Dark DreamsWith a groan of discomfort, she heaved herself from her bed and stumbled into the bathroom where she turned the water on and stripped as she waited for it to heat up. She slid into the steaming water with much joy and little effort. After a quite uneventful shower, she walked, dripping, back into her room where she dried off lazily as she picked out her clothes for the day. She glanced at the clock, only 6:30 still. Her bag waited for her dutifully by the door and she swung an arm down to catch the strap on her way out.Dark Dreams5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"Honey," called a tired but cheery voice, "since you're up, could you make a pot of coffee?" She sighed.
"Sure," she called back unenthusiastically. Being a teenager was hard work. She had to be good in school and take care of everyone else since her emotional problems were only a 'phase'. Whatever. It didn't matter. She could disappear into her room once the day was over. No other commitments besides school tugged at her mind.
In the kitchen, breakfast was made and seq
The DancerA sweet wind played with her auburn hair as she released a sigh beneath her captive audience of stars. Here, across her moon lit stage of gleaming grass she could dance.The Dancer5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She took the smallest of steps; the gritty touch of the cool ground brought her feet delight as she hesitated for a moment. Enticed to the whims of an unforgotten song, every gliding step fading the world to a metronome's tock. Beneath her slowly moving audience she took sweeping spin after tight twirl to unheard crescendos and minuets. Until their pin prick lights departed beneath the sky scraper horizon.
She faltered as the red rising sun drew close her blue curtain, her soundless song coming to a jarring stop. Tears join the perspiration on her face as she collapses, exhausted. Falling among so many blades of grass, the cool earth soothing her aching body. Still the melody of so many songs she could not hear filled the silence that would not stop.
HeyHey, somewhere along the way I lost youHey5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and my mind still follows those lines of orange sand
and wonders about peculiar lightings
and the smell of everyone around.
Why is melancholy so similar to happiness?
Why are the thoughts I have of you
the same I had
again and again.
And why are they different this time?
(I know, I know damn well.)
Hey, somehow I made it all across
just to notice I left someone on the way
I guess he was important
I think I knew him, did you?
Why don't I turn when you scream
and where is my nose, my face, my fucking
horse. I'd love to ride into the sunset
with my outlines clearly defined against the horizon
but you manage to fuck up the photograph
(blurry, blurry mess)
in the end it amounts to a mess of dangerous luck
and a pretty box of shit
and not all change is golden
but what really is.
Yeah, who really is.
Roadmap burningThis is the easy way.Roadmap burning5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Every wall to break through is bribed,
every thorny rose cut by able hands.
The steps you can make are numbered, but certain.
Do not ask of the hard way,
for its walls are of stone
and the paths are painful,
every step leading backwards instead of ahead.
Did you think the world worked like a fairytale,
having you choose which way to take?
Did you think you'd just turn and say:
"I'll choose my own damn way",
proceeding to walk towards orange sunsets
or a meaningful death as a tragic hero?
I thought you were wiser than this.
See, every step of the way is lined out on a map
of hopes and precautions, the dreams you develop
are caught and observed and then nourished or crashed
by the guardians you're given and the ones you select.
I would love to say: "As for the correct way
to get out of this mess and live peacefully,"
and add anything truthful and useless to that,
but the truth is, I wouldn't believe it;
and neither would you, rarely wise one.
The VictorI am the victorThe Victor5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I hold my head high
For this battle is mine
you are the damned
you are a webless spider
helpless without your lies
I am the strong
I spoke the truth
And faced the fire
you are the burned
your twisted scheme
tied you in a knot
I am not the victim
I only bear the scar
I am hea
My NameMy name is Utis.My Name5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Silently I wait and watch
they stripped me of my rank and title
left me here alone
bribed me to pieces)
My name is Utis:
my arms are cold
and the tide of this sea
My name is nothing.
Tide by tide runs in and out
they stripped me of my name and title
told me where to wait, and when;
pray it dies silently)
My name is Utis;
the sky feels cold
but the tide of this sea
will care for me.
My fears, my sanity, selfishness, intellect,
foolishness, bravery, jealousness, self-respect,
names of the people I wanted to stay
the sea and the nothingness
wash them away.
My Name Is
To Lose SomeoneTo lose someone is to lose yourselfTo Lose Someone5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lose yourself in the pain, the anguish, and the memories.
To lose someone means to forget their face
All those sweet memories will fade in time.
To lose someone means their voice grows dim in your mind
One day, you will forget their voice completely.
To lose someone means that their photographs will cause you sorrow
And all those photographs will not ease your pain.
To lose someone means that you can no longer hug them tightly
And no amount of wishful thinking will bring them back.
To lose someone means that a hole will remain in your heart
A hole that only they could fill.
To lose someone means that they are lost to the ages
And in time, they will be completely forgotten by mankind.
To lose someone means that you regret all the lost hours you never spent with them
Hours that can never be claimed.
To lose someone is to lose a life
And gain a lifetime.
To lose someone is to lose hope
PiersPiers by LeePiers6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
July 17th 2009
I wish I could see over the horizon,
past the white sailboat in the distance
which points upwards at the sky;
nothing is visible except a few stray
clouds, a flock of seagulls, and a
I could chase after it like a pro angler,
but seems my line of choice is a hook
and sinker - fishes won't latch on unless
you have the right bait; good looks,
some money, and a bucket of overused
I am strong - weathered the elements even
though they etched grooves and contoured
lines into my soul; I stand firm on my own
two feet and let waves crash onto me
with a little bit of hope, a saving grace,
and an empty bottle of liquor.
More stars in the sky to believe in,
a taut line to cast out into the
awaiting sea, and I start to feel like me
on a good day; extend my sails
and float endlessly without
taking a step back.
Objects in SpaceThe general gazed pensively at the viewscreen. He was tall and slender, clean-shaven, his hair greying at the temples. His bearing was rigid, yet his posture betrayed some unease.Objects in Space5 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
"How far away is it?"
"It's just passing Pluto," said the science officer, a short, bald, bespectacled man. "At its current velocity, it will reach our position in approximately seven hours."
"And it's alien."
"Well sir," -- the science officer licked his lips -- "it doesn't fit the known trajectories of any comets or asteroids, nor does its composition match any of those. It's definitely man-made... except mankind has never made anything like that. Not to mention it's coming from the wrong direction."
"Seven hours, then. Initiate first contact proceedings."
Seven hours later, they assembled in the largest hangar on the space station: five men and two women. The general stood in the centre of the group, tall and proud, unmoving. Next to him stood the science officer, fidgeting nervously. The others were lin
Strenuous nightsTell me a storyStrenuous nights5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
and make me listen
tie me down if you must
with shackles and chains
and don't let me sleep
until I have heard the end.
'Is there any sense in what you are doing?' she asked me, and I suddenly sensed that it would turn out to be one of those evenings, where she methodically killed me with her razor-sharp tongue (I had often wondered whether she lies awake at night, sharpening it with most hideous tools). 'I would like to think so.', I replied, and knew I had lost another battle.
Some of us are meant to lead
and some are pawns
meant to suffer for glory
(or skip the latter)
while others yet just stand and stare
beside the board
'The repetition must be driving you crazy.' she said, luring me into the false assumption that she was merely trying to console me, that she wasn't, in fact, the one I had come to know so well. I had heard sentences like this so often that only the fact that she had practised them on just as many occasions pr
After the endMy arms feel heavy, for,After the end5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in time, the flesh and bone will fall
and be consumed and formed and changed
and, in the end, stop all their movement
hardened, softened, robbed of all
their former strength and motives, of
their sense and place within this world,
and given, in return, the steady
lifeless calmness of the dead.
Awakening"Mom!" The boy called, he'd seen things that weren't quite right, ghosts everyone called them. This time had been different. Which is why he ran. She always knew the answer, she always knew what it meant. Why he was so different, why other mothers worried about their children going near him. He was different, why he saw what he did, why sometimes he knew things he shouldn't. Why people were afraid of him. Even though he was only ten.Awakening5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She came out from behind their small secluded house, worry brought forth merely from the tone of her young son's voice. Their was none of the excitement of his discoveries or even the sadness as he found out why someone stayed behind, it was fear that colored her dear son's voice.
"Mom, I don't know what happened but everyone is so angry" He told her, unnaturally dark eyes looking up at her. "but it was different everyone saw them, they just appeared they weren't like anything else, not the spirit or the ghosts or even the thing that made the c
Self pep talkGet upSelf pep talk5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Off the floor
Stop your whimpering
And your whining
No one's listening
And that's a good thing
Get your head high
and your back straight
It doesn't matter
Unless it stops you
You don't have to smile
You just gotta make it
Argentum Cruor LunaShe walked down the street back to her cramped college dorm in Oxford University. She passed her favorite coffee shop and decided to stop in on a sudden impulse. Her best friend, Charlotte, worked there. She smiled, settling into the corner, and waited for Charlotte to finish with a customer and come over.Argentum Cruor Luna6 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
"There you are, Lila," said Charlotte kindly. "David was looking all over for you earlier. He was worried something happened to your phone because it was off and such." Lila nodded.
"I needed time to think without any disturbances," explained the woman. Just then, a tall, shabby-looking man shuffled over to the counter. He was handsome enough with piercing sad eyes the color of the sky and unruly black hair spiked up with some sort of product. He carried a patched and worn gray messenger bag on his hip and wore plain clothes; a black t-shirt and a pair of torn jeans. He hardly glanced at Charlotte, who hastened to the counter.
"Good evening, sir, what can I get you?" she asked cheerf
At the roadblockHalf past two at the roadblockAt the roadblock5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
no coffee in sight
and the wheels keep on turning
but never for you.
Half past three at the roadblock
a friendly man asks you
"Where to, tired traveller?"
you smile and reply:
"I'm not that tired
my travelling's done
every movement will end
every car will break down."
Around five at the roadblock
the friendly man leaves,
shortly after the roadblock is lifted.
Game OverIm looking out the window. Thats all.Game Over6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
This is wrong. Very, very wrong.
Im gazing out his kitchen window, watching the summer grass blow lazily in the wind.
His soft voices echoes in the room, trying to soothe her.
Its so odd hearing his voice like this.
Its usually loud, vibrant, strong.
He sounds so small now.
He doesnt understand what the real problem is. Obviously.
I can hear her low, muttering voice coming from the other end of the line.
I dont care about her, anyway.
Yeah, we talk.
We chat, giggle, smile in that stupid, hesitant way.
That way where neither person is sure of the other's motives.
But we dont care.
My mind flickers.
Im standing in a different kitchen, different house, different time.
Same phone call, same disapproval, same disappointing heartache.
Youre my two favorite girls his voice floats, patient and gentle, only for her to respond ind
The Fruits of his ThieveryHe smells at the fruits of his thieveryThe Fruits of his Thievery5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
watching the sunset (a world lit aflame)
but the heat seems to frighten him.
So he closes his eyes and remembers the dusk:
He worked miracles then and he wonders
just when he forgot how to look through your eyes
to the bottom.
He worked miracles then.
He smells at the fruits of his thievery
evaluates options, should he write it down
in fiery letters
and pin it to the walls of this house
that was never his home,
should he tell the world of his wonders?
He inhales and the scent of you fades
he wonders where it has gone to
whether your essence has merged with the sun
or with him
and to be sure,
to be certain
he closes his eyes and waits for your voice.
Perspectives on tomorrowI will not be as I am nowPerspectives on tomorrow5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and as you are you will not stand
to see my colours change.
One day the ever-loving hand will sigh
and turn away for good.
Days won't feel as days feel now
the sun might even fall somehow
and words will rot away.
For every word a tree for every
every word a tree will grow.
But you won't turn your head and I
will close my eyes and wonder why
my breath runs heavy and the dust
has risen from my well of tears.
GhostsTiptoe, they did.Ghosts5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wander, they tried.
Moaning across the empty lands, they roared.
Eternal, they were.
Forgotten, they have become.
Gone, they are now.
Their pallid hands reached forth to grasp the world of the living.
Fail, they did.
Fall, they did.
They will forever haunt those who remain.
Ghosts, they are.
Behind The TreesHer voice...music to my ears. Each melodic note serenaded me, pulling my mind further into a hazy state. As I slowly walked toward the sounds, I became more in tuned with her voice and less in my own body. I barely noticed the rain running down my face anymore, let alone my own movements. Each moment was like a gentle nudge, urging me on, closer and closer to the pure melodies that resonated just ahead, past the trees, bushes and rocky outcroppings. They became a mere sight to what I saw just ahead. A woman, dressed in a crimson cloak. Her hood was down and her face was so beautiful that it took my breath away. Her ethereal appearance left me speechless. She had piercing, almond shaped eyes that seemed to see deeper than a human eye should. Her brown hair laid in damp, shiny ringlets cascading down her shoulders, perfectly framing her face. Her lips were painted scarlet, the perfect shade to match her smooth, tanned skin, illuminated by the firelight just in front of her. The shadows dBehind The Trees5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The silence of a beating drumOnce upon a time the silenceThe silence of a beating drum5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sounded like the voice of drums
echoing their stubborn sadness
out through names and walls.
Once upon a time, their sound
was louder than my voice
the silence of their stubborn beating
echoing through you, through me
The sadness within nothingness
the joy of being free
combined and floating through the names;
the walls of you and me.
Places like thisShe hated places like this, places with heart backed chairs and gentle ambient music. The sort of places where infatuation spread like ants around dripping ice cream. Yet it was always quite little places like this he demanded they meet. She knew exactly why, it was so she didn't cause a scene by throttling him, or breaking his arm, or nose. Maybe this time I'll do it anyway she contemplated looking at the door with a foul expression. He was late.Places like this5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She fiddled with her napkin, agitated. Blending in to the general, ignorant populace was not something she did well or easily. Just keeping her power levels low to avoid notice was trying.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," his voice came from behind rather suddenly.
She turned in her seat, not flinching, just horribly annoyed. "No your not," she said flatly, thoroughly unimpressed. "Now why did you call me here?" she demanded unconversationally.
"tsk, you could at least wait until I'm sitting down" he said sitting.
Take your timeOh river, take your time,Take your time5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I've waited all my life.
There'll be a day when dust turns to mountains
they'll want me to watch
but my body will itch;
I'll go down and dance
by the river.
Oh river, take your time,
I've waited all my life.
There was a day when the sea turned to dust
and I ought to have watched
but my eyes were blue
so I merely watched you
by the river.
Oh river, take your time,
I've waited all my life
and now responsibility
comes crashing like a dream on me
a dusty, dreary dream
of darker things than me.
Fugitive pt1You wake up, a gray dawn on a desolate horizon greets you. You are a fugitive. Far from home. Alone. And you'll only be getting farther. You have to be, you can't be caught. That would ruin everything, and everyone.Fugitive pt15 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
You're tired, you've been running for a long time, and no one knows why. It's all because of secrets, your secrets, their secrets. Secrets you shouldn't know. Those secrets are why your a fugitive. Why you're far from home, and so very alone.
The road behind you goes for miles, and the steadily warming horizon bids you chase it with it's glowing gray. You push past the fear, the exhaustion the horrible truth spurring you forward.
The familiar hum and vibrations of the car come to life as drive. As you drive the dull gray blooms into to a vibrant sunrise, whose colors fade leaving you with a blinding glare that will creep over head. You drive until you become acutely aware of your own hunger, and the lowering levels of fuel in yo