I'm Gonna CrySitting alone in this house again tonightI'm Gonna Cry10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
doors locked, windows drawn, and this cheap bottle of wine.
Surrounded by pictures hanging on the wall
of one of the greatest loves that I can recall.
What were the odds that you and I would meet?
After all we were just strangers on a busy street.
Something in your eyes held me captive that day
and no matter how I try, it still wont let me get away.
I've never been the type to show how I feel
I always hold it in, even when the pain gets too real,
sometimes it physically hurts when I think of you
but sitting here tonight, there's not much else to do.
I thought holding it all in would somehow save my pride
but now I'm drunk, to hell with it all, tonight I'm gonna cry.
Will it help heal this hurt if I play a sad song
"Big River" would hit real hard now since you're gone,
maybe "Rainy Night in Georgia" or "You Don't Love Me Anymore"
could end what you started when you walked out that door.
What if I reread some of your old love letters,
will they m
SherlockianThisSherlockian2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
HomeHe calls meHome3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am already there
Hands bring me up
I could have drowned in
writing the pages
Uneven cracked shattered bent
Home they say
Well then I say
calls to me
in mortal hands
When Darkness FallsDean entered the courtyard and stopped dead in his tracks. He had known exactly what he was going to see but that didn't make it hurt any less. "Sammy," he whispered brokenly. The tall figure in the white suit turned to face him, sending a sharp spike of pain through Dean's heart. It looked like Sammy, it moved like Sammy, it even had floppy emo hair like Sammy, but he was anything but.When Darkness Falls3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Sorry Dean. Little bro isn't home," Lucifer said with a cold, malicious smile. "But I'll be sure to pass along a message if you like."
"Shut the fuck up," Dean growled, gaining some of his confidence back. This was an abomination that just shared his brothers face, he had to remember that.
"Now, now, Dean, is that any way to talk to me?"
"I said shut the fuck up," he ground out, jaw clenched tightly in anger.
Sammy - no, Lucifer - smiled and took a few steps towards Dean. "Are you here to kill me, Dean? B
will.i.will.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i will not grant you pretty words
though they burn in my veins
and force me to breathe,
as if my fey-child scripture
ever could withstand you
and the scars you carved in my DNA.
they breed in my throat,
a transcendental code sacrosanct
as the prayers you whisper,
and the vows you took in obligation
only to hide your transgression
(twenty-six years, three months, twenty days)
and write in me the fear
of being erased.
so maybe you can't understand
how i made myself not hate you
when i thought you would die
just in case
i want to throw my fury
at your feeble body and
like zeus to your cronus
though i've always been cast
as hermes instead
for every second i've stared myself down
just to prove the balance of genetics
lies not in your favour
teaching myself to drive stick
so i could run farther
from who you wanted me to be
the six year old boy
with a near-perfect sketch
(but it wasn't
There's something of the cold There is something of the cold which wraps usThere's something of the cold 2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Warm, the way ice lines the panes, blows and throws
Itself against a house at night, the snows
That burry light and landscape, car and bus
Inert and wasting wayside, bright furnace
Fuming long after all are sleeping, nose
Exposed bare to the air, still chilled, the toes
Tucked tight to the knees, attaining status
Of the bear, who slumbers down deep and low
Breathing the rank of bear smell, under ground,
The weight of earth and rock, the sting of bees
Numb on the quivering nose, with the echo
Of moaning wind outside - inside, the sound
Of moaning hive, and wind in summer trees.
L'Homme du TrainL'Homme du Train3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Le wagon brinquebalait paisiblement sur ses rails, entraîné par la locomotive qui klaxonna; le bruit soudain, retentissant, de l'avertisseur tira un homme de sa torpeur. Cet homme se redressa, s'étira, en jetant un coup d'il par la fenêtre de son compartiment vide. Il ne vit rien d'autre que son reflet chiffonné de sommeil et celui des lampes à l'éclat usé de la cabine comme dans un sinistre miroir rayé. Le train sembla alors jaillir hors du ventre de la terre ; les parois ne lui renvoyaient plus l'écho de ses renâclements métalliques et d'autres points de lumière apparurent, par la vitre, dans le lointain de l'océan de noirceur qui s'étendait sous les yeux de l'homme.
Dehors, il faisait nuit.
Combien de temps avait-il dormi, il ne le savait pas. Avait-il raté son arrêt, une correspondance ? Cela non plus, il ne le savait pas et en fait, il ne se souvenait même plus être monté dans
Through the Blue-Green HazeI am always looking up. One arm is raised in an arc above my head and the other rests in a half circle down by my hips. My face is fixed in an expression of grace and a hint of pride. Straight hair falls around my shoulders and tiny sea creatures are carved onto its surface. My hips flow into the shapeless form of an elegant evening dress, replacing what could have been my legs.Through the Blue-Green Haze6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Colourful fish swim to and fro, startled by sudden movement and sound. They shimmer in the sun's light, casting tiny dancing patterns across the ocean. When they swim above my head all I can see are shadows. Dancing, twisting, turning shadows that play in this cool curtain of water.
Boats of all sorts float by, keeping the sun's rays from touching my skin. I see massive cargo ships that pass by in a cacophony of sound. I see sail boats that float by carried by a breeze. I see fishing trolleys with their hanging nets casting criss-cross shadows across the ocean floor. I see all this because I am always looking u
If you give in, they winIf you give in, they win:If you give in, they win2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
There ain't no one in the world who can decide your limit,
Cause if you're playing this game, then you're playin' to win it.
I don't believe in the words of the hopeless and dry;
These wings are born full of freedom and they're achin' to fly.
I don't care if the world gives me scars on my back,
Cause I will wear them with pride over a suit that is black.
I am the heaven and the hell and I'll make you believe it;
I am an angel and a demon and I swear that you'll feel it.
Cause I ain't never gonna give in - never say die.
Until the moment that I am ash I will always have tried.
Until the very last minute, when the skies are grey,
You see it raining black lightning but I'll never go astray.
Because the path is before me; it's laden with dirt,
But I will trudge across the mud to the heart of the earth.
I am the core of what makes you; the drill that'll breakthrough,
So follow if you feel me cause I'm comin' right at you.
Your attitudes are made from a bo
DutyCold MoonDuty1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
I leave the realm of sleep to be greeted by the winter cold and my grumbling stomach.
It’s been over a week since I last ate anything… and even then it was just some mushrooms that felt as though I’d swallowed a venomous eel. I rise slowly, shake the snowflakes off of my pelt, savoring the warmth that comes from movement, blood flowing through my veins once more.
I can’t make a fire. Even if I had something more useful than my bulky, clawed hands, I don’t know how to do it. Servants always made my fires back home.
My stomach gurgles and dull pains emanate through my body like an echo inside an empty cavern. Food… always on my mind, even haunting my dreams. I remember just two moons ago, back when it was still fall, the harvest season. Drink overflowed from full cups, food tumbled to the floor to be eaten by hounds for lack of table space, fires burned day and night, and all was right with th
Black and Blue PleasureBlack and Blue Pleasure11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I sleep more just to dream of your smile
with perfection so utterly amazing
and an air of mystery that leaves me speechless.
Countless nights were spent crying
with your beautiful face on my mind
and hopes that I can be what you need.
I used to love the feeling of your skin
which was smooth with the feeling of assurance.
I notice it now, bruised and battered
by the hands of the one who you love the most.
Sometimes I have no control over myself,
with crystallized tears that cease to feel.
Too strong to admit when wrong, I'm sorry.
Days have gone by without the sun rising.
Rain dripped in my heart and irritated my judgement.
I love you so much I want to cry.
I cry so much I want to love you...
Histoire d'Elbaran - 2nd AgeHistoire d'Elbaran - 2nd Age4 years ago in Settings More Like This
I - Le début du second âge fut marqué par la première manifestation des dieux en Elbaran. Ils envoyèrent des messagers sur l'île que l'on nomme, depuis leur venue, la Terre Sainte. Les Messagers prirent d'abord contact avec les quelques tribus nomades qui vivaient sur cette île, avant de se diriger vers le continent ; ils apportaient avec eux la parole de leurs dieux, à l'intention des peuples d'Elbaran. Après quelques années, tout le continent les avait entendus, et bien que certaines peuplades soient très attachées à leurs traditions et leurs religions, les cultes originels d'Elbaran finirent par être adaptés, réformés, parfois dissous. Peu après, on bâtit les premiers temples à la gloire de chaque dieu, et les Messagers eux-mêmes formèrent les premiers prêtres. Ces grands changements de croyances provoquèrent quelques instabilités, quelques tensi
Histoire d'Elbaran - 1er AgeHistoire d'Elbaran - 1er Age4 years ago in Settings More Like This
L'Histoire d'Elbaran est composée de trois âges différents, le dernier étant son apogée, l'ère de l'Empire. Chacun de ces trois âges traite d'une époque et de sujets bien précis, structurant le monde de ReDream.
Le premier âge commence avec l'apparition des races douées de conscience en Elbaran. La toute première fut celle des elfes Danahans ; de haute taille, montés sur des sabots et portant des cornes sur la tête, aussi attachés à leurs traditions qu'à leurs terres. A leur suite, les humains Aryades, doués de leurs mains, courageux et persévérants, capables en quelques siècles de façonner le monde selon leur volonté. Puis vinrent les Nains, calmes, préférant s'effacer du reste du monde pour ne pas en subir les perturbations, qui s'en allèrent vivre à l'écart de tout autre peuple. Chacun d'entre eux vécurent d'abord isol&
Andra and the Plague DoctorThe air was wet and heavy and it stuck in her throat; she thought of the smell of rotting gardens and coughed until scarlet blood hung from her lips and stained the moss beneath her cheek. She couldn't groan, couldn't even voice the pain. And her body was too dry for crying. All Andra could do was lay crumpled, her very self fighting her with the sickness that tore through her insides like a lash, the last vestiges of her strength being fed to her twitching limbs for shaking and spasming.Andra and the Plague Doctor3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
There were ants crawling over her fingertips. Flies at her mouth, the corners of her eyes. She shifted her head, weakly, desperate to drive them off while she still had life in her, but the creatures were impatient. They swarmed back again. It wouldn't be long, now.
Andra thought of her mother, who wept as she pushed her out the door. Her father, gray and still on the bed and set to be burned. Master Thomas was dead in his home. Father Calton, huddled in his church and praying for mercy. The bells wer
DeceptiveDeceptive2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Tempting with beautiful wings;
-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th January 2013
.+.Ode to Emo.+..+.Ode to Emo.+.10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
.+. Ode to Emo .+.
Of course I believe you, dear.
Those scratches along your wrists?
The ones that aren't deep enough to bleed?
I know, dear, I know.
You say your suffering builds.
And claws your bruised and oh so battered soul.
What's that, you say, dear?
You've failed at life!
And you don't fit in?
Dear, you'll find comfort away from
The black hair swept across your forehead
And thick black-rimmed glasses
Through which you see your world fall apart at the seams.
The beaten up shoes that you've walked through hardships in.
The sad lonely songs.
Your salvation, dear, will lie in
The thought that you'll fit in with the others.
The others like you, dear.
There are more like you, dear.
Let us feel our sympathy and pray this makes you happy, dear.
I know it scares me to death.
The Ballad of Red Riding HoodThe Ballad of Red Riding HoodThe Ballad of Red Riding Hood8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Deep inside the forest,
Along the Appalachian Ridge,
High above Rob Shuman's farm;
And past the Parker's Bridge;
They say you'll find a cabin
Where a hermit woman lives.
They say that once upon a time,
Not so long ago,
She lived alone with just her Ma,
In a house in Nell's Hollow;
And wore a fancy riding hood,
As soft and white as snow.
She was a small and lively girl
And a very pretty child
With a little dimple in her cheek
That showed each time she smiled
She even had her dead Pa's eyes
That glittered grey and wild
Her Grannie lived up in the hills,
In a cabin in the wood.
The girl often came to see her,
Dressed in her white riding hood,
To bring her Grannie cakes and tea,
When her health was not so good.
For each full moon her Grannie
Went outside at night;
Stood out in the dark and cold,
Her grey eyes glowing bright;
She changed from a woman to a wolf,
And roamed until first light.
And so the girl was sent to help her
Until the moon's demise,
The StruggleThe Struggle11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
There was a time in my life where you were my everything.
Angels with one half wing and the other just a little too beaten.
Cheery hellos and tearful goodbyes could never get me.
I couldn't stay where the hatred would force itself to the outside.
This isn't like myself, I don't do this.
People of my past told me there's a time and place for all things.
You caught me at the wrong time, in a place I didn't want to be.
The sun rose and set with your name in a whisper,
dawn and dusk came and went with your face still with me.
I...can't... love you again.
A point where love becomes sacrifice, sacrifice becomes desperation.
Desperation told me to let you go, each day I kept falling more.
With dreams reoccuring of your love I never felt was for me,
I decided to leave, against the will of myself and yours.
Why did you let me do this...
There was a time in my life where you were my everything.
Tears on my pillow froze and cracked as ice.
A heart not quite broken struggles h
WingsIcarus eats his breakfast in front of the TV.Wings4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Balances his Wheaties on a butter knife
Big and strong on jagged silver cliffs.
On cloudy days, he watches fireflies
Blinking in Morse Code,
Hollering help to the tree sap they're trapped in.
He scoops ladybugs up in the crook of his elbow
To count their spots backwards,
To ask them where they've been.
He doesn't understand the morning news.
He feels it like a nosebleed,
Like a thick intrusion,
And when the worry clots on his lip, he trembles.
He says, "Papa, I wanna paint the world for you,
But it just won't sit still"
Icarus doesn't want to be in charge of hiding the universe from itself.
He's sick of kicking people out of his clubhouse.
He's got sixteen feet of imagination
Wrapped around the war monsters in his closet,
But he still can't imagine why the quiet is so tragic.
He can't figure out why he's got to hold his own hand
On the subway.
See, Icarus watches the world like an opera in ancient Greek:
He feels the words but he can
A little bit drunk"I can drive him home if you're too tired" Finn suggested, helping Kurt get a really drunk Blaine up stairsA little bit drunk3 years ago in Humor More Like This
"Thanks, but there's no need" Kurt said, opening the door of his room and letting Blaine in "He will stay here"
"I don't think is a good idea, Burt will piss off" Finn said, looking how Blaine started playing with Kurt's products "I can drive him home"
"No need" Kurt repeated with a smile "There's no one in his home and he lives three hours away" he sighed "That's why he stays in Dalton"
"Oh well, goodnight then" Finn said, chuckling as Blaine put the bed sheets on his shoulders and started running in circles.
"Night Finn" Kurt closed the door and turned just to see his best friend aka crush, fell down and started laughing, a little smile formed in his face.
"You have a lot of things there" the drunk boy said, pointing at Kurt's products "It's like Ariel's collection" he added giggling and standing up with great effort "look at this stuf
A Night at Pinetop's TavernSomewhere in the back alleys of the city's older section there was a crumbling brick building that had been around since before ragtime music was popular. Hanging above a faded green door that led down to the building's cellar was a wooden sign, and despite the peeling paint, you could still make out the bar's name: Pinetop's Tavern. Nobody really knew when Pinetop's first opened; local folks would tell you it had been there since time began, and the world had grown up around it. It was one of those places where the lighting was always dim and the cigarette smoke never dissipated and the cloud you were breathing now had probably been around since W. C. Handy was still alive.A Night at Pinetop's Tavern2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Pinetop's Tavern was a blues joint, and it had been around almost as long as blues music itself. Blues music was a lot simpler than most kinds of musicsimpler chords, simpler lyrics, and most blues musicians couldn't read sheet music. The genre was born on some unknown plantation in the forgotten Deep
Guide - realistic dictatorI've noticed a trend of having dictator/world-ruler/people in a position of power characters. Normally, I find these types of characters fascinating - I love hearing the minutiae of how they keep their regime in control, the cults of personality they develop, their rise and their fall ... it's one of the reasons I love 1984 so much; is Big Brother real? Did he even exist in the first place? Who is the real leader of Oceania? Unfortunately, I've begun to see it addressed shoddily and without much thought, so I decided to make a guide of sorts (more like a glorified checklist) for anyone who is curious on how to develop their dictatorial character, and to make them realistic.Guide - realistic dictator4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
1. Why do they want power?
I have seen this written away with, "because they want to control everyone", which is true to an extent with many historical figures who were dictators, and also fictional characters. However, this often goes much deeper than "wanting to control everyone" or "they're mad, I tell you! MAD!"