Niles Crane - haikuI thought I could foolNiles Crane - haiku6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Myself into loving her
Oh how wrong I was
Knew it from the start
Our love could only be cold
Colder than she was
Then I fell in love
With her polar opposite
Sweet warm kind Daphne
Some things fell apart
Like my life oft seems to do
Am I dreaming still?
Happily ever after
Mine has come to pass
Procremationso he said let's make a babyProcremation11 years ago in Open More Like This
she said let's just make
and he said
What's the difference?
or a little pink pill
And he said
Isn't it about time... she said
You're never old enough
She said Make life-- make
Ranma 1/2: Sincerely AkaneSincerely AkaneRanma 1/2: Sincerely Akane7 years ago in Romance More Like This
By: Angela Jewell
Disclaimer: Don't own them, sorry.
(Since strike-through's aren't allowed, I underlined words or phrases that were supposed to be crossed out. Hope that's not too confusing).
I dont have any green ink, Sayuri apologized as she handed her friend a pen. But since youre not really sending it, it shouldnt make much of a difference.
Akane tried to smile, really she did, but her heart just wasnt in it. She knew she couldnt keep stalling forever, and she had accepted the darebut whywhy had she agreed to go through with it? Taking a long, deep breath, she turned at last to the blank sheet of paper that lay before herthe paper, she realized, now that she looked closelywhich wasnt quite blank.
Unamused, she narrowed her eyes. They had to be joking. As if the task before her wasnt degrading enough...
The stationary paper was covered by a myriad of ti
At The Flower ShopBob x Bart slash. Drabble fic. Set during "Day of the Jackanapes". What REALLY went on "at the flower shop".At The Flower Shop6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
After explaining his mission to the hypnotised Bart, Sideshow Bob rubbed his hands together. "Well, now that we have that out of the way.." He brushed his right hand through Bart's hair and knelt in front of him. "Bart, you won't remember any of this."
"I won't remember any of this."
Trembling slightly, he allowed his hand to rest on Bart's neck.
Existential HangmanExistential HangmanExistential Hangman7 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Maybe it takes sitting in the backseat of a car to realize your life.
Maybe it takes leaning your head against the window, knowing your hair will have a weird kink in it when you get out of the car to wherever you were going in the first place. But you do this anyways because its what they do in the movies, and sometimes its nice to feel like youre in a movie.
Maybe it takes your own silence, your own touching your bottom lip to the top. Looking around at the people that you could recognize by their wrist. This sounds impossible, but I bet there are people in your life that you could do this for. If somebody took pictures just of the wrists of all your closest friends and family, you could probably tell who was who. Arm hair. Geometric freckle formations. Protruding wrist bones. Creases in the skin from where theyve waved and written at odd angles. You would know.
Maybe it takes the streetlights. And the traffic lights.
'What's that?''What's that?'9 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
On a normal, Saturday afternoon - the kind where there's nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to visit - two boys ran around, fighting one another with water guns. It was hard to tell one boy from the other, as they were both identical in appearance and both equally soaked through from their water battle. Their bangs hung wetly over their eyes and their red shirts clung to their young chests, but neither seemed to mind as they waged their watery war.
"Take that!" One said, peeking out from behind a bush and squirting the other boy in the chest.
The other one paused and caught himself for a moment, turning to shoot back but missing. "I'm going to get you for that one!" They continued chasing after one another for a while longer, until one decided to climb up the nailed ladder on a tree trunk that led to a small house nestled farther up the tree. As soon as he got up there, however, the other one, still on the ground, shot a stream of water up into the small house.
"Oh no you don't!"
our celestial bodiesI am my own solar systemour celestial bodies8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with a bucket on my head,
I wheel barrowed down ten story stairs last week --
trying to prove that I am not as alone as I feel.
'I was wrong', the sun slobs
behind curtains, wanting me to play
all these laughing games, while meteoroids orbit
the wire in my throat,
and I gathered up socks and shirts in plastic bags
week by week. This is a slow process
of climbing over your heart-hedge,
I am not there yet. I saw you staring
at the food particles on clean sheets.
I tried to explain -- I have problems under my tongue
but they sat under my fingernails instead,
the smell turned vile.
I am here still, you know,
in plastic cups that do not keep me safe
but I make-believe they do.
This is a climate change only half welcome,
the air conditioning angers the ten man band
hacked into my skull.
I've lost two pounds in ten minutes
trying to stop their drums,
these dancing digits and these shrinking arms --
they throw tantrums
and I wept a thousand chemicals to help you see
songs about slumbersongs about slumber7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
our city is a bed
a man tries to straighten the wrinkled
sheet of road gives up, sits down,
pans the street for change
the apartment building thrusts, phallic,
making love to an empty sky. a burst
of pigeons coo shut up shut up
a boy tries to fall asleep. his nightlight
is a myth that burns out once a day
the girl walks off her roof
our city is not a mattress
For the Good of the SpeciesFor the Good of the Species9 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
"It's your first day, isn't it?"
"Yes. Ah, actually, I'm just an intern. I'm supposed to be working with Dr. Simonetti."
"Simonetti? He's on the second floor. Just take those stairs, then follow the hall to room 216. The door says 'Director of Genetic Integrity', you can't miss it."
"Thanks! I'd better hurry, I'm almost late."
Paul tramped up the stairs, plastic soles announcing his hurry to everyone in the echoing, cold-walled office. The second floor had a carpet, thank the Presidency, and he was at 216 before he had time to process it. He wiped the sweat from his hands and knocked.
"Come on in."
Simonetti, a large man in a brown-mustard suit, looked up from behind the desk. He rose, shook Paul's hand; his grip engulfed Paul's slim fingers, wrapped around his whole palm. "The new intern, right? Great to have you, great. Always glad to see youngsters take an interest in their government. So many people are happy to just let us work that they forget there's no 'us' and 'them', you know
To Never ReturnTo Never Return11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To Never Return
He was my immortal love.
Eternal light fed his veins,
And he gave himself to my fangs.
For that he was a tortured angel.
Like a plague who has found it's prey,
My craving could not be quenched,
For I was a vampire captivated,
Undead, yet dying in his arms.
I drank deeply of his soul,
Devouring his flesh,
I drew him deeper into my abyss.
And with every bite, his light withered.
And with me, his wings delved deeper.
And the more I consumed,
The more we were torn asunder.
We were both lost.
I was to die.
He was to never return…
(c)2004 Joseph Palladino
The Voicemail of GodThe Voicemail of GodThe Voicemail of God8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Ever since I can remember, I have been one of those strange people who pick up pennies. I find them everywhere, on sidewalks, in stadiums, on the floors of grocery stores, in parking lots you get the idea. And it is a rare occasion indeed if I fail to pick them up. Most people, when faced with a copper portrait of Lincoln down by their feet, even if they dropped it themselves, will simply ignore it. After all, you cannot buy anything with one cent; why even bother bending over? I, on the other hand, like to think I am a little more practical than most. When I see one of those poor, unloved little presidents looking up at me, I have to admit that I get a little excited. Well, maybe excited is a bit strong, but you get my point. You see, when I see abandoned pennies, I see free money just waiting to be claimed. The only work required to earn it is bending over, and a simple motion of the thumb and forefinger. Yes, one penny is fairly useless, but I know that by
ForgivenessIForgiveness7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
When the little girl woke up, she found cookies in her shoes.
It was December 6, St. Nicholas Day, her parents told her. Thats the day when Santa comes and takes your Christmas list and leaves you cookies if you were good, a switch if you were bad. Santa left her cookies! The little girl squealed in delight, in excitement.
Do you want to try one, her mother asked. The little girl put one in her mouth. She chewed. She swallowed. She smiled. It was the best thing she had ever eaten in her life.
You can eat another one, her father said. But the little girl wanted to save them so that they would last longer.
By the time she ate her second cookie, it was hard and stale.
Trust is fickle.
When you are trusted, its easy to keep that trust. You can be out with friends or something and just tell your parents that you were at the library or something doing schoolwork.
Goodbye SarahHe walked across the yard in muddy boots. Starting the engine of the Land Rover with an unenthusiastic splutter, he waited until she had climbed into the passenger seat beside him, and then pulled out the dirt track.Goodbye Sarah8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
They had driven down this road many times before, but today it would be the last time she came with him. Her previous enthusiasm to leave the house was replaced by fatigue. Her eyes had already closed as he glanced over. She was sleeping, good. Best let her get some rest.
Despite setting his mouth in a steely line of determination, Bill was already regretting his decision. He knew it was the wisest thing for both of them; the situation wouldnt change. It didnt mean that each passing mile didnt carry a heavier burden on his heart than the last. He had to stay strong.
He had tried to explain things, and make her see it wasnt what he wanted, but he didnt have a choice. It had been difficult
Chocolate Covered RodentsChocolate Covered Rodents10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My momma always said,
"Life's like a box of chocolates,
you never know what you're gonna get."
and I always used to say,
"Momma, what was life like
before they put chocolate in boxes?"
About that time there was this little girl.
In a strawberry cream square
she found the skull of a rat.
It must have snuck through the clockwork
of that factory,
the one up on the edge of town
where the squatters get high now.
Her neighbours said that she cried
all night for weeks on end.
They say that's what drove her mother out.
And her teachers were so concerned
they held a meeting to discuss
the little girl's paintings
of chocolate-covered rodents.
And her dad! He was so mad
That he came out with a statement,
all emotional and frail looking.
"What's the world coming to,"
and he's quoted to this day,
"when we can't trust chocolate
to be chocolate any more?"
It reminds me of my own little girl.
"Chocolate's like a box of lifes
you never know what you're going to get."
and I say to myself,
What was choco
Spilled WineHe dances a kind of geniusSpilled Wine6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
against white walls;
all prim and branched out
The fireplace, calm as the setting sun,
Fingers sweep each other
collecting dead skin and dialogue
We giggle like short-lived kids
playing with drugs
His smile vintage, lips, dry as cocoa mix
now moist as dew kissed grass
The table acquaints us
panties wilt to the obese rug
among spilled wine and cradled glass
RecallingOnce, I forgot my limbs.Recalling6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I left them downstairs because I was in such a rush to get up to the second floor. I didn't even realize my legs were missing until I was halfway up the stairs. "No matter," I thought, "I won't need them for a while anyway." Only when I tried to reach for a paintbrush did I realize that my left arm had done just that, and the right away. Again, I shrugged it off (with only my shoulders) and went about my business.
My business is rather unconventional. There's no elevator in my office building, because I work from home. Thus, forgetting my limbs downstairs would be, as you probably assume, a hassle. And, well, sure, it's a bit of an obstacle, but I can deal with it. I'm still here now, aren't I?
I asked my boss about installing an elevator once. No, he declined without a moment's consideration. Well, how about an escalator? Absolutely not. You see (he told it to me somewhat like this, but I fear that a few words are off), stair-climbing is a virtue. It isn't sup
Girl Alarm ClockGirl Alarm Clock12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the sun sets unasked
and rises again without the
But I do not
girl alarm clock
timed in the heat of dreams
that make moan and flutter
quiver of over-warm flesh
smooth inseam of thigh
wake me in the morning
she just barely breathes
pull at her eye strings
make short lashes quiver
a back that reaches for me
while fingers fetal curl
towards the face
and her lips twitch
on hot mornings
I watch her naked sleep
In Three ActsmanIn Three Acts6 years ago in Typographical More Like This
Love Song of the Other HalfYou said you had defined yourselfLove Song of the Other Half8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the crooks of my elbows, in the angle of my nose.
I looked in the mirror and found the curves of me
To be very much my own.
. . .
I would catch your eyes from across a room,
Across an ocean and beyond a beach,
And hold them there for precious, fragile seconds
In a dire reluctance to move
Lest my return be skewed, construed as something
More than coffeepots or the metal feet of desks.
. . .
Burn pictures of me now as the fog rolls in on mouse feet
Pray to God and science that they can lead you
To a warmer paradise
Because my curves are not for you, dear.
My self is not for you.