The Family Has Been InformedBullets that are too far away to hear back homeThe Family Has Been Informed2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
But words that will forever ring just as loud in my ears
Delivered from the lips of a uniformed man
The sympathetic sentence any mother fears to hear
I turn away as if ignoring his presence
Will make this unwanted reality go away
But he repeats that he is sorry for my loss
Those words are the last thing I remember of that day
I find myself looking out of the back yard window
On the swings in the garden I still see my boy play
I am bringing drinks out to him and his brothers
Under the sun, on the grass, on endless summer days
Those memories like photographs in frames on the wall
Now show my son with a wife and child of his own
A husband and father torn from their loving arms
In to the mass grave-in-waiting of a war zone
His old bedroom was already a shrine to him
Even before his blood soaked deep in to the desert sands
We waited for him to return from his first tour
Knowing the boy we’d said goodbye to would come home a man
I Saw a Burning ManIn front of my house, he sat.I Saw a Burning Man2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Skin burnt off, now charred and black.
Hesitantly, I walked outside.
And he followed me with his watery eyes.
With steps as nimble as the snow,
I hid my fear and continued to go.
Now before him, the Burning Man.
I kindly offered him my shaky hand.
No malice nor vice leaked off of him,
rather sadness and agony which simmered below his skin.
I could feel it around me, the pain and despair,
yet, physically the man was nearly repaired.
For his scorched skin was not his problem,
instead the bottled emotions that devoured all of him.
“Would you like to come inside sir, and stay?”
In which he replied by looking away.
Again I asked, and received no reply,
and was startled when the man began to cry.
Unsure of what to do, I walked away,
Yet I’ll never forget what happened that day.
Be it from pain, or mute, or undisclosed desires,
I watched as the man was engulfed in fire.
I stood back in awe, with my mouth agape,
and feared that he had fallen into
The Consequence of BeautyThe Consequence of BeautyThe Consequence of Beauty3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
An Essay by: Ashely Thomas
I am vain.
I have put off admitting for much too long. I run a brush through my hair more often than what is necessary I wear clothing that I feel looks beautiful on me no matter the weather, often to consequence of me. And for two whole years I have never left the house without a hint of glitter.
But I am also insecure.
I spend long hours thinking of beauty, how it seems so far out of reach to me, and how I need to work harder to improve on it. Beauty has consumed my life.
Beauty is a world that is introduced to us at a young age. Everywhere you look you cannot be confronted without airbrushed perfection. We know it’s fake, but yet we still yearn for it.
Beauty is a multimillion dollar business that is only growing as the world’s craze for impossible perfection grows stronger. Everyday new products are released to enhance, to restore, or to create splendor. When we spend the money focusing on our own looks; w
Peach JuiceA cloud godPeach Juice3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
spilled his sun-glass of
peach juice across the sky,
the orange frothed into
heavenly Morse code.
The solar drink thinned
into a beard-grey
until the dome was
a glass-black sea,
an uneaten celestial crisp.
Let's be realistic, here.The only thing to fear?Let's be realistic, here.3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Things I Never got to Say “I’m sorry.”The Things I Never got to Say1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
That was always how my sentences should’ve started.
You usually were.
“I love you.”
Three simple words. Never could bring myself to say them, you always seemed to know, but you still deserved to be told.
“I love you more than the booze.”
I hate that I never told you that.
“I love you more than the drugs.”
“I miss you.”
I did every second we weren’t together.
“I love the way you laugh.”
I did. It made me feel lighter, like the world was ours and there was nothing that could stop us.
“I love your smile.”
Why didn’t I ever tell you that? I knew you knew, but I also knew that you were waiting for me to tell you.
“Your hair looks beautiful”
You never thought so, but I always loved it.
Bromotions: Scars Part 1Bromotions: Scars Part 13 years ago in Drama More Like This
Seeing his parents killed right in front of him had left him feeling empty. He longed for his mother's lullabies and his father's piggy back rides. He longed for the comfort of being loved. Everyday it became harder and harder to provide for himself and Bolin. They were running out of yuans they got for their allowances, and Mako had to start working in any store that would take someone his age. It was hard to leave Bolin in alleys by himself. Everyday at Narook's Seeweed Noodlery where he cleaned floors, he thought about his brother alone, getting hurt, and it killed him. He couldn't lose him, too.
He was always relieved when he came back and saw Bolin eagerly waiting for dinner. He sat down and handed whatever food he managed to scrape up that day to Bolin and his brother ate as quickly as possible. Mako relaxed and closed his eyes, tired from the days work. He felt a cool breeze and heard his brother's teeth chatter. Mako took off the scarf he always wore, the last object his father
The Door of Our Cottage in the Western NightThey began on the beach, and a fire was raging upon the waters. A fire on one side of the world and one around the other. The earth had been unbruised, like an apple on a string, and then two stones had struck within a month, and everything had burned, slagged by deep space arrows. The wind was terrible. Everywhere was a howl with no direction.The Door of Our Cottage in the Western Night4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There were a few lichen-like communities in damp places, where the sky had steamed by but seared little, lifted ravines and streams from the land, unwrinkled it, dragon braille revealed only in fire. There were a few who had been underground, and a few in the inland seas and lakes, a few in the deeper rivers, a few on the moon, watching it go.
The moon was hit four weeks later, and there were no lunatic survivors.
Once again, we were alone. The world had been smoked and there was a smell of it everywhere, and we walked on the remains of the crater's basin lake. It was involute
My Crossdressing God-dessToday you are a girl,My Crossdressing God-dess5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
So you stuff your sister's bra,
3 tissue boxes are casualties,
In your crusade for beauty.
As you apply lipstick,
In front of our cracking mirror,
I mention that this is the 5th time this week,
You've paraded yourself in miniskirts and hooped earrings,
And I wouldn't mind normally,
Perfume has begun to smell like gunpowder.
Today you are a boy,
So you dust off your abandoned wifebeater,
And rub your ignored adam's apple gingerly.
As you apply shaving cream,
In front of our cracking mirror,
I mention that your unnaturally deepened voice,
Sounds like a bad imitation,
Of a butterfly wearing bear claws.
You reply in a whisper,
"Butterflies aren't as ugly as me,"
And my heartstrings are played like an orchestra.
I hold you tighter than usual,
And run kisses over your waterproof mascara from yesterday.
I say to you,
"I wish I could be your cocoon,"
And those pools of confused blue,
Seem to still themselves,
You press your body more openly against mine.
fairytale: Foxes heartOnce upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there was a small village on the edge of a large forest. This village flourished because it was often visited by noblemen, who stayed there to hunt in the forest and spend a lot of money during their stay. But on the day that our story begins, this normally peaceful village was in an uproar. All residents ran through the streets singing and the children jumped around that morning, because a messenger had come with great news. The eldest son of the king, the crown prince, would come to the village in a week to come hunting with a group of fellow noblemen. Such a royal visit was a great honour and therefore the villagers wanted to please the prince as much as possible by decorating the whole village, preparing the best food and get the best wine out of the attic. The girls of the village were also very excited, not because of the honour and prosperity it brought to their village, but because of the prince. Throughout the country were storiesfairytale: Foxes heart2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
This Is Not A PrayerGodThis Is Not A Prayer2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I write this to you,
This is not a prayer
Not such an inconsequential waste of air,
I can hardly breathe
From on all the prayers
Wasted on your ears,
From how long I've knelt at your feet.
This is a letter
Sent from a grieving sinner
Whilst still clutching the hand
You stole from him
Two hands ,in fact,
One so small
I hardly noticed
When it ceased clutching me.
I write this to ask
Not to pray
As prayers seem to have no worth to you
Surely not mine at least.
I ask only
That you return them to me.
Let me clutch these hands
Till they might return my grasp.
Because as I am right now
I doubt, I could ever let them go.
I write this
Not to pray but to beg
Give them back to me.
Give them back.
I can't let them go.
Universe GirlsheUniverse Girl2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
fell in love
while he was
still a planet;
she could only manage
to fall in love
with shooting stars
in the glare of your eyes.
what more could you truly ask
from a universe girl?
One cut.One cut.One cut.3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It stings. I can't let anyone see. Especially her. She likes me. I can't let her know I'm doing this.
Debating whether or not I should tell her. I'll wait. I can get over this pain. The fake smile will fade, right?
The pain's going away. She almost walked in on me. I scraped my skin. I cut deeper after she left.
This feels amazing. Should I tell her? No... I won't break her heart.
I need to stop.
This NEEDS to stop.
Feeling light headed. I should tell her...
I tried to say something.
I couldn't make the words out.
I need help.
Please help me.
I can't stop.
I want to.
But I can't.
She walked in on me cutting.
She snatched my razor. I have the urge to.
I can't cut. She's watching over me.
She killed herself today. Pills. Swallowed the whole bottle.
I took the gun from the closet.
I can't be alone again.
We watch over each other n
Old LoversWe first met when I was a scholarOld Lovers9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
you a philosopher
I dreamt so hard
the stars bruised above me
and you breathed
this weighty happiness
We met again in the lost land,
You were a hunter, and I
of no significance
but you found me
draped across vines, wildflowers
in my hair
as you shot down the moon for me
and in the darkness, people whispered
about secret lovers.
But let us not forget
the poet and the mathmatecian
we exchanged love notes
in our own languages-
Translating them at dusk,
we hid beneath the swell of tides
watching the overhanging sky swirl before our eyes.
WishesI whispered my wishesWishes10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
into your hair and watched
them tangle and grow,
from wisps of white-blonde
to an ashy brown but shades
darker than your eyes.
Now, bald as the newborn
you were fifty-three years
ago, playing with your daughter's
corkscrews, a few strands
of wishes left behind your ears,
I find my son has become everything
I ever hoped for.
a retraction of august's horoscope“aquarius, you have fallen in love with the storm again,”a retraction of august's horoscope3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the august horoscope reads.
it is almost—but not quite—correct.
for the sake of astrological accuracy
it might be revised to read,
“aquarius, you have fallen
in love—” (this part
“—aquarius, you have fallen in love
in the sticky heat of summer,
the air as damp as your skin,
heat rising from the tarmac
of this flat swamp town.”
or perhaps, “aquarius,
it will not feel like a storm.
there will be no lightning bolts,
no thunder. there will be no fire
under your skin.”
“aquarius, your love will be slow and soft.
it will be the sound of leaves rustling and pages turning,
of songs sung quietly in a dark bedroom, of cell phones ringing
at the most inopportune moment.
it will be the smell of dinner cooking. aquarius,
will be his body pressed against yours
as you sit on the kitchen counter at 2am
quietly drinking tea, and
it will be losing
Yet Another Christmas CarolIt was Christmas, celebrated all around Earth - and in Heaven, of course. As for elsewhere...Yet Another Christmas Carol5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
If you believe for a single second that the devils don't celebrate Christmas, you are, well, right, actually. They keep very quiet about it. Not even a mouse would dare speak about it to the Almighty Fiend, Lucifer. The sole exception to this unspoken rule had happened a few years back on the occasion of a Satanically spiked MTV "Merry Christmas" video which had seemed like a good idea for a few hours. Until it became obvious that it had been a pointless endeavor those who watched MTV regularly had been mostly unaffected, those who didn't had had their opinions on the low quality of the station confirmed and, generally, it had been a fruitless fiasco.
You didn't talk to Lucifer on Christmas. It was the same as going to him on Easter, patting him on the back and saying "There, there, mate. Anybody would have thought that killing Jesus was a good idea. I mean,
subcutaneousi want to wear the shadows of his teethsubcutaneous10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
like a necklace,
blooming teal and violet
on the edges of my collarbones.
To Be A SaxophoneGlisten under spotlights,To Be A Saxophone8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Varying lust poured
Into the ears of Man.
In need to be embraced
Like a baby and a lover.
Oh, to be a saxophone.
And the keys!
Learn them all for
A fantastic experience.
Failure to do so,
The wrath of ire
Falls upon the shoulders.
Ah, the joys of a saxophone.
Included with jazz
Hear it wail.
Enshroud it with strings
A lovely melody will bloom.
Solo or accompanied,
It adapts to all sorts.
How marvelous, the saxophone.
Pandoras Box cannot
Contain as much feeling
As this simple instrument.
Loved, detested, admired,
Valiantly, it performs
Through bad and good.
How I adore the saxophone.
Joyous, dear saxophone,
You are unique!
To dream is to believe
You can do anything!
One secret I say, my saxophone
In you I confide.
I am you, my saxophone,
Just as you are me!
never goldher piano key teeth bit the bulletnever gold5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and shattered the melody
that was keeping her
on her toes
he watched from a distance with his oceanic eyes
counting her every breath with ignominy
his heart was always silver
she stared up at the ashen sky with anticipation
waiting for the rain to wash her away
and as she crawled to the sea
he couldn't help but
my hair is growing longthank god for x-acto knives andmy hair is growing long2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
marking pins and heroine
addicts and you.
thank god for good music.
and thanksgiving meals and
grandmas and spanish teachers that
actually care about you.
thank god for
quizbowl teams and gay sponsors and
that give you strength even while
thank god for sandwiches and mothers and
thank god for blue gatorade and
little girls’ dreams and
leather ballet shoes.
thank god for hair bows and tutus and
a stage made up of glass.
thank god for hamstrings and
thank god for dazy
and little lion manes.
thank god for big paws and
wasp stings and
thank god for sally.
thank god for self-destruction.
and thank god for signs.
thank god for twin sisters and
best friends and
conjoined hips and most of all:
thank god for support.
thank god for love and
care and tragedy
and train tracks lit up in the dark
I saw an AngelI saw an Angel.I saw an Angel2 years 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