Eat me, Eat me, again. Bite me, Bite me, my friend.
Taken a ship to my right brain's horizon
Searching for the servant inside.
Taking a grip on my left brain's confusion
Looking again with child's eyes wide.
I grip, I slip, I fall again.
I trust, I must hold onto this dream.
I try, I fly through the gray pouring rain.
Does this hollow shell hold more than it seems?
Context over content
The surface rises over the mind
When did the arts go from
Keates to Kaufman?
Romeo + Juliet replaced by Batman + Robin
Nobody cares what truth you speak,
Unless the audience is on the edge
Of their seats.
Sure, their laughs are great
But why should they all hate
A quiet moment
A silent moment
Just to contemplate
Life and Death
Love + Hate?
Why am I yelling?
Why all this passion?
I was never one to follow a fashion
I always let my soul speak through my rhymes
I guess my soul's fire can't stay in this time.
Who says energy is a crime?
Serenity lies in my lap
Through any storm or gale
She lets me pet her while she naps
And smooth the fur on her tail
Stresses may come throughout the day
But the rain always seems less wetter
Showing me what's important in her own little way,
She tells me that life will get better.
How do I know?
How can I tell?
Does she still love me?
Does she think I smell?
What can I do?
What can I say?
To keep her from up
And walking away?
Who can I trust?
Who earns a chance?
What do I do
When he steals a dance?
Will she be happy?
Will she agree?
Is there someone better
For her than me?
Does it at all matter?
Does she even care?
That I grow green
When he touches her hair?
Am I in the wrong?
Is my heart out of place?
All I know is my heart lifts
When a smile graces her face.
I think I know enough of man
To say without a thoughtful pause
That one will do whate'er he can
To help his own unworthy cause
Rulers stomp their people flat
Sultans take their gold
Emperors wear big fancy hats
As the world's blood runs cold
Fool, never lay your heart
Out for vultures to tear apart
Pain is all this cold world brings
Rid your brain of childish things
Never say you're any good
For someone who undoubtedly would
Forget you for a person more
Akin to what they're longing for
Why'd you ever think you were
Good enough to be with her?
You hear the laugh upon the air?
Watch the people gawk and stare!
Hear the mocking voice of all
Rise above the harpy's call:
"See the fool who gave his heart
To an angel, to be torn apart."
A hand of help
A land of kelp
A sea of green
A movie screen
A silent star
A racing car
An asphalt road
A horny toad
A froggy prince
A soggy rinse
A misty rain
A dusty train
A large caboose
A rabid moose
A sharpened brush
A young man's crush
A broken heart
A brand new start
A loving friend
With a helping hand
Marcius is a Xoran and is of a menacing stature. His heavy, scaled brows hover over sharp eyes, reptilian pupils narrowed to slits. Corded tendon and hardened muscle twitch under his tight skin, bedazzled by luminescent scales that scatter the dim light. His large talons grasp the dirt under them, prepared to leap on any unsuspecting prey. His whip-like tail cuts a dangerous swath through the air, a weapon in itself. Despite his fearsome appearance, he moves with a cautious tenderness, underlaid by an aggressive protective nature.
It starts:
Marcius turned at the the sound of a sharp crack to his right. A clawed hand shot out of the darknes
Tales of my Travels: Part 1 by marco262, literature
Literature
Tales of my Travels: Part 1
Don't think that this is a normal story.
Sure, it starts out normally enough. The blaze of the setting sun caused my shadow to stretch up and over the crest of the grassy hill that I was hiking up, then down the front of the next hill in my path, always a step ahead of me. The faint vestiges of a town appeared on the horizon, bordered by a wide river at the northern border. All this is normal. What makes this story different is that I'm in it.
So, as you've probably figured out, I'm not a normal person. It's a long story, so I'll try to give you the skinny of it.
My name is Simeon Hawking. That's as good a start as any. I am roughly 6 feet
"Get a grip, Rocko," I lit my cigarette calmly, extinguishing the
match in my refried beans.
"Shut the hell up, man!" Rocko's left eye twitched. Then his right. I
wanted to reach up and give both his corneas a good scrubbing.
Instead I took a draw at my cig and leaned back.
"You know what I see looking up at you, Rocko?" I tilted my head back
and studied his face. How nervous is this guy, I wondered. I took
another long draw and let it out slowly. I watched the smoke rings
curl around my thin fingers. Yeah, I'm skinny. I know. I always say
I'll kill the next sonofabitch who jokes around about it. And I
always do.
Rocko lick
Author: Raven
The sun rested in the sky like a drop of blood. I walked down the street, smoking casually on my cigarette. The situation rolled over and over again in my head. Lawrence. Dead. It was a messyjob, but life isn't always pretty. I probably know it more then most. Fate had dealt me my hand, though, and if I played my cards right and didn't blow this, I could come out on top, rolling right down easy street. A cigar in one hand, a tight-skirted broad in the other. That's easy street. You just kill the punks in the way and you're there. Like I said, life isn't always pretty. Sometimes it's just drop-dead gorgeous.
'Transpar
Damn, when you're big and important, you can keep ANYBODY waiting.
I watched the smoke from my cigarette rise in meandering curves that folding in on each other, from a slim curve to a fat cloud as it rose. Like most women. I put my cigarette out in the ashtray. There was enough smoke in the air to keep 10 junkies on a high for days. And it added a nice touch. I like the idea of being able to spot a sniper's scope before the laser trains on my forehead.
I kicked my feet up onto the curved padded bench. The food in this joint was great, but I was never that up to the fancy shmancy dining experience. Somethin' about having to know what fork g
Author: Raven
I loosened my tie and walked over. Screw this, no job is worth this much torment. My hand clenched around the .45 caliber in my pocket, I walked over to his booth. Cigarette smoke filtered over the table as two eyes glared at me from under a scraggy brow.
'You're late.'
Damn I thought. If you were someone important, you take all the time you need. By late, he meant I was not sitting at the table, ready with a drink for him and continuously kissing his ass. I strutted over to the table and poured him a drink. vintage '68. A very good year. I continued with the usual formalities of someone in my position.
'
I'd never realized that I was cool in deadly situations. I just stared at the spinning blade, a straight glinting line from my perspective, with a cold appraising air. Perhaps it's the feeling of certain death that can calm a guys nerves. You begin to reflect on all you've done in life. Your parents, your friends, your past flings...all you've accomplished and all you would accomplish...Dammit! I'm not ready to die!
I thrashed against the chains that bound me to the log on. My hands were connected by a single chain that ran under the log, and my ankles were immoblized the same way. On my back on the log with my limbs pulled tight down both s
Sleep is a thing, with feathery wing,
Takes you to lands most enchanted.
Though there times, with no reason or rhyme,
The places it takes you are haunted.
Hardly aware, you step on a stair
Of the house from which evil is oozing.
Mutating tentacles, pulsating ventricles,
About now you wish you weren't snoozing.
Comforting sounds become ravenous hounds
Feeding on your every fear.
There is no way out, with each frightened shout.
The worst of it's still drawing near.
Light cannot pierce this maddening and fierce
Veil that turns everything black.
A scratching outside, you must run, you must hide,
You feel sharpened claws
Mothers — will they ever learn?
I come back late, not knowing the time
There she is, having stayed up all night,
Waiting for me
Sitting by the fire, drinking tea, having jumped at every sound
I wasn't doing anything wrong, Mom, I'm just a little late
You don't need to know where I am all the time
Nothing happened, I'm alright
She just smiles, nods, and kisses me goodnight as she goes back to bed
My mother — she will never learn.
'PW' Suffering for the blind by marco262, literature
Literature
'PW' Suffering for the blind
Mist swirled and jumped, creating a dance of ghostly figures. Darian
shot through the twisting tendrils, disrupting the ethereal shapes and
blazing a chaotic path through the vapor.
The breath caught in his throat. He could feel the ground beneath his
feet, slightly damp from he fog. Somewhere, in he back of his mind, he
wondered why it was so flat, so lacking of bumps or rocks. He spat a tendril
of hair from his mouth, and panted for air. That small break in his
breathing cost him dear oxygen that his aching muscles needed. His long hair
plastered against his face and neck, wet from the fog and his own sweat. His
head jerked
Marcius is a Xoran and is of a menacing stature. His heavy, scaled brows hover over sharp eyes, reptilian pupils narrowed to slits. Corded tendon and hardened muscle twitch under his tight skin, bedazzled by luminescent scales that scatter the dim light. His large talons grasp the dirt under them, prepared to leap on any unsuspecting prey. His whip-like tail cuts a dangerous swath through the air, a weapon in itself. Despite his fearsome appearance, he moves with a cautious tenderness, underlaid by an aggressive protective nature.
It starts:
Marcius turned at the the sound of a sharp crack to his right. A clawed hand shot out of the darknes
Woooow...so many comments! ^_^ I'd never would've thought I'd get so many good comments on my poems...Thank you all who posted VERY much!
I guess that means my new goal for today is to finish putting up my collection of writings, and to assign pictures to all.
Look for them!
I appreciate everybody's comments on my writing and poetry, (lord knows I need more of them) but I feel like I'm being a thief when people say how good my art is. Because it's NOT MY ART! It's pictures I stole off the net to make my writings look pretty, and maybe give them some context.
>.> I sitll REEEEEALLY like peoples' comments though. ^_^ Thank you!
1. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
2. What kind of person am I?
3. How long have you known me?
4. When and how did we first meet?
5. What was your first impression?
6. Do you still think that way about me now?
7. What do you think my "weakness" is?
8. What do you think about my art overall?
9. What makes me happy?
10. What makes me sad/mad?
11. What reminds you of me?
12. If you could give me anything what would it be?
13. How well do you know me?
14. What do you think my age would be just by looking at my art?
15. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
16. Do you think I could kill someone?
17. Descr
Spread the DA love around! (you can copy and paste this message on their userpage!)
*dingding* RULES:
1- You can hug the person who hugged you!
2- You can't hug the person more than 3 times
3- You -MUST- hug 6 other people
4- You should hug them in public! Paste it on their user page! c'mon..don't be scared of public displays of affection
5- Random hugs are perfectly okay! (and sweet)
6- You should most definitly get started hugging right away