Girl Alarm ClockGirl Alarm Clock11 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
i loved that you were a storyi loved that you were a story10 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
i loved your stories;
i loved that you were a story,
because i could read that book a thousand times,
and it would still smell new
each time i broke it's spine.
i wrapped my own words around the margins,
until every empty inch was inked-in.
i wrote my own footnotes
for each reference i didn't understand,
until i didn't know which was of my own hand.
i'd try and read it from right-to-left
which left me more-or-less in quite a mess.
i discussed it with barthes, and he said
it made complete sense (in context)
inside a house we built
which was planned in metres
but measured in feet
bad for furniture,
great conversation piece.
i loved your stories;
i loved that you were a story,
because i could read that book a thousand times,
and it would still smell new
each time i broke it's spine.
The Curse Of Formal VerseNothing is harder than writing formal verse;The Curse Of Formal Verse10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
We struggle and we try to wrack our heads,
But all words fail, our poems are a curse.
The creators of such forms were most perverse,
Taking pleasure from poets wishing they were dead.
Nothing is harder than writing formal verse.
A failed writer shakes his empty purse.
He is determined to, once more, be fed.
But all words fail, his poems are a curse
The Villanelle, The Sestina; a hearse
Waiting for that poet, writhing in his bed.
Nothing is harder than writing formal verse.
An inmate of an asylum calls the nurse
He tried to write a sonnet in his shed
But all his words failed, his poems are a curse
Do not laugh off these forms with words so terse;
Even the masters have been quoted to have said,
"Nothing is harder than writing formal verse.
When all words fail, our poems are a curse."
Star Trek: Sigils and Unions--Flash2371—The Time of the Maquis Uprising—24 hours remainingStar Trek: Sigils and Unions--Flash3 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
The 2305-series Starfleet Type-I hand phaser lay in pieces on the sixteen-year-old human boy’s desk. His dad had managed to hide the old weapon from the Cardassians when they’d beamed down for their first ‘security sweeps,’ but he hadn’t exactly managed to hide it from his own son. Hadn’t even noticed his prized phaser had been gone for three days already.
It baffled the boy, as he installed the beam collimator he’d managed to scrounge up, how his father could complain about the Federation as they abandoned their people to politics, how he could complain about the Cardassian jackboots and do nothing about it. He couldn’t even be bothered to tuck tail and run when the Cardies took over, let alone stand up and fight like the Maquis were doing.
And now, the boy marveled as he clicked in a power cell he
Mary Sue, Mary SchmueMARY SUE, MARY SCHMUE: WHY YOU SHOULD IGNORE THE LABELMary Sue, Mary Schmue5 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Part One: It's Not As Bad As You Think
Any writer who has opened their work to criticism or posted their work on the Internet (oh wait, that's the same thing), has undoubtedly heard the term "Mary Sue." In all likelihood, you've heard this term because one of your characters has had this label thrown at them. Perhaps the fear alone of having your character turned into a dartboard for flamers has driven you to discover the definition of this term. In fact, it's likely that the fear of this label has altered your writing and characterization in some way. Has it driven you to be less shallow, and make your characters less shallow? Good! Has it driven you to think more carefully about your plot devices to make sure you're not pulling a Deus Ex Machina, and to keep a close eye on your characterization to make sure you're not derailing any of their personalities? Good! Has it driven you to b
Found Poetry: Captured MoonFound Poetry: Captured Moon9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When that one woman came to the library
I fell for her.
I remember that lovely night
Inspired by a story,
Not of goblins,
But of love.
And if I hid her body in the earth
In a book under a rock,
I have captured the moon.
She was the moon.
The Dragon MechanicThe door was locked.The Dragon Mechanic5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
* * *
Septimer had vague memories of being six, curled up in her uncle's lap while he sat at his great big ink-stained writing table and sketched out diagrams of gears and machines and dragons. His clothes smelled subtly of car exhaust and molten metal, but it was a smell she loved because it was her uncle's smell. In his dim study, the only light was that of his tall desk lamp and Loki's red eyes, like dying embers, burning faintly in the shadows at the back of the room. Her great mechanical heartbeat filled the room with a slow, deep, steady pulse.
While her uncle worked and Septimer watched, her eyes barely peeking over the rim of the desk, he would tell her of how Loki's namesake, a trickster god of Norse mythology, wrapped himself in a cloak of feathers and flew to the ends of the earth in search of Thor's hammer. She dreamt endlessly of climbing onto Loki's back and sitting just between the giant's beating wings, wrapping her arms around his neck while the wo
An Essay on Naming CharactersWhat's In a Name?An Essay on Naming Characters9 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
An Essay on Naming Characters
By Kate Logan
When it comes to character creation, be it for a story or an illustration, choosing the proper name for a character is vital. All too often do I see characters with poorly thought-out names: the chivalrous knight Darren Starhawk; the sweet, innocent Lady Elvira; or the rough-and-tumble brawler Poindexter. On their own, these names are fine (even Starhawk, if you're going for a sci-fi flare), but they simply don't work with the characters they are describing. No one is going to take poor old Poindexter seriously, no matter how big his muscles are. To remedy this catastrophe, here are a few tips and guidelines when naming characters.
First, a little game. Below is a list of several of my characters and a brief description of each, all mixed up and out of order. Try to correctly match the name to the character description. The answers are at the end of this essay (no peeking!).
1. Senshi Meijin
River and the DoctorIt took a lot of pushing and shoving to load that blue box into the cargo bay: even with the mule and the ATV, Mal couldn't blame his latest customer for circling the crate nervously every time it wobbled on its setting. He himself was in a right high-spirited mood, as the patron in question had paid up front and quite generously.River and the Doctor2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
"Caaareful," the eccentric man protested as his prized possession trembled for the umpteenth time. He held out his hands as if hoping to catch it, but in reality it could probably crush him. The skinny stranger moved as if he hadn't quite grown into his limbs, waltzing about in a tweed jacket, navy trousers and a bright bow-tie. And to hinder his physical talents even further, his unruly brown hair dangled completely in front of his eyes in one fell swoop.
"No need to beat yourself up over a couple scratches, stranger," Mal called to him while he and Jayne worked. He particularly eyed the nicks and scuffs in the bright cobalt paint. "This thing looks like it'
ForesightDebra Mae was an astonishingly good programmer.Foresight2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Her code always worked correctly the first time, and she never missed a deadline. Her workspace was immaculate, but curiously devoid of personal effects. No framed pictures, no toys, just her small collection of pens lined up according to color and an inbox for the occasional old-school paper input.
Her computer was equally immaculate. Nothing extra on her desktop, no stray icons. If one peeked at her browser history there’d be nothing there but work-related google searches and company stuff.
She dressed neatly but very plainly. I suspected she had four dresses in her wardrobe and rotated them daily. On casual Fridays she wore jeans and a plain white top, unlike her shaggy coworkers who went in for clever t-shirts or flannel.
Her space was so depersonalized that visiting salespeople often mistook her desk as vacant, setting up shop for the day. The first time that happened Debra Mae simply drifted to an absent co-worker
Ocean MistI wouldn't worry, that rose is not for me. I've already had my roses;Ocean Mist9 years ago in Spoken Word More Like This
they wilted aeons ago, yet I'm still the same. As I always have been and always will be.
I am the dangerous one, the beautiful one, and the unpredictable one; with the deepest depths and the saltiest breath. My hair, white, ever growing, fading, and shifting, sometimes not even there. My body- the deepest translucent blues, fading as light penetrates through me. My children, so numerous, I've seen them die, killed them, cared for them, and shaped them over time.
The one child, whom I do despise, my nephew, claims to own my brother, Land, and I. He does accept that I cannot be owned, the same with my brother, and is blind to the fact that I sit through time, wanting to prove my ever reigning might. The child thinks he has conquered me, with his petty boats, and his ignorance. He poisons me and rapes me, polluting my song, killing his siblings. A spoilt baby prince, unable to witness his mortality in the world's progre
SkinnydippingMy love for you is like the Amazon,Skinnydipping6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
longer than any other,
deeper than conscious thought,
and filled with vicious, hungry piranhas.
A Basic ShadowrunOK, a Manager of some sort needs something done, and finds out he can't do it "In House" for whatever reason. Doesn't even need to be illegal. Let's say... A Middle Manager of Marketing needs to know what the opposing Corporation is going to promote next. He sends a request, with budget (Usually stolen from something not watched carefully, like a Coffee Fund), to the "Deniable Assets Department" (Or whatever name the Corporation gives itself.).A Basic Shadowrun7 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
The Manager there looks at it, guages it's importance to the Corporation, sees that this could be useful, and sends it to one of his agents. Let's call the agent "Bob Johnson".
Bob Johnson gets this job, sees that it's fairly low key, sees the budget, and knows this his promotion and bonus is based on getting the job done successfullly, but as cheaply as possible. Bob Johnson goes through his Rolodex, sees what Hackers or Intrusion Teams are around, and their usual price, tries to
i never liked life until.i never liked numbers until i watched you do math.i never liked life until.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
and somehow between the derivatives and the way you made the calculations dance, i fell in love with the logical precision of how they added up, the poetry you weaved on graphs with a pencil behind your ear and a slow smile curling your lips. and when i sat on your lap, counted the kisses, multiplied the desire, divided the distance and subtracted the inhibitions, i decided i might be mathematically inclined after all.
i never liked roller coasters until you took me on one.
and somehow between the buckling down and the gripping your hand as the car shook forward, i fell in love with the stomach-dropping, jaw-aching beauty of letting go and finding yourself flying instead of falling. and when i looked over and saw your grin stretching your face and your quick laugh getting stolen by the wind, i decided that i might like losing control and free-falling after all.
i never liked the rain until you danced with me in it.
and somehow betw
The Curvature Of OhThe Curvature Of Oh11 years ago in Mystery & Suspense More Like This
Tod's a mute, it doesn't matter why. It doesn't matter why, but Tod's a mute. He sometimes wants the world to spin so fast that he's on the other side and he's singing, he's singing so loud that the crows in the rooftops stop their noise because there isn't any point because no-one's listening, because they're all listening to Tod. God stops to hear Tod sing. But Tod can't sing, not at the rate this world spins. He can't sing.
Tod starts to paint. Starts in his room at the sound of the door, but the sound's only so loud because it never comes from his mouth the way we sometimes surprise ourselves with words we never planned. Starts to paint with his right hand and learns to spoon chicken noodles into his mouth with his left, and Tod paints around a plate and stares at the daubed red sun that's hollow and always mouthing Oh.
When the couple across the street walk out of their front door a few mornings later they're on their way to work and on their car (it is red) is written: Go To Slee
Noticed in CommittingI started committing suicides. They were small at first, but more grandiose as the months passed.Noticed in Committing3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
At first, I came up with basics: wrist slashing, hanging, overdose, jumping off a building, and stepping off in front of bus. They were all very mundane, really, and if not done properly you just end up living very, very painfully. It was after those routine ways to snuff oneself that I began to get creative.
There was going into a biker bar nude and starting fights with drunk bikers. And when I say "fights", I mean with a knife in my hand. That was a fun night. Everyone was freaked out and angry at the same time. They all wanted to kill me, but they didn't want to touch me either. Eventually, though, they did.
Oh, another good one was sneaking into one of those giant dump trucks at a quarry and letting them dump tons of excavated rocks on me. The driver of the loader always sees you just as it's too late and tries to stop the load.
Dress Me UpThree young men, each holding a white bag, wandered through the mall. They moved in the form of a triangle, the two brothers walking ahead of their third companion. On the right was the older brother, if only by a few seconds. He had big, doe eyes the color of sapphires and brown, spiky hair. The younger brother stood just as tall as the other. His blond hair spiked straight up with bangs dipping down into his deep cerulean eyes. Beside one another no one would guess that they’re twins. But it’s not their looks or even their personalities that differ - it’s how long they’ve been dating their respective boyfriends. The fact became even more clear as light pink dusted the blond’s cheeks at whatever his brother had said. As the twins strode happily, their companion ambled behind them. His shoulders slumped as if he weight of the bag weighed a ton. He kept his head down, allowing his slate-colored hair to hide the right side of his face - the remaining tressesDress Me Up2 years ago in Romance More Like This
Eternal BachelorVDrac13: Hello?Eternal Bachelor6 years ago in Humor More Like This
Lucygoosey22: yes? Who is this?
VDrac13: Vhat you mean, whoo ees this? You not remember me, sveet cake?
Lucygoosey22: Oh no. Oh, my God. Its you!
VDrac13: Oh, yes. Ees I. You mees me, dont you, butter muffin?
Lucygoosey22: No! I thought I told you to stay away from me, you creep!
VDrac13: I do not remember you having said such terrible vords. Vhy you lie to me, sveet Lucy?
Lucygoosey22: I am not lying! I was pretty sure that the restraining order would speak for itself! How did you get my screen name? Tell me, right now, Vlad. How did you get my screen name?
VDrac13: I heck into your compooper.
Lucygoosey22: You what?
VDrac13: I heck into you compooper.
Lucygoosey22: You heck you hacked into my computer???!
VDrac13: Yes, ees vhat I just say. Vhy you never leesten to me? I heck into your compooper and then obtain screen name so that I
Elle and Mias: Chapter 19"Oh, wow " Elle's mouth stood agape as she poked her head out the carriage window as they approached the city by the sea.Elle and Mias: Chapter 193 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
A breath of healthy wind blew past her face and Elle found her heart nostalgic for her homeland, for only a moment. The air was crisper, cleaner than the polluted clouds that too often hung over England and brought only gray weather. Here the sky was bright blue with hardly any clouds reflecting in the crystal clear water.
It seemed almost mysterious for a place to hold such beauty while supporting a populous Elle would guess numbered in the tens of thousands. Wooden docks outlined most of the shore line as Ares trotted into the city along the coastal road. Facing the docks were several two and three story buildings whose ground floors all seemed to be devoted to business. Elle could smell the pungent stink of a fish stand, the gentle aroma of a bakery, and of course the merry scent of a pub and its happy patrons.
"The main thoroughfare is primarily filled with
WCMI: The SerenadeAlice slept. Her breathing was soft, shallow and steady. The peace would be short lived tonight...only two hours of slumber elapsed before she was startled awake by a most peculiar sound. She sat up and fumbled for the bedside lamp.WCMI: The Serenade8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"I need this, I need love, I need you.
I don't need one heartbeat, I need twooo.
There's an emptiness I need to fill and only one emptiness will dooooooo.."
The song was being belted somewhere within the vicinity of her second-story bedroom window. She kicked the blankets aside and approached the window on tiptoe...and what she saw made her throw open the panes in shock. Reginald stood below her window with shoulders squared, arms uplifted and mouth gaping in exuberant song. To complete the spectacle an enormous pink flower was tucked into his hat brim.
"Caaaaaaaaaaaaan you feel the loooove toniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight, the peace...the...evening.....brings............"
Her sudden appearance at the window struck him silent. Her tiny form was back lit in gentle lam
The Gated Trans CommunityI hate the concept of identity as gated community.The Gated Trans Community4 years ago in Editorial More Like This
I've been seeing this in trans circles lately, this idea that you can't just have anybody identifying as trans, or the next thing you know, the bums will take over the whole neighborhood! You'll have those giggly yaoi fangirls who want to be bishounen because bishounen are hawt, and those creepy guys who want to be girls just so they can have sex with lesbians, and they will poison the community.
To which I wonder, poison with what? I'm serious here, how exactly will they harm the community?
If they're creepy, fetishistic people, well, that's certainly not a province solely for the cis. I've met creepy asshole trans people before, and I avoid them for being creepy assholes.
But that's not what you're really worried about. Because you're not talking about poisoning our community with creepiness and assholery. You're talking about our community being poisoned with
The Dungeons and Dragons GeekAnd in our group there was a Dragons geekThe Dungeons and Dragons Geek8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
His skin was white, and his body was weak
But what he lacked in strength and body mass
He made up for in knowledge of Wee Jas.
He warned the others about her powers
His truthful teaching went on for hours.
After he was done, the Pardoner said,
"You and I are brothers, my good friend!"
"Dear sir, are you accusing me of lies?
I swear to Vecna my words have no ties
They are free and true, Nerull strike me down.
You say we are brothers? To that I frown."
There is no loyal a man than the geek.
Just ask the elves, orcs, or dwarves: they'll shriek
And talk of his goodness and vast wisdom
Surpassing that of a silver dragon.
Even Erythnul will show him pardon
For his path has been chosen by Fharlanghn.
He is destined to help those most in need,
To spread the word and sew the seed
Of Gods and Goddesses seated most high,
Which can be hard, since he hardly sees sky.
no nameCoffee stains for the broken heartedno name4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Cigarette smoke for the insecure
Bitten nails for the anxious
Ripped stockings for the impure
Alcohol stained lips for the lost
Tear stained faces for the broken
Bandages for the bleeding
Rosary beads for the ones who are still hoping
Pity for the whores
Soft kisses for the crying
Immaturity for the undeserving
Empathy for the dying
Food that Tastes Just RightCheese graters sharpen, heighten each flavor of cheeseFood that Tastes Just Right6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Blenders stir and shake strawberry smoothies
Silently your taste buds abandon their defenses
Slowly, gently butterknives spread butter
Grasp it, taste it, this juicy steak, so tender!
Turn your plate away from the average soufflé!
Turn your thoughts away from salads and food thats lite
And savor the food that tastes just right .
Close your eyes and surrender to the darkest chocolate
Purge your thoughts of the diet you tried before
Close your eyes, let your taste buds start to soar!
And youll live as youve never lived before
Softly, deftly, whipped cream shall caress you
Taste it, feel it, secretly possess you
Open up your mouth! Just forget about your health!
In this candlelit meal we eat tonight
The romance of the food that tastes just right
Let your fork start a journey through a strange new world
Leave all thoughts of the diets you tried before
Let your food take you where you