A Shoe TaleA Shoe Tale2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were a pair of red shiny shoes living in a boxful of dreams, on cloud-coated linens. One May day, a little girl found them sleeping next to each other, and she loved them so much that she took them out for an afternoon walk, sometimes tituppy, sometimes gingerly, on the sundressed alleys. Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were cheerful, as they had never breathed such a crisp air before, and the chill of those spring days, after a good sturdy rain, was daintly tickling their soles, growing goosebumps on their skin.
The little girl was bursting with fidgetness. When she stopped to bathe in a tiny oasis, she briskly took off her shoes and left them on the dewy grass. Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were slightly afraid, as gloomy spiders and frowning mosquitoes were tamelessly rumbling around them. They cuddled tightly, to make the fear go away, like salt in a desert storm. The fear started to vanish itself, as the two realized that they were not alone. They were a p
Untitledi woke up achingUntitled2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with the promise of the day but
curled my stuttering body
around your heart
and your yellow sundress -
messy hair and wings,
i woke with
lingers of my haunts:
screaming inside-out terror
and longing; i woke
to find you here and
carpe diemand every content sigh which escapes my lips-carpe diem2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
let it be betrothed
to an excuse for my behavior
as your hands graze my hips,
let it be known
that i know i am replaceable,
but if it's in the moment-
yes- in every moment of
every half-awake hour of
each of those five nights since that
fateful friday when i first slept in your bed-
or, rather- laid rather quietly
as we made eye contact
and you asked permission
to hold me close, and you roamed,
warmed me with breath and hands and alcohol
but never bothered to venture to my lips-
in every moment-
if this is what this is-
if this is living in the moment,
with no need for anchors or consequence,
then do not let me be forgiven
for my greed and for my loneliness
but for now, accept the upcoming apology
which will spill from yearning lips
let me say
that i knew you didn't mean it
like i wish you did
and yet i lie here,
in my near-guilt, with you anyways
birthmarks/scarslet me just lay my head downbirthmarks/scars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on your shoulder, trace
your birthmark again..
and your hair will tickle me
because you haven't cut it
in a while..
i'll pretend not to see
the scar on your foot
from when i broke you,
and you can pretend not to notice
how much i say your name
just let me draw you
in a hundred poses,
and don't get mad when
i paint your toenails while you're sleeping..
and we can tell that story
- to each other, of course -
about the angel and the purple girl
(who finally decided
her favorite color)
while you twirl my hair,
and always make up the ending:
'..and one day
they got a house on the beach,
because that's what she wanted..'
your eyes are always so yellow
when the sun is setting
'..and he painted the whole world
different colors just for her.'
headaches are a habitthe things i thinkheadaches are a habit2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
have stopped making sense
to anyone but you,
and maybe its because
you have to witness my nightmares or maybe
because my tears have dried
on your skin -
across the bridge of your nose,
like places we talked about jumping from
and now headaches are a habit;
thunder is relief
among the morning birds singing out
Reverenceyoung girlsReverence4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
jerichoshe must have dreamed him,jericho4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
assembled of slow pieces
and called in the dark
she is a temple
and he is dismantling her
with chorused glories
that terrace and
he bleeds desire,
an ache to sculpt her;
a curse born of ruin,
a silence crafted sharp
in flickered glances
and in flame.
she must have known him,
borne witness as he
stormed and conquered
with shadows rampant
at his back
and she must have seen him
behind shut eyes;
not as he will be
nor as he is,
but as she
would have him;
under the domes
of her doomed
The Shoes Not Taken (A Parody)Two roads (sort of) divergedThe Shoes Not Taken (A Parody)2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(well, there's no fork or
junction, per se- it's a
single lane that's just
Neither suited to bare
-one is cobbled with
-the other littered by
(perhaps I should have
worn shoes before I left
Fight or Flight?I have just a moment, one tiny moment to prepare. I meet his gaze from across the room and my response is instantaneous. My eyes dilate, heart racing, muscles tensing and a blush across my cheeks. He smirks, probably thinking I’m aroused.Fight or Flight?2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
In a way, he's right.
Fight or Flight?
I feel like an animal in this moment, like a rat who will try to escape when threatened and only fight if cornered. Perhaps I could stand perfectly still or play dead in hopes that my predator loses interest...
I rather wish I was a fish right now- one that could swim away or change color to camouflage myself.
And therein lays the problem. I am not entirely sure I what I want.
Oh yes, I want him. His allure is like none another before and that scares me. He makes me want things I've never wanted before. He's young and cocky, ruggedly handsome, someone who I thought was so beyond me. Someone who makes me feel beautiful and sexy, wanted.
And I hardly know him...
What am I doing here?
.you pulled.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
all the strings;
now i connect more
with the puppet than
i do the puppeteer
The Furnace And The CrownForged of molten metal,The Furnace And The Crown2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Carved upon the stone,
Its bowels do barely settle,
And the klaxon sounds again.
The fiery bowels of hell,
Stare out through grille-like eyes,
Oh many-a-soul is felled,
My body lets out a sigh.
Then I grasp the hammer and tongs,
And gently shift the steel,
Forged upon my blackened anvil,
Its wounds do slowly heal.
Reserved for seats of power,
Before which we will cower,
Embedded in gold.
It rests upon,
Thy clammy head,
Behold thy pride,
In which we confide.
The ChildrenThe ChildrenThe Children7 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I've seen it on tv,
Where I am safe,
And no-one can see me
Broken bodies on the street,
People that don't have enough to eat
I must be blind,
Because I just don't see,
Why this came to be
Mothers, where are your children?
You haven't seen them since last week
And you would call out to them,
If you could only speak
What about tomorrow?
We've lost all of today
Somebody please tell me,
That we can find a way
Maybe it won't stop all the anger,
But it might take away some pain
Somebody tell the mothers,
That their children are safe
We are all to blame,
For the terror in which we stay,
But nobody told the children,
So what part do they play?
This world is insane
When you can't go outside,
Can't watch the sunrise,
Because you're afraid to die
It's all lies
But nobody told the children,
It's something we can't disguise
So what about tomorrow?
Will it be better than today?
I know we can find the answers,
I know there is a way
Somebody tell the mothers,
That their children are safe
YUSEFYUSEFYUSEF7 years ago in Introductions & Chapters
Yusef was born in Paderne on 8 December, the day of our Lady of Conception.
The only child of a primary teacher and a travelling salesman, he felt the absence of his father from an early age. His mother tried to restore harmony to the home, but Yusef learnt to deal with the absence of his father, seeking refuge in Paderne Castle where he spent hours pretending to be a Moor, defending his land from invaders. His dark complexion and hair made him look like an Arab, and from when he was very little everybody used to call him the little Muslim, which filled him with pride. He even changed his name to the Arabic form.
He simply loved the stories that his mother would recount about the Castle and the legends of the Enchanted Mooresses, young female Muslims who had been bewitched so as to guard the treasures abandoned by the Moors who had been expelled from the Castle. They would appear alongside springs, rivers, caves and fortress ruins, singing and combing their long hair,
A lion among sheep.There are ghosts in my bloodstreamA lion among sheep.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
kissing concrete cells &
the bedroom eyes of nerve endings.
( foreign words
engraved into my marrow, birds in my chest
& wars not yet fought between my hips. )
I've taken myself apart every night
since I learned how to swallow a pen
limb by steady limb.
Passed around by grabby hands,
a sold, & borrowed daughter;
I am a lion among sheep,
drunk on life & ink.
Screaming EmphasisI lostScreaming Emphasis2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Thirteen pounds of anxiety this week.
Body melted, melted
fingers slipping chartreuse
I am full of slipping
chain-link gums give me lead poisoning
body, gums melted, chartreuse
I, toxic, lick lips neon green
Arsenic tongue dart to nails --
Dirt, dirt, dirt, more dirt --
and thighs stuck hot against plastic
I cannot hold a pen
CANnot write eloquence or beauty
Hand skitters through page
TALKing I need silence I need
need, need, need, more needing
crushed under necessity-
The spaces of my ribs are where
my skin hides its bruises
feel like stealing-
taking hunger into my breast
full of slipping,
I do not breathe but static
Anxiety in Morse Code
we do not-
what SPEAKS makes sense
we do not-
Thighs stuck hot to the seat beneath me
Bones in my aching hand quiver,
wrapped around archaic ideals
why do they touch why do they --
Time Is The CureTime Is The Cure2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Time Is The Cure
Right hand of destruction
Left hand of creation
It's a never ending cycle
A fatal revival caught in a downward spiral
I tear down reality’s mask
As I build up a truth to give hope a chance
The veiled darkness decays
The guiding light fades
I let go of an old pain
As new tears wash it away
The sun always rises
The moon always sets
The rain subsides
The storm is put to rest
Clouds confide / Memories detest
Skies collide / Cries confessed
Light shines / Dark regrets
Pain hides / Peace professed
A new day awaits
An old night forgotten
Tomorrow I shall awake
To cradle what remains unbroken
I can't erase my mistakes
But I can't let them define my fate
There's always control
There's always faith to hold
Opposites are locked together
I am the sinner; I am the confessor
With time- comes change
Agony and serenity dawn a n
Poets have the loneliest hearts.I drink morphinePoets have the loneliest hearts.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like peach tea;
down 6 pills by morning
just to keep my mind
& I know I can go days
without speaking a word
I want a moon shy girl
with wolves at her back,
bite mark ankles &
a bottle of writer’s tears
tucked under one arm.
I want to be end of the war
kisses bruised into her hipbones;
the epilogue written over her
With these wisteria limbs
February cold, &
these weak lungs
exhaling coralline whispers,
I’ve got a tongue for words
but still have no idea how to love
a universe girl.
I would have you do thisHere.I would have you do this5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
this is your prayer
your mantra, your news.
I leave it as I found it, papering in the streets.
as godless a truth as you will know
it’s still a ghost of a dream
smaller than theories of infinite resolution.
you will believe it because it has no industry
no acolytes or storefronts.
it’s not an embezzlement of fascination
or confabulation of missing histories.
you will not doubt its truth because your design is hollow
the space inside your car
the adventitious spine that vials through the weeds
the ice of march on adam’s needle
the ants, crickets, beetles under sandstone
waiting in a music box for the catalysts to wake
and split them out into the breen.
you will speak of your awareness
without knowing what inhabits it
like a colour that doesn't hum
or passing through a future forest
of apparitions in bald park meadows
PMD Writing app The SymphonyPMD-explorers Writing AppPMD Writing app The Symphony4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Writing Application Sheet
Team Name: The Symphony
Guild Leaders: _X_Rogues ___Merchants ___Rescuers
Name and Species: Thane the Riolu (Violet eyes, almost indigo)
Nature: Adamant (Alert to sounds)
Thane is much more perceptive than most fighting type Pokémon, or other Pokémon in general. When he's calm, Thane takes situations slowly and thinks of the most logical explanation to them. He's also peaceful, with a firm belief that violence isn't always the answer, although that doesn't mean he's useless in combat. His small body makess him to be nimble, so he can hit hard and fast.
While Thane can be smart and perceptive at times, he doesn't show it through speech. He cannot talk to others, and commonly be found cowering behind the few Pokémon he trusts, or sweating at the idea of even meeting someon
deviantART is a social media site.dA has made some significant changes lately, and I've been reading the comments from both sides of the fence. There are things I like, things I don't, and things I don't like but would like with some tweaking. But let's set all that aside for a moment. There's a complaint that I keep seeing pop up, and it bugs me. It usually goes something like this:deviantART is a social media site.10 months ago in Editorial More Like This
"deviantART is NOT a social media site!"
To be blunt, this is incorrect and displays an ignorance of what social media is. I blame Facebook - it's popularity has highjacked the definition of social media in the public consciousness. A quick Google search gives a succinct definition of the term:
websites and applications that enable users to create and share content or to participate in social networking.
This is exactly what deviantART is and does; promotes the creation of content, provides a platform to share it, and fosters connections. Anything thing else is just fluff.
A more relevant