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Pulp_free"Pulp-free"Pulp_free3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"There's no place like home," he mumbled.
I had to agree. Hospitals were good and all, but they weren't really healthy. There was something unexplainably wrong about them, and I think it had to do with the walls. They were pale, but not soothing, and their paint had a nursing home kind of spotlessness to them that everybody knew wasn't really clean; I was certain that death was hidden in these walls, behind all the false layers of whites and dreadful tans.
"Ruby doesn't mu
ritualat one point my interactions with a certain human began to (funhouse)mirror what is commonly referred to as a "serious relationship". i was in my first year at college and i met someone in my life drawing class who thought i was his savior and called me "sun king," which isn't my name. his name was ariel. he had dark eyes and hair the color of strong urine. i was new and unfamiliar with my surroundings and circumstances, and found it easier to navigate life with a friend. he knew which berries were poisonous, although i found his inability to hunt with a spear clumsy and foolish if he planned on making it through the winter. i never touched hritual2 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Zombie ChristmasIt was the day after Christmas, and all through the town,Zombie Christmas4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
All the people were infected, their skin green and brown.
The survivors were hiding, in the gym in the school.
Being outside, you’d meet a fate most cruel.
A safe place they knew of, not one they could think
To escape to undead, the skin so did stink
There was Mac with his rifle, and I with my knife
Had just settled in, preying for our life.
When out by the door, there arose such a clatter.
We four sprang to our feet to see what was the matter.
“They found us!” Tess cried as she shook with fear.
“I knew they were close by! I knew they were near!”
As
Pirates of Penzance AbridgedPirates of Penzance Abridged5 years ago in Humor More Like This
ACT I
Pirate King
Arrgh, aargh, me hearties. We must search for the black pearl..
Frederick
Wrong play!
PIrate King
Oh, right! Frederick, our apprentice has turned 21 on this warm and sunny day in late February. Let us rejoice and drink pink alcohol.
Frederick
No pink alcohol for me! For I must leave you.
King
Why? You're a better pirate than any of us.
Fred
I'm not an orphan so I don't fit in. Anyway I'm the Slave of Duty and must therefore kill you all!
King
That's so sad! I have to cry for the man who is going to kill me. Goodbye! When you kill us make it quick.
Fred
Of course! Though there is only one of me and 20 of you, I'll be
R.I.P DAD A.k.A OWL A mighty man lays down to rest. one must remember him happy and pain free, the mighty owl is free at night to watch and take care of those who are dear to him for he is the watch men of the night so don't forget to look at the starry night sky for you might see him watching over you and your love ones as a majestic winged bird taking flight.R.I.P DAD A.k.A OWL2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
to the east, south, north, and west his wings shall wrap around us and keep us safe like he always do for we are family and family sticks together by blood, marriages, and friends
at this note he was and always be my father, my daughters grand pa, my fiance father in law and not for get the one wh
I am me 3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry
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Willian T Spears DiaryWilliam T Spears DiaryWillian T Spears Diary2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
December 24th 1880
Today after work, I went to that little shop in town to get Grell Sutcliff a special Christmas present. I hope he likes it. It´s a pen with his name engraved to it, in gold over red enamel painting. In my way to the shop, I was suddenly surprised by a very disgusting scent. Far away from there I disguised the owner of that pestilence: it was the Phantomhive´s butler, and his master. I stopped and hid against a shadow´s wall, avoiding the fight for that moment. Because I wanted to get the present for Grell, and the shops were closing. I got carried away with all the paper work at the o
FrAmE of MiNd "I found this picture, with note, on my desk. I thought you would want to be notified."FrAmE of MiNd2 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
-William T. Spears
Grell read the note he discovered lying atop his desk. Looking down Grell spotted the picture. It was of Ciel Phantomhive, drawn wearing next to nothing in a provocative pose, with glowing red eyes. With the message, "Miss Sutcliff I know you dreamed of him last night," scribbled across the bottom. He was far from amused by this ghastly joke. Grell had just returned to his office, from an exhausting assignment. He was tired, hungry and in no mood for silly games. He snatched up William's note, the picture and stormed out of his office heading straight to William's. Without knocking, he barged into the office, slamming the door behind him. "What the hell is this all about?" He demanded.
William looked up from his stack of paper work, the redhead stood tapping his foot in front of his desk. "I see you got my note! You were still
All That JazzAll That Jazz7 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
It is amazing how many horrible historical events become part of our pop culture without us even realizing it. Jack the Ripper is a well-known name, and many of these people are immortalized in movies. Characters such as Hannibal Lecter, Leatherface, and Norman Bates are all based on real people (they are, in fact, all based on the same person, but that's another story for another day). Still others who committed smaller crimes are also kept alive in this way, though their real names have all but disappeared. This is one such case, the true story of the real events the inspired the musical Chicago.
It's March 11, 1924.
The Broken Toy on the ShelveI'm the friend that you once sawThe Broken Toy on the Shelve8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Remember how we laughed and played,
The sunny days where we'd run around.
Not a cloud in the sky,
Those were the days of yesterday.
Now I'm here,
On this shelve.
You've forgotten the times we spent.
I'm still smiling and waiting,
Just like you asked,
When we last played.
The webs are growing.
The clothes are fraying.
The paint is chipping.
And I'm alone …waiting.
It's funny to think,
Just yesterday we were talking.
It's funny to say that you once knew me.
What words you whispered,
Have never left these painted lips,
This painted smile.
Once upon a time,
You smiled, your bewitching smi
Wonder Woman's WonderbrasIn her panty drawer,Wonder Woman's Wonderbras4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Shoved in the back and slightly to the left,
Wonder Woman keeps her Wonderbras.
She has precisely three—
Beige for subtlety,
Black when she wants to feel sexy,
And red because Supergirl made her buy it.
Wonder Woman never used to wear Wonderbras,
Thought they were cheating.
But Supergirl made her try one on
And what do you know,
They work like a charm!
She fights while wearing the beige:
It’s strapless and gives great cleavage,
So she never loses a battle.
The black one is usually reserved,
Worn only to formal functions.
She has these little black panties
And a little black dress to go with it
The Shadow of BeautyShe walks in beauty, though she doesn't knowThe Shadow of Beauty1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
it, trapped inside her starry skies, she is best,
when whole, and thinking for herself, with her
bright eyes alight with care. But all of this she
Denies, though I tell her in the right light of day
Under the skies un-compared to her beauty.
Her hair of red shines every time I tell her
But every day half impaired she denies, and I
Don't know why, but when the sun runs down
And the world the same, I saw one more time,
Walk in beauty my love and you'll see,
Time is what you make of it.
But when that tear runs down her cheek,
She stays composed, even though the ugly
Thoughts are ba
Reynardine...Reynardine...2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
"Reynardine"
Thick intoxicated words clumsily lick at my naïve ears
Words you never meant to mean
Questions never meant to be asked
Answers never quite existing.
A hollow shell of an assumption I never should of made
A contradiction of thought and a backlash of heated words
Made warm by the quick hot blush of shamed defeat.
You were beautiful once, in your liars suit
Taylor made with only the finest of facades.
I believed their may have been significance behind your loosely spilled words
But much like the faith in false prophets, your cup runneth over with little proof of their existence.
A Reynardine after mine own heart
Be
18. RainbowRunning through the sky18. Rainbow4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Over my head and beyond
Yearning to glimpse it
Getting a peek
Before I only dreamed
I would see them in the clouds
Very bright and beautiful
A Worrior's CodeIf there is fearA Worrior's Code7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Then people go behind me
If there is a threat
Then I am on the front line
If there is danger
Then I stand my ground
If there is an opening
Then I tell them to run
If they are attacked
Then I fight back
If I am defeated
Then I don't accept it
If I am killed
Then at least I die fighting
Original Sin - PrologueOriginal Sin - Prologue1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Prologue – Distant Memories
Another day was coming to a close as the streets of London slowly emptied, shop signs turning to remind shoppers that the keeper will not be returning until the following day, which went for the Undertaker as well.
"Quite the productive day." He chuckled, locking the door to his shop before retiring to the back towards his bed, dimming the lights on the way. He removed his hat before stripping off his robes to change into something a bit lighter to sleep in, happening to glance over near the basin of water. He brushed his silver hair out of his eyes before reaching up to tie his hair back out of the way, wa
wat dosent kill u...2 years ago in Concrete Poetry
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Grey MelodiesGrey Melodies8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The windshield wipers of Evelyn's car squeaked each time they returned to their original place. The sound wasn't particularly loud, but it was the only real noise being made, apart from the gentle hum of the vehicle as it drove along the empty road. The rain outside was only a light shower, but it was enough to require wipers, and to turn the sky grey.
"Pretty dismal weather, isn't it?"
Keeping her eyes on the road ahead, Evelyn gave a slight nod in response to her mother's comment, and then the sound of the wipers took over once more.
Evelyn's mother, Margaret, was in her early sixties, but she looked almost exactly as she
Witch BottleWitch Bottle4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Witch Bottle
To lift that bottle now,
hearing the pins and bent nails
rattle in their bitter wash,
is to shake his hand
come out at last from under
what held him –
to feel his measure of that
nearby something
at work between trips
to the butcher and the bank
as it wore his tongue
rough with accounting
broken panes of glass,
absent things, the gate
hanging not as he left it.
Its weight commends him
on the defense he buried
in keeping with tradition, perhaps
beneath his hearth a while,
then beside his door
instead, hidden and unbroken –
that bulb of earth filled
heavy as salt with mean
things – waste, na
Telltale MarksTelltale Marks7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Telltale Marks
Your bedsheets left wrinkles in my skin
That I trace slowly with the tip of my finger
(it feels so early, being up before noon.)
I watch you sleep, golden lashes brushing round cheeks
The morning sun filters through the curtains
(it looks like a halo around your head.)
A brief flash of my closet romantic
I unplug the alarm clock
(no need for reality to interrupt.)
I know you're not really asleep
That half smile, faintly dancing on your lips gives you away
(i know you too well.)
I let you pretend anyway,
It's all part of the game we play.
(like children we make believe.)
Your fingers tug at my own
Invitation and
Katuatagoing out with herKatuata6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
was like World War One, except
it was over by Christmas
The Violet Hour 5 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry
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No poetryNo poetry was written,No poetry8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
No fairytales were read.
As if it was forbidden,
By the monsters in her head.
And all they thought was silly,
Was quickly thrown away.
By a girl who had to grow up,
By a girl who couldn't play.
All her dreams and fantasies,
All her fears and hopes.
Thrown in a bag of garbage,
Balloons and skipping ropes.
The teddybears and puzzles,
All had to retreat.
For new puzzles in her head,
She never would complete.
No poetry was written,
No fairytales were told.
Her eyes spoke of a sad tale,
Her hands were always cold.
She thought of no white horses,
For she was no princess.
Her life was about papers,
Sta.sh
