StayWhat would I doStay5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Without a friend like you?
Who would I be
If you left me?
If you stay a while
I can make you smile.
I just can't bear to watch you go.
Do you recall how
We lived in the now?
When we woke up each day
Just to play?
I dread summer's end
As I'll miss you, my friend.
As warm turns to cold turns to snow.
Slaughter in the Park - 2p!AmericaxReaderIt was a swell little day at your local public park, and you had claimed the bench for your own greedy needs of laziness. You lounged on the bench, picking at the little splinters of wood as your back heated up from the sun (even though there was a gigantic freaking tree behind the bench, no shade hit you).Slaughter in the Park - 2p!AmericaxReader2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Being absorbed in your mediocre action you never even noticed the screams of a woman being murdered no less than 5 meters away from you, and only looked up as the middle of your back suddenly cooled.
Covered in blood not of his own stood a guy with a (now ruined) white T-shirt, a black leather jacket, worn-out jeans, black sunglasses and hair the colour of the blood of angry men.
You sat up and he grinned, a front tooth missing and proceeded to put most of his weight on the blood-and-guts covered, nail embedded baseball bat he carried with him.
“Well, I guess you better start running 'cause I leave no witnesses.” Was his cocky first words to you. You shrugged.
PuppetI’ve long lost all life from inside mePuppet2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Like a watch, I’ve used all of the battery.
I’m stuck, standing still,
like an idle figurine from some odd story.
Pinocchio aspired to be a real boy,
At least realer than I’d ever be.
Maybe I just need you to breathe some life back into me.
As you’d pull the strings,
I’d move charmingly.
As you’d move me limb by limb,
Until I recollect how it used to be.
Maybe I just need you to breathe some life back into me.
Age is not a virtueThe narrow mindednessAge is not a virtue2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
of the selfish and envious
becomes clear with age.
Once Upon A TowerShe was called a Femme Fatale, which was a remarkably exact, if misleading, description. She did not seduce men. She killed them. She also happened to be the princess's lady-in-waiting, another exactly deceptive title. She was a lady and she waited. Mostly in the shadows, for danger to appear.Once Upon A Tower4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
In other words, Katherine was a guard on stiletto heels - and if you believed at least that to be less than literal in meaning, you would be in a world of trouble. For there was nothing metaphorical whatsoever in Katherine. It had been said that her hair was as dark as a raven's plumage - and once she had compared it to find that it was of that precise nuance as well. Men had told her that her eyes shone like stars, which she'd tested by looking into a lake at night - and seeing her hair as a patch of darkness and her eyes exactly like two stars. Her lovers had said her lips were honey-sweet and she had confessed to eating more honey than she should have. So the fact that she was called a guard o
Left Waiting"First the ring, yes the ring"Left Waiting2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
She knew mustn't forget it
Sliding it on her finger might sting
But she knew he'd love the sentiment,
"Then the pearls , yes the pearls"
Though they no longer glistened in the light
He'd still see they were as beautiful
As when he had bought them that night,
"Oh yes the bracelet, that will look nice"
She could hardly remember the jewelry he liked
But she needn't worry, mustn't worry
For she would see him tonight
"Oh what else, what else, what else can I wear
After all this time I'll finally see my dear
And I must look my most beautiful,
Perhaps there's something for my ears"
She thought looking at an empty jewelry box
Every expensive piece cloaking her body
As she walked out the door
Completely unaware she might seem gaudy,
But even if she knew,
She surely wouldn't care
This was for her beloved
The man who loved the jewelry she'd wear,
She walked quickly to the bar
Where they had planned to meet
Took the booth in which together
They had always used to eat
Please Don'tPlease don’t make me feelPlease Don't2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Like I’m falling apart
Though the wounds don’t seem real
I’m still healing the scars
You once broke all I had
Taking all that I was
Bending me til I snapped
In the name of our love
So don’t wonder back in
And pretend it’s the same
As I’m still too broken
To be broken again
Arse poeticaArse poeticaArse poetica4 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Show, don't tell. A poem is a painting. Would you paint a blatant heart or skull in your scenery if there's a way to polish it up until it shines again? No-one likes dust on canvas. Be that Gustav Klimt.
It's a wrong thought that just refuses to die: a poem doesn't have to be beautiful. If a poem needs to be surrounded by thorns, has to scrape your skin till it bleeds, then the poem must never be beautiful. Keep this in mind: the poem always has to be good.
Rework your poems. Think of the person you could have been if your mother could have been able to give birth to some drafts of you, improving some flaws each time. An unstructured poem is a sign of utter weakness.
If you tell an anecdote, the reader must feel like he's drawn into some surrealistic, or even Dadaistic scene. Be intimate, tell details, try to get them out of the context so the reader can only guess what the realistic imaginary means.
If you let the surrealism flow, the
A Heart of GlassRed dust of my broken heartA Heart of Glass2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lies glittering in his loving hands
Cradled in the glow of his love
Slowly taking shape once more
Under his adoring gaze and ready smile
Forming into something once again
Whole, though not without the
Permanent reminder of tearstained nights
But becoming a treasure of glass
Reflecting, through the cracks and
Fractures, even the dimmest of lights
The DreamThe Dream1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Colors blending endlessly,
through hazy filtered sun.
Textures changing seamlessly,
now morphing into one.
Astral terrace beckons me,
Venus calls my name.
Floating high above the trees,
red skies are set aflame.
Prophets lament to the end,
are better days to come?
Hearts of men forever blend,
cold minds no longer numb.
Rainbows arc to worlds unknown,
hope thus springs eternal.
Hallowed paths to me were shown,
life's forgotten journal.
Swirly clouds are up above,
green grass beneath my feet.
Lover's hand fits like a glove,
my dream is now complete.
To the one who holds my heart.I looked into your heart and found a mirror of mine;To the one who holds my heart.1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
the sacred scarlet muscle that so drives our lives.
That bloody pumping rhythm is so hard to define,
and does assault my mind like a thousand buzzing hives.
And yet without this confusion love has no spine,
'tis but a sordid wasteful thing which never survives.
In you I see something that does make stars align,
a power beyond time, keener than sharpest knives.
And it is through this Earth that we will ride
Without fair guidance or friendly hand
To guide us to that so surreptitious lonesome path.
I take the pain of this world in my stride,
and wonder solemnly if this was all planned
Or if our emblazoned love transcends all wrath.
In a momentIn a moment of despair,In a moment7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
We never know what we do,
With the emotions running high,
We need to learn to hang on and think wise.
In a moment of pain,
Where the hurt grows stronger,
Making one weaker and desolate,
There should be a reminder that theres a better day coming soon.
In a moment of happiness,
We should never forget,
That itll never last forever,
So treasure it to make it an everlasting memory.
In a moment of love,
Ask yourself whether it is right,
Do you give more than you take,
Is it right and are you sure.
In a moment of loneliness,
One may find that the world spins slow,
But in truth it is a state of mind,
Which keeps you from seeing the brighter side of life.
In a moment of lust,
Think ahead of your actions,
Make sure you dont do anything,
To hurt anyones feelings.
In a moment of lying,
Dont ever take things for granted,
For the pain and hurt that you might create,
Will last longer and hurt ever more.
In a moment like this,
Advice and philosophy
Enough: An Erwin x Reader Fanfic It was the subtle rustling of sheets that woke you from you slumber. Eyes, still tired, blinked open wearily, your body cringing against the cold air that crept underneath the blankets.Enough: An Erwin x Reader Fanfic1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Erwin...." You mumbled his name, still half asleep as the muscular blond ran his fingers through tangled hair, eyes blinking away fatigue.
"Erwin..." You say again, more of a complaint as the bed is cold and lonely without him.
With an exaggerated yawn, you manage to rise, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you stumble towards the figure who stood not far from the warmth and comfort of the soft mattress.
Arms laden with the exhaustion that early morning brings wrapped around his shoulders. You shivered, the brisk November air biting at your skin relentlessly.
"Erwin..." You yawn, leaning against his muscular chest. "There's nothing to do today," you reminded gently.
After 90% of the Titan population had b
TimidityCreamy ebonyTimidity3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Better than the finest chocolate
Bright, piercing eyes
That tell a life of many pains
You sat alone at a table
And I tried not to stare
The energy; warm and welcoming
But something held me back
Awestruck by God's handiwork
I absently sipped my tea
Feeling the urge to say something
Gabriel x Reader__________ lay cradled in Gabriel's arms, his ever so gentle touch keeping her safe and warm. He pressed his lips to her neck, the lingering sweet scent of her skin comforting him.Gabriel x Reader2 years ago in Romance More Like This
She shifted and Gabriel instinctively pulled her closer to him. His soft, steady heartbeat resounded in __________'s ears and lured her back to sleep.
Gabriel didn't like holding onto things; they were too easily lost. But with ________, the mere thought of leaving her alone made him sick. He ran his thumb across her cheek. She blinked her eyes open sleepily and gave him a small smile.
"I love you," he whispered, kissing her forehead gently.
"I love you too," she murmured, taking the hand caressing her face and kissing his fingertips. "I never want you to leave."
"I won't," Gabriel said softly.
His family had been ripped away from him. He was alone. He was lost. He hid himself behind a million fronts, a million faces, a million lies. ________ allowed him to breathe, to make
Giantess PhysicsHello!Giantess Physics1 year ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Recently we faced a great problem. Problem, which occurred here:
and emerged from this comment:
:iconInsetoSonhador: Did she just cause a nuclear explosion with a stomp?
My rather quick respond stated a problem:
:iconZituKX: Well, she weights about 40,000,000,000,000 metric tones. According to the law of phisics, energy of her stomp will be a weight of her leg multiplied by square of the velocity and divided by 2. Even if she stomps carefully, "Little Boy", who demolished Hiroshima would be little indeed ^^ If she stomps with anger using all her force, energy of this act would split Earth in two!
But, is she really able to destroy planet Earth using only her stomp?
Thankfully Prof. :iconMegaLover93: (specialist in ultra giantesses) and Dr. :iconjamesvillanueva: (physics expert) have spoken and they agreed about certain variables of this problem.
Firstly here you can see a very fine calculation of the height of Selena performed by :iconjamesvillanuev
A silent wishThrough the night the stars shine bright,A silent wish7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The moon unveils its immaculate beauty and light,
How I wish I could be the moon in his sky,
To give him all the light, the shine and the beauty.
If only the winds would blow this way,
And let me have my way with the breeze,
Give me the one chance I ask for so intently,
In this silent night of darkness.
I would then shine above the darkest sky,
Onto the clearest of them all,
For nothing would lie in my power to truly show,
The meaning he has brought into my life.
The warmth of this love that resides in silence,
The hope that grows without much light,
Will shine forever more,
And all I will do is spread this shine,
And make him feel and get the best that this life of mine could ever give.
colors.red is a power color.colors.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
red is stoplights, anger. rage.
red is my nose when i cry about my parents.
“women are more attractive to men
when they wear red,” he says once
so you cut yourself
because red is blood
and when he ignores the bandages, you say,
“no. look what i did.
look what i did for you.”
but he doesn’t fall in love with you
red is the scream that
comes out of your mouth.
blue is the veins under your skin and
blue is depression that tells you to slice them
blue is the weeks you spend after him
and blue is the great, wide sky above you,
trying to remind you that the rest of the world
is still waiting.
your brother says he’s looking for the light
at the end of the tunnel
but the world is full of light.
(you would know. we can hardly see the stars
because of it.)
the world is not full of you
so you try.
black is what surrounds him
and black is burns
and you’ve been burned, scalded
so you blend in.
Set Me FreeSet Me Free5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
God is weeping.
Track marks line the young woman's arms in two almost perfect rows and her thin fingers fumble with fitting the needle in place. Her hands are shaking, but she manages to inject the liquid into her rapidly thinning veins.
She hasn't picked up her tattered Bible in months. When the prayers didn't work, the heroine always did. If she couldn't get the heroine, she'd pray for it. She sincerely believed that God was providing her with her fix when really God was weeping and allowing it to happen for a greater purpose, though His heart ached for her.
In a tiny bathroom two streets over lived a teenage boy with bloodshot eyes and bright red streaks on his chest. The wounds were weeping red, but the boy's face was expressionless. By this point, he no longer even felt the pain.
Trembling hands bring the vodka bottle to his lips and he chugs it down, savoring the burning sensation that is now the only thing that makes him feel alive. This boy has never even held a Bible before. I
Dirt Beneath the CobblesDirt Beneath the Cobbles2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
London did not make itself an easy city to love; Christina knew that better than most. Keeping her eyes fixed to the cobbles underfoot, she forced herself to ignore the flood of people crowding into the streets, focusing on following the map tucked away in her memory. The 'In-Between' ran across the bridges of London. An area where the nobility could be found, braving the fetid air drifting across from the slums, gawking at the poor, worthless people who fell into the wrong side of London.
Pulling the rim of her hat lower Christina shrugged past the well dressed sightseers, slipping into the maze of narrow alleyways and filthy terraces which made up the slims. Sidestepping beggars; who huddled in doorways with outstretched palms, she gripped onto her collar, hiding behind the discoloured leather as she moved quickly. Here was where the unsavoury were kept out of sight. The laws set by men like Christina's father forbid those 'of less than pleasing appearance' to step onto the far banks
ChrysanthemumChrysanthemumChrysanthemum1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Last night, I dreamt of us.
We were together on a mountaintop,
I was sitting on the edge,
With my legs dangling above the bottomless pit,
With a lone, white chrysanthemum in my hand as I pull the petals from the stem.
While you were standing above me, looking on, languidly,
None of us wanting to say anything,
My own mental battle sewing my lips to one another,
Unable to speak,
While you were probably trapped within your own mental depths;
In my mind, I was debating between venting and jumping,
Simply over the fact I didn’t know what that look was in your eyes,
But I think that’s probably the point, that we’re no longer of the same kind,
Maybe I changed into something I’m unaware of, maybe you were the one to transform,
But I don’t get the same feel of what used to be,
This is foreign to me,
An unapologetic feeling of extreme apathy,
And that is the unfortunate reality of this situation,
No matter how long
Last StopsLast Stops2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The kid was quiet for the first several hours after he had picked her up. Obe glanced at her occasionally, particularly when he changed the radio station, looking for a sign that he had found the one she liked. She was quiet, but expressive, and she wrinkled her nose for the first five that he tried. When he found a classic rock channel, she smiled slightly and her shoulders relaxed. She was staring out the window at the endless dusty desert, but he caught her stealing glances back at him several times. Obe was patient, and waited for her to start the conversation.
“I don’t remember how I got out here,” she said finally.
“That’s okay. Most people don’t.”
“Yeah, but it seems weird that I don’t remember how I got in the middle of nowhere.”
“Yeah. How did you get here?”
Obe smiled. The girl, who had told him she wanted to be called Ida, had found her chatter. “Oh, I