You're The One to BlameYou're The One to Blame3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
When Johnnie comes marching home again,
Wars will still exist.
There'll be more tags
On body bags;
Names upon a list.
When politicians tell us lies
And play us all as fools;
Stand up my friend,
Life shouldn't depend
On elephants and mules.
Write a letter, take a stand,
So things don't stay the same.
Shed no tear,
Look in the mirror;
You're the one to blame.
G.L.A.S.S.G.L.A.S.S.G.L.A.S.S.3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
G is for grave, gun, and gong. He was isolated in a white glossy room, shining from the fluorescent lights that seemed to look like heaven. The walls, the floor, and the ceiling were soft to the sight yet squeaked when you ran your hand to grab it, like plastic marshmallows. He stared into nothingness, laying there as if the very spot was his grave. When he moved he burrowed deeper and deeper into the spot, an earthworm yearning to bask in the darkness. He was covered in washed-out clothes that matched the white abyss. His arms and hands were around him to keep them away from the gun in which he used to take lives with. You see, he has an obsession with graves and guns. Graves keep people from hurting him. Guns keep those people from knowing him. Madness I tell you, but this madness of his is like a gong's ring. You beat it and its voice resonates until it fades and you beat it again. He goes to the madness like an amusement park. Gong! Sit. Anticipate. Clen
I love himI love him2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
See that boy in that picture with me?
Oh honey, this boy and me are meant to be.
See this boy is more then ordinary,
his last name is even Perry.
He is the sweetest.
He makes me feel so incredible,
His heart is mine, it's undeniable.
I love him more then ever,
me and him are meant to be together.
The Process of TransformationThe Process of TransformationThe Process of Transformation4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Milton Waywood, M.D.
This analytic dissertation is the result of many years' study of the transformation process from human to vampire. I would submit this for publication in a medical journal, but of course the general public simply cannot be informed of the existence of our kind.
- Milton Waywood
Excerpt from The Origins Of Vampires - Firstborn:
"The Firstborn also discovered that they could not reproduce on Earth as they had on Aeternus Pacis. They were not, however, without recourse. It was also discovered that if a Firstborn happened to bite an Earth-Child and inject their venom, it would transform the Earth-Child into a slightly weaker version of the Firstborn."
The transformation from human to vampire begins as soon as the venom enters the bloodstream. It is imperative that the vampire venom reaches the subject's brain quickly, which is one of the many reasons that the neck is the chosen area of injection. When the venom reaches t
I stand on guard for theeI stand on guard for theeI stand on guard for thee1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and though my head may droop
amidst bleak winter's ice and snow
my thorns be blunted
and my leaves begin to stoop
there is no place I'd rather go
no one shall pass me
and disturb thy sleep
you rest now, you are free
and while the others weep
I stand on guard for thee.
Newer Than The OldA child I once was,Newer Than The Old3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No words to hang from
Nor thoughts to dwell.
A world of stuffed animals and dolls.
Where innocence lay upon pillows of vibrant dreams,
And inhaled the sweet whispers of lullabies.
But ticking clocks kept falling
Under my own skin,
Inside my reflection.
A yearning for simplicity,
To embrace what is now gone,
Lost to the growing distance.
Walls fostered by life,
Poisoned the pure.
And now? The muddled mind leaks sorrow,
Bleeds hollow tears.
Pages of an untold story
Flutter away like searching leaves
Under my very breath.
Take it away.
Let me hold firm my own name,
For its fringes will soon
Slip through my fingers.
Cure Diamond - Pretty Cure OC SheetCure Diamond - Pretty Cure OC Sheet2 years ago in Profiles More Like This
+YUUKA ITO/CURE DIAMOND+
Name: Yuuka Ito
Hair Color: Baby Pink
Eye Color: Pink
Yuuka Ito is a girl who lives in a small (magical) land called Utopia. Most of the people there have magical powers, most Precure are born there. Yuuka was born in the royal family as only child and thus as Princess. She had a happy childhood even though she didn't have a lot of friends. When she was younger she got a pet from her parents; a magical talking creature called Pastel. Because Yuuka didn't have a lot of friends Pastel soon became her best friend and still is. Soon Pastel discovered Yuuka had the powers to become a strong Precure, but she was still too young to realise this. Pastel decided not to tell her until until she was old enough, but did tell her lots of stories about Precure.
Black Metal PromterBlack Metal Promter7 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Argh Argh Argh Argh Blahhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Bleah blea blea blea blea Arghhhhhhhhhhhhh
Bleah bleah bleah bleaaaaaaaaaa
Urrrrrrrr Mrrrrrr Argh Arghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!
Satan!!!!! Bleaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh Ouaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!
Apricots!!!!!!! Bleah bleah bleah bleah bleah bleah bleah
Thank you very much!
What If A BookWhat if a bookWhat If A Book5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
instead wrote me,
and I made
sense at last.
Why This Way?The time we were born on the Earth, same souls, different birthsWhy This Way?1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
And we had those days, and we walked on feet, in all different ways
I remember the school times, The Power-puff Girls, and even Anime
The meals of love, the weekend nights, mum’s bed and shows at half-past nine
But I can’t remember, that when it was so, I turned into a shame, and deserved deathblow
I can’t remember what happened that, I kept sitting there alone, and the world turned so bad
They say God hates me, they say I must die; they want to see me crushing, say they work as his eye
Since when did it happen, that I became a beast; they say love is for the world, but mine is banned by the priest?
What went so wrong, if I defied Adam and Eve; why did it bring misery to others, if I wished myself a loving Steve?
Here am I, in every city, towns and hamlets, but I feel so pity
That the people of God, or so they say, grieve his love and the fellows he made
Here am I, in every room, lonely and blue, sick of
IndistinctYou have not a voice, so that you can whisper.Indistinct1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Then how will you your secret tell?
When you say nothing.
Because you cannot.
You have not color, for the daylight to see.
So how may I know of your secret, do tell me?
When there is now nothing to look upon.
Because the light won't let me.
You have not kindness in your inherited temper.
So how can you give away so much?
When all you have is love.
You are of so many riddles.
Who, you cannot manifest,
Though I know, you biggest riddle is empathy.
Paha Kassatati - Stam1na rapePaha KassatätiPaha Kassatati - Stam1na rape5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
PA HA KAS SA TÄ TI HUUTAA!
Tunnen tädin väkivaltaisen
Hän tölkkipinoja työksensä rakentaa
Hänellä on tavoite
Tehdä hyllyt vielä tyhjemmiksi
Hapattaa maidot huviksi
Asettaa juustoja leipähyllyyn ja
PAHA KASSATÄTI RAHASTAA
(VIE RAHAT KÖYHILTÄ)
PAHA KASSATÄTI JUMPPAA
Kauppaketjun, tämän marketin
Hän lattialle tiputtaa
Hänellä on tavoite: ajaa asiakas pois
Ja pelkoa kylvää
Koska jos hän säikäyttää, asiakkaat ryntää
Muualle, eikä kukaan jää
Tänne häiritsemään ja täti rauhan saa
Beneath The Black WillowsBeneath The Black Willows2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Beneath the black willows
the moonlight deploys
unnoticed through soft braided reeds.
Though fingers were broken
the moonbeams disperse
like organ pipes sifting the breeze.
Beneath the black willows
a violet crow falls
to perch upon empty a chest.
A hollowed form spun
through the breath of the wind
His toes brushed the finger tipped crest.
Beneath the black willows
there swings a white noose
and from it there swings a man high.
He dances each morning
He dances each night
I imagine he's thankful to fly.