Fiction Shelved True Stories.The air was fresh,Fiction Shelved True Stories.7 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,
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.7 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
And They Shall Be Nameless.And They Shall Be Nameless.7 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."
Moments In Odd Skins.That moment when you fall;Moments In Odd Skins.7 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
This Magic, This Act.This Magic, This Act.7 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?"
my name.my name ismy name.7 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.
This is For YouThis is for the boy with the cracks on his hands and a splintering face,This is For You7 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
5 postcards from nowhere:postcard 1:5 postcards from nowhere:7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
somewhere between here and
there i realised: good things don't
happen because of 52. they happen
because we let them.
and baby i'm afraid of a lot of things.
like the way your fingers read my skin like
braille in the dark. and i may not have any more
secrets left that way.
but you still like to explore every corner of
i have a drawer full of foxgloves and a
sandpit of forget-me-nots. i
love your stretching tree-branch arms.
you are magic, you are magic, i say. and i am
lost in the ocean of your eyes.
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,
Daddy is an artistDaddy doesnt need waterDaddy is an artist6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
For his bloody knuckles
To color pretty pictures,
He'll exhibit with pride when the work is done.
All he really needs
Are his eight red markers
To help him express the anger
He keeps bottled up inside.
Daddy is an artist and I am
Living proof of his ability
To cause pain.
My skin is a canvas you can use over and over again,
Welcome to the museum of horrors
Where you can admire the beauty
In every bruise, scrape and blood stain.
steps.one.steps.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the first step is always
the hardest, like learning
to breathe and swim and wish
and sometimes, you sink and
sometimes, you need someone
to rescue you.
but when you finally learn,
it's like locks clicking and
hearts singing and holding
hands and suddenly,
everything makes sense.
you held sadness
close to your chest, content knowing
this is something no one
can take away.
and then you start to think
that maybe, happiness could work like this,
and wouldn't that be amazing?
realize that you
want to have happy dreams
to put in photo album memories,
and you want
to write a letter
to yourself and it would say
you are beautiful
and you want
to believe it.
wonder if black holes
only pull things towards them
because they're lonely
you could keep them
realize that you shouldn't
let your past
ruin the present
or the future.
the only ghosts and demons
chase them away, away,
i haven't found this
things worth remembering.we could sing soft lullabies under the stars,things worth remembering.6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
songs about happiness and dreams
and a perfection that's flawed, a perfection
a perfection that's you.
we'd go to the park, maybe,
just to watch the wind kiss the flowers,
and you'd name all of them.
'just because they're lonely',
you'd say. 'just because
they need love too.'
you need love, too.
if your heart was a color,
it'd be bright, beautiful, and
crayola would be jealous.
you deserve dreams and hope,
a happy ending and a fairytale
worth believing in. you deserve
happy days, smiles. you deserve
a penguin named stuart and chocolate,
a comet and anything and everything else
you've ever wanted.
you deserve happiness.
the world will never lose its beauty
as long as you're in it.
a poem about your skin.you are covereda poem about your skin.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
by land, a lithosphere,
a continent sprinkled
with snow. i watch
off your surface, leak
into cracks. i name
your freckles after cities,
your eyes after oceans. you
are a world, my world, but this
is only a layer.
things that matter.1things that matter.6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
even on the gray days, your eyes flicker dimly with hope. there is still a comet in the night sky, somewhere, singing your dreams and hopes for you.
even in the darkest silence, your heart is still beating, softly, musically. you just have to listen. you just have to hope.
you haven't lost yet.
sometimes, life feels like a horrible play, and everyone is outperforming you. sometimes, you lose yourself in the characters you play. you forget your lines. you trip. you screw up.
but it's not over yet. there's always a chance for a happier tomorrow.
but more than that - there's still the rest of today to be lived.
it's not too late.
somewhere, there is someone that understands. there is someone who only wants to brighten your day and paint your sky rainbow. there is someone who would let you stand on their shoulders if it meant helping you reach your dreams.
somewhere, there is someone who only wants to make you happy.
you just have to find them.
even if happiness has been put to the
Down With LoveI fresh oxygen you. I clean waterDown With Love7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You. I French bread you. I boisterous
Laughter you. I sweet tears you.
I contemporary poetry you. I
Alternative music you. I clean paper and
New ink pen you. I modern art
You. I quiet cat-nap you. I warm
Home you. I chunky sweater you. I
Absurd inside jokes you. I human
Contact you. I summer sunshine you.
I God you.
countdown.five.countdown.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i wish to disappear
between the cracks in
cement, the stars in the
sky and the spaces between
seconds. i wish to disappear
from the world; hide and become
but i'm too terrified
that no one will bother
to remember me.
fading. light is less
bright, the colors of the world
less vibrant. life
and hope and happiness
feel like the
stars - close enough
to see; too far to ever
i am at the door
to your heart. i knock,
my voice pleading for you to
just hear me, just
hear me, please.
i keep knocking until i
finally realize -
no one is home.
fingernails digging into
skin, lungs burning.
there is no escape,
there is no
escape. i scream
until life suffocates me,
until i have no voice
left, and all that remains is
i am counting down
to my own destruction.
everything you do, anything
you say -
well, it's all
still.one.still.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
her name is alice. there is a slight blood stain on the valley where her lips part, and her eyes are two supermassive black stars that can't show anything but hurt. she can't bring herself to look in the broken mirror puddles that are all over the ground.
(and i don't blame her)
she borrows her mother's raincoat because it smells like home. not the homes that are flooded with laundry soap or soft candles burning in the family room, but more like the paint she spilled on the carpet, or the whiskey on her father's breath.
(and sometimes, she swears she can smell her mother's sadness.)
when alice was little she remembers playing freeze tag with her mother. she remembers feeling anxious, and now she feels sick. "if daddy touches you, stay still, and don't make a sound."
reminders i carry in my hand:dear me,reminders i carry in my hand:7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you do not have a terrible heart. you do not
have sad eyes and love is not a war you need
to win. sometimes i feel like disappearing, but
we are never really alone.
every now and then, you can close your eyes
and still find your way. remember to breathe
because you did not sink a paper boat and you
are not floating underwater. you already know
the answer to the question you are looking for.
remember the small things, like the writing in
the borders of pages. see the things that
everyone else misses. listen to your thoughts
and then lose yourself.
laugh until it makes you cry. see things you've
never seen in people before. stop worrying about
your hair and call him just to say i miss you.
do something different and you will be surprised.
let yourself enjoy the sunrise. try and say toy-
boats ten times in a row without tangling it up.
have silly conversations about cows eating grass
off your bed in your room.
you are never r
aesthetic shades of gray.these sticks and stones.aesthetic shades of gray.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her mind is bound with ironclad
chains to a hollow, jaded skull.
the razor-sharp scythe of the wind
bites against her bones, and she can
feel her body, like a rock, withstand
the tempest gale. the melancholy
of a thousand qualms tear at the seams
of her lungs, while the hopes in the
grounds of her heart are growing
weary of waiting; perishing.
may break her bones.
she can feel the pressure of the
twilight zone competing against her
heartbeat, pounding heavily against
a tainted ribcage and a sore shell.
nirvana continues to slip out of her
fingertips and she is numb, numb,
but words have left her.
the intensity of screams rise in the
pit of her throat, and fear sends fissures
across her nervous system. she`s
dying to escape from this empty void,
but what happens if there`s no where
else to go ?
["she`s a lack of poise, a lack of hue !"]
she used to know sunlight on a
first name basis, but now her eyes
my heart ran away.the sky is cold when i tell you that i don't have a heart.my heart ran away.6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
'of course you do,' you tell me. 'you have to.'
but i don't. and you spent so many minutes of that day trying to find my heartbeat, your warm fingers on my icy wrists, searching and searching for something you couldn't find.
and it hurts that even you couldn't prove me wrong.
i drew a chalk heart on my concrete drive way and pretended it replaced my missing one.
but it was lopsided and terrible. the rain ended up washing it away in the end, and i could only stand there in the rain and watch as my messy scribbles faded away.
i wrote my heart a letter, asking it if it missed me.
the reply said i'm sorry, but i just can't miss you. i just can't.
i hated that i understood why.