafy canopy.
The boy in the tree had his palm over his mouth and looked as surprised as I felt. He slowly moved his hand and bit his lip. It was obvious that he hadnt meant to make a sound. He looked at me solemnly and hesitated before saying, You have a flower in your head. Thats why I laughed.
The Old Oaken TreeI have sat in your shade and have been dreaming.The Old Oaken Tree2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Often I have forgotten the time.
Into your bark I have sobbed.
Underneath your roof of leaves I have sought shelter.
My grief, my joy I have told you.
A feeling of safety I have found here.
You are still there - changed - like me ...
After so many years.
You have stood your ground.
I have found a home, a place to strike root.
We share our life at the little creek.
Hardly I can grasp it or word my joy.
The power, peace and silence that surround you
I have already loved as a child.
And when I climbed up your branches and hurt you -
Please forgive me, the ignorant child.
That what I loved to have, you have given to me -
Power, dignity, hope - zest for life.
KrankIch leide an der schrecklichsten Krankheit, die diese Welt je gesehen hat.Krank6 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
Nur bin ich die einzige, die diesen Satz so unterschreiben würde. Doch beim Unterschreiben bin ich vorsichtig geworden.
Die Ärzte sprechen von einem Phänomen.
Der Papst von einem Wunder.
Forscher nennen mich einen Segen für die Menschheit.
Und ich? Ich hätte gerne Angst.
Mein Magen sagt mir, ich hätte Angst, doch das kann ja nicht sein. Männer in weißen Kitteln umringen mich. Es ist immer jemand da, nie bin ich allein.
Ein hübscher junger Wissenschaftler lächelt mich scheu an. Hab keine Angst", sagt er. Wir tun dir nicht weh". Ein älterer Kollege klopft ihm auf die Schulter. Sie hat keine Angst, Felix. Das weißt du doch."
Er ist gut gelaunt. Seine Gehaltserhöhung muss heute morgen genehmigt worden sein. Woher ich das weiß? Nun, ich sagte doch: Ich bin krank.
Ich leide unter dem Sim-Syndrom. Zumindest ist das meine Bezeichnung
THE ART WARRIORSTHE ART WARRIORS5 years ago in Editorial More Like This
THE ART WARRIORS
- About the beginning of a new revolution -
* An escalation by Beau Cyphre *
Keep your art free! Don't diss yourself with watermarks, don't shrink your vision - and don't fear the illusion of art theft.
Just wrote it down in my Twitter as another stroke, and this sword's sharp enough to make you think. All art is about sharing, and what I get is what I give: Everything's in the flow, and it's time to give up the illusion of personal importance. I'm not saying you're dispensable. I think you're better as a living and responding part of all the energy floating inside and outside of ourselves. We're all dead now, and to live we need to transcend the barriers we put up all the time. There's freedom outside the borders, and the sight to a far away horizon leads just to another and another illusional horizon.
Real life is endless, and we're all made to travel really far. We've come a long way, and sometimes we feel so bad that we want to give up, but the
BloodlustBloodlust3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They desire a longing
A longing for that tender sweet bond
The bond of the scarlet river
That flows from within
It is what keeps their hearts
Beating in their caged chests
For without the blood
They could not live
They are bonded by the rogue
Aspiring throughout their souls
For it is what makes them become
Identical as oath brothers
Crimson marks tear up the past
With a small river flowing down
Downward from the crystal eye
The eye of all things known
Emotions are only expressed
Through the pounding of this blood
That never ceases to be
Their passionate desire
Bursts from within
To crave and taste the blood
The bond from within
skinwalkershe was a vicious prion,skinwalker2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
anomalous & infectious—
my fractured mind was the
perfectly unsuspecting host.
i was so ashamed of life
& you had all the answers.
"don't let me go,"
she hissed each night,
coating my flesh in a
(it was just too damn easy
to grasp your viral hands.)
i know my ribcage is almost on empty
& my heart is converting to toxic waste,
but i still have a feverish serum in my veins
& a voice not yet conquered by broken bones.
your plague of malevolence
shall never govern me again.
Bare BonesYou know that saying -Bare Bones7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
About skeletons in your closet
Well I dont have mere skeletons
No motley collection of bones for me, oh no
I have a whole cemetery in my wardrobe
Row upon countless row of tombstones
Hiding the bare white bones of turmoil and torment
Scrawled on each marble slab is a significant date
Marking every occasion on which my soul was mangled
Every single day on which I suffered
Every night I was deprived of sleep
Every single time I stumbled to my knees and fell, weeping
Because demons came knocking at my door
And I had nowhere to escape
Oh yes the demons love me
They have made of me their whore
For I am weak and vulnerable to the vultures of degradation
And they love to pick my brittle bones clean
Pecking away every last shred of dignity and delight
And when they are sated at last
Flapping their harpy wings into the blackened sky
There I lie
A sorry and despicable sight
Quivering in a skeletal ball
Like a dying child
Hugging my knees to my bloodied chest
Empathi do not hold emotions of my own--Empath2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i live in the hearts of others,
in the spaces between their fingers
and at the soles of their shoes
fitting into the cracks between the sidewalk
for someone else to step on
i'm scattered all over,
spread like the dust from stars
swept into the crevices of your ribs
nestling my home against your bones
i begin to feel what you feel,
the exhaustion of another night gone stale
and the way your broken heart beats out the blues
but forgets the rhythm
there is nothing in here that beats for me--
i see your pain, and i cry.
bruises that won't healthe days i will not think of you mostbruises that won't heal5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
are the days i am in therapy.
i hate walking through the doors in
sadness so full that my heart
is begging to burst.
i won't say i've missed you,
but i have. your number is dead
in my phone, & i long for the
music of change echoing from
your heart to your
jean pockets. i don't mean to
apologise, it's only a habit,
just like your nightly smoke fix.
do you remember singing 'no surprises'
to me over the phone,
laughing as your thumbs stumble
over errant strings?
every strum feels like my heart,
i hope you know
the rumble in your throat
becomes its beat.
you are so hard to look at
and everybody looks like you.
the stultified stammer in my belly
flutters like a hummingbird
catching fire on every feather.
any photo of you i can get my hands on,
i do. i let my eyes take in breathless
mouthfuls, my fingers, clawing
daggers digging into the photo and
crumpling it with want.
the hurt is what makes it
you were never supposed
to mean this much to me.
TodayDo you remember that strange kidToday4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you knew from high school?
The one that walked the halls at lunch
because he didn't really have anywhere to go.
he may not have been one for the ladies,
but who needs the craziness of high school girls
and their petty dramatic mind games?
I know you know who I mean,
he was the one who didn't know what he would be
because he was good at everything.
That kid killed himself today.
He blew his mind out in a car,
left rust coloured stains on the windows,
first in line in front of a green light.
His sad love stories left half written for third period english
never reached their happy endings.
He could have been a businessman, an artist, a scientist;
hell, he could have done it all,
could have inspired the masses
and become the change this world needed.
He was headed to great things.
But of all the things he could have been,
He decided to be a suicide statistic.
AfraidHave you ever been afraid of yourself?Afraid3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's the worst feeling there is
because no matter what you do,
no matter what you try,
you can never escape it
because you're trapped inside yourself,
terrified of what could happen next,
afraid of who you could hurt,
afraid of what you might do.
In dreams, thoughts are only amplified.
In wakefulness, horrors become real.
You tell yourself it cant be real,
tell yourself its not who you truly are.
But it is.
And nothing can change it.
you brought me to my kneesi.you brought me to my knees2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i only wanted a perfect ending;
you knew a different approach.
i should have left the first time.
(she came back for you.)
i keep telling myself that
you'll write a love that won't be the death of me.
this is where i am:
lying in filth
with my drug infected mind.
i'm home now, lord willing.
this is the woman
VindicatifRancunière?Vindicatif3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Je garde la liste des noms
Que j'ai pardonnés!
extinction"when's the right age to start having sex?"extinction5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"but we need to reproduce to stay alive!"
'then what happens to us?"
Les trous noirsDes soleils assourdissantsLes trous noirs3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Envahissent subitement mon univers
De violentes tempêtes solaires
Bouleversent mes océans
Vents, raz-de-marée et tonnerres
Mon monde est vacillant.
De la désolation nait un mouvement
Du néant vient la consolation
De bienveillants trous noirs
Aspirent mon chaos vivement
Le vide est là
Le vide sacré
Le vide qui crée.
Je vous aime bienveillants trous noirs.
a desperate bout of melodyas the sun melts into streaked paint,a desperate bout of melody5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as your hands trail listlessly along my spine,
as the paper frays like twine,
i can remember your heart.
the kind of beautiful
that only exists at night
fire of skin and prowling cats
friction of hot tires
and mattresses creaking
under the weight of the love
that is made over it.
of your skin still
sticking to mine
like sugar in
the heat is quick and
i'm morning sick,
i am your flower and
won't my petals please
a sighing of a
i will love you
in the morning when
the fog paints
ValentineShe said no. I couldn't believe it, but she said no.Valentine5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
No one should be allowed to do that. Not on Valentine's Day. Not this Valentine's Day. Today I tried to prove myself, but I'm obviously not good enough. She's a scientist, after alla surgeon that researches dead bodies. And who am I?
I'm nothing. Nothing but completely and utterly loyal to her.
That's why, before she comes to her midnight shift tonight, I must prove myself. It's my last chance.
Cleverly, I stole her spare key to the lab. First things first, you know. I had a hell of a time evading security, but I managed it. I'm a cook, after all, and had plenty of knives to use. One in each guard; I figured that would keep them quiet. My love adores silence.
Next, the gift. I found her favorite carving knife where I always would watch her rest it next to her lab coat. Everyday, she used itI would observe her through the air duct. When she cut, everything looked fluid and natural. So would I tonight.
With a lunge,
The Avatar StateThe Avatar State:The Avatar State3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Just as there are four elements
Existing in harmony with one another
So too are there four states of poetry:
Air is the element of freedom
Exemplified by the use of free verse
It has no structure and no true shape
But allows us creative control
Through the use of air as a poetic medium
We allow our emotions a freedom to be
We allow them to soar upon worded wings
Gliding freely through the skies of literature
Water is the element of the changing flow
It can be hard as ice or as soft as snow.
Its nature resembles the power of rhyme
Which grants us order and a structured mind
By pushing and pulling the words we may-
create a picture of what we wish to say
Painted upon a canvas of emotional lines
We create a sculpture of structured rhymes
Earth is uncomprising
Craggy on the whole, it resembles the concrete
Like the craggy mountains with peaks and valleys
It can take us down
A creative alley. For rock resembl
boys with bird names cant actually fly.i fill my lungs with blackberriesboys with bird names cant actually fly.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
& nicotine because it is the only way
I can stomach the taste.
a phoenix told me once
that he could teach me
how to burn properly,
as if scolding
[ like the intercostal
spaces of a ribcaged
he fell in love
with my words
before he knew
the height of my
or the annoying
sound of my laugh.
he said he could count
all my scars on one hand-
even the ones that wake me
at 3 am with an itch i swear
begs me to rip them open
& i told him he could keep
his pretty words and fiery fingers
creatively away from me.
i am tired of smelling of hell
& ash when -
air.he's asthmaticair.3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and when we kiss,
he says it
leaves him breathless,
is just two awkward kids
reminding each other to breathe,
that's all you need.
Les reves bleus..Les reves bleus..5 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Quand se déploient, le soir, loin des regards de l'aube,
Les complices remous de ses ailes discrètes,
Les grands vents délicats qui caressent sa robe
Portent les blonds désirs de ses rives secrètes,
Plissent sa peau d'azur aux doutes d'émeraude,
Chantent les rêves bleus d'atlantides mystères,
Brodent de neiges d'or les dentelles maraudes
Qui meurent en plongeant vers ses ports éphémères,
D'ocres tachés de cyan en gris perlés d'opale,
Ses miroirs indiscrets boivent au firmament
Les cristaux ciselés par d'orfèvres étoiles
Qui pleurent en tombant vers leurs ombres d'argent.
love letters from a girli am dangling in airlove letters from a girl5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like the stars.
i am slow string,
forgetting your name,
i am the creeping silence,
the empty air that haunts
your sleep. i am a fish,
sending you my love
as i bleed on the hook.
the ebbing ocean
stings with salt, open wounds
with the departure of my blood
is the departure of my stability,
and i swoon. i am a fish
on the hook, sending you my
love like a bobbing lure
as i start to stumble and
don't love me until you've seen me bleed.i think thatdon't love me until you've seen me bleed.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i'm falling in love
no, no no,
don't you say that,
because you've never seen me
at 4 am
with my eyes glazed
and my mind a battle field
(and my arms paying
for the weaponry).
haven't heard me
choke back sobs after midnight
because god dammit i can't sleep,
and the screams in my ears
aren't helping matters,
and i don't think
you will ever see me
bre a k
and shatter and
fall into the greedy grip
of a panic attack
and then try in vain
to claw myself back up.
but there is that hot hope
that tells me that you
can look past
the scars and the tears
and the screams and
the nightmares. and
for once in my damn life
i'm praying that i'm right