Don'tDon't you look at me with those glazed glassy eyesDon't6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
As you lay there grasping sulfurous stitches in your sides;
Don't you speak to me in that dry, dry murmur,
Through raw pink lips as swollen as a stage-two tumor;
Don't, just don't . . . don't you dare stop your breathing,
For the silver moon is high and Death is now feeding;
Don't leave me to depart with the divine
As God decides to pluck your bright, ripe life from the vine.
No, don't you dare impart on me this woe
For the end has come, and I cannot bear to watch you go.
The Alba's MonologueI have a disturbed mind. I'm always imagining, creating, singing, shouting inside my head, to myself, with absolutely no speaking; I don't need to talk about it because it's crystal clear that I'm constantly in pain for thinking too much. My eyes tell everything to everyone; there's no point on trying to hide any of it. My eyes also usually make people avoid me. They scare perspective friends and push away those who don't understand what goes inside my mind.The Alba's Monologue3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But that was before.
I met a similarly disturbed mind when I was younger. His name was Julian. And his eyes glimmered as mine did. I couldn't help falling in love with him. We were both thinking all the time and creating new things; we both had very old souls; we were lonely wanderers, so we found peace by each other.
And I'm happy to say that he fell in love with my eyes - my hazel eyes, as he used to say -; those same eyes that people avoided were exactly the one thing about me that pulled him closer.
We knew everything about eac
Artist StatementArtist StatementArtist Statement5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Paint and boxes,
Dolls and beads,
A little bit of everything creates the world I see. . .
or the world that could be.
I express what is deamed as "unexceptible" to express aloud
and the things that everyone thinks but never says aloud
I express what is said and unsaid,
The chaos and the waves of dreams
I create the world I see.
I think of all the world as a beautiful peice of art
and so in this world everything ...
To the smallest molecule to Society as a whole inspires me
Everything is art to me.
White walls and candles,
Lavender and dreams,
The reality that is unseen.
and tera flowers and tree's
Everything inspires me.
"He turned out great" I exclaim
running through the waves . . .
of lands long since forgotten,
of the universes no longer remebered
and then come floating back to the now and I wish for a brighter tommorows today
and knowing that my art has expressed the waves of dreams
of what is seen and unseen.
I will not sa
BROTHER BEAR - NO WAY OUTBROTHER BEAR - NO WAY OUT5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
BROTHER BEAR - NO WAY OUT
KODA: Rargh! Scared you again, huh?
KENAI: Uh-huh. Yeah.
KODA: Where have you been? You look horrible.
KODA: My mom says when you eat too much fish... you should just lie down--
KENAI: Koda. There's something I, uh... You know that story you told me last night?
KENAI: Well, I--I have a story to tell you.
KODA: Really? What's it about?
KENAI: Well... it's kind of about a man... and kind of about a bear. But... mostly it's about a monster--a monster who did something so bad...
PHIL COLLINS: *Everywhere I turn I hurt someone*
*But there's nothing I can say to change*
*The things I've done*
*I'd do anything within my power*
*I'd give everything I've got*
*But the path I seek is hidden from me now*
KENAI: Koda, I did something very wrong.
*Brother bear, I let you down*
KODA: I don't like this story.
Alone.I trace your footsteps around this empty house.Alone.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Nothing but memories reside here now.
I wake up in the night, wondering if it was you that I felt next to me.
I will wait until the end.
Saving this space next to me.
I DON'T BECAUSE...I don't start conversationsI DON'T BECAUSE...5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because I feel like I'm being annoying.
I feel like I'm being clingy and desperate
and that no one will care,
but rather look for an escape route.
I don't walk up to people
because I feel like I'm being intrusive.
I wasn't invited, so what right do I have to approach them
and try to mingle?
I don't say much
because I don't feel right
burdening other people with my thoughts
or my problems.
They're mine; I should suffer them alone.
I don't ask for anything
because I feel like I'm being needy.
Others shouldn't have to provide for me,
even when I cannot provide for myself.
I should be able to take care of it
and fix things on my own.
I don't put myself in the spotlight
because who am I to strut around as a peacock?
Besides, I'll probably only end up making a fool of myself.
I don't compliment myself
because I feel like I'm being so vain.
So I won't believe your compliments either.
I don't come around you much
because I'm afraid you'll
think of meif only i was on your mindthink of me6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
then would i be at rest
Who is it?Rest.Who is it?6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What is it?
Is it sleep?
I knew what it was once.
But I only knew of it in your arms.
Where is it?
Will it get smaller?
I really do hope not.
But you not being where it is hurts.
When is it?
How can it go all away?
I was there with you.
But time sped past and now I'm not.
Why is it?
Is it made to hurt?
I don't think it is.
But every night alone is a new pain.
ARTIST BIO AND STATEMENTSARTIST BIO AND STATEMENTS4 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Born on May 31st 1983 in Reading Pennsylvania, Drew Schermick entered the world destined to endure the tortured existence of an artist. Growing up in Berks County Pennsylvania Drew had little exposure to fine art and music besides his father's vinyl record collection and the early hip hop culture that encapsulated the east coast in the late eighties and early nineties. It was not until 1997 when then 12 year old Drew found himself in the middle of the desert (Arizona) that he first tried his hand at visual art in the form of graffiti. This art form became his obsession and developed through late night aerosol binges, black book trades, and experimentation on paper. His adolescent nomadic journey would lead him briefly back to Pennsylvania, Virginia and New Mexico where he would leave his mark and gain style and influence from all those he encountered. Eventually in 2000 Drew's travels would return full circle back to Arizona. Upon graduating from Re
HumorHumor is a drug,Humor8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it fills you with joy,
Better than a hug,
Or a brand new toy,
they laugh so hard they cry
they roll on thier backs
stand ups dont try
to make them p!ss their slacks
but humor is best all the same
so laugh a little bit
it's all a game
Po"Gabby! Let's go! Come on!" Jenny bellows at me, running down the grassy knoll.Po5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" I reply. It's not fair. She's the same age as me, seven, and she is so much bigger. She runs faster too.
"Come on! Mom's making an apple pie for dessert! You know, with the apples we picked this morning!"
"I said I'm coming!" I reply.
Danny, her older brother, meets us outside the large farmhouse. He's fourteen and has curly brown hair and bright blue eyes. "Shh..." He tells us.
"What?" I demand, putting my hands on my hips. "We're outside. We can be as loud as we want to. So don't shush us, Daniel!" I exclaim.
He grins. "Dad has a visitor. Frankly, I think he's cracked."
"Who? Your dad?" I ask.
"No." He replies patiently. "Dad's visitor. I didn't catch his name. But he's weird."
"Daniel!" Misty (the oldest of the family) says from behind him. "You do not talk about people that way. Especially guests."
"I'm just saying..." Danny replies holding up his hands.
"He's not weird. He's j
02. Sticks And StonesI wish....02. Sticks And Stones5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You had broken my bones
With sticks and stones,
It would hurt less....
05. CircusThree Organ Circus Act05. Circus5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The Heart is on a high wire
Beating unusually fast
Foolishly putting its self out there
With no safety net below
While the Stomach is doing somersaults
Flip-flops and tying its self in knots
It dances with the butterflies
And back stage you don't see it puke
The Brain, the Ringmaster,
The Mastermind behind this whole show
Holds the other two in a precarious balance
Waiting for an answer: Yes or No