Golden - Chapter One
Journal fragment, floating in the Hudson:
It's surrounding us now. We can't escape it. The floods rise and never fall. A few groups have formed to try and shear up a sort of dam around the city to keep it out. But last week Mac got the sores and is just hanging on. We think we know now. It's the water...it's in the water and we can't get away...
New York a few hundred years later...
Areana: The Job
Im always cold now. Its the Pink. My bodys forgotten how to balance, find its own tempo. A necessary sacrifice. Without the numbness from the drug I wouldnt be able to do my job.
I clench my jaw against the chill and pull my gloves on. I rub my arms and try to slow my breathing. The cold air only makes the ache in my chest worse. The ache of whats to come. It shouldnt be there. The Pink is supposed to get rid of it, but Ive taken it for too long.
The remnants of rain drip off fire escapes above and run in little r
I Was Never a Graceful OneI was never a graceful one. I always would be so unsure on my own feet, it was scary. Id always wanted to dance, but that would have been tragic. I shied away from that embarrassment when I wondered how I got around most days. It was like I lived my life on ice.I Was Never a Graceful One7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Then I met you.
I was always graceful after that. You melted the ice and turned my days into a complex choreography. I got it all; you became so much to me. You were the lift to my bound. Everything was right. Never before did I see it took two to tango.
Then I lost you.
I was on the uneven footing again, only different. I couldnt breathe anymore either. It was like someone literally took my heart and lungs away from me. Leaving me cold and empty, without the march to move and the breath to breathe, everything went dark. The ice was back in black.
Then I found you.
I was just learning how to live again. How to breathe again. How to walk again. I was finally almost myself again. Then you came and tried to
Pinch Me, DearPinch Me, DearPinch Me, Dear7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The air hums with electrifying defiance
As the hero falls gracefully into his heroines
The crimson puddle spreads rapidly
On the chest that heaves, reflecting the scarred
The hair billows into her wet face
While the tears plummet onto his exposed
The fingers stroke his suddenly relaxed
The strained eyes of her love widen,
And her head shakes as her thumb caresses his
The teeth snarl in frustration,
Limitless pain exploding within
The nightmare warrants a test,
One pinch, another, he doesnt stir.
What is -BLANK-What is ____ but a place ofWhat is -BLANK-7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of no freedom from the fear of
Of blissful ignorance to the
Of selfish desires that exclude
Everyone but one,
Of constant yearning and no
Of no autonomy, but of being tied to
Of supreme vulnerability,
Of susceptibility to changing who
Of high expectations never to be
Of exaggerated joy?
Always there will be secrets
And secrets are unknown truths,
And what is unknown is kept hidden
To the brink, until one day,
The kingdom crumbles
And youre left among the ashes,
Left to weep for the sorrow of what is gone,
Of what you thought was true and
Of what you believed was a real
Of what you exploited until it became
The air you absolutely needed to breathe?
And you went through it all,
Just because there is a place everyone craves to visit,
A paradise of frivolous gestures that define one word,
A place where one can find
The coddling warmth
Alice and Onwards - ThreeAlice and Onwards - Three6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
The Tea Party
Mad Hatter and Alice walked until they came to the edge of the meadow, and then they kept on from there, turning onto a narrow, unassuming dirt path that wandered along the edge of the wood for a while before finally throwing up its hands and turning sharply into the trees rather, between them, as a path that leads straight into a tree shows poor planning. This went on for a little ways, until gradually the trees seemed to grow a little less closely together, and then they went up a little hill and across a little stream on a little bridge, and then they came to a little fence with a perfectly average-sized gate leading into an average-sized garden. It was latched, but not locked, because Mad Hatter leaned around Alice and opened it quite without using a key, and then they went inside.
The garden within was pleasantly crowded, with a bed of tangled rosebushes on one side, and an uneven row of stones on the oth
Interpreting Mr. DistantInterpreting Mr. DistantInterpreting Mr. Distant7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A man standing tall, in a tux, to impress,
His dirty blond hair washed clean,
Slightly gelled, with bangs saluting.
His rigid smile fades
As soon as he catches sight of her,
Spent, dried up and frozen.
His hopelessness grows
In the way his skin decreases
Around the edges of his mouth
His round blue eyes are those
Of a forlorn soul; the eyes that dart
From side to side- lost.
Suddenly, there comes a slight shift in his stance;
The ending minutes stir the stiffness up his spine.
His head turns to the right and stays there.
Eagerly, he examines the line of strangers
But his heart pines for only one girls look.
And as she steps forward,
Their eyes meet sharply, focused and
Yet he shuts down, crushing her chance
To smile sweetly, to let him know
Shell always stay close
No matter how far he wanders
Into the land where reality shifts
Where the man standing so proudly
Is able to trust that if he continues to look
The distance will slowly
DesireI want you to fantasizeDesire8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Think about me at night
When the lights are out
And your breath is hot.
I want you to dream
Of hearing me moan
And saying dirty things
In the heat of the second.
I want you to see me
Naked on your bed
Ready for you
To come and take me.
I want you.
To want me.
Romeo Without a CauseRomeo Without a Cause11 years ago in Teen More Like This
Watching him breathing next to me is like a lava lamp. Entrancing. I just can't look away. He's so beautiful with that film of dew and sweat on him, I want to kiss it off and lick my lips. To taste his sweetness again is it's own golden euphoria.
He always calls himself pasty, but with the dying light of early morning illuminating his face he looks like some sort of holy god of the underworld. An angelic Hades who still struggles in English class (hopefully thinking of me).
He's not a distraction like everyone says. He's the love of my life at age 16. Almost 17.
I came into school with the wrong haircut and jeans that were baggy and unfashionable. But y'know what? When he tugged my silk shirt and handed me the paper-mache heart he stole from the art room I melted. Right into his James Dean-wannabe tight jeans and white shirt.
He still smells like illegal cigarettes and the flowers he put in my hair.
The morning lark? I pray it be the nightingale because my curfew is twelv
Crack of the Last PageCrack of the Last PageCrack of the Last Page7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Imagination has enslaved my soul
But suddenly I am
The world as I see it
And my eyes cringe from
The searing pain
Of reality as I force my curtains to fall,
To flutter into one another
In the midst of someone
Stretching them back.
Why does mad despair rain
From my slippery eyes before
The raging chaos ends?
The flames engulf my pupils from
The inside as they flare out
NO, shut close,
STOP, I cant take it anymore.
All that is seen is the failure
Dripping from my bleeding pen,
Broken, shattered by the sins
Rules but so much more.
The crime is committed in the buzz
Of my wicked thoughts and
My tears accumulate into the flood
On my sweaty palms
The black ink oozes
Into every object and
The flames erupt in icy
The colors vanish
And Im alone, my volumes of
Books now lifeless.
My stained fingers grab one novel tight,
Stroking the brittle pages,
One by one,
My volcanic world of disgust
Night DreamNight Dream8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Where one might find deep beauty
In day's bright sun filled light,
Another may find deep beauty
In a radiant moonlit night.
Stay with me tonight
See the wonder in my ways,
For when blessed starlight fades
I must away by mornings first rays.
Dear SisterDear Sister7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
What are these wounds,
I can see in your soul?
Why do you sink,
Into such a black hole?
What is this pain,
I can see in your eyes?
Who is to blame,
For your spirit that dies?
Is it that man,
You loved so very dear...
Who didnt love you,
Through that hateful leer?
Though you have cried,
With tears overflowing.
He did not care,
About where it was going.
Not caring at all,
He cruelly hit you.
Bleeding broken heart,
Knowing not what to do.
Through years of suffering,
You made it that far.
Yet he still blamed you,
For his faults and that car.
With all your devotion,
Given unto him...
He betrayed you,
In trying to win.
Being done with you,
He had gotten bored.
You broke down then,
Unsheathing your sword.
You were ready to kill,
To shatter that mirror.
You took great pleasure,
In his face full of fear.
Yet something held you back,
From running him through.
Perhaps it was that,
It was the wrong thing to do.
I know how you feel.
I am very proud of you,
The glass teardropI saw it in a shop, I barely remember what I was doing there now. It was one of those shops full of useless odds and ends, knick-knacks, good-looking junk. I think I was shopping for an aunt, letting my gaze sweep across the tacky wares in the hope of spotting something inspirational. There it was, in a crowded display cabinet in the back corner of the shop. A glass teardrop.The glass teardrop10 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
It wasn't one of those cheap pieces of glass on string, nor a faceted crystal teardrop. It was suspended inside another block of glass somehow, with other shafts and angles intercepting it, but not splitting it or spoiling it. I stared at it for countless minutes trying to work out if it was glass and air, cracked glass, sheets of glass or some other clever technique. The light poured around it, bright and dark, but it still stood alone in the centre of its block.
I must have stared at it for too long, because the little old lady who worked behind the counter appeared at my side and asked if she could help me. I a
Cat House - DreamscapesCat House - Dreamscapes7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dreamscapes of Unknown Lore
From the bedroom door,
Down a darkened hallway,
The living room is dimly lit,
Giving way to creeping shadows,
In an olden day chime.
Whispers can be seen,
Of days long since dead.
Happiness and sorrow,
Collapsed under the weight,
Of darkness taken over.
Two children on four-legged feet,
Remain in this empty tomb.
They are the keepers of life,
To this old forgotten place.
Gentle voices breaking gloom
but fear walks among them,
In the form of their brother Doom.
Lying in wait within cupboards of despair,
Dripping in hate screaming horrific tone,
Drawing blood with claws of fury.
These bringers of peaceful times,
Walk softly under their sleeping brother,
Or suffer the wrath of his scorn,
For they are only subjects unto him,
The Master of this Domain.
Dance of DarknessDance of Darkness8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dance of Darkness
Though I walk,
Through the valley,
Of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil.
In this twilight,
Night consumes my soul,
In celestial breathless lure.
Faceless stands he there,
Within devils ensnare.
Keeper of all demons,
The Lord of Darkness.
His call of allure,
Mine can not resist.
Submit I unto this,
Waltzing in Danse Macabre,
Drowning in passions illusion.
Gripping - he captures my soul,
A terror's eternal possession.
For crimson desire.
Master of monsters satisfy,
Death's shrill victory cry.
Falling into the abyss,
Nightmare tis unending.
Lost soul fading within,
Forever void of darkness.
The Universe takes hold,
Flowing life for death untold.
Eternal terrors subside,
In senses chaotic flight.
Intenseness of purpose,
This will - for the life.
A living soul's sustenance,
In need - I shall entice.
In darkness overtaking,
Greater power doth bestow.
Not found among the living,
Nor I among the dead.
.: Losing Everything :.Spiralling.: Losing Everything :.7 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I dont know what
Ive been doing
Ive been saying
For a thing to find
Lonely in a way youll never know
You never see
The depths of me
I am on my own
Its killing me
I ever thought I had
I cant even find
A shred of hope
In what was once
All I believed
All I believed.
I am nothing
When Im with you
I am nothing
When Im with you
You dont know me
You dont owe me
I dont want a thing from you
I just want to find the pieces
Scattered, lost, across the pages
Of my shattered life
I am smiling
Each day Im dying
And Im ****ing tired of hiding
All the pain
I am nothing
When Im with you
I am nothing
When Im with you
You dont know me
You dont owe me
Lonely in a way youll never know
You never see
HeartlessHeartless8 years ago in Open More Like This
My friend - I move to speak,
For in you I shall confide,
Of an emptiness bore deep inside,
Shadows - where I hide.
How long has it been thus,
Since I was hence torn apart?
A being void in nothingness,
Lacking feeling of a heart.
Remnants of a shadowed past
Have drifted beyond the seal,
Yet forever locked away are those
Memories of how to feel.
Oh' how frail is the heart,
To collapse in the conquering fist!
Submit! unto that which bore you,
Darkness of the endless abyss.
And what remains born of this,
When darkness takes back the heart?
Only the nothing left behind,
Existing where nobody aught.
This nonexistence lay not within,
Supreme darkness - nor in the light,
But in the ever void - where lies,
A want for hearts taken flight.
The keepers of the want are naught,
The nonexistent ones.
Taking heartless - watching heartfelt won,
Keeping all - yet feeling none.
Deep within the realm of twilight,
Shadows of nobody - can you see?
In a world that never was,
Grasp and ReleaseGrasp and ReleaseGrasp and Release7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There is a pain deep inside
Where the fountain of red ice spills
Into the fingertips of my arms.
A deep breath rises within, while slowly
I place in your gentle warm hand
The five pale icicles on my right.
It is a touch so innocent, it soothes
The ravage beast thrashing in my chest,
Yet the dull look you cast into me
Tells me of neither truth nor lies,
And accordingly, I become lost
inside your layer of unrelenting cool-
Yet it falls for a second or two,
And I see through the misty haze,
To the throne where lies the golden heart
Of you, my keeper.
I see it beating for me, eyeing the veins along
The outstretched forearm of my love.
Triviality- the traveling wind comes for you, as always,
And your soft gaze swiftly darts aside,
Its openness swallowed by your returning rigid mask.
Which pulls away your hand, your eyes from mine,
And thus, we part, already awaiting the day
Dreams once again halt time.
A Guide to Good CriticismA Guide to Good Criticism12 years ago in Humor More Like This
There are few things in this world that are certain: death, taxes, "Love Shack" being played at a wedding reception and, if you're an artist, criticism.
Criticism is a very natural part of the creative process. As humans, we often stink with the odor of imperfection and need to be told by our peers so we can clean up with the long, hot shower of revision.
It's not a bad thing to give criticism, just as long as you're not an utter jerkwad about it. The first known lesson on providing polite, constructive criticism can be traced back to the oldest known cave paintings in Lascaux, France, where what could possibly be the world's first critic gave a particularly scathing review of a fellow Neanderthal's depiction of a bison. The artist was surprisingly gracious in giving a rebuttal for the time, waiting until the critic had fallen peacefully asleep before he smashed his skull with a large rock.
Unfortunately, some do not seem to know how to provide constructive criticism. They timidly appr
BloodstoneBloodstone9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Once I was alive,
In ages long since passed,
Memories have all but faded away.
Only now a relic of earth and bone,
Hardened by the passing of time.
Very old have I become,
And older still have I yet to be,
For immortal am I.
Cold and lifeless,
All these many years.
If dead I truly am,
Why do I bleed?
Life and death have I bore witness,
Time and time again.
What makes me so different,
From all others of my kind?
Is it perhaps an ancient curse,
Or something a little more?
If I bleed,
Do I not possess a heart?
And if a heart I do possess,
Do I not possess a soul?
A soul yearning for something...
A heart bleeding for someone...
When once I was alive,
In ages long since passed...
DA is a mirror to the worldDA is a mirror to the world11 years ago in Editorial More Like This
A post edited from the replies I gave to 3 artists who suffered from DA community:
I have said this... I will say it again. To famous artists, infamous artists, unfamous artists.....
My advice is... the WHOLE WORLD will be like DA... whether internet or not... if your art is recongized, people would try to benefit from it, rip it, destroy it, flame it. The history itself has said it again and again.
On DA, it's a community that is well set up, not perfect, but it's well done compare to alot of places:
As well as art thief, there are people who look out for you as well... as well as there are flamers, there are people who truely support you, as well as people of jealousy, there are people who appreciate.
You will find out, everywhere it's about the same... DA is only a glimsp at how the world is... it's best you deal with those things with a ready heart, and train yourself to be able to handle "People" and view the handling of these issues as a "capacity" and "skill" inst
Defend ThyselfLook into my eyes right now,Defend Thyself7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Do you see a little lamb,
A child who needs protection from,
All the Darkness in this land?
Or am I someone who can fight,
Stand up and defend my own,
Someone you rely on to,
Guard you when youre all alone?
Why do you think that I need help?
From someone whos connection meek,
Is being female mean Im small,
Does being male not make you weak?
Tell me why you think I cant,
Defend myself since I am Arch
FramesMy bike is a vintage 1973 Raleigh handed down to me by my father. The steel frame I use to bike those forty miles to and from class every day is the same one he used on his campus, way back in the Bronze Age. Sure, I've replaced the brakes, the shifters, the chain, the pedals, the wheels, and about half the rider, but the core of the thing is unchanged.Frames8 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
It's only natural, then, that I was replacing the brake cable when I discovered them. I'd been inserting a Dremel bit to cut some sheathe when I thought to wear eye protection, and what should I find when rifling through the mess called my father's garage but a pair of glasses that could have been older than the bike I was repairing. Safety wear, to be sure; the glasses were un-lensed, but the thick black frames were standard eye-wear right about the time NASA was sending Armstrong to the moon. Instantly recognizable. I used them to finish cutting the sheathe and pocketed