Good and Evil "Have you ever wondered why we are so different?" Good asked Evil.
"Actually, I have," snickered Evil in a cold voice, "While I am freedom, you are chains that hold people down."
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Good replied with a voice as soft as an angel's wing.
"My way of life if easy to follow, while yours is a struggle. I come more naturally while you seem to come from some divine source. You are what keeps people from being who they were born to be: Me!"
"You may be freedom, but you harm others for your own benefits. I am a safe haven where kindness and sympathy welcome all into their gentle embrace."
"What a shame," Evil sighed carelessly, "You will never understand my freedom and excitement."
"I pity you," Good replied sadly, "You will never experience my joy and beauty."
"This might sound absurd," continued Evil after seconds of silence, "but I must ask you: Do you t
Red Riding Hood and the Beast Once upon a time, there was a young beauty who always wore a red hood that her grandmother made for her. Therefore, she was known as Red Riding Hood, but everyone just called her Red. She stayed with her grandmother, because her parents were lost when a plague had swept the land. Her house was located in an enormous forest that was peaceful and beautiful by day but dreadful and eerie by night. Every day, Red would take her basket and walk down a dirt road until she came to a little town. There, she would get whatever her grandmother asked her to buy from the market.Red Riding Hood and the Beast2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Everyone in the village, like the rest of the land, lived in fear, because the kingdom was ruled by a hideous beast. All believed that he had eaten the real king and replaced him. At night, the villagers were afraid that the beast would roam the eerie forest and claim a victim; it had happened several times before. Anyone who went into the forest would be found; they had been ripped to shreds by
= Kaichou wa maid-sama PLZ:iconanime-cartoon-plzs:= Kaichou wa maid-sama PLZ3 years ago in Personal More Like This
Up In The AirI felt the cosmos stirUp In The Air1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
When you said "Hello" this morning
as you passed me
I was tripping on gravity just to turn around
and say it back again
Sliding and slipping
Choking on stars to get to you
before you floated away
One step, one hundred and eighty degree turn
I missed my chance
And you're planets away by now
And there are entire solar systems between us
I'm choking on space dust, trying to call your name
Speaking in strangled whispers
in the hopes that sound might one day travel in space
so that, if I can't tell you how much I love you,
maybe you'll hear it from the stars.
The constellations are a tightrope to your heart
and I've got size twelves
but I won't let go just yet.
You don't know my name, but I know the way you're dimples cave in
when you smile down at the side walk
Starlight has nothing on you, darling,
You're just so damn beautiful.
Stained GlassIt was a long window, very tall, with the most intricate and beautifully effortless designs Mela had ever seen. She stood before it, just a 19-year-old girl, dressed plainly in one of her most formal gowns. It was long and sweeping, gracing the floor for almost a foot behind her small feet, rolling delicately over her shoulders in a manner that could easily make her blush at the slightest sweet words spoken to her. The green fabric was satin in texture and complimented the young woman’s figure. Her long dark hair was braided down her back, and her hazel eyes were trained on the stained glass window, soft pink lips pursed in thought.Stained Glass2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“It is lovely,” she stated simply, with so much feeling in her sweet voice that the saccharine melody tickled the ears of any passers-by.
The window’s black framing was glinting in the early morning light cast from outside. The different colors of the glass shards played tricks on the eyes, dancing aroun
FFM July 2 - The Gas maskLet me tell you a story about waking up under water. No, not literally waking up under water, but that very same feeling. It's also a story about oxygen. Have any of you ever thought about oxygen, how important it is? Oh, sure, you've held your breath for sixty seconds, felt that surge of pleasant panic. Pleasant because all it takes is to open your mouth and let that sweet, sweet oxygen come back in. Except have you ever thought about what would happen if at that very instant, when you've held your breath for as long as you could someone would come along and dunk you head-first into water? You would suddenly realize you have no power in your limbs to fight; your grandmother could drown you then. If you draw in breath, you will die, but you have to draw in breath. You have to or you will die. No-one really wants to think any further than that, lest they really do start choking.FFM July 2 - The Gas mask6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
Maybe you imagined this situation right now. See how fine it is to be breathing, steady, big gu
You Don't Have to be Wonder Woman...I think these walls are collapsing around me because I'm not smart. I don't think with my head, I think with my hands in terms of what I can make, what I can break, and how to put back together what was previously given up on.You Don't Have to be Wonder Woman...1 year ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
No, I don't always have a steady grip on reality and sometimes my abstract sight, the only one I can really see with, wavers and I'm blind to everything around me. So I feel my way through the thorns and the storms and put my friends in poetry so that way, when they leave, I can still say we're gonna be best friends forever.
It won't really surprise any of you to know that I auditioned to be Wonder Woman. They told me I had great spirit but that cape was way too big and those boots were too tall and I just didn't have the look, you know, that superhero look. But I had great spirit! And if I just stuck around long enough, they were sure I could change the world.
But even if that doesn't quite work out, even if the world is exactly the same fifty year
do you even hear yourself?he declares himself a feministdo you even hear yourself?1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
"in the purest sense of the word"
and expects every woman to prove that
(to him, specifically)
she is worthy of equal respect
Ghost ShipYou still ghost shipGhost Ship1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I've been waiting
To drop anchor.
Snow White and the Beast Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a beautiful queen was sewing at her window framed with black ebony. Outside, snowflakes softly fell like feathers. As she was sewing and watching the snow fall, the needle slipped, and the queen accidentally pricked her finger; three drops of blood fell onto the snow. The warm red looked so pretty on the pure white; the black ebony window framed the lovely image. The sight made the queen smile.Snow White and the Beast2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"If I ever have children," she said to herself, "I hope at least one would be as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the window frame."
Months later, the queen gave birth to a daughter. The little princess had skin as white as snow, a face as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony. So, she was named Snow White. Unfortunately, the queen died mysteriously after holding her child for the first and last time.
After grieving for a year, the king decided to find another wife and queen. He soon mar
Demonology: EligorEligor - Eligos (also Abigor or Eligor), in demonology, is a Great Duke of Hell, ruling sixty legions of demons. He discovers hidden things and knows the future of wars and how soldiers should meet. He also attracts the favours of lords, knights and other important persons.Demonology: Eligor7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
He is depicted in the form of a goodly knight carrying a lance, an ensign and a sceptre (a serpent to some authors, most notably Aleister Crowley).
Alternatively he is depicted as a ghostly spectre, sometimes riding a semi-skeletal (sometimes winged) horse, or the Steed of Abigor. This is a minion of Hell itself, and was a gift from Beelzebub. It was created from the remains of one of the horses of The Garden of Eden.
* Zodiac Position: 10-14 degrees of Gemini
* June 1st-5th
* Tarot Card: 9 of Swords
* Candle color: Yellow
* Plant: Thyme
* Planet: Venus
Suicides Learning To SpeakIt’s 6 a.m. A girl is beginning the journey back from Oz, anchored to life by the whirr and beep of machines and tubes. Above her emaciated body, nurses pace, write on clipboards, click their heels and purse their lips. She is oblivious. Her mind drifts in freefall, stuck in an eggshell skull wrapped in nasal gastric tubing and an oxygen pipe forced down her throat like a synthetic umbilical cord. Somewhere, neurotransmitters are sewing themselves back into conscious awareness. There is a person lost somewhere in that body. There is a mind overboard in a black sea, sending up a flare. The nurses are afraid that she will stay in there forever. A family jostles at the side of the bed in the cramped, generic hospital room. All the King’s horses and all the King’s men… I don’t need ruby shoes to find my way home. My name is Ruby, the nurses click their heels and my family makes the wish.Suicides Learning To Speak2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I’m finding my way back to consciousness through the sound
Grandma“Is there something terribly wrong with me?”Grandma2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
I sigh and look up from my book. In the evening light my grandmother stares back at me, utterly unaware that it’s the third time she’s asked in as many minutes. Complex maps of wrinkles frame her wide eyes, each crease charting the grief, joy and laughter of a lifetime she is slowly forgetting. I look at her and I remember the wit and spark that used to punctuate her speech. I remember the way she used to strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere; how she’d find wonder in the simplicity of everyday life. Her curiosity, her sense of adventure, her love of the world and of all the people in it have been replaced by a child-like fear of the unfamiliar.
I look at my grandmother and behind her old, tired eyes I see a young girl who has lost hold of her mother’s hand in a world full of strangers.
“No, Grandma. There’s nothing wrong with you at all.”
curtains shift –
the faint glow
My kind of love.I want the kind of love that forms colourful wings in my stomach. Wings that fly in circles because they're disorientated from my hearts heavy beating.My kind of love.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I want the kind of love that's so radiant, I can't even bare to look in its direction without closing my eyes first–– it burns brighter than the sun.
A love that scares the fear out of my life, making anything possible again.
A love that regresses two adults back into kids, playing hide and seek with their future.
I want the kind of love that's a Sunday in the middle of the week –– inconvenient.
A kind of love that dances at a funeral –– inappropriate.
Love that's a muse to an artist –– inspiring.
The kind of love that's a .44 magnum revolver in a trunk of BB guns –– authentic.
Love that sparkles in the dark like pearls around the moons neck.
Love that speaks in tongues possessed by the spirit our two souls create.
Love that regenerates like a phoenix, and flies us on it's back
The Rabbit and the Fox In a quiet, shadowy part of the enormous forest, a father rabbit, not sensing any danger, innocently plucked a rose from its bush. He was unaware of being watched. Next to the rosebush, there was a large burrow, in which there lurked two lonely yellow eyes.The Rabbit and the Fox2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The old rabbit returned to his beautiful burrow in a much brighter part of the forest, where the melodious birds chorused. There, his small children were waiting. He had many little ones, but his favorite was a young female rabbit with light brown fur and glistening black eyes. The father rabbit gave her the rose, and she was the first out of her siblings to nibble on the petals. The flower had come from the only rose bush in the entire forest, and that bush had grown next to a fox’s home.
The Fox had followed the old rabbit, wondering if the small creature had any beautiful younglings. Once there, the Fox dug through their burrow. His paw was about to touch the
for Erkyou must have heard by nowfor Erk1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
that diamonds are only made
beneath a million pounds of
you must have heard by now
that pearls are only made
as a form of self-defense;
but darling, have you heard
someone tell you to your face
that you are brilliant,
beautiful in your own skin, in
every freckle, every frown,
in every graceful good morning
and every war waged and weathered
in the marrow of your bones -
you are so much more
than the scars you wear
and the stories they will tell;
you are so much more
than the lines you will draw
in love and laughter
and landscapes made alive;
you are so much more
than the climb you have yet
to conquer -
you must have heard by now
that we are all of us newly made
every seven years;
you must have heard by now
that we are none of us prisoners
of our past, but products of it;
but if you have not heard by now
that every new day and every disaster
is another chance to write bad poetry
and another chance for someone to
In a field I contemplateOnce again my feet had ledIn a field I contemplate1 year ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
me up upon familiar traveled tread
where flowers spoke proficiently
across the field in presentation fluently
O the hours sanctified
the Name of God be glorified
through the seeds whose names are known
that His sermon goes where their pollen blows
across the fields convert the trees
whose religious practice unorthodox
o the plentiful polka dots
swayed their heads to a silent song
wrung from a distant place ...indeed
O their presence yea so stately
dressed so neatly, with their corsage and their offering
of sweetened apples, stoutly pears, of pink cheeked peaches saccharine...
of preserved apricots and jam based candidates
mix and tumble in contemplate
fill the grassy meadow's plate
fragments blue and pink in hue
rust the massive mount -prelude
filled the brim with things of pleasure
things adulthood would
subject a child with reprimand and bits of a rod
but then we as grown ups if we fail to see
the things which children often see
then we would miss so easily
Goodnight Enigmatic SongShe was the song you hear and, at first blush, don't like.Goodnight Enigmatic Song2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Well, you don't know how you feel about it so you keep listening in an attempt to discover how exactly you feel and then you reach the end of the song and you realize, you don't like it; you love it.
That was Grace.
She was my coworker and she was my friend.
We carpooled together, I drove and she slept most of the way.
"Don't get much sleep at night, do you?" I asked her, catching those drooping lids mid-descent.
She looked out the window streaked with rain; it spoke in percussive touches filling the car with quiet overcast conversation.
I felt the warmth of her smile in the corner of my eye. The blur of her hand reached at the window to feel the cold of the droplets.
"When I was a girl, I used to race these. I thought it was funny the fat ones always won," she giggled and I imagined her as a little girl in the passenger seat then, legs too short to reach so kicking, and hair messed in the bac
maybe you never belonged to meI can still feel the weight of your lips on the curve of my collarbone. Sometimes, it feels paralyzing, crushing, absolute. Sometimes, it feels like home. Like everything.maybe you never belonged to me2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I once heard that when you can't fall asleep it means you're awake in someone else's dream. I wonder which one of us was dreaming that night, because everything was too quiet, too easy, too perfect. You used to fall asleep next to me, your body curled against mine. It's a warmth that's not easy to forget. A hidden smile tucked into pillows and sheets. It's easy to think these things will last forever when you're tangled up together. For me, the strings of my life will always be tangled up in yours. Forever tied to you. No matter hard they attempt to fray. To fall apart. To sever.
It's snowing for the first time this year. Soft and gentle, glittering in the sunlight, falling in large flakes, easy and quiet – nothing at all like the storm that rages inside of me, turning up the corners of my heart, throwing shrapnel
Ten Little DeviantsTen Little DeviantsTen Little Deviants1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Ten little deviants, all online,
One went invisible, and then there were nine.
Nine little deviants, staying up very late,
One missed a deadline, and then there were eight.
Eight little deviants, cosplaying as Britain,
One found a new fandom, and then there were seven.
Seven little deviants, writing about the River Styx,
One got published, and then there were six.
Six little deviants, having trouble with their hard-drive,
One crashed, and then there were five.
Five little deviants, looking for more,
One got himself banned, and then there were four.
Four little deviants, asking for points you see,
One got a Premium Membership, and then there were three.
Three little deviants, all in a chatroom,
One found a new RP, and then there were two.
Two little deviants, went outside to see the sun,
One got bored, and then there was one.
One little deviant, staring at his screen alone,
Closed their laptop, and then there were none.
wishesi am not a flower,wishes1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
a piece of me,
halfway between cracks in the sidewalk,
it will only die.
our lips fit together
all the broken pieces.
[maybe it was just a dream.]
Welcome to WonderlandFalling down, down, downWelcome to Wonderland2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Spinning 'round and 'round
All around, the ticking of clocks
Such a discordant sound
Right is left and left is right
Night is day and day is night
Up is down and down is up
Life is death and death is life
Voices whisper from every niche
Screams echo and cause a twitch
Claws and teeth threaten to kill
Eyes wild with bliss of such a thrill
Run, hide, fight, or plead
Nothing shall work, nothing you need
The sun and moon will laugh as you cry
As the Queen shrieks her commands to the sky
Blood forms penumbras as heads roll
A cry of defiance with each bell toll
The jury turns in accord, madness shining bright
Their question full of words to make your skin crawl with fright
"ArE yOu AlIcE?"
T i c k
T o c k
T i c k
T o c k
"OfF wItH hEr HeAd!"
~Welcome to Wonderland, Alice~
I hope you are reading thisthe person I love loves music much too muchI hope you are reading this2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
and the person I love loves that I love the quiet and easy days
loves that I like to stay up late (or early) till the birds sing of morning and
the person I love loves that I love to hold hands and hold a body but only when I know them fully
and the person I love loves listening to my songs and listening to my voice and to my poetry and stories
the person I love has songs to share too and a voice that melts my heart and words that mold it back into something nostalgia old and inspired new
and the person I love loves to look around and take it in once in a while and wonders why we can’t just run away to a secluded place in the forest with a cabin that harbors all of our needs, keeps you and me in a space apart where it rains when we’re sad because we would always be sad together and where the sun is warm on our skin when we are smiling together and laughing together because I made a spectacular pun out of seemingly nothing sp
what it means to move on1.what it means to move on1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
he told me that if i caught the next train to Detroit,
he would grab me by the waist and take me to the
edge of Proud Lake in Commerce, MI.
holding both sides of my face, he would list off
all the reasons why i was the one.
i am burying this fantasy,
pulling the hum of his voice out of my ear drums.
if you were here right now, i would kiss you
he said before spilling gasoline under my car tires
and flicking his half-smoked cigarette into it.
i miss the taste of his nicotine.
i miss every strand of his hair.
we are both addicts.
his hand was the span of Orion.
in it, he held mine and squeezed all too forcefully.
i should have taken this as a warning, a sign
of love's tendency to strangle its participants.
i just want my best friend back
he whispered in between apologies.
my arms ached to accept, but
some promises are better off broken.
i spent my 16th birthday reading the palm of his hand;
little did i know i was dyslexic in the art of skin.
his canvas was calloused and w