Raver's ManifestoRaver's Manifesto9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Our emotional state of choice is Ecstasy. Our
nourishment of choice is Love. Our addiction of choice
is technology. Our religion of choice is music. Our
currency of choice is knowledge. Our politics of
choice is none. Our society of choice is utopian
though we know it will never be.
You may hate us. You may dismiss us. You may
misunderstand us. You may be unaware of our existence.
We can only hope you do not care to judge us, because
we would never judge you. We are not criminals. We are
not disillusioned. We are not drug addicts. We are not
naive children. We are one massive, global, tribal
village that transcends man-made law, physical
geography, and time itself. We are The Massive. One
We were first drawn by the sound. From far away, the
thunderous, muffled, echoing beat was comparable to a
mother's heart soothing a child in her womb of
concrete, steel, and electrical wiring. We were drawn
back into this womb, and there, in the heat, dampness,
and darkness of it, we came to
Worlds Away, But Still Here.I'm a racist in a rainbow suit,Worlds Away, But Still Here.6 years ago in Other More Like This
with one eye slanted,
the other straight as
the hair that hangs down to
my broken shoulder blades
as I sway to the music in my head
I'll tell you the truth,
I had a dream once,
I had a future coming on,
I had beliefs once
But then I grew up.
I'm a follower leading blind sheep,
with one hand on the bible,
the other turned up,
one lone finger in the sky
that hangs over us all,
but it divides as we fall,
and we're signing peace treaties
as we head for more bombs
I'll tell you the truth,
I had a dream once,
I had a future that was bright,
I did believe once
But then I met the walls around me.
I'm a liar weaving truths that I'll feed you,
with both lips on the tip of my emotions,
we're singing praises to ourselves in the mirror,
behind our backs we're killing off morality
Fiction Shelved True Stories.The air was fresh,Fiction Shelved True Stories.6 years ago in Other More Like This
the leaves were crisp,
you wore your newsboy cap,
and I wore those leggings that we ripped that night by the lake
the benches were full,
but we didn't care,
we found our place amongst the blades of grass and the critters between them
you spoke with your smile,
and mine answered
eyes melted into eyes
lips matched lips
hands found one another
while we shared that crucial point in time,
I noticed an old couple sitting by the fountain;
he was holding her,
and she was smiling like she held the secret to the meaning of life
you glanced their way,
and your arms found their way around my waist,
and then I realized that I already held the secret,
or it held me
So I pointed their way and stated,
"I want that to be us in 60 years."
You smiled crookedly and whispered,
"Why not today?"
and that was the moment I decided that you were it
because even though they said we were too young to know,
too naive to understand;
we did know
we did understand,
and we were in love,
This Magic, This Act.This Magic, This Act.6 years ago in Other More Like This
Your Hollywood makeover self indulgent lectures
cause watery rims,
and thudding temples
You asked me if I understood
and I nodded twice,
and once no
You looked past my contradictions,
never explaining the lastest catch phrase
Your words aren't the bait,
they're the trigger
and your audiences are blind folded
in blood red chairs
You hide your sins so well,
I almost thought you an angel
But I peeked
Does it kill you to know I never enjoyed your overdone acting?
I never believed you,
but you believed me
All the tricks you've pulled,
like yarn weaving around you
in a small room,
has trapped you in the middle
of the other side
How's it feel sitting in that chair
without use of your eyes?
The stage smells like rust and bleach
and the seat covers rip and wear
A simple whisper is caught on your
tuned in ears
"Are you watching closely?"
Trilingual Sucker.Trilingual Sucker.6 years ago in Other More Like This
I must believe that you never did
I've got to make this easier
that ignore button looks rather attractive tonight,
and my hands are itching to punch the escape key;
to break this habit,
like my last cigarette,
I'll tuck you behind my ear
for safe keeping and promise not to use you
Too bad I can't say the same for your philosophy
You'll be in the books one day,
and I'll be the only one not reading your words
I would label you a mess,
but I misplaced my feather pen
which wrote with the tenderness of your apologies
and pricked with the sting of their fakeness
I'll be sure to thank you for this one day,
whenever I find my way up the ledge you dropped me off
In your sweet exterior lives a monster worth more
than Nessie and money has always made me uneasy
but I'll take "Not-So-Sweet Goodbye" for right now
and you can take the mat with you because you're not welcome anymore
Set this in stone and take your walk of shame with you
I promise not to watch
Your tears could flood me out a
Letters I will never send Zastanawiam się, czy też topisz smutki w alkoholu czy wręcz przeciwnie beze mnie jesteś wreszcie szczęśliwy. A może już dawno zaćpałeś się i leżysz pod ziemią na jakimś zatęchłym cmentarzu? Nie dopuszczam do siebie tej myśli; dłoń drży mi przy pisaniu tego. Nie wierzę, że bóg mający w rękach cały wszechświat wszystkie gwiazdozbiory, planety, wszelką znaną i nieznaną materię, nawet moje nieistniejące serce mógł odebrać sobie życie. Ale ile tak naprawdę znaczył dla Ciebie każdy przeżyty dzień? Przecież to były błahostki, czyjś kaprys, pomyłka ewolucji. Krótko mówiąc pozbawiona zasad zabawa, która pewnego wieczoru mogła Ci się najzwyczajniej w świecie znudzić. W końcu nigdy nie bałeś sięLetters I will never send3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
And They Shall Be Nameless.And They Shall Be Nameless.6 years ago in Other More Like This
I'm a ghost here.
I'm being drained of colors that
don't belong to me,
and memories I've never been lucky
enough to have for myself.
I'm feeling a sense of dumbfoundness
as you walk by me,
I'm not here with you,
but you're here with me.
Everything is over and I never began.
I'm a plague here.
I'm being passed around as the nothing
that you see me as,
and the everything you don't want.
I'm sensing a feeling of distance between
us two paranormal floating souls
as you ignore,
and avoid me.
I'm not here with you,
but you're here with me.
You left me here because I refused to come on command.
I need a word,
or group of them to turn these tables around.
"What happens when I can't stand to look at you anymore?"
"You close your eyes and hold me anyways."
Grey Areas And Grey Eyes.Grey Areas And Grey Eyes.6 years ago in Other More Like This
I reach for skies I don't believe in
and a love I know is fake.
I kiss lips I don't trust
and whisper words I don't understand.
I love you,
but we both know I'm a liar,
and I doubt I'll ever mean what I say,
at least not what I say to you.
You twist my tongue,
along with my arms,
behind my back,
and the tip of your lungs.
You sicken me,
but I've never been a normalcy.
I grab for hands that aren't there
and hips with ghost-like tendancies.
I hold onto everything I want to let go,
and drop what I care for most.
I hate you,
but you know I'm in denial,
and I won't admit it,
at least not out loud.
You break my heart strings,
on your cutting eyes,
and your rushed hands.
I doubt I'll ever forgive you for making me like this,
but It won't stop my heart from beating in tune with yours,
even as it's fading.
Moments In Odd Skins.That moment when you fall;Moments In Odd Skins.6 years ago in Other More Like This
when your legs forget how to stand,
when each rise and fall of your chest sends
a shockwave to every nerve, hitting like
a tsunami upon every grain of sand
That moment when you drop;
when your arms forget how to reach,
when you become lifeless,
your limbs hanging uselessly at odd angles
That moment when you die;
when your soul two steps out of your body,
twirling and dancing on the winds,
when your breath seems meaningless,
because oxygen can't save you when you're already gone
Allusions To YouYouAllusions To You6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Some supermarket in California,
We were searching for Whitman
Behind some grapes.
Alas, he was not there.
Played a game of chess
In some tragic Wasteland
What else is there to do?
Our barn was burnt down
We took our shopping cart
Filled with various items
Clothes, blankets, canned peaches,
Sunflower seeds, 2 flashlights, hard candy,
Tissues, Sprite, a soup pan,
Hardtack (which I made myself)
And a sleeping bag, for when its cold.
I have never been cold,
Beside you before,
You never mentioned it either.
Those are the nights I realize
That my entire study of American Literature
Has never prepared me for the American Life.
No American Dream has come from
Whaling, living in the woods, traveling west.
No civil overthrow of the government
Will brand you with an A.
You taught me that,
As well as other
But most of all,
You are my incorruptible dream.
I will beat on against the current
Which way does your beard point?
Paradise lost AKA All gods die Kiedy wychodził, nie spodziewał się, że zacznie padać – w końcu był dopiero początek grudnia, a zimy z roku na rok robiły się coraz cieplejsze. Siergiej nie lubił śniegu, wbrew swojej rosyjskości i temu, co w tej kwestii sądzili o nim inni, więc przeklął pod nosem, zobaczywszy frunące z gracją białe płatki. Nie znosił zimna, wilgoci i tego, że bez rękawiczek palenie stawało się uciążliwe i mało przyjemne. Jakieś dziecko krzyknęło do matki, a chwilę później spróbowało złapać wirujący puch na język. „Udław się nim” – pomyślał zirytowany Siergiej, rozplątując tkwiące w uścisku słuchawki. Gdyby tylko wiedziały, z kim miały do czynienia, nie byłyby tak złośliwe.Paradise lost AKA All gods die2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sense of SelfSense of Self4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sense of Self
I allowed my heart to thaw,
Once upon a time.
I'd thought that letting love come in
Would not be such a crime.
However, what I thought was love
Turned in to something mean,
And I was left, confused, in pain;
My heart broken at the seams.
So be wary when you warm your heart,
And allow your walls to melt.
You may end up more broken,
And you may lose your sense of self.
my name.my name ismy name.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
alyssa, and maybe it means
hold your breath or
chase the stars. maybe it is
that awkward shyness
of saying hello to someone
for the first time
or the warm feeling
from hugs and held hands.
maybe it means
maybe my wishes will come true,
someday or maybe
it is the sound of the wind
caressing leaves and the lullabies
of wind chimes, or maybe
it is the voice inside your head;
the shade of moonlight and
maybe 'alyssa' is a synonym
for hopeful and dreaming and
'full of life'. maybe it is the rush
in your ears while running,
the challenge of catching your breath again;
the music of wishing and the thrill
or maybe my name is just
and maybe it only means
the cynic's love songI will not write love poems becausethe cynic's love song7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
stars and laced fingers and deep
kisses make me sick. Because dawn
doesnt blossom and the night
always ends. The pillow loses its scent and feathers.
I lose myself in closets, waltzing with skeletons.
The sky fades from violet silk
to rough gray wool filling my throat
until I choke. I will not write love
poems because my soul aches for release,
but there is none. The grass
browns, the trees turn to skinny sentinels, watching
through sleepeyes. Life becomes routine
until I dont notice where my feet take me.
I love yous fall on ears full of cotton balls
and the echo never comes back. I will not write
love poems because love is a baby
growing in the womb of the world:
this time we cannot bear
the weight of it so we walk to the clinic
wearing black sweaters and shame
in the set of our lips. I search for anything
to make me dizzy and forgetful.
I search for anything to touch and never
get farther than my breasts and stomach.
Glass BoyHe has stone eyesGlass Boy6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The colour of frost painted with powder blue crayons
His train wreck smile slides off his beaten face
And punished my heart for trying to connect
"Why cant you love me?" i scream at him
He is motionless as i watch the raindrops slide down his snow cheeks
"Why can't i love myself?"
He never wished me a happy birthday
And i waited with false hope growing inside of me
He'll remember, he promised he would
But he broke alot of promises
"One day, ill paint you a sunset with brilliant yellows and angry reds
It will burn so brightly you'll hang it outside and the real sun won't even compare"
The closest to angry reds he got was the broken skin upon his wrist
"For you" just like he promised.
When he was particularly sad,
He liked to stand under the electrical towers
And pray that he would someday evaporate into thin air
I knew he was having a bad day when we held hands
And the electricity flowed through his fingertips up inside my spine
"You didn't disappear today" I whispered
This is For YouThis is for the boy with the cracks on his hands and a splintering face,This is For You6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the lovely girl feeling not-so-lovely anymore-
the boy with his hands locked high over his head,
unlock them. Unlock doubt and inhibitions-
For the girl who said THIS IS MY FIRST SCAR.
like she wanted more to come-
For the man who knew that if there ever was a time to seize the day,
that time was here and now and never. That time was her
snow-white blouse against her snow-white skin and her fingers
trickling down his spine-
I see the world through your hands, your fingertips, your pores.
I saw you dancing on the spouting gravel,
entwined in roots and feet and H2O.
You were a defiant stare and an intervention,
you had a silken voice: purling, purging,
stealing lines from famous songs. On tip-toes
and backbone, you stretched and reached and
cried like you had no remorse
-or too much of it.
A Close ShaveLouis, what is that on your lip?A Close Shave8 years ago in Historical More Like This
What is what?
That, Maxime touched Saint-Justs upper lip gently, just under his nose. Is that hair?
Saint-Just looked testy. Cant you tell?
Maxime blinked. Did you get forget to shave?
Saint-Justs brow furrowed. No, he touched his own lip thoughtfully. Im trying to grow it in. Cant you tell? The question was more firm, with a touch of annoyance.
You mean, like a moustache? The corners of Robespierres mouth twitched upwards; when Saint-Just didnt answer, he let out a short hiccup, then began to laugh.
What is so funny about it? the younger man demanded.
Maxime removed his hand from where it had tactfully been covering his mouth.
Why would you do such a thing? His polite smile threatened to burst again. Saint-Just looked somewhat insulted.
Why not? Le Bas has one, and it lo
Lemiememoriedite.Il freddo è pungente .Lemiememoriedite.9 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
Infilo una felpa e lascio che gli anfibi scivolino a coprirmi le caviglie .
Il cappuccio è calcato fino aglocchi e le mani sprofondano nelle larghe tasche .
Giusto il tempo di prendere le chiavi e fuggo via .
Uno scatto a quella porta che segna il confine .
Scendo velocemente le scale , frugando per trovare le sigarette .
So dove trovarti e cosa dirti .
Almeno così spero .
Cammino a testa bassa lasciando che il vento mi schiaffeggi il volto .
Il passo è deciso , voglio che tutto ciò finisca al più presto .
Incontro un paio di persone che mi osservano di sfuggita , alquanto perplesse .
Mi chiedo se non abbiano mai visto il volto di un disperato .
Alla destra il rigoglioso e splendente parco , che sotto i grigi nuvoloni che minacciano pioggia , fa ancora più pena .
Qualche moneta tintinna nei pantaloni . Mi decido a comprare altre sigarette .
Possono dare calore e farti compagnia . Costando relativamente meno di unaman
Little Memory Box1.Little Memory Box6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it's hard to let go
of something you held
on to so dearly
something like you
baby i danced in the rain
in the middle of the night
wearing your shirt
i think i'm sick
i tried to burn
our photos and letters
but i ran out of matchsticks
it's a sign
last night i unplugged my phone
so i could think
for once in my life
then my mobile ran
The importance of being idleThe importance of being idle4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Gdy koło trzeciej zabrakło alkoholu, wszyscy poza mną i Siergiejem rozeszli się w swoje strony, uznając imprezę za skończoną. Siedzieliśmy zatem na dachu szkoły tylko my dwaj, z przytulonymi do siebie ramionami i splecionymi od niechcenia dłońmi, pod czarnym, ale spokojnym niebem, wśród pustych puszek i czyichś wymiocin, którymi ubrudziłem sobie buty. Wszystko wokół było ciemne, niemal namacalne, nawet nasze myśli tylko papieros w ustach Siergieja jarzył się jasnym punkcikiem. Pierwszy raz niepokoiła mnie cisza między nami, przerywana krótkimi salwami śmiechu. Szalonego śmiechu, który zdawał się wynosić ponad wszystko. Jak gdyby ten, który się śmiał, gardził wszystkim i każdym, nawet własnym życiem. A przecież ja sam znałem t
seven things to do.i. they say that there areseven things to do.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
seven natural wonders
in the world. well,
i think theyve got it
all wrong. i think
the seventh one is
a place called
and i need to find it.
ii. i can name all of my
weaknesses. they are
ugly and obvious and
i am aware
of all of them.
now, i need
iii. people have given me
'unconditional love and
unbreakable promises but
they took away both.
so im sorry
if im just a bit
i have reasons.
and id like it if someone
made me forget
every last one of them.
iv. seven is supposed to be
the luckiest number, right?
and it stands for
note to self:
figure out why
seven hates me so much.
v. i need to hear
again. i need
to know that you
were not only
in my imagination.
i need to know
that you are
(and i want to ask
you if you still feel
when we talk.)
vi. i still have
and phone number
plastic roses.i. our love was a rose, andplastic roses.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sometimes, i wished it was
do not have thorns.)
ii. i'd like the fireflies to
stay in my life. at least
they could light my way through the
(they'd be much better
friends than you ever were.)
iii. we once said
that we were each other's
but i am not
losing my halo;
only you are.
(throwing knives in my back
doesn't make you an angel.)
iv. you told me that our fates
were lucky enough to cross one
(your version of
is very different from mine.)
v. my love for you
was made of hope and fragile
dreams and it was
(you never thought
it was worth enough
to be considered
vi. you told me i was
like your special brand of
(but chocolate always made you
vii. your nicknames for me (sweetheart;
mi amor) and claims of love
always seemed to burn
your lips, as if they were
(did it ever hurt you
viii. i was such a fool
for searching for things
in your heart that
First TimeLike many students, Teatime didn't wait until he graduated from the Guild to take on his very first assignment.First Time8 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Such an arrangement was covertly approved of by the teaching staff, even if it meant that untrained youngsters were taking on work: if they botched the job, well, it was entirely unofficial and had nothing to do with the Guild proper, and if they did well, it was a testament to the Guild's teaching. Students felt that it prepared them for the final exam: no last minute can-I-or-can't-I moral dilemmas.
Not that Teatime had ever been in any doubt. In fact, he was one of the youngest students to go this route, completing his first successful contract at 14.
It was wonderful. He felt superhuman, he felt utterly alive; he felt nothing but glee and joy and the swoop and fall of perfect movement. When he'd finished he was flushed, breathless, grinning broadly. He was also covered in blood and his wrist had been broken in two places, but it was worth it. He crawled back to the Guild,