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This is inevitable.In the words of Alanis, "I believe that one and oneThis is inevitable. by Racketeered
You and I aren't two, so much as we're one and a
half, and I'm struggling to make you believe I'm
something more than an angsty mess.
We met on the corner of 'Complicated' and 'Wrong',
which is far more true than it is poetic, but there
is a coffee shop two blocks down with the most perfect
iced tea and a window for watching the world turn.
We bonded over our love for love and our neutrality
towards one another, though even with our differing
tastes in music and your terrible choice in hats,
I'll continue preaching friendly indifference, if
only to keep your sanity intact.
I've always dreamed of loving an artist, or at least
making love to one, because these feeble hands could
never fully capture this world's beauty, and I expect
something to come from living so unselfishly.
Sometimes you make me feel like being on top of the world,
but that's mostly a clever innuendo designed to make you
consider the possibility and apprec
Sparkle, MarilynI wish I could spin a tale of majesty, but we know your story far too well. Maybe if I pretended I knew you, felt the embrace I never had. Perhaps I could forget the nights I heard our mother crying, drowning in the pain of the person you used to be.Sparkle, Marilyn by Racketeered
Sometimes I like to pretend the little girl with the Marilyn Monroe sparkle still exists. They tell me that girl had dreams of changing the world, making people believe in things only fools dream of. Too bad I didn't meet this girl, sweetheart, because I still don't believe in you.
Maybe someday I'll forget the night you fell back into Marilyn's vice, the paramedics storming in like something from a movie. You always wanted to be a star, didn't you? Our home became center stage and you gave us the show of a lifetime. The sound of your tears filled the theatre, putting us on the edge of our seats.
"Marilyn, you have something to live for. Marilyn, you have a child now."
I wonder if you'll tell her story like you told mine. No child should f
ThunderstormsAs these raindrops fall and the clouds come together,Thunderstorms by Racketeered
I'll trace the contours of your body while you count
the scars of lovers past.
You'll cry the tears you fought to hide away, and I'll
smile; this pain isn't ugly, for you are the definition
I live for moments like this.
Pick up the pieces.His laugh was the soundtrack to afternoonsPick up the pieces. by Racketeered
of growing up way too early and waking up
far too late. His smile could warm the soul
of even the most brokenhearted girl, and
on several occasions, I admired his boyish
He made it his mission to make friends with
the kid in the corner, playing altruist to
those who needed it most. His hair blended
in perfectly with the sun, and if you weren't
watching closely, he'd disappear right before
Few would ever see the pain he harbored, and
only the most seasoned ears know the sound
of his tears hitting the floorboards. He told me
he felt alone, but now he's just lost, and
somewhere along the way he burned the map
and set out on a path I don't care to follow.
His lips spew words of peace, but his breath
smells like nectarines and regret. He's falling
now, and for once in his life, he needs to feel
his pieces break.
the dreami.the dream by Sasukesadork
Her house sat alone in the middle of a bright blooming flower field that was surrounded by the dirt of an abandon construction site that could harbor no green but for the occasional moss that clung to stray stones that she'd sometimes steal for her garden.
Her lawn consisted of dandelions that bloomed in full.
Her gardens were fruit trees and climbing beans, every kind of tomato, numerous vegetables and a particularly noticeable raspberry bush.
Behind her porch there was a single stone path that walked straight through aisles of lavender, chamomile and mint until it met a small koi pond that had blooming lilies floating on its surface.
She invited me in from the summer and showed me her space. It was hand built of stones and bricks, with wooden rafters from which there were thousands of techni-scented leaves and sprigs drying.
There were glass windows, which she had open, and bookcases filled with books.
A fireplace took up a wall of her kitchen. A large stone basin stood next to it
celestial.dear x,celestial. by bowie-loon123
i always believed you were one of those people. impossible to hate, impossible to evade, impossible to obviate. yes, one of those.
because you always reminded me of cigarette smoke. twirling, whispy fumes of wonder dancing in the air. something you inhale, something you breathe, something you live. and never had i thought that a cancerous, calamitous and caustic substance retained such elegance. until i found you. now even the most futile aspects of my life are major parts of my world.
and you remind me of cigarettes because you're just so damn addictive.
you're like efflorescence: you just keep growing, blossoming...becoming more and more exquisite. like a rose, except your magnificent grandeur never seems to wither and crumble. the rich, crimson tint never fades from those rubicund cheeks and you never fade away. like all roses, you have thorns. but then, dear, who doesn't?
you're like water: you're pure. you're perfect. you'r
...And Strawberry JamElla-Marie's first word was "jam," which frustrated Ella-Marie's mother upon her realization that she had no bearing on her daughter's first word. It was the product of Ella-Marie's father, of course, like the rest of her daughter's life. David played drums, and as he left to play drums with his band, he'd tussle Ella-Marie's hair and say, "Someday you're gonna jam with us, honey," kiss her on the forehead, and wander off. But it was more likely the word came from David's request every morning, before he'd go off to work: "How about a peanut-butter-and-strawberry-jam sandwich, eh?" And Ella-Marie's mother would have made the sandwich already, of course, but there must have been something comforting in the routine, because he'd ask the same question ever day....And Strawberry Jam by bleusman
Upon hearing her daughter speak, Ella-Marie's mother made it her prerogative alone to make sure she alone was responsible for Ella-Marie's first steps. Yet despite her mother's refined techniques from all the child-development book
AgonizinglyBeautiful ConfusionI really really want you to just leave me aloneAgonizinglyBeautiful Confusion by gimme-da-money
But please don't
You being here destroys me
And makes me feel wonderful
I wish I'd never met you
Because then I'd never have felt this love
And I falter
And I fly
And I fall
And I get back up again
And I can't make up my mind
Because the confusion is kind of lovely
But it's all just turmoil
With sweet pinches of bliss
Enough to make me happy
But still to make me cry
Your words make me smile
And your silence stings my heart
And I'd love to cut you out of it
But I think it'd stop beating
And if it stop beating
Leave me forever
Be beside me always
I just wish this
Go on forever.
• written or spoken language in its ordinary form, without metrical structure : a short story in prose | [as adj. ] a prose passage.
We want to see your work up here.
[But before you submit, read the submission rules.]
To JuliusYou did the right thing,To Julius by unmisprinted
but for all the wrong reasons.
Your mind is full-clear,
just not of your treasons.
You went against me
And our mutual friends.
This is just so tragic,
How it has to end.
You can't see the past
Or interpret at all.
Oh, Why can't you see
how from grace you did fall.
Friends we were once,
but now torn apart.
Death was the cure,
Now tyranny departs.
Behind My MaskThe fury you've managed to cause inside me stirs fiercer than a storm.Behind My Mask by BeyondJen
Its forces press against me, I feel so forlorn.
I've never been this angry; never saw a reason to.
But the way you've let your feeble mind succumb to others' opinions,
what am I to do?
I can barely control myself,
the pulses that I feel inside.
They make me think I could do something regretful,
but to the good, I will abide.
Just thinking it could be possible,
to leave it all behind,
dreaming of running away for good,
"I can't!", "I won't!" to myself I need remind.
These demons you've awakened,
keep me up and restless at night.
And during the day I fall between the sheets,
and hide away from the light.
For the fury I try to contain,
manage, repress, and restrain.
It's not an easy task.
It's not easy to wear this mask.
Homeward BoundTom was imprisoned 'cause a man had diedHomeward Bound by Ionaic
and then he wandered home, paroled and free.
Through dust he travels on the path of God
resilient, a turtle treading home
to that now desolate fambly farm
where without water, turtles scarce endure.
Beneath the hands of banks they can't endure
Without much water all the crops had died
and unto dust did God return the farm.
A note had promised in the West 'twas free
somewhere that they could make themselves a home
away from banks and parched touches of God.
Tom finds his reverend, a man of God.
Thoughts of his past Jim's mind cannot endure
Jim journeys too from what had been his home
realizing that his holy faith had died.
Recalling power, wishing people free
from congregations like a fleecing farm.
When setting out to find a fruitful farm
they find no mercy from the hands of God.
Of exploitation they could not be free
and through many hardships did they endure.
Attached to home, the patriarch has died.
His heart, his soul, his land were all at h
Midnight Festival - Edit+FinalMidnight FestivalMidnight Festival - Edit+Final by FaeWintersfeld
Painted umbrellas in the rain
Spin the smell of food stands
Into the air as an entranceway
To the festival of spirits,
Binding the living and the dead.
Koi splash out of their calm lakes
Communing with foxes at noodle shops,
Painted faces and cherry trees
Duel to catch goldfish with paper nets,
Capturing the living and the dead.
Red lanterns hang on red poles,
Laquer reflects the defects,
Seas expand from umbrellas
With a constant splash of foam.
Mocking the living and the dead.
A peacock watches as a tiger's stripes consume him
In their insatiable hunger.
A cold sweat shivers up from behind
Entering his pupils, bearing a shadow.
Creating the living and the dead.
And I stand and I stare at souls before me,
Watching whispers for their knowledge,
Grabbing glimpses of their freedom,
While the tail of a firebird is bound around my neck.
Whipping the living and the dead.
Flames, ash and dust dance past my face,
Blocking out the visions of this dangerous playground.
poetry |ˈpōətrē; ˈpōitrē|
• literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature : he is chiefly famous for his love poetry.
We want to see your work up here.
[But before you submit, read the submission guidelines.]
not quite whitei: kindergarten.not quite white by Momo-Valentine
You are five years old and the grocery store is a wonderland of sodas and candy that your mother gently puts back on the shelf. She is always taking your treats, shaking her head, and smiling when she guides you towards the register. You are quiet, unlike the other kids, who are screaming and red faced when their mothers tell you no. You wonder who let them get like that, your mother certainly would not stand for it. The lady behind the big metal thing and counter is smiling at you. She is so pale; like your mother, the other people in the store. You look at your own arm, something vibrant and yet dark in comparison. You are the one golden spot in this sparkling white world and you feel your gut clench when the woman coos at you.
“Oh she’s so exotic looking,” you feel like a pet and you glare at the ground while the woman looks to your mother and addresses you like you aren’t even there. “
The Reign of Megalosaurus Dark clouds rolled out over the plains as the monster sniffed the air. It sensed the coming storm as the wind picked up. The herbivorous dinosaurs had all taken to shelter hours ago, but hunger drove the Megalosaurus to patrol until the last minute. Electricity began to build in the air as dust particles collided, whipped up by the strong gusts. As a top predator, the dinosaur had little to fear save for other members of it's species... and the weather.The Reign of Megalosaurus by The-Real-Kentobu
A deep rumble sounded, prompting the theropod to abandon his quest and look for shelter. His cave was a dozen miles away. Even he sensed that the storm would be here before he made it back. A quick scan of the ever darkening horizon revealed a large rock outcrop just a few miles away. It was in the direction of the storm, but it was the only choice.
Rain started now, just a drizzle at first. As the weather front picked up in powe