TreatyThe long warTreaty1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Between the heart and brain
A treaty has been signed.
Bringing harmony between self
We call it poetry.
Untitledhave you everUntitled2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
asked yourself if
a daisy ever wonders
why it can't be a
AliveThey saidAlive1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
There was a storm coming
They said lightnings would
Rule over the sky
And dark rainy clouds
Would cover the atmosphere
Doors and windows
I was alone
Admiring nature's rage
The raindrops fell down on me
The wind playfully blew around me
The sun could not pierce the clouds anymore
But suddenly it made me feel
The Dream of Returning HomeThe Dream of Returning Home7 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Clay carefully tucked the silver necklace and St Jude medal under his shirt. It'd fallen out when Luke landed a nice right cross and nearly put Clay on the ground. But he'd recovered quicker than Luke ever thought he would and capitalized on the surprise with an upper cut that left Luke laid out. It took three of their crew to carry him to the medical bay. Clay had walked and patiently waited to be attended to for his injuries.
He'd only had a moment to glance out the window and see the small dot of light that was his home before Crash was sitting down in front of him and asking why he'd picked another fight. “I was bored.”
“Most people have hobbies for when they're bored.” Crash pulled a fresh kit out and opened the package so he could clean the open wounds on Clay's face.
“Fighting is my hobby.” Clay smirked at the look Crash gave him. “What?”
“Sometimes, I don't think you'll ever learn.
SpeedWhen I typeSpeed8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I misspell some words
Because my thoughts
Are faster than my fingers
This Passes As PoetrySometimes I feel,This Passes As Poetry1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
A particular feeling.
It fills me with feely feels,
And that makes me want to die.
Or maybe cry, or sigh,
Or maybe I'll just lie.
And pass this off as actual poetry...
expired warningsI hate to break it to you but we're all betting on the day whenexpired warnings3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your nightmares will swallow you whole and you won't
remember how to open your eyes. we forget your voice,
it broke and no one buried the pieces. we're giving you up:
secessions (your ribcage is a civil war, your heart is the victim.
there will be no memorial; there are only red flags)
obsessions pick your bones dry, vulture needs, vulgar
mortality argues at least you're not alive
at least you can't see us anymore, counting the knots
in your neck and catastrophes in your mouth. in
your summer cage you were a soggy butterfly bearing
a cumbersome cross. now, we leave you naked and
seizuring on winter's doorstep as the little lamb who
never loved enough.
they haven't paid you for the dreams you pawned years ago
in exchange for a little sleep, no, they tied more rocks to your
ankles and begged you to fly - they said they traded your
misformed hopes for something a bit more fitting, a solid
dose of reality with a hint of self-h
SwordAndLegend, Episode 1, Simpler DaysSwordAndLegend, Episode 1, Simpler Days4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
YouTube channel: Sword and Legend
Video: Introduction & Vampires
(Camera opens to the smirking face of a young woman with straight black hair, slightly dark make-up wearing an Avenged Sevenfold shirt. She's sitting on a bar stool across from her kitchen counter, which overlooks the wide angled TV room. To her right is a picture window, adjacent to that is a sliding screen door that opens to a small side yard It's a bright, sunny day, and she's completely alone.)
Mal: What's up, YouTubers? Call me Mal. I live in beautiful Northern California and it's a beautiful day out today.
Mal: (puts her head to the counter rather hard and groans in exasperation)
(Edit cut, the windows in the background are closed and shaded)
Mal: (looks releived) Ah, much better.
Mal: I'm a bit of a gamer girl, so I haven't been in direct sunlight since 1990 until I moved out here to be closer to college. And this place has these huge picture windows. Don't get me wrong, the views are great, b
AngelicaShe's my best friend. The one and only person who truly understands. And today, for the first time, I'm going to talk to her.Angelica3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Up until this moment there has been no need for us to speak. A friendship like ours goes much deeper than a few laced-together syllables can ever express. It's as though we are connected by an invisible thread, and I feel a tingle at the base of my skull every time I see her, as if her soul is tugging at mine.
And I know she feels it too.
Her name is Angelicawhich suits her perfectly because everything about her is angelic. I can still recall the first time I saw her. It was September 18th, 8:27am, six months, four days, and three hours ago. The halls of Arlington High School were thick with students and teachers alike, bodies pressing past one another, never really going anywhere. I pushed my way through the crowd, ducking my head slightly as I bumped a shoulder here and there, the noise weighing down on me as I tried to get to class.
That's when I saw An
AfterIt follows me.After3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My silver skeined ghost.
An almost imperceptible thread;
only visible when you shine light
directly upon it.
It follows me.
It rides the underground.
It hides under bridges,
It is woven into the spools of tar
that form the roads between.
Inevitably if I walk too fast
it reminds me -
Like the tug of stitches in your cheek
that reminds you; you have lost your wisdom.
It reminds me.
It trips me in doorways,
when my mind is elsewhere.
If I look away from it -
- it slips round my neck.
Another knot to throw over the beams
it mauls me without a fair chance.
I tried to sever it. I can't.
Only the corrosion of time has a chance.
So for now, I am tethered
to the fragment of my heart
that I tore out for you.
Although we have placed it in a shroud
and declared it dead,
the umbilical thrumming keeps me awake.
It does not desist;
the connection to that unwanted slab of meat.
Pain is almost sexyThere is a beautiful kind of pain.Pain is almost sexy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The electrifying kind that jolts you awake
like a dose from a defibrillator or one too many shots of caffeine;
the soothing kind you clutch to your chest like a child would his teddy;
the kind that mutters soothing words into your hair and holds you as a mother might.
(a pain like flushing your mind through a blender,
turning it into chicken feed,
And bleeding the world though your soul)
I'm addicted to it -
to chewing the world apart like scrap paper through a shredder -
I want to live it, hold it, marry it, taste it, be it;
Come home each night to find it waiting for me in the bathtub,
soaking me in its acid,
making love to me like an abusive husband on Satan's blood.
Agony is sugar-coated, wrapped in silk and duty-free;
it licks through your skin and bleeds its impurities.
Bloodletting was used to purge evils
and I am old-fashioned.
There is a beautiful kind of pain,
and I'm too afraid to let it go.
Andorra's lullabyMy little warriorAndorra's lullaby4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Stay brave and strong
Love will keep you safe,
And lead you back home.
My little warrior
Hold your head up high
Hear my words and always know
You'll never be alone.
My solo warrior
Heart beats bold and true
Marching home, the lucky few
You'll march on home to me.
Speak in Silence"Baby."Speak in Silence3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That's what he would call me: Baby.
"Baby," he'd call in his don't-wake-the-living voice.
(The knob turns and the door creeps open, the scent of him drowns the room. I stare into the splashes of darkness behind my eyelids and stay still – he has the eyes of Medusa, he is always watching, he has the eyes of Medusa, he is always – "Good girl," he coos.)
"Baby," he would moan, crushing my bony wrists beneath his forearm.
(Razor blades tear into my abdomen, or maybe it's my head. My screams are muffled against his chest, until I no longer bother to scream.)
"Baby," he'd say, his arms like prison bars, keeping me in Hell.
(Tears spill from my eyes, dragging my spirit away from my body as they pull their limp forms across the skin that is not mine. Pain like a hammer to my cheek whips my head aside, it bursts and flowers like a bud unravelling withered petals. He growls, "Stop crying! You're acting like I'm hurting you.")
"Baby," he'd warn when I'd wandered too far or too close.
Why Shota and Loli are badSomething has been weighing heavy on my mind lately; The aspect of Shotacon and Lolicon.Why Shota and Loli are bad5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Please understand while reading this that this is something that is very personal to me. And please also know that I'm just a normal person. I'm not highly educated. I'm simply an eighteen year old girl. I can't use big words and I'm not very good with manipulation.
But please also know that I'm not ignorant. And I can have opinions just the same.
I feel it is important to know that one of my parents is in law enforcement. I know a lot about criminology and psychology from discussions I've had with my highly trained and knowledgeable parent.
I would also like to make it clear that I'm a strong supporter in respect and tolerance. I belive in letting people belive and do what they want to, even if I don't agree with it. The only exception to this is if people are ge
TransgenderI.)Transgender6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
There was a time
when he had long, curly hair
to rival that of any
his father called him
"My little Princess"
but he was always a
Prince, and couldn't see
why his Mother did not
There were two times
where he went to a church
once for a Christmas service and
he couldn't understand how
"God is love," when he
had been cursed with a body
not his own -
another a few years later
when his outside
matched his inside,
but they turned him away
still claiming that
"God is love," and he
still couldn't understand
how that was possible.
There were three times
when other boys at school
followed him home cursing
every bone in his body,
calling him names, there
was one with blue eyes
who had a knife and left him
and the nurses in hospital
called him the wrong name -
at night he cried bitterly
about the world's ignorance.
There were four times
when he wondered if there
was a special heaven
for boys like him and,
hoping there was,
The BabadookTHE BABADOOKThe Babadook1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
If it's in a word
or if it's in a book,
you can't get rid
of the Babadook.
Only when the sun goes down
it appears, wearing a hat on top,
tall as a house, darker than a crow,
pale face, long arms, mighty claws.
It will try to scare you first
so you can see it
now and then
slowly crawling up your bed.
When you feel its presence near,
even if you cover your face with your sheets,
you'll be able to hear
its voice, whispering your name in your ear.
"Let me in", it will then shout,
and you must not open your mouth
or it will haunt your soul
using your own demons and ghosts.
The more you deny its existence
the stronger it will get.
It will make you an offer
you cannot reject.
It will fool you with tricks,
it will laugh and howl loads.
It will make you feel sick,
it will twist all of your thoughts.
But you must remain still,
keep your mouth tied up,
so you can use your will
to defeat it at last.
Once it comes to you again,
your inner voice you must not restrain.
DepressionI'm tired of being here,Depression11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all locked up in my head.
Every day I hear a whisper,
and I'm closer to being dead.
Something taps me on the shoulder,
something I can't fight.
When it talks in that low voice,
my eyes are shut so tight.
Once it gets to a cetain point,
and I'm still sitting on the ground,
it tells me to do things,
I'm trying to ignore the sound.
Its voice is harsh and filled with confidence,
and I can hear a hint of sorrow.
Even when it's telling me,
I won't live to see tomorrow.
I don't know what to say,
and I don't know what to do.
I'm still hearing it now,
and I'm still suffering too.
I can't tell what its weakness is,
but I know I hear some lust.
I just have to get through this,
and have no one to trust.
zeroi sworezero3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i would never number the poems
i wrote about myself because that
would be like ticking off the days
until my breakdown;
i was a moth, unapologetically throwing myself
at any gleam of hope; wasting my wings
on industrial promises
colors always felt much more
appropriate for the purple boiling
beneath my heart and the pallid
purposelessness of my head,
but i was born into a colorless world--
no one sees me behind the metallic scars
of my skin and iron grating of my voice against
the grain; no one sees me as more than
gray regret or monochrome mistakes,
no one sees me but
all i ever wanted was for a
fallen god with feathered heels
to believe in me: to pray upon
the monuments i built for
broken dreams and to baptize me
in his tainted tears,
i just want him to be real. more
than anything, i want to be real, i want
to be more than an imaginary friend
to various mental limitations; i want
to trade my liquid skin [evaporating]
for a chance to be
i am a moth and you are the lighthouse
Minotaur 1.1Death's acrid stench clung to the air around Varan. The sickly rot of infection bubbled up, oozing from his shoulder. There was nothing he could do chained to the stone wall with a guard at the door. Arrow splinters trapped in his flesh were killing him slowly.Minotaur 1.14 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
His death should have been swift on the battlefield, but instead he was ambushed while he bathed. He'd cut down seven men before the poisoned arrow made him too weak to lift his ax. The poison wasn't lethal, unfortunately. Its purpose was to render him unconscious for interrogation.
His sire, the famous Conqueror of Brundan, must be laughing from the afterlife. Even shame failed to give Varan the strength to rise or curse his luck aloud.
Infection ravaged his mind and body. Time blurred and he no longer knew how long he'd been held prisoner. He was a minotaur. A Bullman. He was stronger than any human could hope to become, but the illness made his limbs too heavy to lift rendering the chains moot. He was the Joranaham Chieftain
defeatheredand this is where we bury our hearts,defeathered3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
between self-defeating personality disorders
and burnt bridges and midnight ramblings
we promise ourselves aren’t true;
embedding our memories in forsaken homes
like it is a conscious decision to shed
our wings (reptiles don’t fly)
and maybe I am the monster of every
myth: wide-eyed and jagged toothed and
looking to regain a piece of myself the
world borrowed, many moons ago
as I falter and stumble over my own unaware
feet, wreaking havoc, reeking of self-acquittal--
all I ever wanted to do was belong.
dreams are flaws much like the hearts we
flaunt on our sleeves, and I seem to
have lent all mine away; I am
something entirely ignorant, in the dark,
believing fingers fumbling can find answers.
they never told me reflections are backwards
and the world spins the wrong way and
hurricanes are really an embodiment
of all our own withdrawals:
but one day, these walls will crumble,
and I will learn to breathe in dust.
LavenderI guess I drank too muchLavender3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in purgatory, where they
send all the dead babies
I held one – the crook of my arm
numb and shaved close to the bone –
she cried as I cradled.
I’d be your replacement
if you’ll tell me you love me.
I’d be the shallow part of your life
that no one really notices anyways,
I can be your part time mommy.
Limbo is a lot like a limp,
a little Lolita spirit with those big
doe eyes and no real feel for
the ground. Baby Girl shrieked.
I shrieked. She was quiet.
More and more come each day
and they lay there with their pink
and blue caps, their tiny fists,
I guess I was too sober
to get into Hell.
I wear that spark. Mauve
and lavender. I’m no show,
I am a purgatory mother
taking care of what’s not mine.