3:40amSo fuck you.
Newest
Dedicated to...To the soldier standing in the corner.Dedicated to...
Do you see beyond the shadows?
Where is your gun
little tin soldier
Where do you hide it?
behind all your metals and badges?
Behind all your tombstones and ditches.
Where are your babies
little mass murderer
Standing in the street with their hands up?
Standing in the corner
in the shadows
in the dark
with their eye
by ~MedeaPending
A Symphonic OrchestraHe liked my singing So I tore at my throat shredding apart my vocal chords soA Symphonic Orchestra
the only notes left were 'I'm sorry'.
He liked my writing So I broke my wrists and fingers refusing to ever write about our story again.
He liked my art work So I threw it into a pit of fire watching as our symbolic memories screamed up from the flames.
He liked my eyes. He liked my jokes and my kisses and how easy I was to hold So I broke down and gave him Hope.
And then I left. leaving behind only a pile of ash
and 'I'm sorry' c
by ~MedeaPending
Favourites
The Thing About Poetry+The Thing About Poetry
-is that you have to keep a person's attention. No one cares that you just fell in love. It's
obvious, the way he holds you like a crane,
sticks his face into you as if you were a nest.
I don't mind, but I don't care to read about it. Love poems are difficult, they make people
jealous or afraid. Here's something that will
get their attention in a poem: playing
horseshoes last July, your mother having a
miscarriage in the bathroom, your father
pulling a curl out of his eyeball, remarking on &n
by `queenhrosie
all the ways we say I love you---all the ways we say I love you
you glow, but only in a breathless voice like breathing underwater. morning after scratches down his back. love bites in unusual places. ruining his shirt when your heart bleeds mascara isn't I love you,
but the fact that he let you is. don't go.
building yourself a home inside his ribs.yes, I'll stay a little longer. sweet dreams text messages at four am because he doesn't sleep like normal people do. quiet desperation in the way you say his name.
no, don't say that, don't ever say that. the night he clung to you like a child because he dr
by ~sweet-lyrical
La Valse Des Oiseauxthe ill-gained silver is often a good product, and the pawnbrokers everywhere know that the fish await the cavernous mouths open wide. refuse overflows in the streets. A single note equalizes as it careens in the frame, Everest.La Valse Des Oiseaux
a man without hearth sits on a platform in a small city. on abandoned islands, nothing remains. people incline their heads in unison. Hungary is overseas while London burns. a dove flies above the tumultuous expanse of landscape. it is really close to us, maintaining. I hang my coat on a constellation in the galaxy.
Fact is fleeting. mother wrote to us of Haiti. it was a letter of discontent
by ~ZoulJiin
SarcasticdeviantID
Devious Info
- Favourite movie: Star Wars, Moulin Rouge, Remember the Titans, Pride & Prejudice, Transformers
- Favourite band or musician: The Postal Service, Secondhand Serenade
- Favourite genre of music: I don't understand genres, let's just get that out there right now.
- Favourite poet or writer: Diane Wakoski and Jane Austen
- Favourite game: MarioKart/Super Smash Bros. Melee/Mario Party
- Tools of the Trade: pen, paper, pencil, keyboard, and mouse. and late night hours that make for perfect mistakes.
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-Anna
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-Anna
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Ira Glass is a grown-ass man.
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...goo goo g'joob... ...
Member of *francophones and *writersdA
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Ira Glass is a grown-ass man.
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-Anna
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