Maybe in the Next Life...Ten years ago I gave my heart to someone. He didn't appreciate it and he finally gave it back. I couldn't bring myself to wipe his fingerprints off of it though.Maybe in the Next Life...4 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
It's true when someone says "Love isn't always enough". I never wanted to believe it, because nothing is stronger than love...nothing. That's still true, now I just realize that strength isn't always as important as stamina.
Love is the greatest gift you could ever give someone...though sometimes people only want presents on special occasions; not every day of their lives.
I have always believed that this life isn't it. We live many lives in many forms. That's what I believe. When we said good-bye I told him "Maybe we'll get it right in the next life." Now that I can't speak to him again I wonder.......what does he believe, and will I ever have another chance to get it right with him?
The tears are trapped within my eyes, constantly blurring my vision and threatening to spill over onto my skin. I find I don't want to cry, but
SynesthesiaI fell in love with a pianist's hands.Synesthesia2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They danced across my skin in minuets, his fingers tripping cadenzas up and down my spine. He brushed sonatas through my hair and across my shoulders, pianissimo. I trembled beneath his trills. The primal, earnest rage of Bach swelled in hot crescendos along my throat, beneath my ribs, guided by his hands --- Mozart, coolly logical, raised goosebumps down my arms --- Chopin soothed the fire and finally calmed my hammering heart.
I fell in love with a pianist's hands, listening from the back of the coffee shop while my lungs fought for breath, making wishes until he was gone.
CassandraEven in death, Cassandra was lovely.Cassandra2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Her hair cascaded over her ivory shoulders in sable cataracts, pooling in the soft hollow between her breast and throat. She was wearing the white nightgown, the one she knew I loved, and the fall had thrown it up, weightless, in gossamer drifts across her legs. Her bare toes were painted salmon-pink, the same colour as the roses in the crystal vase by the door.
So elegant, my Cassandra. I might have expected that she would sprawl, as one imagines that people do when they have died suddenly, but her body refused to surrender its accustomed grace. One hand curled beside her face; the other lay, palm up, across her cocked hips, its open fingers tenderly beckoning. Her eyes were closed, peaceful, the fringe of dark lashes sooty and familiar upon her fading cheek. Her lips were parted in expectation. At any moment, she would wake, look up at me, smile. Cassandra.
My hand found the banister, gripped the aged wood and guided me down the stairs, through th
How I Became an AtheistHow I became and AtheistHow I Became an Atheist2 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
In my life I've been asked many questions on how I became an Atheist. They were more or less the same. They asked "are you angry at God", "did something happen","have you read the Bible","how is it possible not to believe" and other similar to these. If you're an Atheist you know what I'm talking about. These are pretty common. Also, these questions remind me the same questions asked to the gay people when the gay rights movement first started. The people behind these questions? More or less the same. These questions will be asked by your average theist person that has no idea what an Atheist is and most possibly is scared to ask questions and doubt his own faith.
I was brought up in a Christian Greek Orthodox household but my parents didn't have strict control over my beliefs. That was step one. We were a family that liked to travel abroad a lot, specialy in Europe and because one of my aunts is married to a Turkish person (surprise!), I
99 Reasons Atheism is Superior1. No need to pray because there's nothing to pray to.99 Reasons Atheism is Superior11 months ago in Philosophical More Like This
2. No eternal damnation.
3. Myths and fairy tales are entertaining stories, nothing more.
4. Ethical and moral behavior comes by choice, not by commandment.
5. No bullshit justifications for sectarian violence.
6. Women marry as they choose.
7. Daughters are not the property of their fathers.
8. Gender equality really means something.
9. Questions are not hampered by dogma.
10. Proof has a better chance of changing opinion.
11. Eat whatever you like if it suits your diet.
12. You can sleep in on Sunday (or Saturday, depending...).
13. No obligatory pilgrimages.
14. Wear as little or as much clothing as you like.
15. Shame isn't an effective tool to force obedience.
16. We know what Darwin said because we're more likely to have read it.
17. Dinosaurs and humans together – never happened.
18. You get one shot at life. Make the most of it.
19. The simplest rule applies – Respect each other.
20. “Because the Bible say
Nightmare Reference This dream has occurred to me multiple times in the past few weeks...and I still cannot seem to make sense of it... if you have any advice, or ideas as to what it may mean, please let me know. This dream mixes my imagination in with my deepest fears, and melds them into a small moment in time. As if in some freakish theater, my views of the dream constantly switch from 3rd person, to 1st person, yet my senses pick up everything as if it were all completely real. To add onto this, everything that occurred in the dream was synchronized to the songs Inside the Particle Storm and Empty Me by Dark Tranquillity. The songs have taken on a new, much deeper meaning to me than they ever have before because of this dream, but if I ever seem lost in thought or melancholy, I am 9 out of 10 times thinking back to this enveloping, horrific, and somewhat sadly glorious dream. Listen, and interpret it. I need someone to make sense of it...and i feelNightmare Reference5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Single LadiesI want to spend a summer fortnight in the Everglades with LynnMarie.Single Ladies2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I want to sleep all day and stay up all night, learning just one dance.
I want to dance like Kurt Hummel in the Glee "Single Ladies" video.
I want to learn every hair flip, finger waggle, hip thrust, every move.
I want to keep this incredible talent a tiny secret in my heart of hearts.
I want to keep it for a day when I have a true heart great-granddaughter.
I want to see the gleam in her eye when I invite her to share my secret.
I want to dance, dance for her, until we both cry gasping tears of laughter.
Missing Pieces.I am a missing piece. Something that someone needs.Missing Pieces.1 year ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
But at the same time, I feel so incomplete.
I’ve wandered way too far, wondered for far too long
Am I a missing piece? Or a piece that won’t belong?
Is it possible I’m damaged and not missing at all?
That I’m just as dysfunctional as everybody else?
Pretending to be perfect never softened a single fall.
But neither did admitting that you’re broken and flawed.
A broken missing piece. Is that all I’m meant to be?
There is no master plan that includes the likes of me.
Being all alone, it’s a hurt that will not cease.
A hundred thousand years from now
I’ll still be
Female to Male MakeupApplication of Makeup in Order to Make a Feminine Face More MasculineFemale to Male Makeup5 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
When it comes to "passing" as one sex or the other, it is generally easier for 'women' to pass as 'men'. This is because the cues that signal the brain to the male sex are generally bigger, more protruding, and things that to feminise must be hidden - not enhanced.
This does not mean that it is "easier" to accomplish with makeup, people trying to do either generally fall victim to the same problem - not being able to see and understand the face on a very basic level - understanding what our instincts instruct.
This "tutorial" will focus mainly on the face, touching generally on use of clothing and binding for a "total" appearance. I will try to cover things important for part-time and full-times as well.
PLEASE KEEP IN MIND - where referring to the differences in appearance, this is obviously not going to be truth for all men. Just like the concept of beauty, the difference between male and female has no exact formul
Missing in the Back of ClassThe kid who sat in front of me in class was really quiet today. It's weird, because we usually talk a lot when we're both actually here at the same time. It was a weird day, because it seemed like everyone was in class. Like, all the seats were taken and that hardly ever happens. And when everyone's here, it's never really quiet at all. See, I go to a D.C. public high school, which, if you live anywhere around here, you'd know that we have an incredibly high absence rate. And even when there's like half the kids than normal in class, it's never quiet. I mean, sometimes I think you learn more not going to my school than when you actually go. So, most of the time it's kind of thin in school. But, there were plenty of kids in class today.Missing in the Back of Class8 years ago in Horror More Like This
I like to sit in the back of the class when I have a choice. That's probably like most of you. I guess I just don't like to be noticed. Plus, it's easier to get away with shit back here. I write a ton of stuff (unrelated to the class, of co
Anti-Twilight HaikuWent to see TwilightAnti-Twilight Haiku4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
I think my brain has just died
I want a refund
Picard writes a love poemThe ready room of my heartPicard writes a love poem4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is waiting for you, number one.
Resist and I'll lay down phaser
fire, raise shields and fire
photon torpedoes. Come with me
and we'll dive into Risa's
sherbet sunsets, spill kegs
of blood wine on Kronos and fool
around with a dabo girl at Quark's.
Let's not continue our holodeck
fantasies, pretend each kiss
and caress are hollow as photons.
Let's do the real thing, warm up
the warp drive and engage.
Cathartic AtheismThis is not a gamble, not a matter of odds or chances.Cathartic Atheism2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I don't want to listen anymore, to your persuasion, to the monotonous lectures, the droning psalms. "She's drifting away."
Mom, you've always protected me until now. Until today you've been someone I could confide in. But I've realized that there's just some things you can't accept. But oh, dear mother, who could blame you? Of course I understand how could your talented, articulate, obedient daughter ever tear away from religion? Your daughter whom you raised in the Catholic church, in a Catholic school? No, dearest mother, it isn't your fault that I don't Believe. After all, it isn't as if you suggested we move away from the nice Catholic school into a public one so you could have the house of your dreams, right? No, it isn't your fault that I was exposed to those awful atheist friends of mine who attend that public school that you placed me in.
Dad, I thought I could always trust you. But I was
The HaikuThe Haiku11 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Five syllables here,
And seven syllables here.
Now where's my money?
Green FingersUnexpectedly,Green Fingers3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
I'd planted carrots...
Einstein. My Hero.A University professor at a well known institution of higher learning challenged his students with this question. "Did God create everything that exists?"Einstein. My Hero.7 years ago in Historical More Like This
A student bravely replied, "Yes he did!"
"God created everything?" The professor asked.
"Yes sir, he certainly did," the student replied.
The professor answered, "If God created everything; then God created evil. And, since evil exists, and according to the principal that our works define who we are, then we can assume God is evil."
The student became quiet and did not answer the professor's hypothetical definition. The professor, quite pleased with himself, boasted to the students that he had proven once more that the Christian faith was a myth.
Another student raised his hand and said, "May I ask you a question, professor?"
"Of course", replied the professor.
The student stood up and asked, "Professor, does cold exist?"
"What kind of question is this? Of course it exists. Have you never been cold?" The other students snickered at t
Moving On“No.” It was all I could say, taking in the carnage of what had just last night been my pristine kitchen. I wanted to collapse onto a chair, but they – and our spacious table – were covered in miscellany. Cleaning supplies, random knick-knacks from the living room, a thermometer, a scale. It was all there, strewn about.Moving On6 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
My legs were shaking, and I fought the urge to cry. So messy. So dirty. No, no, no. I collapsed onto the shoe bench in between the Franco Sarto and the Gucci. I don't know where Giesswein had gone. I wished I could blame it on burglars, but no.
“She's doing it again!” I called, and my husband came running into the kitchen. We watched his mother rearrange my cabinets, turning tea-cup handles to the left instead of the right. My hands twitched.
“Ma, stop it!” he said, exasperation coloring his voice. “Put these things back, they were fine where they were!”
"No," she said, her voice heavily-accented. "I will take
School, a Haikuno no no no noSchool, a Haiku1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
no no no no no no no
no no no no no
The Importance of Being FrankThe Importance of Being Frank9 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The Importance Of Being Frank
At the end of this story, a Frenchman will be eaten by African driver ants.
* * *
Silvie closed the stall door behind her; she closed it timidly, with an empty expression on her face. Her hand shook. She paused for a moment, her mouth half open, her lip curled upward, and a frown on her forehead.
Then she walked over to the wash basins.
A fly buzzed between her and the mirror. She turned on the faucet, filled her cupped hands with water, and splashed it on her face. She looked at the stall's reflection in the mirror, closed her eyes, and slapped herself.
Let us slow down to take in the sights. At the exact moment Silvie's hand hits her cheek, everyth
A Civil War EssayThe Civil WarA Civil War Essay7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
By: Nellie Melton
The war began when a bunch of people in the lower hemisphere of Americaland were ticked off at the ones above them because they ate all the pizza. What really used a straw to break a camel's back though was when Lincoln was voted to be the president. South Carolina was all "AW HELL NAW," and separated from the Union. Then, all the other states down there were all "Hey, let's jump on the bandwagon too!" And so they did. However, the Union was going "OH NO YOU DI'INT", so they started the war. This made people generally upset.
The first major battle of the war was when Lincoln was trying to open a jar of pickles. Then, the SECOND major battle of the war was called "The Battle of Bull" or something along the lines of that. This battle was important because a lot of people lost and it made the North and South realize that THIS IS A FREAKIN' WAR AND OF COURSE IT'S NOT GOING TO END RIGHT AWAY. THEY NEVER DO. Unless it's the Seven Day's War, in which Sadako fou
LatreuophobiaI wash off sick-sweet orange lipstick in front of a mirror as dusty as gothic romances. It tastes like oblivion, that is to say, like nothing my tongue can detect.Latreuophobia8 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The door opens with a creak no private restroom could emulate. Some chick with blue bobbed hair and smeared eyeliner. I looked like that once. Ten years ago.
Getting the beer out of my hair is harder. Some men just can't take it when I'd rather they not kiss my feet or call me an angel or-
“Dayum girl, you look like a goddess.”
I gulp, taste of acid.
Professional EulogistThe only dry eyeProfessional Eulogist2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Belongs to the perennial pallbearer.
His countenance cold, even in Kelvin.
Pine forests falling,
Fields somewhere filling with his friends,
They're carving out quarries
And ghostwriting eulogies.
People wonder aloud what's wrong with him.
He knows Dionysus drowns more men,
Venus takes more lives than Mars,
Walking on traintracks,
Eyes crossed like stars.
There's no ghosts left in this town.
In a real city of angels,
In a time called black suit season,
Death is a dial tone.
Short Slendy Stories: Little SamanthaStop.Short Slendy Stories: Little Samantha2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Don't breathe, he can hear you.
Don't hide, he'll find you.
The little girl couldn't help herself. She ran as fast as she could down the pavement, her shoes slamming against the cool concrete side walk.
Almost there, she thought. Her lungs about to burst from the screams that escaped her lips in the forest. Memories began to flood back into her mind as she panted louder. Her mother had yelled at this little blonde girl until her voice became hoarse. With her mother doing this, she ran into the forest for some peace and quiet. She had forgotten a jacket at home, so her pale, skinny arms were vulnerable to the cold winds of the night. In the distance, an owl hooted and startled the girl. What this little girl did not know was the evil that lingered in the trees. Her head jerked around, as if someone was stalking her. A crunch of a leaf ahead of her led her to believe that someone- or something- was roaming around her.
"There's no one here..." she whispered to herself as anoth
The TouristExquisite.The Tourist1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The eye-catching glitz and glamour of the city had lost its effect, and it had been a while since I'd been truly impressed by something I'd seen here. Over the past few weeks, I came to see the towering monuments and sparkling lights of this famed place as little more than distractions, taking one's eye away from a deeper spirit.
“Exquisite,” I breathed. It was some of the most elegant street art I’d seen in a long time. A flock of multi-colored birds graced the side of an old building, forming a gorgeous mural that had not been there the night before. The birds flew in the direction of a painted sun in the top corner of the building.
The crowd that was growing around me had mixed reactions. I heard a woman mutter “Despicable!” under her breath before drawing her coat around herself and bustling off. Many people, upon first seeing the piece, instantly took out their phones and snapped some pictures. A father sighed, then turned to his tw