IF I HAD A MILLION DOLLARSi am fighting with dragonsIF I HAD A MILLION DOLLARS5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when i try to spit out any
semblance of reason. the
moment i try to start i am
overcome with what i once
thought was a shortcoming
but i know now to be ghosts
of what i used to value (life)
i am a death
hidden in the
leaves of your
i am honestly bad for the health
of any traveling bard or passing
soldier. i am a plague. i am your
sickness. i am an anaesthetic.
i am a vaccine against
or was is jaundice?
i'm yellow-bellied and
i'm yelling to the sky
like i can't hear the
I JUST WANT TO SPEND A DAY
IN YOUR (SOMEBODY'S) ARMS
LIKE I BELONGED, LIKE I WAS
A PART OF THE FAMILY.
APART FROM THE FAMILY.
i can't help SCREAMING because dear
i don't know who "you" are anymore
and nobody is listening to this but
the static is thinning. i'm still the
mountain of broken toys i was
assumed to be so long ago.
i'm pulling my guts out.
i'm pulling my ears.
i'm listening but i
can't hear you.
i'm just he
She Lit the Green FlameI am a vortexShe Lit the Green Flame5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
chaos colored in a void--
I am deconstruction
with each board wrenched enjoyed--
I struggle to explain to you,
I am undefined.
and across my blaze of open view
not one thing is more fearfully divine
than the moment that two beings intertwine
the back-bend soft-scent songs of human skin
to me hold the miracle
of the bloodwine in your chalice,
I say this wide-eyed as a newborn
far too far for judgement, shame
and humble as I stand before
the soil I will become,
the earth that gives,
I fingerpaint this floor
with fingers green from loving everything
SuddenlyGoodbyes said in too much haste,Suddenly6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with regrets in shades of grey.
Repressed anger and frayed emotion
with promises broken, for reasons only seen
through rose-coloured glasses,
on the faces of nameless people.
Days in monotone, clouded with desire and
the hope of disquise, given by the marionette
with no strings.
Screaming the answers we need to hear, but
still the lonliness is felt, in a room filled with
bodies with no souls.
The acrid smell of desperation is so potent, as
to take away our breath, and leave us gasping
for the very air we breathe.
Saturated in the belief that torment is all encompassing,
and our free will is locked in a Pandora's box,
struggling with ego and self pity.
Too much to deal with, and set aside in rows
of matchbox cars, and only played with when
Life is as sudden as a tempest on the horizon,
or as drawn out as a mindgame of chess, with
too many pieces in all the wrong places.
Suddenly, is what I feel and suddenly, is
What Sarah SaidIn the orange-cast grey buzz kitchenWhat Sarah Said6 years ago in Open More Like This
your light words clink together like glass beads--
the tension of the night is a taught string
through us from soft soil to the stars.
My throat trembles with the weight
of the words, that finally
spill out from my mouth like drops of rain:
and the words fall
"is the meaning of it all?
the thing that we're all moving towards?"
silence spins as answers are
measured, formed, examined, weighed--
I hardly dare breathe and break the dance.
Finally I chance a look
and that furtive glance reveals
your face wrapped loose
For that moment you are still
immobile as the kitchen clock--
its black hands are your breath.
your eyes shoot open
in a shock
I half expect you'll snap
stock straight and
scream free from a nightmare.
Instead you turn, your eyes scream-blue
the words brush sleepy, urgent past your lips:
"I dreamt that I was dreaming,
I mean I dreamt I was asleep.
I dreamt that I was dreaming
and I had to wake up
a spoken word compilationI found myself;a spoken word compilation5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
in the bees nest
for the buzz
and my wing-tips pattered
mute against bumpy spine
stinger snapped off in the thin
cracks of life-dried-flesh
like the queen had often
but for once I'm not
looking for a vein
but a glimpse of myself
some where out there
in the rain in the blood-stains
in the mashed-pile of
culture and society
and body flopping
fish out of water
b-boy brilliant bopping
to the wind-banging screen-doors
orchestra, through the concrete
jungle auditorium where
porch steps like seat-rows
house a thousand listening people
and For a second I stopped looking,
but I found myself again;
kicking cans and sports-pages
down the concrete landing strip
with shoe-skid like tire-tread
and stretching as long as i had
to walk to get here
and i was spitting butterflies
with devil horns and halos
contradicting their own angles
and justifying each others actions
losing traction gasping
each hard-breath spent fuel fractions
that sent me sputtering low tank
Bedzie fajnie!-Max, ja chyba nie mogę.Bedzie fajnie!1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
-Nie gadaj, chodź.
-No dalej, siadaj! - Max energicznie poklepał miejsce obok siebie. Lee spojrzał na nie z wyraźnym przerażeniem. - Przecież cię nie zjem, będzie fajnie.
-Boję się właśnie, że nie będzie - chłopak niechętnie opadł na materac swojego łóżka. Zaciskając wargi skrzyżował nogi w tureckim siadzie, by po chwili odwrócić się twarzą do przyjaciela. - Mogłem ci nie mówić, że jeszcze nigdy... ten tego.
-Ale byłeś naiwnym debilem, powiedziałeś mi i teraz nie dam ci spokoju! - Max był podekscytowany, a jednocześnie nieco rozbawiony. Klasnął raz w ręce, po czym ułożył je na swoich kolanach. - Obiecuję ci, że będziesz to miło wspominał.
Szatyn uśmiechnął się zadziornie przy tych sło
P.s.: eu amo-te4 da manhã e o telefone toca, tava a espera de tudo, menos do teu nome ali a piscar rapidamente como que uma mensagem urgente. Atendi. "Tás em casa?" perguntas-te mal ouvis-te o sim do outro lado do telefone. "Sim, porque?" respondi, estavas mesmo a deixar.me curiosa com o teu tom de voz, e dizes-me "vem a janela num instante". Parei no tempo, que será que estava na janela, tu 'a mnha espera? Calcei umas sapatilhas e abri os tapassóis. Nem se jogasse no euromilhões acertava tão depressa.. ali em pé e com o pé a bater em sinal de pressa tavas tu enconstado ao carro. "Não achas que tás um pedaço fora d horas?" disse com um sorriso torcista enquanto avançava para ti. "Qualquer hora é boa pra estarmos com quem queremos, não é?" esclareces-te com um sorriso carinhoso enquanto me cumprimentavas.P.s.: eu amo-te8 years ago in Teen More Like This
"Mas afinal.. o que te traz aqui? A' mnha janela?", sim, porque afinal de contas, ainda tava meia baralhada com a situação. "Apetecia-me estar contigo.. Entra no carro, vamos dar uma volta".
Damn that sunDamn that sun9 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
You may think the sun is all good, but I beg the differ.
I say damn that sun!
It was a plain, regular morning for me.
Woke up, drank some coffee, a latte.
Read in the newspaper of the disaster in some third world country, the murder in a local club, some terrorist bombing and a few killed nothing much. I was beginning to feel pressed with time, and so I ran out to the car, when the strong sun outside caught me by surprise. I was blinded for a second, when I bumped into the elderly man walking the street.
I couldn't apologize more, when he fell down, probably breaking some ribs on the sidewalk, just outside my home.
Damn that sun.
I would have stayed, to see he is Ok, or even called an ambulance from my cell phone, but I was late for work. It's a silly excuse, but it was the sun fault.
So I was driving with the damn sun in my eyes, cursing that ball of fire to the best of my knowledge, when I came to the junction of streets I had to cross, to get into my office parking. It was the
GenerosityIf your palm is open and you are giving,Generosity6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
you will also receive god's blessings.
the nameless project313th chorusthe nameless project36 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we played strip-poker hand by
hand and in that nervous light
our clothes fell
into a healthy glimpse
of just how ugly I was;
'cause there are scars
behind my pretty poems
and a heart with muscle-
memory, beating the cadence
to which dying-soldiers march.
draped in cardio-
I taste-test every apple
to make sure it isn't poison
but she bit
just to bite.
she wanted static-
cling and firework dreams
but I was flesh
and getting used to
and as I pulled her perfectly-
pale frame on top of me
her eyes took the glow from mine
between gasps; a tear (of purely
misguided moisture)rolled south
and she cried
while my tear-ducts
from a well
that went dry
losingthis is not life.losing5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
trains, mechanical voices,
the questions my friends ask. this is not life.
every song reminds me of you,
sour honey sliding down my throat.
this is not life.
two weeks ago i was flying:
on your shoulders, unstoppable, screaming with
you down into the hallways of the future.
we didn't just seize the day --
we went for the jugular and strangled the world.
saturday sitting on the jetty
you told me one day we would be flying among the stars.
i leaned against you and stared up at the blackness.
i believed you.
on monday the story changed.
you assured me that i was just a way for you to repent,
to apologise for every bad thing you'd done.
your eyes had some strange fury, like a man
who has glimpsed the face of God and found himself wanting.
you would not look up from the toes of your shoes. (and i thought everything had been going so good.) today is friday and still everything is the same:
the train i sit on leads nowhere. i am afraid
and the chill is creeping
O czym pisze znudzona siedemnastolatka.Siedzę na niewygodnej przystankowej ławce. Wiercę się z nudów, zerkam po raz setny na zegarek w komórce, wciskam ręce do kieszeni kurtki, wzdycham ciężko. Chowam twarz w wysokim kołnierzu. Mruczę pod nosem coś o punktualności - a raczej jej braku - tutejszych miejskich środków komunikacji. Marzę o tym, by znaleźć się w domu. Czuję się ociężała, mam wrażenie, że zmarnowany czas lepi się do mojej skóry niczym brud. Ramiona bolą mnie od dźwigania ciężkiego plecaka. Moje włosy przypominają gniazdo wyjątkowo nadpobudliwego ptaka. O Boże, oby nikt nie zwracał na mnie uwagi. Chcę być niewidzialna. Jestem wrakiem istoty ludzkiej.O czym pisze znudzona siedemnastolatka.1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Wtedy pojawia się on. Musiał dopiero tutaj przyjść. Nie mogłabym nie zwrócić na niego uwagi.
Jest wysoki, szczupły, jego sylw
cummings43rd choruscummings6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I see it now, my man,
I see it;
the beauty behind dis
array dis away
there's always (this place!)
this finely tuned (electric rise
of a begging body's frail-
fuzz to rising epiphany)
you've chiseled away
their gods their coffin-walls their fixed form attire their machines
to show them
last bus to jerseythe buslast bus to jersey6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with a flock
of luxury sedans
in its shadow
as my run
into their distance
its expensive smoke
into the vulnerability
her forehead at me
with her eyes
walking her son
like a seeing-
I laid down
with my back-pack
for a pillow
the swish and
growl of traffic
when a tiny-
came hobbling past
through the bars
of a shopping-
crack on the
his face was
to the sky
and the moons
mouth had rounded
as if hungry
swallowed by awaytaco bell bagsswallowed by away6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and half drunken
pad the floor
from breaking in time
while the sun
is delighting in the burst
that decorate the windshield
like some sort of
the aged iris
of this still-
a thousand copper gods
retired to the mire
in a slur
of the prayers
we never did send
to the sky.