360 Blind Eyes360° Blind Eyes360 Blind Eyes3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Those street corner pharmacies don't bother me...
cooking up that crack...
serving that black...
caramelizing those apples...
crystallizing that meth...
but at least it's not my kitchen...
He's Robin Hood...
on the level that Hollywood...
would be in contention...
terrorizing the scene...
mad scientist splicing the genes...
with killing machines...
but at least it's not my dimension...
They combine these positions...
with Columbine vision...
plus out-of-mind conditions...
lead to out-of-body renditions...
a suicidal homicide mission...
but at least it's not my decision...
and it's not my problem...
not my solution...
not my blood...
so it's not my ablution...
not my business...
not my institution...
it's not my crime...
so it's not my execution...
You know it's not my world...
these are not my people...
they are not my equals...
this is not my power...
this is not my evil...
this is not my chase...
they are not my steeples...
this is not my realm...
The Despicable Gru FamilyA/NThe Despicable Gru Family4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I really identify with Despicable Me, especially the girls situation. Around the time this movie was in theaters, I met my step dad. My biological father and I are estranged and when I knew him, I wasn't proud to call him my father. I consider my stepfather my actual dad. My step(up)father is no super villain, but is just as kooky!
Changes. August, three and a half months after the end of Despicable Me.
Margo and Edith never liked the first day of school. When they walked into their respective schools on the first day in old clothes, everyone had a look of pity on their face. They were the orphans. Agnes lucked out, this new school year would be her first.
This new school was going to be different. Early that summer, they were adopted and after a rocky start, they finally had a real home. They were adopted be a six foot, four inch tall man with a shaved head and thick accent that c
The Big FourI am frost, I am cold,The Big Four2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Always playful, Always bold.
I am dreams, I am hope,
Sing to heal, Sing to cope,
I am different, I am change,
Friend of dragons, friend of strange,
I am fated, I am brave,
Fight for freedom, fight to save,
We are friendship at our core,
When together we are more.
We bring balance to every shore,
Together we are The Big Four.
Disorder.I am the girl who you abandonedDisorder.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Around the sadistic crowd of hate
I have never forgotten your words
Your tongue is mine to take
I am the girl you shoved out of your way
Three long years ago; an event you have forgotten
I relieve the pain every night
And plan to push you into Hell
I am the girl whose hair you pulled
Whose locks you ripped and stole
I will tear apart your hope
I will devour your soul
I am the girl you let be beaten
The one left in the acid rain
Your turning back is engraved upon my mind
My grievance undying until it's painted red
I am the girl you laughed at
The one crying, holding the scar on her wrist
You are the one that tore open my skin
The knife hidden reserved for you
I am disorder
I am paranoia and narcissism
I am depression and anxiety
I am the plague of suicide
I am the girl who lives beside you
In a house of drugs and smoke
I am the girl who sits in front of you
In school, where eyes come to scorn
I am the gun on your temple,
The blade on your thigh,
The childrenWe are the children of the war and the fightThe children2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
We are the children of bad dreams at night
We are the children of missiles and bombs
We are the children of blood on our palms
We are the children of anger and hate
We are the children who can't choose their fate
We are the children of guns and distruction
Little lone soldiers that are born to malfunction
She wrote of love on bathroom stallsThere’s something raw and organicShe wrote of love on bathroom stalls1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
About the way the human body
Arches and flexes and quivers
In the quiet darkness
Where pants and gasps
Fill the air with a charged pulse
The way the arms curve around the neck
And the flesh pulls against the skin
Taut, bend, flex
There is something honest
About the way
The body does not lie
The toes curl and the hips sway
When the silence is met like a lover
It’s just so fucking real, you know?
The shapes, the curves
Convex, concave then convex
The smearing of the lips
And resistance of the flesh
Whether they be between bed sheets or parked cars
The body lies writhing
The pulse, the sweat and curve of the waist
These are not the musings of the body
But the manifestations of the soul
jillianshe's eight.jillian1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the girl never stops moving,
climbing the tarnished metal
of the jungle gym
wildly, limbs swinging,
with a childhood joy
I shed when I passed
the port of twelve,
she is knotted curls,
long silken hair
with infant-blond ends.
her fingers grab
her doll with the frizzy hair
and painted face,
and she's eager to win
I am old enough
that she will not last this way,
that she will grow,
as all children do.
every time I see her,
she grows a little taller.
she no longer likes Dora,
and I guess she thinks
is too babyish now.
she will abandon her dolls
leave her coloring books
for boyfriends and college and
but right now,
her world is simple:
days in school, coloring pictures,
nights at home,
nibbling dinners and
playing with her toys.
tocophobia.the world of pregnancy and childbirthtocophobia.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
has been boiled down to the white,
neurologically healthy babies
in pink and blue knit caps.
“that one,” says the tearful father.
“she’s beautiful,” says the nurse
while the mother rests.
but why is it
that the default image of motherhood
is a white middle-class couple with a picket fence
and a golden retriever?
let’s postpone that cruise to the caribbean
and make a baby.”
what about the prostitutes
who get pregnant?
what about the girls in africa
who carry their rapist’s babies?
what about the babies left on the firehouse steps?
what about the welfare mothers
because they can’t pay the hospital fees?
who have heroin tracks on their arms
(like stitches that can’t hold them together)
where the patient bracelet is snapped on?
what about the 500,000 american children
waiting to get adopted?
what about miscarriages and women
who can never have kids?
we preach for the
broken bonesI want to write rough and raw and unbearablebroken bones2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the way cigarettes taste at midnight
to a tired atheist knocking on a locked church door
wondering whether to pray or scream
I want to write cold and brutal and honest
like fog-choked dawns on unfamiliar city streets
when the silence presses behind your eyelids
and breathing feels like blasphemy
I want to write like the midnight air that burns the back of your throat
like cold fury and boiling hatred
like the panic that eats into bone marrow
the fear that runs prickling fingers down twisted spines
I want to write of you and me and everything
pin the stars behind my eyelids into letters to no one
I want to scar you with unspun metaphor
To write until my hands shake
until I break myself with honesty
until I empty myself or
until my wrist
we linger in places we're not supposed toI'd like to get underneath your skin the way you got under mine andwe linger in places we're not supposed to3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
leave a whisper inside of your head that gets louder the longer you're
quiet. I wish I could leave a puddle, nestled in the valleys of your
chest cavity, that you feel when you breathe, and you choke on a little
bit each time you add to it yourself.
I want to be the alcohol on your lips, so I could slip down your throat
and nestle on the edge of your collarbone.
I'd listen to the irregular hum of your heartbeat and maybe knit
patterns from your veins. I've watched you drink the burning liquid,
and I've seen your face wince
at the sting as its forced down into your body.
it leaves your veins tangled and its a pattern I don't know how to unwind.
sometimes when I'm home alone I try to get you out,
I get into the shower and wash you off of me. your sweat and
semen and saliva slowly crawling down my legs to circle away between my feet.
but even when I scrub my skin until it's red I can still feel you
when I get into bed alo
for holden caulfieldwhen i was sixteen years oldfor holden caulfield2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
holden's words were echoed to me, ironically
in a voice not his own. phoney, he'd call it,
but as my literature teacher would say 'reading aloud'
but too softly
too kindly for the room, nineteen of us
all with bored, hooded eyes -
and wouldn't he just hate us?
the boy awkwardly ruffling his hair and turning to
his reflection in shiny glass, smoothing more strands
and the girl whispering and the one next to
her pretending to listen, smacking gum
and me, tracing words with my pupils
doodling stars and clouds on scrap paper
'what do you think of holden?'
'he's weird', 'he's right, i guess?'
but i pity caulfield.
and if i could travel back in time and
scoop up all of holden's baby teeth and
tie them in a little necklace and wrap them around
his neck, i would, and if i could tell
holden caulfield that childhood and cigarettes
are the same: both end.
but it is up to you what you do afterwards
and if you choose to grind it in the ground, do so,
and if you choose t
People are not medicineI will thaw out myPeople are not medicine1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
frozen ice box of a chest
I will pump and resurrect
the dead tissues
so I can write about you
I will write about your
drug store Romeo smile
and the way you
hold your hands behind
your head like its the only
thing that will stop it
from rolling off your shoulders
I will write about the way
your eyes crinkle in the corners
and the way your dimples are uneven
when you laugh
I will write about the
tiny vampire footprints
you leave on my skin at night
when we're sat outside
on the sidewalk
contemplating Aristotle and Cobain
Like bleary eyed philosophers
I will write about the way
your fingers flex when you're excited
and how your knee
jitters when you're nervous
and how you like
because they're so much more
than movie theatres and shopping malls
I will write about you
until I run out of words
and I'm sorry
I'm not poetic enough
to cover the breadth of
your firecracker soul
but I hope you know
this is the best
I can do
and I hope
checklist of a masochistiiichecklist of a masochist2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you were an untouched sunset,
never before seen and familiar
at the same time; delicately shedding
shades of pink the same color
of your starving voice
and I was most beautiful
with my clothes off, too much skin
intersected by too many lines (never
the near parallel you longed for)
a hazy blur that made the nights
our own watercolor cliche
you were that cheap love song
that never sounded authentic,
lyrics stitched through your
paper skin; chords resonating
from your every wanting sigh
and you were surprised how much
you needed me, from the concrete solidity
of my ribs to the metaphoric indecency
of my thoughts, naked and trembling
for your callused ears (or maybe
it was just me, justifying the way
you skinned my anxious layers
with your ravenous hands,
like underfed beasts)
you were the child crying
at shadows pretending to be monsters,
running from the prospect of
god and death and gravity;
& you were the letter I never sent
"I'm done apologizing for
the person I wasn't befor
LifeLife is quite simple,Life6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
but we humans insist on
this won't end up as a suicide notethere aren’t enough momentsthis won't end up as a suicide note2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to love you, or words
in the English language to call you
beautiful. there aren’t enough
heartbeats in me to dedicate you
something you might deserve.
you can no longer lie.
a vengeful earthquake births itself inside
your unkind frame-- bones and skin and
muscle knotted together as an attempt
at something durable; but when you scream,
you don’t wake up. your world
collapses in mounting seconds. words
are a currency and you are
finally rich. you have lived
in the mouths of ghosts for so long
that you can walk through walls;
you aren’t here, you’re choking
on other planets from a lack of oxygen
and understanding. but I will love you,
I will love you; dear wallflower,
your petals are not wilted. dear
anonymous, I could give you a name.
dear hopeless, there are not enough words
in the English language for how beautiful
you really are.
Greenwich Mean Time is a liarIn the mornings, while I yawn andGreenwich Mean Time is a liar5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
pour cereal singing into a bowl, you
yawn and turn in bed, the evening
settling like snowfall, thick and heavy
outside your window. Here the sun rises,
there it sets, we exist at opposite ends
of the days, sending our postcard promises
with the cycle of the moon. In the afternoons
I walk along the beach and the tides pool in
with your slumbering sighs, like the oceans
are your lungs, filling and deflating with a
white-wash rumble. The birds chorus the dawn
and the gulls hang suspended in a waning day
and I think of the clattering wind-chimes behind me
as your cereal hitting the bowl, the odd piece
scattered on the countertop, your bleary eyes
never noticing. In the evenings, I push the sun
down below the mountains, to sit high up in your
cerulean skies, you pack up the stars and mail them
to me, and they pinprick the dusk as if you threw them
up like confetti. You glance at the time zones on your
phone, and wish me goodnight as I wish you a good day
Tell MeTell meTell Me2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
if you miss me,
can feel my absence
like a piece of yourself
has fallen away,
like a chunk of your being
and only I can replace it.
if your eyes wander
to the empty spaces
that I once filled
with a sense,
with an ache of longing,
to be near me once more,
and once more,
and once more again.
if your nights are haunted
by the phantoms
of my touch,
of my eyes and my voice,
of my kiss
and of the beauty
of you and I.
Do you ever yearn for me
that you can feel it in every limb,
deep inside your stomach,
do the screams
of your livid, red heart
for hours on end
and leave you begging
for the next moment we come together?
if you believe in fate,
the probability of a soulmate,
of a natural design
that makes your everything
so beautifully with mine.
if your hunger rivals mine,
if your dreams
are identical to my own,
if your urges
the way that mine are all
sleep tightThere are dreamscapes,sleep tight1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
vast blank planes that unfurl
in the night to greet me.
They roll off my tongue - like
the lies I used to tell you -
and dribble down my chin,
collecting in the hollow of my throat.
I am swaddled wholly by them,
need no coddling but their
You roam my body,
grace me with your 'why me' smiles,
and grip me tighter.
runs in the family.from my fatherruns in the family.10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
i inherited cold gray eyes and
a stubborn pride;
and from my mother i received
the unwillingness to
stay and a fear
i'm sorry that i didn't pick up
the phone or
listen to your year old
messages– you should probably get
used to it.
a sliver of the galaxyto the star girl on the edge of my tongue:a sliver of the galaxy2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
your hair dye is fading; you are a patch work
quilt comprised of sleepless nights and
the world around you romanticizes
the sadness that fills you like a broken well,
but you know they’re wrong --
having a darkness that threatens
to overwhelm you every single moment
isn’t glamorous at all.
you’ve started to trace your skin
with a knife again, itching to press
a little harder, to draw on your body
the only way you know how.
but you won’t.
because that will mean
that you’re just as far gone
as they think you are.
and there’s still a sliver inside of you
that doesn’t want to let go.
--the girl on the other side of your mirror
radiantI amradiant1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
unrealistic ideologies of an
are toxic; breathing
is a chore. there is
a careful warmth in the
combined effort of
we are the forgotten.
we are the tangled limbs
and childhood stories for
a more sensitive future; we
are the longing, we are
we are measured
in the people we touch;
and I will love you
in the UV light of
hide and seek paranoia.
I love you in the red shimmer
of harbored dreams, I love you
in the industrial gl
everything I'm becomingtwo weeks until the end of the world,everything I'm becoming2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and i’m busy stockpiling all my regrets,
writing letters to flaws i don’t care
to fix, and trying to learn to draw
infinity. it’s time for two truths and a lie:
1. i was drunk for an hour on
good vibes and loneliness and
that quote “from the moment we
are born we begin to die”
2. and god, Bianca, you still show up
in my dreams; glaze-eyed and
more vocal than you ever were
when you were half-alive
1. (how close i came to arctic happiness
when you froze in my mind,
snowflake breath lingering like
the soundtrack of my breakdown)
now, she tells me she is sick
of the clothes stretched tight like
a second skin, and the gaping silences
between her ribs, and the singsong
unimportance glazing over her
hollywood-hangover eyes. she blossoms
like an earthquake, finally
growing into the goosebumps
and hollow bones her father
gave her-- i want to cure the world,
use a freeze ray to halt time
and kiss every empty wound;
Jealous FuryI'm aware of this frustration,Jealous Fury3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hidden beneath my skin,
Muscles have become tense,
This poison kills the peace within,
It has broken the cage,
Unlocking my feral rage.
No one else sees the gauge,
But I experience the pressure rise,
My mouth won't always speak,
But the message burns in my eyes,
Like words carved into slate,
The permanence is just like my hate.
It's something that has grown,
Giving birth to feelings so vile,
I've got this monster in me,
Fed by fuel built up for a while,
Of this I have no doubt,
Part of me just wants to lash out.
Over time the red plays it's part,
Nurturing the darkness inside,
Why should I have to be calm,
When the dam has been opened wide,
These feelings I do not plan,
But I'm ever the jealous man.
No one should mess with my heart,
I guard it with ravenous flame,
Meant to defend what is mine,
Those who attack have themselves to blame,
Warning signs aren't an act,
Those who press on deserve impact.