End RemembranceEnd Remembrance3 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
Shattered: Part III (KakaSaku)Shattered: Part III (KakaSaku)3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Disclaimer: I, Lady Sassy Sas, do hereby disclaim all rights to the wonderful world that is Naruto.
Step, block, under, elbow, up and pivot, open-fisted punch to side, swivel, open-fisted punch to other side, two back-flips, crouch and throw.
"You're amazing, Hatake-san!" a member of the group shouted.
He got this kind of reaction all the time and quite frankly? He was sick of it. Couldn't they just keep their fan worship to themselves? Of course not. They were girls and they did what girls did best; irritating the hell out of the male race by fangirling. He shook his head in irritation and despair. Apparently they would stop...but his father had never mentioned when and if he hadn't been around other women other than Aunt Ino he wouldn't have believed it to be true. She still seemed to obsess over that Uchiha Sasuke guy...and Genma...and countless others but he had long ago learned to ignore that.
Shikashi stuck out his hand for the other boy he had been spar
Ocean Breeze and Evergreens (ONE-SHOT)Ocean Breeze and EvergreensOcean Breeze and Evergreens (ONE-SHOT)1 year ago in General Fiction More Like This
“This is stupid,”
Johanna growls from the bathtub as fingers run through her damp hair. Katniss, Finnick, and the others had taken off to The Capital almost two weeks ago. Since then she had spend nights in the hospital, her only visitors being Buttercup, who often wondered into her room, and Annie Cresta.
At first Johanna had been shocked to see Annie sitting by her bed when she woke up from a drug-induced sleep. Since Finnick left, Annie had been completely alone. No one else in 13 seemed to want anything to do with “Crazy Cresta.” Johanna figured that she would have to watch over Annie for Finnick, she would do that for him. But also because she was lonely too. The people in 13 cared for Annie Cresta like they cared for her.
So when Annie stated that she wanted help to get better for Finnick, Johanna had been taken back. Annie wanted to try to overcome her PTSD, become more independent. Become someone worthy of Finnick’s love
The Taste of Your WordsThe taste of your wordsThe Taste of Your Words3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A chrysalis in the underbrush,
Uncomfortable in the river swells,
Weakened by the winds
In the pale yellow of summer
In the closing chapter
Of milky white constellations
Lost in translation
To be silence.
Evil, Beautiful, FirefliesI'm covered in fireflies;Evil, Beautiful, Fireflies3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All up and down my legs.
They sleep in my skin
And hide my sin,
My precious red fireflies.
They ignite my body
And set it ablaze.
They turn all of my pain
Into a crimson haze,
My precious red fireflies.
They burn through flesh
In a criss-cross mesh
And spread their wings
All over me,
My precious red fireflies.
They hum silently,
Whispering away my shame.
They burn brightly,
Setting my blood aflame,
My precious red fireflies.
I hate them but they love me
But nobody can ever see
Because they refuse to leave.
Not that I want them to;
Because they care,
More than you ever could do,
My precious red fireflies.
They want me to die,
To jump, to fly.
They want to own me.
They want to set me free
And make it so it can be
And my precious red fireflies.
The TaleFingers stitched together by misfortune and still sages, here lies a tale with unopened pages.The Tale3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Few filled with reasoning and joyful endings of rhyme, the majority fall upon stakes and grant their souls to time.
Phrases and fragments cast themselves within the lines, striking out and down the beautiful ones through a connection of ancient signs.
And alas none shall ever read it, this book so dark yet divine, hence I shall take it for myself, thus my soul is an unread rhyme.
Nuclear WarfareI feel my ashen lungsNuclear Warfare3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Crumble into nothing but dust
As I breath in the smog
Of foggy death and rust
For charcoal footprints
I walked along, alone
Awaiting the gray time
Of which I find my home
Its walls crash over
The silver tainted dirt
Drifting over charred souls
As each cry out their hurt
These long forgotten ghosts
Follow me with dry smiles,
dry memories, dry tears...
All faded in single file
In these nuclear years.
The Wishing WellThe Wishing Well3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The blank stare of my eyes
Gazed deep into and far,
a seductive wishing well.
Prolific to say this the least,
The weapons of choice
and words of persuasion.
They came up from the pit,
Finding my pathetic gaze,
Tempting by sweet songs.
I found my feet standing in a dusty lake,
the cold waves striking in tempo,
to and fro...back and forth...
In brief intervals were my feet
devoured by the ashy waters of
a dusty lake in a land unknown to me.
At the horizon I found a gray sun,
behind the smoke stacks,
where screams echoed like in a well.
A well for wishing for better well being,
so typical, for I, the wishful thinker,
to meet this wished for Hell.
Beautiful, dangerous preyBeautiful, dangerous preyBeautiful, dangerous prey3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
During the night
All the things that live in the dark
Shall come out and play;
They are the beautiful, dangerous prey
For those who are brave enough to stay
After the Sun is away.
Each has a Moon entwined into their hair-
Too beautiful for any mortal to bear-
And silver of old, feathers of gold, meant to lead
The way of those brave enough to stay
After the Sun is away.
They will dance throughout the whole night cold,
Glimmering bold, all that silver and gold.
It is really a shame that
From one hundred thousand men
Only one shall dare to stay
After the Sun is away.
(Mute) The Demons(Mute) The Demons(Mute) The Demons3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I want to say something, but I can’t find the right words,
So I stay mute, hoping you’ll find the words for me
And while I know the pen is mightier than the sword…..
If I impale myself with the sword I make my point that much more perfectly
Just because I don’t speak doesn’t mean I don’t want to,
It’s just so difficult to communicate clearly when your head and heart are cloudy,
And my words feel empty to even myself so what else am I supposed to do?
You’re right, I am an angst-ridden teen, so I’m looking for a way you can help me,
So I can help myself; so I won’t have to feel so lost while I fight my emotions,
And I’ll be alright eventually, but I have to figure out how to help myself, now
Because these past couple of weeks has been filled with yearning, anger, and stress,
So I look to others to help me out but it looks like no one knows how,
I wish I knew so I don’t have to
Love To GiveLove To GiveLove To Give2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I may not be the strongest,
Or perhaps, not even the smartest,
But I always try my best to bring positivity.
To try and bring light to those who are feeling they’re alone in the dark,
And as much as I’ve felt entrapped by the darkness,
I know there’s far more to life than that depression.
And what I believe in: Is love in every form and fashion,
So I try to give it to everyone I come across,
And I promise to anyone who needs love,
That I’m here to give it for as long as you need it.
MarrowI caught my reflection by herMarrow3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
silk spun lips; She was
as beautiful as the slender
moon. She doesn't say
hello too often but this
time she lingered quite a bit longer
than usual - so it sounded by the
ticks on the old grandfather
clock down the hall.
What a delicate heart she holds.
How heavy it must be to carry - I
could see the weight in her
rain cloud eyes. She has never looked
so sweet, to me, even with those
hollow bruises underneath. Terse
or not, I found my marrow. And while
I could not keep hold for long; it was
something that had been lost for such
a long time. It is still there, I see -
I have seen.
How hastily I fell for her disastrous nature.
She's so afraid, you can tell, but her
baby cheeks hide these dimples that
hold every ounce of her innocence.
So swollen and youthful, I dare not
touch the dream that is her velvet
skin, for I may break the most
fragile thing to ever be
kissed by the northern lights.
Individuality.Individuality.Individuality.3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
These days most people are other people.
Only a few templates are distributed amongst the billions.
Maybe it’s because they see themselves as less than equals.
So they base and paste their thoughts from someone else’s opinions.
Their unfulfilled lives a mimicry.
Obtaining incompatible abilities.
Altering their figures physically.
Their passions are quotations.
Their theories are past equations.
They become victims of affiliations.
Remoulding their models into the shape of their role models.
Worshipping the words of Drake, Einstein, Rhianna and Aristotle.
Pursuing the idolised physique of a manufactured Coca Cola bottle.
They squeeze themselves into already overcrowded groups.
But you can only have so many cards in one particular suit.
To every leader there will always be surplus of recruits.
This process progresses day by day.
To the point where he and she have become they
“Mummy, when I grow up I want to be just like them”
Is what they all will s
FishermenFishermen4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from tiny boats,
sampans and coracles -
red sails threading the sky
like poppies in the autumn sun.
Whales slip through waves
hunting silvered krill
and the spiny dusk
of urchins clinging to the sand.
And they wait
for lines to pull
their hands under
glistening with eel
hauling the afternoon
back to market
in hempen nets.
Ruthyou were tired and stagnant with yourRuth3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
bones piercing through your skin.
your body was a war zone.
black & purple bruises splashed across you
like blood on the concrete of the place you
could never call home. your parched mouth
& crooked little-girl teeth were never sanctuary.
the innocence was brutally beaten out of you
until you were brittle.
you lived in Germany your first 6 years
and then moved to Latvia.
you existed in a place they called a ghetto.
that dual-triangle on your left arm defined you.
it was the reason your scabbed lips couldn't
whisper prayers to the heavens, begging God
to save you from the mean men.
you were 8 when they started gassing.
you weren't raised with radios and laughter.
instead, the scent of your people's flesh burning
to grey ash was the fuel for your nightmares.
out of nowhere, you disappeared.
they had no trace of where you had gone.
your existence wiped clean off the Nazi handbook
but not from our memories.
i remember you, Ruth, and even though your lu
Unorganized ReligionUnorganized Religion3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Praise the invisible
Because He cannot hurt you
Listen to the man
and do as he says
to avoid a fiery end
to keep you sitting up straight
You think you are willing
Because your daddy said so
Don't you wanna see mom again
Tie your hair up tight
and close your knees
Smile with your teeth
your jaw tight
What you say is wrong
So listen well child
and I'll tell you how to live.
aqueles diashoje é um daqueles diasaqueles dias3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
que me consomem
no despertar dos dias
e trago os pés enligados
das pedras que tropeço
e dos passos cansados
que se consomem
e o vestido
mais sujo que rasgado
e as marcas nas costas
dos registos do passado
que não fui
e as mãos que caem
por não terem a quem orar
e se suspendem
que me falta
e vêm magoadas
do lavar dos dias
e vêm queimadas
do fogo que fui
e sou eu de joelhos
na terra batida
nesta espécie de prece
que não foi ouvida
e embrenha-se os cabelos
nas silvas dos rumos
que não souberam sê-los
e dobro-me sobre mim
para poder sentir
que há que ter algo
para o que há de vir
e limpo as feridas
em água que em mim corre
e construo pontes em castelos
de sonhos erguidas
e sou fraca e forte
e água e fogo
que perdeu o norte
porque não posso
broken dreams and invisible heartstringsEvery morning,broken dreams and invisible heartstrings2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she wakes up to a
hollow chest & stormy,
red rimmed eyes.
It's so easy to be in love
with being in love;
swallowing fake truths
& sincere lies.
But her heart—
it forgot how to smile
two years ago,
because no one can tell
the difference between
imitations & reality.
please find me;
I'm lost between the cracks of
Desperate to breathe
yet wondering how it would feel
she's never belonged
in this universe.
still,"i want grandchildren."still,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that car ride ruined some things
threw a wine bottle at the wall
15 years sitting
it was good enough or
it wasn't good enough
all the silence forced
my pride to jump out the window
if any rested in her
she showed it off like a speech bubble
tied it to her teeth
slammed it in the door
had it under her pillow for months
and years and years and years
there was no statement
there was no outstretched hand
just steering wheel clenching
knuckles white and jaw taut
(all because who i bed was not her mindful of
i still think i'm a tumor
she shows it off like a speeding ticket
i put a pin through it
i put it on her sweater
she never wears it
PlaygroundPlayground3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All that autumn her ghost haunted the playground;
no wisping phantom, but strident bits and pieces
clamoring for attention - a pair of black patent
leather shoes waiting expectantly by the teeter-totter.
And Sister Teresa had to pry red woolen mittens
off the jungle gym every morning.
Jimmy Boyle kept seeing her sweater at the swings,
its green wooly arms daring him to go higher
and trying to tag him "it".
And her best friend, Jenny Black
could see the flash of her pigtails
throwing copper across the kickball field
where recess waited to swallow them.
The toys vanished from the sandbox every evening
leaving nothing but a soft trail of disappointment
in their wake -
their accusations of neglect
and longing crouched under the
maple trees, swarming with the bees.
But winter proved a discordant grave -
the protest of frozen ground
an errant melody in the schoolyard
and her shoes kept shrinking
and stumbled down the slide,
leaving a thick crust of frost
like somber tracks that said good-bye
NorwayxReader: Ice Cold Warmth Ch. 1"I have a crush on you, you idiot."NorwayxReader: Ice Cold Warmth Ch. 13 years ago in Romance More Like This
The words left your mouth before you could even think about what you had just said.
You weren't quite sure if you regretted it, though. You were getting impatient with this boy. All the years you've known him, and he still doesn't even notice how hard you'd fallen for him? Well, maybe he had noticed and just didn't return your feelings. After all, he'd been completely ignoring you for a whole month now. It frustrated you to no end! So here you were, confronting him once and for all. You had planned to demand an explanation for his strange behavior. The sudden confession, however, was not a part of your plan. Oh well. The secret was out now. There was nothing you could do but put on a brave face and wait for his answer.
You sighed. Your friend, Gilbert Beilschmidt, could be so oblivious. Sometimes you even wondered why you liked him so much. The German boy--or "Prussian", as he would always correct you indignantly