A Shoe TaleA Shoe Tale1 year 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
T,T,2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
the world is full of monsters
from perth to timbuktu -
they bark, they growl, eat lobsters,
but none of them is you.
there's herbs down in the garden
that grandma puts in stew -
my dear, i beg your pardon,
but none of them is you.
there's billionaires that joggle
like monkeys at the zoo -
their heart's wearing a toggle,
but none of them is you.
there's plenty 6 foot tall men
whose love i can't undo -
Juanito, Freddy, Dhaval, Ben,
and all of them is you.
when the eastern sun sinksi wonder if you wouldwhen the eastern sun sinks2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
change your mind
find it in your
to feel a little something
if you saw the words
you've pulled from
uncovered by your lips,
i find poems under my hands.
i write strophes and lines
imprinted on your skin
when i move my fingers away.
i have so much to
i could give you so much
but you slink like a
nightcrawler from light
to a comfortable recession,
we will talk again
and no stammered heart
will beat like birds
if our hands touch;
you will realise
that sooner than you have,
you could have
shared your self
with someone else
and been safe-
you would have been
[FrUK] NiewazneNienawidzę świata. Jest zimny. Pusty. Okrutny.[FrUK] Niewazne8 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
Może gdybym był człowiekiem umiałbym docenić życie. Tak. Żyłbym krótko, intensywnie, bez hamulców. Bez wiecznego kontrolowania się. Bez strachu, że wszystkie moje błędy obrócą się przeciw mnie. Bez tego wiecznego bólu w sercu.
Nienawidzę świąt, jakichkolwiek. Każde ma ten sam cel. Jednoczenie, wspólne spędzanie czasu. Jakbym miał z kim.
Tego dnia było zimno. Wychyliłem się tylko by przegonić natrętnych smarkaczy i od razu odechciało mi się wychodzić. Wkurwiające bachory. Zawsze to samo, robią słodkie oczka i jak nie spełnisz ich zachcianki to paskudnie się mszczą. Zatrzasnąłem drzwi. Niech robią co chcą. Przyzwyczaiłem się, że wszyscy wybitnie uwielbiają mnie drażnić.
indian summersleepyindian summer2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
take their toll
and i start wondering if you're drinking
and feeling stars sink from the sky
to merge with the waves of your stomach
undulations with sparkles of poison
and i wonder
if you're warmer, like copper
or if your arm is snaked
around another girl's waist
or if your teeth
glitter the way they do
when you're sober
and smiling at me
or if you even
to pull away
when every night,
you fold me,
in your arms
until the morning
i will always
in the moments
i'll see you later
sticking with hope
and a promise
to feel the burnt brown
of your skin,
move over my own
i love you
like an indian summer
perpetuation of a speciesi feel like sexperpetuation of a species2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
warm and sticky
and close and sometimes
a little dark with shame
but that doesn't make me
that just makes me normal
and not just human
it makes me universal
and no one can look at me
with true displeasure
because the one who did
would be the one who
was never here.
Through an Angel's EyeThrough an Angel's Eye1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Some see the world through rose-colored glasses,
some see it only as bad.
Some see man split into one of three classes,
some see it only as sad.
They say that the eye to the soul is a window,
some feel such notions are lame.
Still others may prefer to focus on shadow,
some seek out fortune and fame.
To see the world softly through colors sublime,
requires a heart that is pure.
Yes, to see the world as an angelic rhyme,
the eye must be steady and sure.
Through the eyes of angels she captures our world,
the wonder of God in her lens.
By virtue of her work beauty is unfurled,
earning her many a friend.
Rain RainTime dipped its frozen fingertipsRain Rain2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the waters of my bones,
wringing them dry of once purple skies
and smoothing away gentle grooves of nostalgia;
a topless render to my optimistic lens.
The sky began to fade like a freshly broken bruise:
Red, orange, yellow, green, purple, black, white.
a pallet of sour syllables that settled in my teeth
& festered deep within the crooked corners of my mouth,
occasional expressions pulsing through uncharted steam.
Bitterly dissolving like the powder of an hourglass
It drips like dew across my window &
nestles in the crooks, the kind of way a comma
hugs the corners of an 'n'.
rain, go away.
pears and nearspears and nears2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
monday afternoon and
my lover is studying;
i am wondering if he remembers that time when
we learnt together the geometric shapes -
circled are his lips when
the sun draws himself upon them;
i am jealous.
earth has his own anatomy -
them science people called him "pear";
maybe the fruit was before the planet
or maybe the planet grew out of it,
which makes us pearestrials, but
i wouldn't know;
i don't do science.
i don't even do words -
words are too academic sometimes;
it's propestorous (exclamation mark)
and my fingers are only made to waltz with yours;
i'm sorry when i stumble,
you know my forefinger is high heel sensitive;
there's too many is in the world.
monday's moving towards evening
my lover's still studying
earth is still a pear
there's Pretty Woman on tv
the food is not getting any w
FrUK Sacrifice Part3Kiedy Alfred został wyprowadzony z uroczystości spowodowało to małe zamieszanie. Goście spoglądali na blondwłosą personifikacje nie rozumiejąc sytuacji. Zaraz postanowiono zatuszować sprawę puszczając kłamliwe plotki, a te szybko rozniosły się po sali i zapomniano o sprawię.FrUK Sacrifice Part36 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Arthur i Francis stali na tarasie samotnie i w ciszy. Arthur był przerażony. Nie chciał ślubu i najchętniej od razu wziąłby rozwód, jednak dla dobra kraju nie mógł pozwolić sobie na takie przyjemności. Zbladł ponownie zlewając się z białym jedwabiem sukni i drżał zaś nogi miał jak z waty. Mimo wszystko utrzymywał się patrząc niepewnie na Francisa i modląc się o to, by nie stało się najgorsze. Francja natomiast stał wyprostowany, patrząc gdzieś w dal z zaciśniętymi ustami. Po
THE ART WARRIORSTHE ART WARRIORS4 years ago in Editorial More Like This
THE ART WARRIORS
- About the beginning of a new revolution -
* An escalation by Beau Cyphre *
Keep your art free! Don't diss yourself with watermarks, don't shrink your vision - and don't fear the illusion of art theft.
Just wrote it down in my Twitter as another stroke, and this sword's sharp enough to make you think. All art is about sharing, and what I get is what I give: Everything's in the flow, and it's time to give up the illusion of personal importance. I'm not saying you're dispensable. I think you're better as a living and responding part of all the energy floating inside and outside of ourselves. We're all dead now, and to live we need to transcend the barriers we put up all the time. There's freedom outside the borders, and the sight to a far away horizon leads just to another and another illusional horizon.
Real life is endless, and we're all made to travel really far. We've come a long way, and sometimes we feel so bad that we want to give up, but the
Poets should never make ghost children.I whisper cheap metaphorsPoets should never make ghost children.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
into your needy ears until, like
funeral flowers, they rest upon
the atlas of your mind. You
with your napkin love letters
and cloudy storm eyes
are the only one to ever
make my scaled spine quiver.
But, my veins ache
from consuming too much ink.
I am gagging on black blood
as it spills from your fingertips
to rest upon my lips.
You asked me once if I could read
the words carved into my limbs
like prophecies of you and I
we were written in the universe
of freckles dotting my thighs.
I tried to plot constellations
along this neurotic cadaver skin
and only managed to contradict you.
how to love meif you are receiving this manual, i must sayhow to love me2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are somewhat stupid and you do not
know what you are getting yourself into
but i assume i've told you that already
to love me, you should know:
i will fall apart, i promise
you will have to pick up the pieces
not sweep them under the carpet,
pretending i was never there
pick them up gently and piece me together
if you say that you love me, be sure i love you
i just might not say it because
if i do, i will fall too fast and
i know that i will hurt you and myself
i will definitely need you to tell me
to love myself because i don't and you
should tell me i'm pretty, even though
i'm not, so i can pretend i may be
worth loving, even just a bit
if you love me, i won't believe you
because i'm not worth you or being loved
by you or anyone else, so you must try
and convince me, even if it's not possible.
waketrembling lips,wake2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
can't breathe, at least not steadily,
paint me turquoise
or be the forest to my fire,
actually I'd rather you were nothing, at least nothing to me,
now I can feel nightfall coming upon the manifestation of a July moon,
so let's let those clouds burst and rip wide open
just as though the clouds were my organs and
the rain were my blood.
High WaterIt took eleven weeks for my stomach to stop turning.High Water2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
White water reality, broken hands, splintered paddles.
If you ever felt inclined to place your head against my chest again,
you wouldn't hear a heart beat over the roar of water in my lungs.
If you ever desired to wrap your arms around my waist,
you would find that there is far less warmth to hold onto.
For now, we drown in the perfect darkness of canyon waters.
Like infant gods, we chose to carve these wounds into
the very foundation of our fabricated universe.
Deeper than the initials of youthful lovers.
Further inward, past yellow bone and soured marrow.
We've been forever spoiled by the idea of our own greatness.
(But when my body washes upon the shore, I will always try to find you.)
perfect crimenaming is the oldest thing we doperfect crime2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to each other. i attach your name to
your body just by speaking it out loud.
i do evil to your body with syllables,
poison you into your bones, make scales
of your feathers if i want. i burrow
into your body, find a series of false
names, the lie of your marrow. i feed you
to my human power, hunt you with my pen,
dig deep into your neck with it & let
no air through, a no trach saviour
i call myself today, falsely but without
pretence. i lay my body down beside
a humming maggots' nest & feed
their anxious children my apple core.
i won't bury a body that isn't yours.
to catch a falling starI was as distant as the starsto catch a falling star2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fading with each daylight
I never t h o u g h t
(never even believed)
That someone would c a t c h me
I can only hope
That you won't let me
Playing GodSometimes I like to pretend thatPlaying God1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm God, putting a pen to
paper and scripting out someone's
life like a puppeteer.
Maybe if I
wrote the epilogue in
my own blood, the
screams inside my
head wouldn't be as
real," is just an excuse
for killing off their
loved ones; I want to feel
their agony tenfold (because I
deserve to think I'm as heartless
as I feel).
sandstormthere is sand in my teethsandstorm2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from days i don't remember;
hot-sun deserts singeing
the hairs on the back of my neck,
feet back from burns:
i know what it's like
playing with fire.
i know how to perch
like birds on my thin toes
along a wire,
i know the electricity
coursing through the rubber,
a centimetre from death:
i have yet to fall.
on precarious precipices,
i am wondering if my wings still work,
or if i've purged them out;
if they've atrophied from my back,
or filled with bile.
the sand shifts
and i am looking at bone.
a skeleton, full and articulate.
the desert has charred him black;
his skin has burned away.
in his teeth
he will never remember.
enduranceAnd they give me all these pills to treat depression, pills for emptiness and loneliness and inappropriate guilt, for debilitating misery. But it is only superficial because there are no pills for apathy.endurance3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
When there's this black hole in the middle of you, when all that gravity is stealing you from yourself, when there is so much emptiness and nothing you do can fill it, can make it any smaller, can keep it from getting any bigger The only thing you can do to save yourself is stop trying; the energy it takes to fuel your own disappearance is enormous. So you just have to let it happen to you, you just have to live with that feeling. It's like getting caught in a white out; you're wrapped up in cold and silence and gray, in muffled sound and reflected light. People can't even touch you anymore, not for real, anyway, because you're not really there; you're hiding, tangled in a dark twist where veins meet arteries, crouched between the hemispheres of your brain, straight as a sti
Public Service AnnouncementPicture perfect couplePublic Service Announcement3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Loving words hiding spiteful hearts
Sad eyes peering out of a trapped life
Unable to escape
A caged bird forced to sing
Both admired and ignored
Waiting to be left alone
To stop pretending for a short 8 hours
Perfect home Perfect Marriage
Pick up beer bottles after the final play
Bake cupcakes for kindergartners
Wear a freshly pressed dress and a demure smile
Trophy wife Trophy Wife
You are more than a pretty face
Don't wait for death to break free
I'm Going Down With You (Eulogy For The Dying)I thought you were fine,I'm Going Down With You (Eulogy For The Dying)2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I thought it was better,
But right now I feel,
As if I've read your suicide letter.
Dried blood on your nose,
And a shake in your touch,
I know I was wrong,
You've loosened your clutch.
I thought you were good,
I thought it was going,
But it's worse than bad,
And I think that it's growing.
Death in your eyes,
And despair in your tone,
I know I was wrong,
And I'll soon be alone.
I thought you were cool,
I thought it was slain,
But it's all fallen to hell,
And it's driving me insane.
Strain in your breath,
And no hope in your soul,
I never even saw,
And now it's taking it's toll.
I thought you were living,
I thought it was dead,
But now you can't hide,
And it's vice versa instead.
No step to hold spring,
And no belief in yourself,
I'm losing you now,
Losing love's wealth.
I thought you would tell me,
I thought I had right to know,
But apparently I'm just a child,
And I should believe this damn show.
Tears on my cheeks,
And betrayal in my heart,
You're dying on me