| Tuesday, November 10th, 2009 |
11:12 pm
[lazuli_writes]
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1:54 am
[lazuli_writes]
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| Friday, November 6th, 2009 |
11:28 pm
[lazuli_writes]
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| Thursday, November 5th, 2009 |
7:11 pm
[lazuli_writes]
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Making Clay (Part 1/?)
Title: Making Clay Genre: Writers on Writing Summary: "...a great man once tol d me that writers write. Raw material won't come to you in a flash of inspiration and no-one will make it for you."Down the Rabbit Hole, Alice Current Mood: artistic |
| Thursday, April 30th, 2009 |
8:31 am
[blacksheep_17]
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Promotion
Hi guys! I'm here to promote my new community  notemeetsletter It's a place where musicians and writers collide. A place where YOU can recommend songs or even post your own. And then, writers will try to write a literary work out of that song. For more info, view our profile hereThanks! |
| Thursday, April 16th, 2009 |
6:31 pm
[ashrayne]
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No one knew they were even alive..
His eyes are downcast and his heart's hanging open He's lost and he's dizzy and terribly broken His repetitive sway is a miserable motion But nobody knows he's alive. Her hair is so brittle and matted with grime Her t-shirt is ragged and covered with slime She sucks on its corner for peace at bedtime But nobody knows she's alive. Their bellies are swollen from eating the dirt But the sticky dark mud takes away the dull hurt Sometimes they grind up a small rock for desert But nobody knows they're alive. Their bones are so fragile, their bodies so frail Even their feces and throw-up is stale Their chocolate brown skin has turned ashy and pale But nobody knows they're alive. Some huddle together, some stagger alone They whisper their funerals with only a groan So many dead children that no one has known No one knew they were even alive. Current Mood: determined |
| Thursday, April 9th, 2009 |
1:41 pm
[ashrayne]
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| Sunday, April 5th, 2009 |
12:04 am
[thelotusreader]
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The Lotus Reader is a cutting edge non-profit online literary magazine producing original works of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry from around the world. Quality writing is the only qualification--Great for new writers!
To read/ submit, go to:
http://www.lotusreader.com
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| Saturday, April 4th, 2009 |
11:41 pm
[ashrayne]
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Dear Sir..
Dear sir,I hope your day's been very nice I trust you're doing fine, I got the presents that you sent The diamonds, and the wine. The roses smell so very sweet The fur coat is so warm The golden rings are very grand But they don't match my uniform. I'm very thankful, to be sure For all the things you bought But I'd really rather send them back I like what I have got. I'm not a diamond kind of girl I like daisies, not a rose The fur coat is too much for me I don't live where it snows. The golden rings don't match my skin I like things made of silver I'm not old enough to drink the wine And soda's so much better. It was kind of you to think of me And let me see your interest But I hate incurring debts from men Just like I hate the dentist. If you'd like to chat about the the stars Or lounge in an old t-shirt Or let me squish my toes in sand Or take me to a concert, I'd love to pick up when you call Perhaps go on a date But money will not win my heart I'll never take the bait. Sincerely, A Girl. Current Mood:  sleepy |
| Thursday, April 2nd, 2009 |
8:06 pm
[ashrayne]
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Her eyes are the soul of the forest
The streets that she wanders are breathless and choked Old smog and dim raindrops ooze down unprevoked The clatter and clang of the streetcars is soaked But her eyes are the soul of the forest. She's wedged in a crowd surging into the train The muttered locutions are curt and profane Dark glares of impatience glob up with disdain But her eyes are the soul of the forest. The lost lonely hearts of a city gone mad Are gasping and clutching at junk they once had She's crisscrossed with venom and envy's a fad But her eyes are the soul of the forest. Sometimes just a whisper of fog skims her nose And the sallow white hue of her cheeks turns to rose There's light for a second before the shine slows But her eyes are the soul of the forest. Current Mood:  emerald |
| Monday, March 23rd, 2009 |
4:34 pm
[ashrayne]
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This prison is built in my mind
The angry dark stomp of the boots on the stairs Match the click of the guns they're reloading in pairs I can't their faces but I feel all their glares This prison was built in my mind. They're marching; they're laughing, the tune drives me mad I despise their old greetings, their "Hail old comrade!" They're clasping my fingers as if they were glad This prison was built in my mind. The questions are flying; my stories are lies They're watching too closely; they'll see through my guise They've been practicing smiles and faking suprise This prison was built in my mind. Each movement is torture, each thought is a pain My fears are vibrating in every vein I wish they'd just kill me; I'm going insane This prison was built in my mind. Current Mood: working |
| Wednesday, March 18th, 2009 |
7:10 pm
[ashrayne]
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Language is a Virus
Language is a virus, it's a dangerous disease It attacks you when you're healthy, then worsens by degrees It preys on busy people, leaving lazy ones alone And gurgles through their bloodstreams with a satisfying groan. Language is a fever, it's a sickness in the brain It chokes you with its meanings, makes you think 'til you're in pain It feeds on all your knowledge, it breeds in all your words And pecks your mind to pieces like a flock of screaming birds. Language is a headache, it's an ailment with no cure It seduces with great patience, it woos with mad amour It creeps into the limelight, it sucks up all your time And kills you with its stories, its novels, and its rhyme. Current Mood:  impressed |
| Tuesday, March 17th, 2009 |
10:51 pm
[ashrayne]
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The Color of Hunger
Lingerie falls with a flick and a tug Each fuck and each trick is a hit of a drug The fat ones and old ones they'll take with a shrug - The color of hunger is red Hollow dead eyes stare from sunken-in cheeks Grimy old tears cross their faces in streaks They eat cakes of dirt and drink sewer leaks - The color of hunger is brown. The thick cement walls muffle sounds of the fights Endless cold halls burn with sterile white lights The gaurds clutch their pistols and mumble last rites - The color of hunger is gray Manicured hands drip with diamonds and gold Lips purse for cigarettes perfectly rolled Revenge and contentment are paid for and sold - The color of hunger is green Current Mood:  pessimistic |
| Wednesday, January 21st, 2009 |
11:22 am
[amor_demi_alma]
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Searching For A Song
Hi All! Hope it's OK to post this. I'm wondering if any of you know a song (preferably a slow, pensive one) that's essentially a friend saying to his best friend, "I love you and care about you ... just not romantically." Ideally, the singer knows that the best friend loves him, but he can't "love" the friend in return romantically, despite the fact that they're extremely close friends. Either gender of artist/band is all right. Thanks for any help! Caitlin (XPosted) |
| Tuesday, November 11th, 2008 |
7:31 pm
[evanescenttear]
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Here’s the truth, the whole truth Don’t even ask if I left something out This is my side of the story, my truth I’ll be hurt if you’ve a brain enough to doubt Because this is the truth as I see it And as I see it is the only way to see So don’t question, don’t pursue answers Close your mouth and mind and just believe |
7:26 pm
[evanescenttear]
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You said Trust me I said Okay And I did I let you manipulate All I knew Was all you told me And I was happy Being lied to But then I broke out Of the box you placed me in And I realized that there was more to life Than cardboard and tape I never knew Because you said Trust me You said the sky wasn’t real But then I flew |
| Thursday, October 30th, 2008 |
1:02 am
[evanescenttear]
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I was cold, you gave me heat You added a glow to my face We had a friendship made strong by golden smores I built you up and fed you You repaid me in comforting beams I filled my house with tiny alters of my trust Out of sight, out of mind You betrayed my faith After I defended you against the common lore I fear you, you haunt me Your scent makes me nervous You ate my home to ashes, comfort to rust |
12:52 am
[evanescenttear]
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I’ve known numb I ran away I felt nothing I hid I cried myself to sleep for seven months But this is real I’m sick I can’t hide I shiver Because the cause of pain has taken home from me So I curl up On the cold ground In the darkness And disown my given name so you won’t call If I close my eyes Count down And pray real hard Maybe I’ll wake-up from this nightmare and be free |
| Monday, October 27th, 2008 |
12:18 pm
[evanescenttear]
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Coffee in Iambic Pentameter
The mug between my hands is smooth and hot Espresso mixed with milk and topped with froth We once would share a cup, but you forgot I sip the latte and enjoy the strength I pray that it will burn away my pain Forget that you forgot me once again |
| Sunday, October 19th, 2008 |
9:55 pm
[evanescenttear]
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Boys Suck!
Disgusted Scream it out so confusing where is this anger coming from? I hate you I never liked you why do I care? but I can't even point out what you've done It's like you tricked me you hurt me I'm bleeding Whatever we were playing at, you won The perfect crime Gullible victim Wide-eyed and foolish My hearts not hurting for all I am is numb |
