Fleur de LysFleur de Lys2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fleur de Lys
For thousand nights or more
She frigthtened the city
In search for ancient lore
To live eternally
The loss of her beloved
Twisted her mind slowly
In blood chase she's involved
Fleur de Lys is creepy
Noblewoman of France
Herald of painful death
No one can take her stance
Or can follow her faith
Her gorgeous bloody lips
To a vampire kiss
That leads to damnation
YOLOYOLOYOLO2 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
While I love what YOLO should stand for, I hate what it does stand for. For those of you who do not know, YOLO is a popular initialism among teens and young adults these days, and stands for "you only live once."
While this is a wonderful way to think about life, but it is being perverted by peer pressure -- "Take another shot, YOLO".
That is not living life, that is letting others live their life through you. In that moment, you chose to let someone else steal that moment from you. To have someone steal that part of you for themselves, you are not living your life; you are allowing someone to live a second life through your actions. With that action you become a puppet to their will, and forsake part of the life you only live once.
I propose an addendum, "YOLOSLFY" -- "You only live once, so live for yourself." Sure, it's not as short but I hope more people use it in the future.
For HerSkin so pale and so innocent; yet warm and soft.For Her2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Bright is her eyes, always lit by day or by night.
Her warm embrace; like a maiden of the heavens taking the late life of a man.
The way I feel with her, is a way I have so little felt;
Tis love! The bittersweet fruit that drives an able bodied person;
To the very end of their sanity or to their discovery of true happiness!
Oh god who art in heaven, why must I love!
For she the vile woman that fate has bestowed upon my desires;
Feels not the same as I.
GladiatorBeing an artist sometimes feels like being a gladiator.Gladiator1 year ago in Letters More Like This
Though the occasional flowers heal the superficial wounds or boost the ego after an exhausting fight, they do nothing to keep pain at bay when I go back to my cage.
Just like gladiators who die in the arena, spilling their guts out in the concrete and omnipresent dirt, just like the reality of the screams and wails covered by the cheers of the masses... so do I spill everything I feel on paper, for your entertainment.
And just like the cuts of a sword through the flesh, going down with a shriek on the naked bone, are real, so are the nervous strokes of the pencil real, and the words are real, and the pain is real, and the love is real. And this is the only way I can do art, and you have it all, the gore and the sublime.
And I will keep doing it this way until I collapse in the dirt, with my guts spi
The Hunt GameThe Hunt Game2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
It was a cold night. The wind blew gently through the hair of a little girl. The girl stood atop a cliff. If they will jump, her wounds will only get worse, and she might drown. But as she stood on this spot, she was shot by hunters and she certainly dead ... The girl took a deep breath and turned toward where the hunter as could come. Her white hair gave a light blue glow under the moonlight. The hunter came walking out.
The girl directed her light blue eyes on the Hunter and stared deep into the eyes. She smelled his fear and anger. '' You're scared. '' The girl said with a grin. '' Shut up, where did she go! '' He shouted angrily back as he pointed his gun at her. '' Who is where? '''' The wolf, of course! '' "Oh, it's closer than you think.'' Said the girl with an even wider grin. The man dropped his gun down and looked at her with an angry look. The girl walked slowly forward step by step until she passed the hunter .'' Well, look.'s the thing ... the wolf went that way.'' said th
limitationsmore often than not,limitations4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
it is i who destroy
I. VoiceI haven't told him,I. Voice2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but his name sits on my lips
as a psalm,
and if I say it too quickly,
I've taken it in vain.
And I find solace in his voice,
the cradle of a canyon.
I close my eyes and am
I have no desire to return,
for this is home.
3. The Spider Amidst the Structure3. The Spider Amidst the Structure2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Nightfall arrive, accompanied by a darkness, serene.
Silence became all sound surrounding.
Many creatures around me came,
Abounding & astounding to my presence.
Before me stood a massive structure of oak,
Colossal, I envied not, the earth carrying its weight.
Three crosses stood, like giants amongst the trees,
Reaching out beneath and to the moon above.
Attaching them was the seal of the Triune of my Lord,
facing both the Heavens and the Earth.
In its core was a web,
Made fresh by a translucent arachnid.
The flesh of its figure, the spider, was given such life
By the pale gaze of the moon.
Its legs stretched wide, and in the light,
Were but a dwarfed allusion to lightning.
We watched, the creatures and I,
with the inspired awe of the sight before us all.
Back over my shoulder did my eyes glance,
To find at a distance a storm forging itself to life, by thunder and lightning.
From Heaven, bellowed the astonishing sound of a horn,
As the opening line of the first act o
2. Maze Upon The Mountain2. Maze Upon The Mountain2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Around my throat pulled the rugged noose,
tighter with every upward movement...
Though beheld I chains of gold as a harness,
inching me along the way up.
I scaled the mountain of my own,
whilst I tread in its vertical labyrinth...
To my back, a mirror follows my every move,
the constant reminder of every falter.
From above comes down an ever flowing stream,
washing clean from me the blood, sweat, and tears.
Such is the waters of life that I chose to follow,
as the overflow my thirst and tired limbs.
At my feet, the heat of a million fires,
giving rise to the sulfuric smell of Rock Bottom...
Where from and down the rugged noose yanks.
Burning to a cinder, my forest once dark.
The rope tugs with a playful tease
and with my every breath do I hear the laughing pullers...
Still do I carry on, seemingly towards hopelessness,
where Death is all that my eyes can see.
The chains are what nudge me on,
carrying me upon all paths which lead me Home.
Assisting my ascension, onward to my a
Sherlock's Valentine's Day “It’s not a date.” John said quickly.Sherlock's Valentine's Day2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“I know it’s not.” Sherlock replied just as fast.
“I just don’t want to waste my money.” John rationalized.
“Of course.” Sherlock’s tone was unconvinced, though John assumed he was just teasing him again.
It was Valentine’s day and John had bought tickets to a nice dinner theatre weeks ago, but this morning Sarah had phoned him to say she felt like death warmed over and that he’d better not come round unless he wanted to catch a really nasty flu. He told her he didn’t mind, and went over with flowers anyway, but she’d been asleep when he arrived and didn’t come to the door. When he phoned from the steps and woke her up she’d whispered miserably that she really couldn’t even make it to the door, and that she
I Miss YouI miss you.I Miss You2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The sound of your
The feel of your
arms around me.
The look in your
eyes when you tell
me you love me.
I miss your smile
and your laugh.
The sound of your
voice and the feel
of you next to me.
I miss the smiles
you gave me and
the joy you brought
I miss you.
My smile, my joy.
(7 October 2012)
Speaking Up1. My mom always complainsSpeaking Up2 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
That our house has a deafening sound to it.
I’m not sure if it’s the sound of the T.V that’s always on
Or, my brother jumping on the walls
That Gets to her.
2. I was never good at speaking up.
With siblings cooler or smarter than I am,
It’s common place to hear things
Like buff up and shut up.
3. My friends say I talk too loud.
4. At the last house party I attended someone
Claimed he could drink 6 bottles
And not feel a thing.
He threw up his pride,
I wish I could do the same.
5. I don’t know what kind of drunk I am.
I don’t like alcohol.
Probably a sad one.
6. At parties I pretend to check my phone
As I wander room to room
Looking for something.
I’m not quite sure what I’m looking for,
I think I’m suppose find another person there
2. I was never good at speaking up.
7. I wrote a condolence message on Facebook
For a guy I barely knew.
No/UnseenNo angel calls my name.No/Unseen2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
No heaven waits for me.
No love to call my own,
No arms to hold me.
No death to take me.
No hate to scorn me.
No one will take my
Not even the depths
This is my punishment
for sins done in lives
Not even hated.
Until this world's end
My soul walks alone.
Unseen by the eyes of
Heaven and hell.
Unseen by the eyes
(18 October 2012)
Cottonwood SummersEvery summer in ourCottonwood Summers5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In good ol'
Would let down
Piles of snow.
The green capsules
As the silky cotton
And the wind would weave
Through the leaves
Coating the oasis
(Although in the later years
It was more like a blizzard!)
Without the cotton
The case would dry
And the wind then blew it down, too
Would run outside
As we went down the
Little path, under the
As we stomped around,
It under our shoed feet.
And I preferred none
As I thought it
A crime to cover my
Except maybe in flip-flops
When we went out-of-home,
But only if my nails were
Oh, they were glorious days!
never mindI guess it’s kind of funny, if you think about it. You always see in the movies – in the TV shows – people running and screaming and praying and stuff. That’s what Hollywood always thought it would be like. Some sort of ‘death cloud’ or something – or like an asteroid or something like that – that just happened: that just totally hit everybody by surprise.never mind2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
People have known about it for months. It’s not like in the movies. The word ‘inevitability’ comes to mind: and hey, guess what? Nobody cares to run from the inevitable. It’s pretty stupid – isn’t it, if you think about it – how people, in the movies, try to run from inevitable death. Everybody has decided what they were gonna do today weeks ago, maybe even months ago. Say goodbye to family, spend time with girlfriend, et cetera et cetera. As with the Kubler-Ross effect – or whatever it's called – p
100 Theme ChallengeRules:100 Theme Challenge4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
-Write whatever you want. There is no limitations. (unless DA says so >.>;;; )
-Link back to this so others can do it too if they want.
-Don't think too hard, just let it flow
-Don't put any limits on yourself, let your creativity flow!
-You don't have to do them in order.
(You can do this in art form as well if you rather)
1. Can't love without a fight
2. I'm Alive
11. Take no Apology
21. Should Know
22. Lie awake in bed
23. Think about life
26. Beautiful Lie
29. Wash away
33. Running around
36. Cruel device
37. Ice blood
38. Kiss you
40. Black lace
41. Hurt you
42. Don't touch
The phone callThe phone call2 years ago in Sketches More Like This
Arthur lay under his duvet and stared at the ceiling, he just couldn't sleep! Too many thoughts flew around in his head, too many thoughts about him. This wasn't the first time Arthur lay wide awake in bed, it had happened a lot lately. He was in love. This restlessness tore him apart; he couldn't handle this anymore, ha had to tell him. Not caring about the clock showing 02.00 AM, the Englishman grabbed the phone and dialled the number to Francis.
It was a beautiful day, the sun shone on a clear blue sky and it was just enough wind to cool you down. Francis lay on the beach surrounded by women, but the Frenchman didn't give them one single look. His eyes were on the man a few meters away from him, the one with the green emerald eyes, big eyebrows and messy hair, the one with the thick, sexy English accent. He watched as the man turned around and started to walk towards him, his arms were opened ready to hug around the Frenchman and Francis' lovely dream was suddenly
Cloaked Schemer -Zexion Trib.-Of Intellegence and silent wit;Cloaked Schemer -Zexion Trib.-7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of shadows embracing it.
Of scheming brilliance and a younger mind;
Of words that are not too kind.
Of experiments and testing;
Of disguises that are all too jesting.
Oily silence mocks you clear;
Save your loved ones while you still hold them dear...
I Miss You TooI miss you too,I Miss You Too2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The way you feel
in my arms.
The look in your
eyes when you said
you loved me too.
The smile that
shines across your
Your laugh that brings
joy to my heart.
I miss the happiness
that I feel when
you're near me
The light you
bring to my life.
I miss you too
My light, my happiness.
(7 October 2012)
.green children.2 days ago in Free Verse More Like This
up and out
of their beds -
the sun smiles,
and reaches down
to embrace them
Lest we forgetLest we forget2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In Flanders' fields, the poppies blow,
and we who walk among them know
that here men fought, and bravely died
with equal courage, side by side;
the lark has overcome the crow.
We touch the Dead in memory –
embrace them through the century.
The earth enshrines their valiant hearts
in Flanders' fields.
The torch has guttered years ago;
the enemy has been laid low.
And though your names should slowly fade,
your blood a better world has made.
Rest you now where the poppies grow
in Flanders' fields.
I saw an AngelI saw an Angel.I saw an Angel5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
No, he wasn't abnormally beautiful with gorgeous blond locks, nor did his eyes shine as bright as the Caspian sea. He didn't have wings either, nor did he wear clothing adorned in white that shined brighter than the sun itself.
He was as plain as I was, perhaps even plainer. Though blond, his hair wasn't brilliant, in fact, it was dirty and matted. He wasn't the picture of perfection either, in fact, he was the opposite.
Pale and thin, dirty and uncared for, I saw him in the alley with a needle stuck in his arm.
A dose of heroine destroyed him, spoiled him...but I still saw an angel.
Perhaps it was the smile he gave me, when I gave him fifty cents go buy some cigarettes.
Perhaps it was the way his dull eyes looked at me, lost and distant....alone.
Perhaps it was the way they screamed, “I'm still human”.
I saw an Angel.
She stood at the corner of the street, striking a pose for all to see.
There in the Red Light District, beautiful and elaborated with m
.and like a stone at.4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the bottom of the river
or the sea,
i think life might just be
flowing right past me