My Sadness the ArtistMy sadness paints a portrait with watercolours.My Sadness the Artist8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The tears strike the paper mixing together,
until eventually memories take shape. One
is a love which I willingly left behind,
one was a painful memory, one of a kind.
My sadness is such a beautiful artist.
My eldest love looks beautifully real,
the words my painful thought evokes echo
with me still. I'd say it was a professional,
except that it can't ever give ME form.
As I look through their folder, the artist
that is sadness paints me different each time.
Once as a chivalric knight, then as a brooding
gentleman, then as a hopeless romantic, but
as I look again, I'm sadder with each new me.
Lately it seems sadness has reached a
blue period and it paints with surrealism:
Here a boy with no arms, then no legs, then
no eyes, then no hands...The latest drawing
has a hole in the chest. The heart is missing.
Now my sadness draws once more, as I look
in the mirror. The artist details the tile
floor, the bathroom sink, the exit door,
so that yo
The Man With the KeyIt's an oddly wonderful thing,The Man With the Key7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
standing outside, glancing
at the moon, feeling an odd kinship.
Unlike the planets which orbit
the sun, the Moon sits so still,
left to follow no one.
It shines a light which it borrows
from the stars and Sun, if only
it could be understood by everyone,
perhaps they could understand you.
Come to appreciate all your phases,
and why you remain as the world passes you by.
Now you stand, half alight, half in shade,
warm at your core, but shivering at the
surface. The wind which causes the trees
to whisper about you, reveals how open
you are to the world. But to seek cover
means to hide yourself from the Moon.
The wind's picking up, the trees are
laughing at you now. You feel their
skin, coarse and cracked, it is not
your own. Once so at peace with this
place you look around and see yourself
surrounded by alien beings. Alone.
You run along the path, looking for
your partner. You feel the rocks, but
they are worn like old sandpaper, they
too are not your kind.
Tired FrustrationI can't stand life on Tv anymore--Tired Frustration6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
watching people make mistakes, over
and over. But sometimes I wonder if
it's about their mistakes or the fact
that I don't live a life to make my own.
I can't stand the silence of the night
anymore. All I get to listen to are
crickets, the cars pass. Sometimes
I wish I had reasons to be up at day,
so that the silence of night is actually
the silence of sleep and dreams.
I can't stand love in books anymore.
It's always difficult and never simple,
though often I wonder how tough things
could be...If only I had someone who
really loved me. I wish I had someone
there to kiss goodnight.
I wish I had someone here to wipe away
my tears. And I wish I had someone else
to say "I've been waiting all these years"
about me. The weeks and months go by and
it's like the ones I love are so far
away from me. I guess book love is simpler than I thought.
At least in books if you love someone
you can drop everything and run to them.
At least in TV if you make mistakes,
The One Thing I'm Sure OfI think so often of the one whom I will love.The One Thing I'm Sure Of5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There are some days I'm certain, some days
uncertain, but whatever day it is, there
are many things I'm clear on. How to love them.
Love shouldn't be unconditional in the true sense,
because sometimes unconditional love is blind love.
I want to love my one as much for their faults, as
for their positives, their abnormalities and their extraordinaries.
I want to love them as much in the morning when I'll
see them unflattering, as I do at night when I know
they've worn what makes them feel and look good.
I want to be able to say you look lovely and always mean it.
I want to help them as much with the little things,
as I would with things that might rock their world,
shake their foundation, or cause them great fear or
anguish. Because when I am frustrated, I still want them to see love in my eyes.
I want to show them as much love while holding their
hand, as I might when embracing them intimately,
because appreciating and respecting every exch
In the LamplightIn the LamplightIn the Lamplight7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
People observe changes, in varying
degrees and complexities: Whether
its the movement of clouds in the sky,
the sliding shadow at their feet,
the changing filaments of light
as the day becomes the night, but
it's all the more acute when you're alone.
Sitting on a bench in the silent
darkness, looking up in vain at
a starless sky, fighting desperately
to keep that tear from your eye,
the only thing that dares shed a
light of hope is a lamp, which
illuminates you like a searchlight.
What message is it really trying
to convey? Here sits a solitary soul
who has lost their way? Hear lies
a heart in tumult destined for dismay?
Does it try to beckon people to you,
or shoo them all away? What, then,
orange lamplight are you trying to say?
Still, it's hard to leave the silent
partner, for on either side waits
shadows, darkness, and uncertainty.
At least here you have an identity,
and a thing to bear it witness, that
you might matter to something in the world.
Is this what you t
virulenceWith a bitter twist to the tongue,virulence1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
he treated his final words like
"You're like catching lightning,
and I'm tired of chasing storms."
She couldn't help but smile
as he walked away from her.
She's partial to the idea of being
The Music of the NightIt was rare when the rumors flying around the opera house were proven true, but sometimes the inevitable happened. Monsieur Lefevre was going to retire and was on the hunt for a new manager to hand the Opera Populaire over to.The Music of the Night2 years ago in Horror More Like This
How he was going about this, however, was very strange.
He was holding a contest to find a person with the drive and creativity to take the theatre to the next level. He was holding a contest to find someone with passion for music that matched his, and many men clamored to show him their compositions.
Anyone who wished to enter could, as long as they were capable of reading and composing a score with music and lyrics. Several people collaborated on the projects, thinking that two minds were better than one.
In the end, Lefevre settled on two contenders who were both renowned violinists in the orchestra: Gustave Daaé and Erik Renoir. The men were on friendly terms with each other although Renoir was much younger.
Erik was a prodigy at age fifteen. No one kn
Sleep ForeverSilver tears fall from my eyesSleep Forever6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I can never tell you that I cry
I never want you to feel bad
It just feels so real that time
I wake up and it disappears
I reach out for you and touch you
We talk like we've known each other forever
We talk about nothing important
But it makes us happy
I sit in your room and I'm at peace
The tears fall again
Why does this vanish everytime?
I don't want to vanish
I want to stay with you forever
Why...why can't I?
I never want to open them
If my eyes take me away
Let them never open again
My dreams are so much better
Than the reality that steals me away
All I ever want is to dance in your smile
Dream in your eyes, live in your heart
Wake up everyday and know
That I can come see you and
just sit in your room
And I will be at peace.
So until that impossible time comes
Think of me and pray for me
Please visit me in my dreams
I will visit you in mine
We can dream together
The world can't take it away
The world can't take you away
The world can't take me away
Along Came an AngelShe signed her name next to selfish,Along Came an Angel2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and told him he had a heart of gold.
But behind the scenes and cheery talks
they were both just as damaged and hurt
with so many secrets floating, untold.
He had his monsters to battle,
she didn't stand in a better place
yet she pulled him up to his feet,
and glued all these cracks in his soul.
She was a strong lady,
a hidden gem among many rocks,
she shared her dreams and laughter
but sometimes she cried on his shoulder
and pointed at the demons,
who forced a lump to build in her throat.
She always insisted he was being sweet
when he spoke about her majestic allure
truth be told, he never understood
how can someone go through such hurt
and still have enough power to stand tall.
He learned the answer later on though,
when she took his breath in awe
and taught him how to smile anew
Along came an angel, he'd joke
yet for her, he swore a vow
to never let go, until death takes its dues.
The Wayward Travelerwhat does it mean, waking from a dream,The Wayward Traveler6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sad to lose someone you've never seen?
What does it mean, returning home,
after traveling places you've never been?
While something in your heart tells you it's real?
What does it mean, losing grip on reality,
without ever realizing, you're letting go?
What does it mean, feeling lonely, for family
you never really left behind. Yet they seem
farther away to you now than ever?
What happens when the only familiar feeling
comes from helping others from afar?
What happens when existence becomes simple
hours between work, sleep, and bus stations?
I think you begin to wonder where and who you are.
This is my attempt to try and grab your hand again.
This is my way of taking back command again.
This is my way of telling those who may be feeling
they lost me that I'm trying to come home again,
like the dog that I am, to the home that raised me.
Like man's best friend I have come to rely on
the praise and warmth of others, to feed me
with compliments and le
R.I.P.Did anyone notice that she winced if you raised your arm?R.I.P.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Did anyone notice that her eyes were wide with alarm?
Did anyone notice that she never looked you in the eye?
Did anyone notice that her voice was but a sigh?
Did anyone notice that her skin was always bruised?
Did anyone question whether she might be abused?
Did anyone question why she walked in obvious fear?
Did anyone question why one day she did not appear?
Did anyone recognize her face on the six-o’clock news?
Did anyone see her remains pulled from the river refuse?
Did anyone care that this quiet girl no longer exists?
No. No one did. And she will never even be missed.
It Was A DayIt was a day a little bit like todayIt Was A Day2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the way the clouds threw shadows over the hill
the day you realized that you weren’t going to find your future.
You were never going to go to Mars
You were never going to open the door that led, inexorably, to Narnia
(or even Telmar, you weren’t picky, and you were confident of your ability
to lead the revolution.)
Inigo Montoya was not going to slap you on the back
and invite you to take up the mantle of the Dread Pirate Roberts.
There would be no sardonic Vulcans or Andorians;
you would never be handed an elegant weapon for a more civilized age.
That was a strange day.
It ranked up there with the day that you realized that everybody else saw the you in the mirror, not the you inside your head. Not the you that was lean and tough and clever, not the you with perfect hair and a resonant voice that never said “Um….?”
Not that you.
No, they got the one that was fat and wobbly and stiff inside with
Xessie and Salem Part 4Attempt #4Xessie and Salem Part 47 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
"How do you think others see you now? How do you think others will see you in the coming years?"
3RU7UF was the most unwanted of my visitors at first. I knew it was connected because when I entered my dreams I was met by the world of rainbow once again. The rainbow waves that were the floor slowly began to shape themselves into people which I could tell were fans and the place I was standing upon became a stage. I found myself holding a microphone and there was music behind me, a rock ensemble of harmony and bass guitar. And when I recognized the song I was singing, it seemed clear that I was in a fantasy. "How can you see into my eyes...Like open doors? Bringing you down into my core, where I've become so numb...?" The crowd was cheering and I myself was surprised as I let out notes that I only sung to myself when no one could hear me. I could hear myself singing with all my heart, because those were words that echoed my deepest t
How To Be A Perfect NeighborMy wife and I have never particularly liked other people.How To Be A Perfect Neighbor7 years ago in Humor More Like This
When we were poor, it wasnt much of a problem. We rented shitty apartments in ghetto neighborhoods (bohemian districts if we were feeling racy), put 5 deadbolts on the door, barred the window, and kept a Beretta shotgun by the door. In five years, we only had one break-in.
I came home late from the firm I paralegaled at, unlocked the door, knocked three times, and then opened the door. Phoenyx was sitting at the kitchen table, absently drumming her fingers against the cheap IKEA linoleum and reading the funnies. A young man was softly bleeding to death on the floor from a knife-wound in his sternum. I remember thinking Goddamn, I hope none of it got on the carpet.
I hit a pay-cap and had to move to the suburbs. If you dont live in the suburbs, people dont want to come to your house. If people dont want to come to your house, they dont accept your dinner party invites. If you dont t
Take FlightTake flightTake Flight7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Demons and angels alike
On wings of leather or lace
They both fly
Watching the living
Are they here to help
Or to hurt us?
Can you tell the difference
Between the beauty
Of the exalted and the damned?
Can you see through the lies?
Will you be embraced by gentle love
Or by the cold touch of death?
Both help us find a path
To follow in the dark
Can you see where you tread?
Do you notice the slope?
Up or down
The road to hell is paved with good intentions
And the one to heaven is hard and steep
Will you walk by yourself down the easy path
Or take the help to climb higher?
Its your choice
Or is it?
The Evolution of a NovelistThe sky used to be filled with stars,The Evolution of a Novelist2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
when he was young, a child, free of scars,
filled with the idyllic myths, bygone ages,
distilled for him in old books, old pages.
It wasn't enough to have Aslan the lion,
but the morals of fables, he would rely on.
A body imperfect with impossible dreams,
he turned to sci-fi, Animorph-able teens.
It wasn't long before he would, himself,
aspire to write, have his book on the shelf.
All for others who shared in his passion,
in his own stylings, in his own fashion.
So as the world seemed endless before him,
his sixteenth summer he did set before him,
the task of writing his own sci-fi visions,
pieced together, one-hundred-eighty-four divisions.
Though it was true no one would read it,
he loved the feeling, began to need it.
And though, his style, not all would like it,
"Writing," he believed, "nothing quite like it."
The voice of the teenager, soon gone,
more patient, more focused, he carried on.
Driven on by a Muse, also his fan,
he became a more con
The TempleIf it's true thatThe Temple9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your body is a temple,
then family is the foundation,
parents are your roof,
and friends are your pillars.
Without a roof, it is
harder to weather the
rainfall of tears, the
heat of love or anger,
or the cold of sadness and pain.
Without a foundation,
your house where you feel safe
will swallow you up like
quicksand, the more you struggle
the faster you will fall in.
Without Pillars your house
caves in all around you,
pinning and caging your soul,
forcing one to wander away
along the naked Earth for shelter.
The loss of one can mean
destruction of all others,
the gravity of this is what
pins us to the ground so
we spin fast as our Earth.
Without your temple, would
others still believe? If
no one believed in you,
would you simply disappear?
Who would you be then?
RainRain3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Rings and rivulets of water
Rolling down the panes and roof
Running wildly through the gutters
Resting underneath the porch
Raking wet across the shutters
Remaining still for far too long
Restless children yearn to play
Left Well Enough AloneThere is no leaving me alone,Left Well Enough Alone10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It's a fact I try to hide from.
I tell myself some time alone
would give me the freedom I want,
but still I eventually
feel that I'm trapped inside a cage.
It is such a helpless feeling,
because I never find the cure.
It all eventually seems
to point to something inside me
that flaunts some immaturity,
as if age could have the answers.
However, the older I get
the worse it seems. It weighs me down
with the thought that I'm incomplete
without someone to share my heart.
As if my diminished balance
has affected my legs AND heart.
A house divided cannot stand
And so I've come to understand,
I cannot feel safe on my own,
without an extra set of arms,
eyes, legs, lips, ears, and even lungs.
Someone I could be with til the end,
Is that goal so rough to obtain?
I wonder then, if this longing,
is more mature than childish,
In that I have reached a time in
life, where I must share the burden.
the world is heavier, making
it harder to keep on waiting.
The TravelerA curious woman stands poised to journey,The Traveler9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
feeling caged by the surrounding houses.
As windows are the eyes to the soul, so too
windows are the eyes of houses. Constantly
they look to her, with seemingly stiff,
inexhaustible expectations. She yearns
for the freedom of the sea.
She strides along humming first a tune,
created naturally by the rhythm of her gait.
But eventually words flow like the rising tide,
"Mother Ocean, Mother Ocean, I cannot wait
to glide across your glittering beaches.
The feel of sand upon my feet, water at my waist,
and sun at my shoulders almost leaves me speechless."
One ocean leads to another, and she glances in awe
of the endless moving ocean that is the sky.
She laughs at a silly thought, "The clouds are travelers
who rain down tears of jealousy, striking lightning
of heated anger. For while I feel suffocated at home,
they feel restless in their endless pilgrimage, wishing
only for a place to settle down."
Being alone, and having no colleague for conversation
SaleMarked down due toSale10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
May need repairs.
The heart is broken,
But may be possible
Years of wear and experience
Give her an authentic,
One of a kind,
Don't pass this offer up.
Buy now, while you
Don't let this one slip away...
Midnight WandersCalling up the water with her delicate finger,Midnight Wanders10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Twirling it up gracefully, masking her nudity;
As if she cares, one like her.
The night sky glowing with wonder,
With its light reflecting off of our maiden,
Her skin glowing as the moon; aqua gown twinkling as the stars.
Slowly, softly, she begins to hum,
Floating along with her own lullaby,
Dancing with elegance upon the face of the moon,
Leaping from one star onto another.
The water ripples; giggling along with her,
As the sweet laughter carries from her cherry blossom lips
Stirs the leaves of the forest ever so slightly;
Chilling and entrancing all that hear.
And still she glides upon the water,
With her aqua gown trailing along behind;
The pond gasping at her every motion.
Numerous times this episode has played,
And always it ends the same.
On these nights the path is dark;
Luscious trees hide the night sky's golden glow.
As he would wander, frightened and alone,
She would begin to call;
Her beauteous harmony tickling his ears.