End RemembranceEnd Remembrance2 years ago in Historical More Like This
Remembrance Day originates at the end of World War I. The idea is to honor those who died in the line of duty, defending their country from enemies. For all its pompous words and fancy granite memorials littered with colorful flower bouquets, Remembrance Day and others like it have failed miserably in achieving this goal.
I've often been criticized as having no respect, and that can be an impediment when discussing certain topics. However, I am often in luck – hypocrisy deserves no respect. What changed as a result of the enormous sacrifice of those who died in WW1? As the first bombs of WW2 fell just two decades later, millions once again obediently lined up under various pieces of colored cloths to slaughter and be slaughtered. It became obvious that absolutely nothing had changed, and that the millions of WW1 had died in vain.
Most would agree that all that lip service paid to the sacrifice between the two world wars wasn't good enough. To truly honor their sacrifice would be
Six Word Story - Philosophy'What's life?' she asked, too eagerly.Six Word Story - Philosophy4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The Old Man in WinterA cacophony of ticking clocks; blood in the sinkThe Old Man in Winter1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dry skin stretched taut over old bones, yellow teeth
Crumbling white listlessness, wispy hair mud grey
Vivid dreams during rare times of sleep; waiting
Always waiting on something, never knowing what
A wristwatch that stopped after seven years; fear
Old memories replace new plans, talking to ghosts
A race with time that can’t be won, rushing icy river
A gnarled tree, limbs coated with snow, stands for now
Outside of the window where he watches the world
Not a part of it anymore, but still hanging on; shreds
Counting powerline crows while clocks continue to tick
Days flip through like the pages of a book, always
Opening at five AM again; joyless vices now only habits
Retiring early, disappointed with the day’s endeavors
Waiting, ticking, listening for footsteps at the door
DaffodilsDaffodils2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils.
A solitary path I claimed
In seeking shelter from the crowd;
And lo, when all deserted me,
I wandered lonely as a cloud
I sought the green and grassy knolls
Between the rustic barns and mills,
And spied the new winged, dappled lark
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
The silent majesty of thoughts
Was broken as I dreamed aloud.
I was wrested from my reverie
When all at once I saw a crowd
This treasure grows and rests upon
the fertile soil where river spills
I'll rest my weary bones within
A host of golden daffodils.
constellations, ambitions, and things in betweeninstead of poetry,constellations, ambitions, and things in between2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i want to live in
draco & orion,
wrapped in nebulae.
oxygen is too
want to breathe in
neither the gods
nor my demons can
stop me —
i will make the universe
NiagaraI could walk to Canada if I wanted to,Niagara2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and sometimes I do:
show my passport,
pay the toll and cross the bridge
the Falls are prettier
from this side, the streets cleaner—
I can go right up to the railing
and watch the
of the water, mist tinted
artificially blue and green
the fireworks’ shout
resounding in my mouth
and glinting in my eyes
I think about how people
dreaming of this land,
trudging through hundreds of miles
of hostile territory,
feeling joy rush like a river
through their chests
upon a glimpse of it:
150 years later
I walk five minutes
and it’s under my feet.
A lesson in realism:you areA lesson in realism:1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
There is no such
thing as stardust
floating in your veins or
gloomy poetry stitched
right into your heart.
Your blood is made of
iron - unbreakable,
unbending and unmatched
by any other stronghold,
for you are a fortress
that they will never invade.
wipe those tears away
and know that
you are the only one
who can reinforce these walls.
Bokeh.These days, Black Friday really lasts a weekBokeh.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but I haven't bothered to write out a list--
You cannot find the things I want in a store.
The sound of a rejected embrace
is the same as the shatter of a broken bulb
or a house burning down on Christmas morning.
There is a name for the way
strings of holiday lights blur out of focus
when you watch someone you love walk away.
R.I.P WordsDo you know what it feels like?R.I.P Words2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To feel something, but...
be unable to express what it is;
to be silent;
to fight it alone.
I know how much it hurts,
but I don't know how to show it.
Poetry used to be my refuge,
a place where I could be alone -
express all my emotions,
without being judged.
I'm losing it.
I can't connect to poetry.
Everything sounds so stupid...
Everything I write sounds stupid.
I have to erase all my feelings,
because they don't sound right.
The words aren't real.
They don't show what I feel
And maybe this will be the last.
Maybe I'm gone:
lost of all emotions.
I'm truly alone...
I used to have poetry.
Now I have nothing.
june fifteenthtoday isjune fifteenth11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and your fingers between mine,
warm and damp in the heat.
my legs stick to
plastic lawn chairs,
my body sticks to yours
like bubblegum-fresh paste,
melting into you
and liking what it becomes.
black asphalt boy,
you are sizzling leather
and suffocating air
in an overheated car.
we walk across the shore
and the soles of my feet
yearn for the cool damp sand
struggling for breath
between the waves.
"I don't want to
forget this," I say,
and you smile and
close your eyes
like the sun setting,
slowly, streaking down
the sky of your face.
the sun is so far but
you're right here
and I think I might
be in love with you.
I'll move on to autumn
but you'll still be
in summer, forever,
living and living
until the day you die.
Not All Things Will FadeWith a sky that struggles to offer unpolluted clouds, streets rich in garbage-filled potholes, rivers with more diseases than water, and more car thieves than there are cars, no sound mind would remain in this town willingly. Out of the few compliments I've gotten, none were for my sanity, so no wonder I'm here. Among the bunch of senseless decisions I've forged a life with, what's another to the list? Anyone with the smarts Nature reserves for rocks would abandon this wasteland now...But back in the day, before factory owners jumped at the chance to screw it over? Still nothing to brag about, but it was decent enough. A quiet city to watch the days go by, to try and be happy within the imprisonment of everyday mediocrity.Not All Things Will Fade1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Had she not been here, that is.
Routine made an art out of slaving townsfolk. She made an art out of giving Routine both middle fingers! Literal art at that, for no interaction with the outside world went ignored in the one of her own. Wherever she took a step, her c
hearts are for rebuilding_ci.hearts are for rebuilding_c6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
when i remember you, i remember the way you laughed when i mixed up teaspoons and tablespoons.
i remember the way you refused to eat the cake because you said it was too salty and the way i stood crying over the sink when i shoved it down the disposal. i remember how you left me standing in the middle of the floured, sugared, baked-on-mess kitchen to finish the tivo-game, patting me on the back and saying nice try.
it was when i was wiping my tears with the back of my hand that i best remember holding my heart close, telling it nice try. maybe next time wed fall in love with someone who saw us when they looked, who cared about stomping all over the most vulnerable of spots.
when i remember you, i remember crashing out of love.
i know it was bittersweet, but i cant remember anything but the burn.
and now i am thinking maybe the cake was too salty. maybe my hands shook when i was making it because you were standing behind me, your laureate finge
Untitled story: ProloguePrologueUntitled story: Prologue2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Through the smoke and flames a tall proud figure loomed. I knew this figure well. He had his usual top hat and trench coat on. In his left hand, he held his flintlock pistol half cocked. In his right, his elegant saber was at the ready. Even if I possessed the strength to stand, I would not let him see me shaking from blood loss. Around us, the wreckage of the town was alive with screaming citizens. He now stood calmly in front of me, perhaps taking in this moment. He raised his left arm, and cocked his pistol fully. I closed my eyes, waiting for my brother to pull the trigger.
To My Biology TextbookOn page 159 of my biology textbook, it reads,To My Biology Textbook1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
“...cancer is the uncontrolled growth of cells”
as though that could explain everything,
and I thought it did for a time.
But my textbook never warned me
that his skin would pale
to a point where I could see
the blue freight trains
carrying eighteen pills
throughout his frail body.
My textbook never warned me
that his watery irises would freeze over,
that he would hurl insults like knives,
and that he would clench his jaw
as tightly as his fist clenched his wine glass
because the only person to blame is himself,
and he can’t swallow that as easily
as he can the olives in his martinis.
And my textbook never warned me
that it would be this difficult to breathe
because of my acute awareness
that his breaths are limited,
and that there would be nothing I could do
but soldier on searching for that silver lining
clinging to these foreboding thunderheads.
The Only Thing Missing Is You7:55 PMThe Only Thing Missing Is You5 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
you would have liked today. we went upstate like we used to, to the woods. i know it's been a while since you've seen the trees but they're as pretty as ever. they're just starting to fall. i wish you could have been there.
i always wait for a reply from you, haha. then i remember
anyway, we took a walk down to this lake too. there were rope swings hanging from a tree nearby and we froze our asses off swinging for nearly twenty minutes. i swear it felt like we were floating.
hell, it was everything you used to love
it's funny, on the ride home i was practically falling asleep, but now i can't even shut my eyes
it's just... it's not fair
whenever i skipped a rock i remembered the first time i taught you how, and how excited you got. every time i said i was cold i remembered the way you would call me a baby, but give me your hat anyway. we even walked on the same paths we used to take, and everything is the same. the trees are st
KnowledgeIn a fever dream, black dooms descendingKnowledge3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He lies rapt in stupor.
The windows tilt from his halo, the dry
heat ticking, each death rattle measures light into
reflections- form a periscope. One eye is all
that is needed to see. People
stutter along streets, gloom draped. Voices
soften and stretch, heard through memory and dreaming-
one hundred shadowy watchers meld to tarmac. Only one enters.
Yard lights convulse, scald twilit moments, birds
settling on flares. He blinks,
old as time- skin a coral of waxes, leather from his own glow. Eyes,
molten yolks still glimmer beneath lids, fat sunken. She watches,
notes of orange blossom form
a noose: all her palettes collide. She mothers
all earth- cannot . A beginning with no end, future, past.
Roots run transatlantic, languages bud- tiredness. Immortal,
he doesn't breathe.
He wakes to light dappled through glass and birch.
He was the oldest and the first,
his house heavy with rotting decades. TV
translated static into prayers, sun-blea
Stormcallingchaos feels like homeStormcalling3 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
as i pull back the blinds
and stare at the sky
Fallen From On HighFallen From On High2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Embrace sweet calamity,
The darkness which engulfs you now.
Apollyon, of that intrepid verse,
Now awaits, drooling with a gaping mouth.
Of temptation, the liars tongue,
Striking up the deals that bring you only to ruin
Just below, Tartarus waits for you...
And the patient welcoming shall be of no surprise.
Embrace now, bitter calamity...
The retribution that has longed for thy touch.
The clustered storm, prolonged, procrastinated,
hovers over to knock you down.
The portal, that vortex, to plunge you down.
Have you to own, no peace...
only what is allowed to your filthy hands...
You don't seem to notice (my scars)-i-You don't seem to notice (my scars)2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
He and I were eleven when we met, the first day of the sixth grade. No particular moment served as the spark to ignite our friendship. As children do, we started talking as if we were already good friends, and were inseparable from the start.
There were rumours, but we didn't understand half of the words the other kids had picked up from R-rated movies, and neither did they. We were called King and Queen by a crowd of boisterous first-graders who followed us around at recess. He joined the choir and the school play just because I did. It didn't take long before we weren't allowed to sit near each other on the school bus because we caused too much trouble, and eventually we weren't allowed to sit near each other in class either. One day, more quietly than I had ever heard him, he asked me to be his girlfriend; I blushed and said yes.
We never once invited each other to our houses. We each had our reasons, but never knew the other's: a silent agreement to n
LintukotoLife as a stained glass window in the cosmos:Lintukoto3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a well of misfortune, shattered hours,
pieces of night and liquid decades.
A bird crosses the universe
and in the corner of eternity it warbles
a song that encloses everything.
I escape to the route of tempest:
the galaxy, oniric labyrinths,
a spiral path to madness.