Stereotypes Pt. 2 - BlackI'm sorry but I guess I'm not blackStereotypes Pt. 2 - Black7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't live in the place called the "ghetto"
or the streets as some people like to call it
I live in the suburbs in a nice quiet town
where people are always nice and nothing bad ever happens
so that normal parents don't have to cry while they're burring their kids.
I'm not one of those hustlers
that tries to make money by selling death to other people
while constantly having to look over my back
in order to make money without having to fear the cops.
I don't try to act "gansta"
while joining up those groups in order to make trouble
and causing mischief where ever I go.
Having to pack heat knowing I could be arrested for a federal crime.
To protect myself and end a life of another knowing I can create another crying mother
I try to act civil and help other
so that one day karma can come back and help me in my time of need.
Many people say in order to be black you have to listen to Hip-Hop
Well I do that and listen to "pop" and rock
change, in seasons.Its the last part thatchange, in seasons.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hangs around foreverstale on the plate.
a marked bird in the bright blue sky.
Always dead. Always rotting in the
pale moonlight early evenings calling us
to our front porch in a jazz city style roudy, that pisses
off into the silent streams we all go searching for
My favorite someone calls you into the water. A cool-
old ocean favorite. This is the time tested tale that grandmother
told to you. An ancient story. Slurping up excess grease on the
perfect white tee-shirt.
Total water darkness has met,
the endless summer peak.
Fearless is now the ness. the please-me
-odd-angle of the moon, at nearly eighty degrees.
Kidnapped by a Serial Killer.1There he stood, in front of us, in the house, pointing his killer weapon at us. His black eyes held the odd expressionless look, with his crooked nose and slanted smirk, he had probably completely gotten the purpose of freezing us in fear. "Nobody leaves," he stated dryly as we all stared at him in shock. Who was this man? What did he want? Why did he come barging into my house?Kidnapped by a Serial Killer.17 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Wh-what do you want?" Serine stammered. She was the only one who had dared to speak up, despite being the youngest of us all, which was ten. Bang. He shot her, dead. Serine fell to the floor, eyes opened, her child like innocence now replaced with a hollow, shocked look. "What do I want? Hmm..." the stranger pondered, cold eyes not leaving us. "I enjoy killing, that is my hobby to be precise." Our veins froze. He enjoyed killing, and was about to shoot us all dead. "Nobody moves, or else I'll shoot you and make it bloody."
No way, no way was he going to just make us sit there dumbly, letting him pick and kill.
Sir Tanly'Safe - Chapter 2...Perfect. Everything must be perfect. Candles!...No Candles. Ok. What's next? The floor is clean. Good good. Do I smell alright? I can't smell myself. I think I feel I smell alright. It doesn't matter does it? They come, they laugh, they go, they never come back again, confusion confusion, self reflection and revision, then careless until I'm tricked again. I don't care anymore. You're right I care too much. I feel sick. I feel sick. I feel sick. Perfect. Everything should be perfect. My feet hurt. I never wear these shoes. Will she even care? I don't know. I look good from the front. I should always stay in front of her. That's stupid. I'm stupid. I give up. There's no such thing as perfect. Please make it easy. Please be the one...Sir Tanly'Safe - Chapter 27 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
...Just say it. Just go out there and say it. I'm taking too long in here. She's going to notice. Fucking hell I can't piss. I knew this would happen. She still makes me nervous. Do I make her nervous? Have I ever made anyone nervous? Just rel
Emotional WreckageEmotional Wreckage9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I watch you fall.
I reach out to save you.
Anger renders you blind.
I count your tears.
I beg for your salvation.
Pain renders you deaf.
I cry out to you.
I taste your scars.
Grief renders you mute.
ChuusenkenCurled in my pocket, pink and full of promise: Schrödinger's kitten.Chuusenken5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
The CharmingThe CharmingThe Charming9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Grandfather pulls the netting
Over my face, then his, and
turns up my cheek thirty degrees.
There are fifty shades of amber
to sip but hundreds of suicide
workers willing to sting you.
His eyes leave mine hungry
with anticipation, hands hot
for the sweet tack.
I follow the gloom of smoke
and think to myself
they can smell it, fear
and step to the side
of Grandfather's beehive.
I dream of honey,
in slow sticky rivers that drift
and shape to my tongue like edible gloves.
The absolute sweetness,
the musk of the bees brushing petals
and stealing away to craft the nectar,
the true golden mean.
Their combs hiding my treasure in
measured pockets, hexagrams holding
the secret to happiness:
worth risking the poison
to garner the prize.
One breath from the can,
the spicy smoke of smoldering
peppermint leaves releases
the swarm for meager moments.
Grandfather gathers the comb with
deliberate grace and hands it to me.
The charming is over.
He winks a wrinkled eye and whispers:
No Longer SilentI will no longer remain silentNo Longer Silent7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No longer will I hide my tears
With all you ever did to me
I am left behind with too many fears
You forced me down
And silenced my screams
You left me with no voice
And nothing but broken, shattered dreams
I begged you not to
I screamed you had no right
But you looked me in the eye
An filled my soul with fright
Without stopping you continued
As I tried to fight
But you stole my innocence
To which you had no right
The only pain ever expressed
Comes through open wounds and tainting scars
But despite how much I try
The memory of you is never far
Of which till this day
I dare not speak
Always there to torture me
To remind me
I am nothing more but weak
The more you knowThe more you know10 years ago in Historical More Like This
I hate playing with dinosaurs. Common sense would dictate that they would be excellent poker players, as they are incapable of facial expression. I've deduced that when they lunge at you and eat your face, they're displeased, but I don't know if you could call that a facial expression per se. It's like Wild West movies where everybody pulls out a six-shooter, except instead of a gun, it's a dinosaur, and instead of being shot, your face gets eaten. However, I digress. My original point was that dinosaurs should be good at poker, and yet this is simply not the case. Take, for example, a game I held earlier this very evening.
We had just started and already things were not running smoothly. The Tyrannosaur's forearms, while useful to countering the weight of his massive head and upper body, are as ineffective at shuffling a deck of cards as they are in battle. The others didn't even have arms.&
Allaying Alideya (1)If they come for you, you're dead.Allaying Alideya (1)1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Dad used to bury that warning into our heads, let it rot and stagnate until we knew with every bit of us that we should be scared of the Fosters. And I was terrified. Cal would attempt to make dad stop mid-story and it'd always end in laughter. They didn't think I would catch them, but I saw the wary glances and the look in their eyes after the smiles had faded. The Fosters would come for me on my thirteenth birthday and there wasn't anything they could do to stop it.
Four years' work in the Factory, mandatory once you hit thirteen, something about preparing us for our future. Some of us learned that lesson with swollen cheeks and hardened hearts. The rest of us barely made it out limping, or if by some miracle you were favored, dead.
I still remember Mr. Brelnin's sickly yellow eyes when we were 'inaugurated' into the ranks of the Factory. It took me all of one week before I found myself swallowed whole by those eyes. "Bubbles" was the unfortu
Fighting IntoleranceMy fellow Americans and Swiss, and Provolone, and even that fellow over there from Tibet:Fighting Intolerance8 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
No more shall we, as the saying goes, stand alone! It is time to let our pressers I mean, oppressors know that their rancid regime is about to rind down excuse me, wind down.
For far too long, we cheeses have been treated as second-class foods. Grains and meats garner all the glory, while we languish half-forgotten in the endmost dairy case. It's no surprise that many of us suffer from low self-esteem! And occasionally, heartburn.
Some people will actually go out of their way to avoid us! What have we done to earn such scorn? We are certainly not ashamed of our history and our heritage as curdled milk. Perhaps there is a subtler, more sinister reason?
(By the way, who let in the representative from Limburg? Somebody, please, open a window!)
Well, no more shall we allow them to string us along; we demand our own thick slice on the pantheon of foods! We are
Fall.Fall8 years ago in Typographical More Like This
We always fall
with each other.
And later, when
out of love
under her spell)
from the pedestal
you'd put me on.
from cloud n
arborescent angstthe grass is depressedarborescent angst7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and scarred from
even the flowers are blue
hiding a deep dark
while the cool kids ignore
fat slow unwanted
and avoid the compost heap
since learning it's full
these are my roots
i wish i could
The Asparagus EveningThe Asparagus Evening9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A vegetable that was once savoured
by the ancient Greeks and Romans.
Good for them.
It's my first time; and I'm apprehensive.
Four small trees sit on my plate.
They're awaiting their crown
of ghee and mashed egg.
They sit there; menacing.
Taunting me, waiting for my reaction.
The condiments are passed around.
It's my turn next.
Mission: Garnish said vegetable.
Ghee; drizzled. Egg; smothered.
The drinks have been toasted,
good health was wished for all.
Cutlery is gently knocked
against our plates as
we prepare for the meal.
Dinner has begun.
I'll start with them and
get it over as quick as possible.
My fork penetrates the thick green skin
of the stalk.
I take my first cut.
My Father tuts.
No, no! I'm doing it all wrong!
Did he expect me to take lessons before we sat down?
He instructs me;
start from the end and
work your way up to the head.
That way, the taste gets better.
It was obvious by now, that
Streetlamp EyesHer name is Lucy and she's not quite enough.Streetlamp Eyes5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She can barely remember the colour of happiness; let alone what laughter used to taste like on her burnt-out tongue. The fog-shrouded days have stolen the blush from her cheeks and she's fully aware that you probably feel exactly the same, but somehow that doesn't make her feel any better because she is just too weak. It seems her spine will snap if the world presses any more weight onto her shoulders, while her brain feels as if it has already imploded.
No one ever says what they mean anymore so she's lost all faith in everything conversations have ever stood for. She's terrified of every glance thrown at her because they might make it through her armour, and then she would have to care about what people think of the lack of wires in her brain. Then she'd have to admit she's empty.
She so badly wants to spin with the world and feel like she's the only one left breathing. But in reality she is only the girl that stumbles from alleyways with
The End?Has it really ended?The End?7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All we ever had
Is it truly over?
Am I really left this sad?
I think of all we had
All the precious moments we shared
Our hearts we have let open
And our souls we have bared
You know me like no other
And forever will I be grateful
For having you in my life
The time we shared was so beautiful
It's so sad that it had to end
But had I have to go back
I would do it...
All over again.
Don'tDon't speakDon't6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your words into my soul
Your sweet, translucent lullabies
Tears into my heart
That drown me in eternal sorrow
Don't be anything
Don't be anything
Unless you use your voice
The one that I know so well
Don't close your eyes
You might miss this moment
And moments are all we have now
Don't look away
Don't look away
matter is relativeI am loved as if lostmatter is relative8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and maybe only if
now I'm waiting on the anger
this distance has determined
the far away slow fade of friendship
just not mutual
how quickly you slipped from my grasp
and I from your memory
after everything I've done
were you ever really there?
but my only answers are
and a phone forgetting the sounds you make
I suppose those are
for the both of us