Hate Crimes.Hate Crimes.5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
So let me get in your head,
See the things you think?
So if I'm gay, I should be dead.
and if I'm emo I need a shrink.
Because I'm white
I must be lazy.
I must want to start a fight
because I'm a punk with a mohawk and my clothes are too crazy.
So because I'm black
I must be in a gang
And I must have smarts that lack.
Because I talk in slang.
So I'm Irish and proud of it
I must be a drunk who likes to fight.
And my wrists are slit
I must be doing it out of spite!
Because I'm a guy
I can't get raped or go through abuse
And I must always lie
because my family are jews.
So my boobs are broad
I must be a slut
Because I cut
I must be suicidal or just a fraud.
So I'm male and I was raped by a guy
I guess now I'm just a slutty gay!
So I'm going to hell when I die
because I messed up in some way.
I'm a lesbian or as you say a "Dyke"
So I hate men.
And I got into a fight
So I wanna beat up every person I can?!
I'm from Japan,
So I can't drive
So I've had sex with more then one man
I shouldn't b
The Ultimate Flame Form 2003The Ultimate Flame Form 200312 years ago in Humor More Like This
[ ] Horny Teenager
[ ] Horny Old Man
[ ] Horny Old Woman
[ ] Clueless n00b
[ ] Clueless Veteran
[ ] Chronic Spammer
[ ] Jealous Scumbag
[ ] Johnny or Jenny Do-Gooder
[ ] Menace to Society
[ ] Wannabe hacker
[ ] Stupid thread starter
[ ] Stupid thread reviver
[ ] Brainless sheep
[ ] Clever Bastard
[ ] Jack the Ripper
[ ] Troll under my bridge
[ ] Anti-social alien
[ ] Whiny Biatch
[ ] Annoying Boaster
[ ] Ignorant Asshole
[ ] Pompous Asswipe
[ ] Fruit of my loins
[ ] Error of God
[ ] Deviant Stalker
[ ] Disturbing Psychotic
[ ] Wannabe sex god
[ ] Amateur Wrestler
[ ] sub-human mystery of nature
You Are Being Flamed Because:
[ ] You posted a "MY COUNTRY RULEZ" message
[ ] You posted an "I'M SO SEXY" message
[ ] You posted a "WHY DON'T PEOPLE COMMENT ON MY WORK" message
[ ] You posted an "EVERYBODY SUCKS" message
[ ] You posted a "DEVIANTART SUCKS" message
[ ] You've posted in the wrong forum
[ ] You've posted in the wrong thread
[ ] You revived a long dead thread
splitting micasplitting mica10 years ago in Typographical More Like This
Uncloud the borealis of your eye, show your iceberg secrets
on an axis that intersects the surface
an axis that Greek geographers established as a reference line
from pole to pole. While Greece preserves the memory of itself in Rome,
its philosophers deduce morals from the nature of man
rather than from God
and baize of whitened-green mouldering
from the pews-sides
leaving naked wood
to the disturbance caused by a water droplet,
that will be smoothed out by gravity.
This complex folding over cannot be drawn, though its properties
can be specified in full mathematical detail.
∑ 2398 a & b (put > zero as quantum) α 161
101412PARALLAX101412PARALLAX11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
per aspera, ad astra.
to the angel of the halls of time:
in the space of those untold-thousand terminal
heartbeats silent; the treetop sunbeams gliding
some forest thaw in spring where he was static
bled like ruin and heather in the cloudshperes
she danced not far, and whether or not she felt
the dynamic of weathered-storm skyshallow, yet
untired he moved to make not a sound and thus
was fashioned the beginning of an end
go down, in history,/go down, in history,9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
he found me
and palmed off my dirt.
and made me read poetry
under the influence
in a parked Cadillac.
that first night
when he carried me upstairs
I counted ceiling beams
and named them after
elementary school teachers
who probably died
of emphysema the year I
learned to drive.
I am using him
to get well known
and he has grown-up food
in his fridge, so I
can stop going hungry.
I missed four meals last week
and I can see weight loss
in my shower drain,
in my round brush.
I hate that he has
a tie like my father's
and keeps tissues in his coat pockets
and offers me antacids before I
undo my mouth.
Ode To KurtOde To Kurt11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You left us alone in a cold dry world
with faith depleating and heeding
and tv numbing our feeling
you knew our meaning.
You knew our suffering.
You saw what we were afraid of.
face to face you saw it.
You lived it.
a reflection of your mind came out through your songs
you could have taught us of what had surely gone wrong
We saw your fear; the fear that maybe you didnt exist.
The fear that maybe you're not who you thought you were
when we look too long at ourselves
all that we'll see
an illusion of a person
that only wants to see "Me"
We never see us...too fucking obvious!
Always with the God Damned hard way!
did we forget we're all here together?
That we exist identically
No time, no length.
Why did you get caught up in you!
you always knew you werent really there.
you were just too damned afraid to say it!
Too afraid to see the truth... you're Everywhere man
CENSOR THIS 08880CENSOR THIS 0888013 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I remember when I know why the cage bird sings
was challenged for the "encouragement to take action
in premarital sex, homosexuality, and the use of
I remember when the Bible was banned and/or
challenged for being "pornography and obscene"
in Alaska and Pennsylvania in 1993.
I remember when the The Autobiography of
Malcolm-X was challenged in Flordia in 1994--
because it was "racist against white people"
I remember when Jambo Means Hello: The Swahili
Alphabet was charged with "degrading white
children" although it was a book for white children to
understand the African-American culture much better.
I remember when Daddy's Roomate was removed
by most libraries by most of the United States---for
Mind, I'm writing.Mind, I'm writing.11 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
Mind, I'm writing
A dark, untidy study. JACKSON slouches in his chair, smoking. Arrayed around him are six characters, all in shadow. JACKSON types a few words on his computer keyboard then pours himself some more whisky.
JACKSON: This isn't going anywhere!
GORDON: And you don't even get to screw it up and throw it away.
JACKSON: Oh, not again.
JACKSON: picks up bottle and looks at it suspiciously.
I hate it when they do that.
KATE: We're only trying to help.
JACKSON: You're not real.
GORDON: Define real, you bastard. Do you think I like this shadowy existence?
JACKSON: Shut up.
GORDON: You never finish anything, you slack, unimaginative moron. Stop knocking back the booze and write something.
JACKSON: shakes his head and pours more drink.
You're worse than my conscience. Which one are you, anyway?
GORDON: I think I'm the clichéd angry young man you called Gordon in a short story you never finished some two years ago now.
JACKSON: You think
an isosceles love triangleIf two angles of one triangle are similar to two angles of another triangle, then the triangles are similar.an isosceles love triangle11 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Recalling the memory of His geometry makes me sick with longing. That's the real reason I don't call Him every night, don't spend hours stuttering out words onto paper in some tremulous imitation of a love letter. The space I have behind conversation and human interaction is where He really lives, ready for me any time I need to remember. I don't even have to close my eyes before His own stare back at mine, revealing the storm clouds and stars that hover around His midnight-black pupils. The angles of His eyebrows, the slope of His nose, the arches of His eyelashes, the degrees of His gait, the radius of His smile when He sees me, the surface area of His strong embrace; sometimes the formulas back me into a corner where I try to understand, try to meticulously calculate every possible equation. I never solve for the answer before I snap out of my stupor, realizing His abs
Ode To KurtBorn a beautiful smiling babyOde To Kurt12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Made everyone so proud
Nobody knew this baby
Would later have a crowd
Struggled through his life
Parents always mad
They split,he cried
Made him feel so sad
Growing up, this piscies didn't have a home
Moving house to house
Always feeling alone
But through it all he wasn't alone
He always had a friend
His guitar would never argue
It's loyalty would never bend
And soon this boy had talent
Nobody dared to doubt
That when that boy got singing
He sure could scream and shout
His works were bleached
His will was strong
He once smelt like teen spirit
Took the world with just one song
And once In Utero
He had nowhere to go
Sure he had his lovely wife
But the needle took control
With millions of adoring fans
Spread around the land
This punkrock Jesus
Died by his own hand
I'll miss you Kurt
Mabey I'll see you some day
But as you always said
It's Better To Burn Out Than To Fade Away
The Eyes Of The Night Teaser 1I used to fear the night. The way all children do. You know the stories… monsters hiding under your bed, sandmen, wraiths, and all sorts of other evil things from hell whose only purpose was to stop a child's heart. For children are innocent and defenseless… .The Eyes Of The Night Teaser 110 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I used to draw the curtains closed. Not that it could stop monsters of course. But I thought if they could not see me they would forget me. But they never did… whenever I switched the light off, darkness embraced me; I heard those voices, whispers in the blackness. Everywhere… there were words in it, lots of words, but incomprehensible to me. Devilish. My eyes would open, but they continued to tease me. Always mocking me with laughter from spots I didn't look at. Finally I would turn on the lights and run to mama… crying…
My parents used to say there are no monsters. Mom said I should grow up and stop dreaming about nightmare creatures. Dad was a little more gentle. He said I was living in a dream world and that he understood. Bu
Tea StainTea Stain13 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"You call this bollage toast, man?
It's nowhere near done fully..
The middle bit's all burned'n'weird,
The outside bit is fluffy."
The toaster's broken inside,
And outside stands a goat..
And I am citing to the moon,
My tea stained suicide note.
"I can't believe I'm eating this."
I do wish he'd shut up..
In fact I'd wish this all away-
This blasted tea stained cup..
So many must have pondered it;
To leave it all and fly..
Fly to the moon ne'er looking back,
And let the morning die..
Yet, this cup's a might addictive,
And shalln't let me forget..
Yet seems my tea stained suicide,
Has not subsided yet..
And so, the middle of me's burning,
And outside's so unclear..
Why the devil there's a goat outside,
Is something rather queer..
The tea grows slowly strong and cold,
Like my unwritten note..
And I shall sip, and wait and wait,
Until the day I'm smote..
Pach, 31st night of Summer, MMII.
108801PLANESCAPE108801PLANESCAPE9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your shiver-smile is exultant.
i thought that
while i waited for the
suns to fall,
i would sing quietly
of the planescapes;
and how we, hand in hand
held the rising
jewels of the eternal apex
in that void, brimming with
life and interstellar
"your shiver-smile is exultant,"
i breathed in your ear
while you frosted over
and when again the suns
did climb to their zenith,
we were seen
as nothing less than
made of superstrings
The AntipoetThe Antipoet11 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
A cigarette burns idly on the pavement; ash eats its way toward the filter like cancer. He looks down at it, knowing he is the only living soul to understand the bittersweet irony consuming itself on the cold pavement. With a well placed step he snuffs the cherry to put the dying emotion out of its misery and out of his mind, and he keeps walking.
He spends his time living in predetermined adventures; previews, title menus, select a scene, sit down and tune out. He wonders if the controller in his hands, the ergonomically correct hunk of plastic with multi colored knobs buttons and pads could possibly be any more perfectly misnamed. Hi-definition images, computer generated graphics, doubly surround sound reproduce and coax emotion out of his tired body. He desires to understand reality, but he barrages himself with dilutions of fantasy and romantic quests.
He wishes to be a poet, the dark tortured soul caught in torment for all eternity. He wants to be a philosoph
the king of pain and pleasureThe King Of Pain And Pleasurethe king of pain and pleasure11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the pale and misty evening
when the savage day is dying
and your eyes are dim with crying
there's a voice that calls your name.
Then the moonlight stains your pillow
and you know that you must follow
when you feel his spell upon you
and your body turns to flame,
for his skin is cream and honey
and his mouth is pomegranate
and the King of Pain and Pleasure is his name.
Ah, his voice is soft as snowfall
and his eyes are deep as oceans
and a silver bird lays sleeping
in his black and tangled hair.
He's half god and he's half human
and you long to be his woman
when you feel his breath upon you
and your body turns to flame,
for his skin is cream and honey
and his mouth is pomegranate
and the King of Pain and Pleasure is his name.
In the hour before daylight
when the stars are ice and fire
and you ache with dead desire
there's a whisper in your ear.
Then the nightwind stirs your cover
and you know that he's your lover
when you feel his hands upon you
For LeeannThey would make fun of you. Small braids and small shoes and sad eyes and they would make fun of you like the merciless, blind eels they were. Blind they were, their eyes gouged with gold pins the day their sins caught up with them. And they used the smiles they once had and your smiles to wipe up their black, oily blood. Their parents would kill them if they stained the linoleum. So they knotted their shoe laces each day and put on their faces and they ridiculed you. Little did they know that you were beyond them. You were beyond those petty, dark-winged creatures. You were whole and young and innocent.For Leeann8 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
Something grew inside you that day, though. Festering mold of cynicism that clings to your every thought like a disease. Corrupting, rotting disease that steals away the hope of the world. It was your weapon, your protection, your shield and lance. It paired with the philosopher inside you; new lovers and twisting limbs making themselves known, making slow introductions in the darkest
after dinner, afterlifeafter dinner, afterlife9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
After Dinner, Afterlife
If it were you and I,
both of us
bearing crosses on our backs,
and lifted high upon our crimes
(like a Bible story
or a fairy tale from some
damned, banned book)
we'd surely be honoured
at the gates of Saint Peter,
with medals, wine, wings
and songs of praise
for our lives within fables
and our ability to conquer
with only a blind mule -
and a switch.
The Expected Part 1 of 4—Preface—The Expected Part 1 of 411 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
This is a walnut.
The walnut has no name. Its Latin appellation, however, is juglans, short for jovis glans. Jovis is what Zeus was called when the Romans saw him and decided they wanted one of those too; glans means nuts. Jupiter's nuts. It is highly probable that, back when this name was chosen, people meant to say walnuts were nuts fit for the gods. Funny, what the evolution of language can do to nuts.
This walnut is lying on the wooden floor of a monastery, a monastery beautifully situated in the middle of a seemingly endless forest.
This is Friar Mattheus. In a moment, Friar Mattheus will step on the walnut, slip, fall down the stairs, and break two ribs. Friar Mattheus really likes walnuts. A little earlier, he was going to crack this one open and enjoy it. At that exact moment, he had a doubtlessly divine inspiration for a chorale praising his saint of choice. The ingenuity of this chorale's words was that they would only make
Political LimericksThere once was a man named Bush,Political Limericks9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Whose head was stuck up his tush.
"There's weapons!" he cried,
He weaseled and lied,
Because his brain was made out of moosh.
Two men went to get married,
By parliament the two were harried.
"We have the right!"
They put up a fight,
Until Canada's views were varied.
Bush isn't the one who thinks,
Their routine's still working out kinks.
Sometimes they'll show this,
Did you ever notice?
He stops talking when Cheney drinks.
So the surplus could be bigger,
We could market a Chretien action figure!
With a kung-fu grip,
And a crooked lip,
He'd scare the crap out of Tigger.
The Conservative party is mean,
Harper's heart has yet to be seen.
The liberals forced out,
NDP with no clout,
Next time consider voting Green.
Pinkie Pie's Super PrankPinkie Pie's Incredible Interplanetary Super PrankPinkie Pie's Super Prank4 years ago in Humor More Like This
Twilight Sparkle's head shot up, eyes wide. A stray thought had interrupted her reading and struck terror deep into her heart.
Pinkie Pie had been quiet for hours! In a library!
The unicorn rushed from her room and down the stairs to the main floor, then let out a relieved whoosh of air at the sight of the pink pony. Pinkie was right where she left her, reading by candlelight from one of the many open books splayed across the library's largest table.
Twilight watched as Pinkie leaned over a book, eyes flicking side to side. Then the earth pony shifted one big step to the side, flipped the page of the next book, and leaned in close to the words. She only seemed to take around five seconds per book before moving on to the next.
"How do you manage to learn anything like that?" Twilight asked.
"By reading the words, silly," Pinkie replied without lifting her head, stepping to the next book in line. The exchange of words didn'
Your PoemOn the twentieth day of July 69,Your Poem11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
For the first time in history,
The moon landed on a man.
The first time such move had been attempted by a celestial body,
A great feat of precision,
Didn't crush the man at all.
You see, we see things from our eyes,
And everyone knows our eyes see upside down.
Or is that the right way up?
I could tell you about walking through deserts,
The beauty of running water, of rain,
You'd be thinking of TV shows.
When was the last time you were challenged,
Walked away from a conversation stunned.
Who are you listening to, me or yourself?
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
Is meaning in the eye of the reader?
More importantly, are you reading this upside down?
Every word you read is yours,
Make your own sentences,
Take your own morals.
And even though I wouldn't dream of telling you what to do,
Look within other people,
You'll see yourself.
Find out what you are,
Where you are headed.
Find your own moon and land on it.
Lady Rogues HandbookLady Rogue's HandbookLady Rogues Handbook5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
To expand on the Rogue's Handbook located at http://www.true-magic.com/writing/rogue.php , this one's for the ladies!
I will not masquerade as a heroine, as that would encourage the villain to target me first. I'll let the Hero take point.
I will not join the side of the Villain. He would either be abusive towards me, or I would be killed in the crossfire of his and the Hero's epic final battle.
If we are attacked, I will be sure to give at least one loud shriek so the Hero's natural instinct to protect damsels in distress will kick in and I'll have a nice solid shield of flesh swinging a sword around for me and attracting our attacker's attention while I quietly dispatch the enemies I can reach while staying behind him.
I WILL NOT FALL IN LOVE WITH THE HERO.
I WILL NOT HAVE SEX WITH THE HERO. Doing such would make him declare me his one true love, and he would spend all his time trying to convince me to leave my rougish ways behind to become the ideal woma