SyriaA never seen tear on the children cheekSyria2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The little hand has given up to wipe it away
There were all to many
Now the little bloodstained hand has to pull a trigger
Now the little eye has to close
Cause the little nose has smelled poison
A mother sits at the roadside
Crying her soul off
Blindly throwing stones on someone...
...On someone hopeless with a gun
On which side is he?
Doesn't matter, he is afraid and shoots her down
We are a thousand miles away
We hear her dying pulse
We talk, just talk and talk
To save our conscience
To pretend it would help
To let time pass till it's over
The man sees both lying there
The man takes his gun
And his anger grows in hate and despair
The man is twelve year young
He will be shot the next day
While we are talking
His mother will be in a blue funk
We don't care, we are to busy in talking.
But I do care!
"Rasta chick!""Rasta chick!""Rasta chick!"3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I've chosen to wear my hair this way
but strangers tend to put me in a box
of getting down and getting high
one more teen with blurry eyes shoutin' about
"Jah love for InI."
Yes I have dreadlocks,
I like reggae, and I like Jah,
but see to me it's just hair and music
and another name for the same God
worshiped by Jews, Muslims, and Christians
part of Abrahamic tradition
this religion now mostly appropriated
by youth as an excuse
to smoke pot.
Which is not my style,
because if you think about it it's like chanting "Baruch atah Adonai"
in order to eat latkes,
or thinking that a love of lamb dinner is cause
to become Greek Orthodox.
But last I checked faith wasn't a product of your tastebuds
and a taste for bud wasn't a mandate for conversion
and I can state for a fact
that not combing your hair is possible without drugs.
It just takes a little courage
to be fourteen and say, "I can be who I am
without hiding behind some cultural precedent I
Final WordsReally, must I do everything myself?Final Words2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
set me on firethis feels like aset me on fire2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
though I know it’s
only a beginning;
like dead leaves
floating to the ground,
only to appear,
at the beginning of
a new season.
and sometimes I can’t
keep my eyes off your face,
but other times I’m afraid
to look, in case
you’ll see how happy
I get around you.
closerTell me about you, and I'llcloser2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fill up these thin pages with
Hastily scrawled ink lines.
Tell me about your childhood;
It must be, certainly,
More interesting than anything
I could write on my own.
Tell me about your thoughts,
Your secrets, your fears,
And release a small piece of
You that's seldom seen.
Maybe then we'll become
Closer, but I can't
Say for sure.
The skeleton in my closetI hid the skeleton of the herald of the Almighty in my closetThe skeleton in my closet2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I stacked the washed-out bones on the white oak shelves
and stuffed his message in empty pickle jars
The holy feathers I kept though
Someday I will weave them in a new crown
I hope the Lord won't be mad I didn't choose thorns
but I want a headdress that has never been worn
The SketchHe loses his first kiss in autumn. He's twelve, she's just turned thirteen, and at the time he isn't sure what all the fuss is about but knows how special it is anyway.The Sketch3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She's gorgeous, pale-skin, brown hair, dark eyes always filled with happiness and joy the way he wishes he could be. She doesn't want to be there any more than he does, and they grouse to each other about how they don't need a 'special school.' It's the first time he's worked up the courage to say it.
She carries a book too, just like his sketchbook, but she says it's a diary. It's hung with a little lock on the front and he jokes about it being the key to her heart, a little boy's poor attempt at flirting but she laughs anyway. He wants to hear that laugh again, and he does, when he shyly asks if he can draw her.
It's half-way through his sketch that she leans in and presses her soft lips to his. It's a little clumsy and awkward, given how she's standing up and he's cross-legged on the ground, and nowhere as romantic l
The Heterophobic"I'm not gay," said his boyfriend.The Heterophobic2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The extremely short storyI once heard the tale of a man who had the whole universe inside his throat.The extremely short story3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Was he a giant?" someone asked.
I thought for a second.
"No," I said. "He was a storyteller."
Dubstep"Drop the bass..."Dubstep3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
self-hatred isn't beautiful, but she isand i can't fucking talk to herself-hatred isn't beautiful, but she is1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
because her laughter
is like birdsong, but prettier
and her smile is sunlight
and my name on her lips is a melody
i am nothing but cracked lips,
a tired smile, wilting flowers,
and 3 a.m. excuses for poems,
one mistake after another,
and i know she could fall for me,
but she won't,
because no one ever does.
Words like wingsI caught a bird, the other day. Opened my window, leaned out, and there it was, right in front of me. Almost like it wanted to be grabbed. Strange little thing, all bones and breath and that frightened heartbeat thudding against my fingers - and warm, warm as blood.Words like wings2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I cradled it in my hands and, fingers cupped tight around it, pulled my arms back in and tugged the window closed with my elbow. Not locked, mind you - just closed enough it wouldn't fly away the moment I let it go. Not before I'd had a chance to look at it, anyway.
I sat down, back against the wall. Opened my hands.
The bird stood there, balanced on the platform of my overlapping palms, tilted its head on one side and looked at me.
I looked back. It was a strange kind of a bird, all told - unblinking little black eyes, red-tipped claws, and feathers that, once I looked closer, looked more than a little odd.
It tilted its head to the other side, eye fixed on my face. Hopped closer on my palms. Spread its wings
Drinking parents adviceSober toddlers can't drive you home.Drinking parents advice3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
:: Lonely Consequence ::Forgive and forget...:: Lonely Consequence ::2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Regret. . .
DecisionsAnnette was a revolting woman, always wearing tight clothes despite her obvious overweight figure. It was worse when she had her cleavage showing and her face was painted up and her hair curled and sprayed. She had horrible skin, red and blistered from too many days exposed in the sun at a young age. Her nails were always bitten down, too. But nothing was as bad as her voice, screeching all the time like the currawongs at five in the morning.Decisions3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Claudia, her daughter, resented every inch of Annette. Annette was fond of hurting her daughter. The verbal insults always hurt more than the beatings. A mental tear that time could never mend. Not saying the beatings and the physical assaults ever hurt. They created fear more than anything.
Despite all these obvious signs of resentment towards her daughter, she fought hard in Court for custody over her daughter. Why? Well, it meant that her goddamn asshole of a father was defeated by the brilliant mind of Annette. It meant that it would be