Error 420
One Thousand Club
you know a story popping off when we go to a flashback within a flashback within a flashforward within a flashback frame story
that's just art
that's just art
Poetry I wrote you some flowers
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One Thousand Club
I know this thread is kind of a mess of thrown spaghetti, but I'm actually a literature student in college, and I can give some actual little lessons about poetry and other written art if y'all are interested in that sort of thing.
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
In my experience, the community is receptive to lessons like that, but rarely ask for them. And also at least one person will beef with you over presuming to teach people anything about art.
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One Thousand Club
I remember casting lines with no bait
so I could sit with you on the river
and say we'd stay and wait
until we'd caught something.
I remember holding you close
by the fire along the river
and sneaking a kiss on your rose-
tinted cheek.
We never went back there
and we never did those things
but I remember it fondly.
I remember everything we never did and more.
so I could sit with you on the river
and say we'd stay and wait
until we'd caught something.
I remember holding you close
by the fire along the river
and sneaking a kiss on your rose-
tinted cheek.
We never went back there
and we never did those things
but I remember it fondly.
I remember everything we never did and more.
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One Thousand Club
the Indiana state flower is the peony
which is funny because
in my life
i've never seen a peony
there's a certain cleverness
to writing about flowers
because they're pretty
and people are willing to think
that pretty things are important
but i've done my research
flowers are more common
than plants without them
and the peony is from
far, far away.
the daffodil is named narcissis
which is more than fitting for mine
they're toxic to the earth
and kill everything around them
which sounds a lot like you.
spring beauties are pretty
which sounds a lot like mine
but they're easily trampled
and forgotten
and i'm sorry that happened to you.
roses are unforgettable
which is the perfect word for mine
people talk about them all the time
but they're unforgettable
and i can never forget you.
and that brings us to our peony
the one that doesn't belong
who belongs in California
a world away from here
and though you don't belong with me,
i love you all the same.
which is funny because
in my life
i've never seen a peony
there's a certain cleverness
to writing about flowers
because they're pretty
and people are willing to think
that pretty things are important
but i've done my research
flowers are more common
than plants without them
and the peony is from
far, far away.
the daffodil is named narcissis
which is more than fitting for mine
they're toxic to the earth
and kill everything around them
which sounds a lot like you.
spring beauties are pretty
which sounds a lot like mine
but they're easily trampled
and forgotten
and i'm sorry that happened to you.
roses are unforgettable
which is the perfect word for mine
people talk about them all the time
but they're unforgettable
and i can never forget you.
and that brings us to our peony
the one that doesn't belong
who belongs in California
a world away from here
and though you don't belong with me,
i love you all the same.
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One Thousand Club
It’s nights like these that I can remember your face.
It’s the tender moonlight carried on the night breeze of the summer
which fills that form on my bed that used to be your place.
I’m always so angry for forgetting but then I forget I forgot.
I’ve forgotten you’re gone. I forget it almost every morning.
I can’t wait to greet the dawn and see your smile
but then I can’t remember what that smile even looked like.
I’m in hell.
I want it to stop.
I want it all to stop.
I want to remember.
It’s the tender moonlight carried on the night breeze of the summer
which fills that form on my bed that used to be your place.
I’m always so angry for forgetting but then I forget I forgot.
I’ve forgotten you’re gone. I forget it almost every morning.
I can’t wait to greet the dawn and see your smile
but then I can’t remember what that smile even looked like.
I’m in hell.
I want it to stop.
I want it all to stop.
I want to remember.
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One Thousand Club
I'll take you home again my sweet,
across the ocean wild and wide.
To where your heart has ever been
since first you were my blushing bride.
The roses all have left your cheek,
I watched them fade away and die.
Your voice is sombre when you speak
and tears bedim your loving eyes.
Oh but I will take you home my sweet,
to where your heart will feel no pain.
And when the fields are fresh and green,
I'll take you to your home again.
across the ocean wild and wide.
To where your heart has ever been
since first you were my blushing bride.
The roses all have left your cheek,
I watched them fade away and die.
Your voice is sombre when you speak
and tears bedim your loving eyes.
Oh but I will take you home my sweet,
to where your heart will feel no pain.
And when the fields are fresh and green,
I'll take you to your home again.
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One Thousand Club
i feel there's so many things
that are so strictly american
that nobody will feel again
nobody will smell the hay upon the wabash
over the smell of the corn syrup plants
nobody will hear the hymns of the hills
which were turned into lots for car dealerships
nobody will remember those melodies
that our grandfather's grandfathers sang
and one day everything i know
will belong in a museum
and maybe that's okay.
maybe the times have changed
but maybe i'm not ready.
that are so strictly american
that nobody will feel again
nobody will smell the hay upon the wabash
over the smell of the corn syrup plants
nobody will hear the hymns of the hills
which were turned into lots for car dealerships
nobody will remember those melodies
that our grandfather's grandfathers sang
and one day everything i know
will belong in a museum
and maybe that's okay.
maybe the times have changed
but maybe i'm not ready.
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One Thousand Club
A BLT WITH TUNA SALAD,
PICKLES, AND
NO MAYO,
CHERRY COKE, AND
JALAPENO CHIPS
PLEASE.
THANK YOU.
PICKLES, AND
NO MAYO,
CHERRY COKE, AND
JALAPENO CHIPS
PLEASE.
THANK YOU.
Mr. Sparks
Unavailable
I absolutely love this. This thread is full of a bunch of emotions. I love it! You’re a very talented person.
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One Thousand Club
I hear that you're now single and pregnant and jobless
and that you've also dropped out of college
and while I hope you're happy and your dreams undisturbed,
the situation brings to mind a certain old proverb.
I believe it goes like this: cheaters never prosper.
and that you've also dropped out of college
and while I hope you're happy and your dreams undisturbed,
the situation brings to mind a certain old proverb.
I believe it goes like this: cheaters never prosper.
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One Thousand Club
cancer in my lungs
killing me not fast enough
can't breathe
like a towel over my face
and all I hear
is laughing
why weren't you there?
killing me not fast enough
can't breathe
like a towel over my face
and all I hear
is laughing
why weren't you there?
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One Thousand Club
edit:
i don't have cancer
it's a poetic device
known as hyperbolic metaphor
i don't have cancer
it's a poetic device
known as hyperbolic metaphor
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One Thousand Club
edit 2:
not to insinuate that you can't read into that
it's just in case you thought I did have cancer
which i don't
not to insinuate that you can't read into that
it's just in case you thought I did have cancer
which i don't
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One Thousand Club
every night i dream of you
and i never want to wake
because the real nightmare
is living life without you.
and i never want to wake
because the real nightmare
is living life without you.
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One Thousand Club
drinking everything in the cabinet tonight
don't care if it's bleach
just as long as it goes well with corn whiskey
don't care if it's bleach
just as long as it goes well with corn whiskey
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One Thousand Club
The lilac flowers gently floated down the stream of quicksilver and drifted off into the air as the river ended at the edge of the world, specks of silver spilling off onto the Earth below. The Princess of the Moon reclined lazily as she plucked the flowers from their stem and set them adrift, delighting in their gentle beauty. Here, in her garden along the edge of the crescent, she could finally breathe freely the Moon air, away from the hustle and bustle of court life. The young spirit wandered toward that ultimate edge to gaze upon that world which hers orbited, wishing to dive into the massive orb of blue below but knowing that nothing: neither spirit nor mortal, could make the journey.
She considered the premise of visiting Earth. She nearly laughed at its absurdity, and yet the concept of that grand voyage which was just beyond reach spoke directly to her soul. Nobody could make it, but what if? What if nobody's tried? What if she could? What if that streak of flame coming up from the Earth was... What is that thing?
That streak of flame made its way closer and closer and close enough to even reach out and grab it and what a strange thing it was. It looked like a rock spirit, bulky and intricate and yet shiny like the rivers of silver, and quick as them too; it flew up straight past the moon for many hundreds of feet before apparently sprouting wings and flying down to the ground. After only a few moments of grace, it began flapping uselessly and its flight became falling. Whatever it was landed in a heap before the young spirit, still glowing red from its firey ascent, the golden wings under its arms bent and broken against the ground.
After a few moments, the metal giant rose from its pile, and presented itself. It was clearly not a rock spirit, but rather some sort of biped in a brass suit, its arms and legs bent the opposite way legs and arms typically should.
"Greetings, space creatures! It is I, a visitor from the planet Earth!"
A visitor from Earth... a Human? Impossible! All of his bits are on backwards!
The visitor carefully removed his helmet, revealing to the spirit the back of his head.
She considered the premise of visiting Earth. She nearly laughed at its absurdity, and yet the concept of that grand voyage which was just beyond reach spoke directly to her soul. Nobody could make it, but what if? What if nobody's tried? What if she could? What if that streak of flame coming up from the Earth was... What is that thing?
That streak of flame made its way closer and closer and close enough to even reach out and grab it and what a strange thing it was. It looked like a rock spirit, bulky and intricate and yet shiny like the rivers of silver, and quick as them too; it flew up straight past the moon for many hundreds of feet before apparently sprouting wings and flying down to the ground. After only a few moments of grace, it began flapping uselessly and its flight became falling. Whatever it was landed in a heap before the young spirit, still glowing red from its firey ascent, the golden wings under its arms bent and broken against the ground.
After a few moments, the metal giant rose from its pile, and presented itself. It was clearly not a rock spirit, but rather some sort of biped in a brass suit, its arms and legs bent the opposite way legs and arms typically should.
"Greetings, space creatures! It is I, a visitor from the planet Earth!"
A visitor from Earth... a Human? Impossible! All of his bits are on backwards!
The visitor carefully removed his helmet, revealing to the spirit the back of his head.
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One Thousand Club
The Visitor seemed bewildered by the curtains of flowers and marble around him that formed the Princess’s hidden garden, basking in the blue glow of the quicksilver waters, breathing in the fresh moon air with a mighty gulp. He surveyed his surroundings fully, the analytical mind of a scientist beholding each detail, until he faced The Princess.
The Visitor had a look on his face most unbefitting of anyone gazing upon the highest of ladies: a slackjawed gaze of stupefied intrigue. “Are you... really... an alien creature?”
The Princess carefully considered the question, and responded. “Well, yes, I suppose from your perspective that —“
“And I’m really here, above the sky?”
She regained herself from the totally new experience of being interrupted, and had to think quite carefully to the response she would give. Even though it was night, the sky was very much still above her, but maybe humans had different meanings? “I suppose that is the case, depending on —“
The Visitor, in his suit of metal, quickly began jumping around in delight, very quickly noticing the diminished gravity in comparison to his home. His celebration very quickly turned to childlike play as he reveled in the wondrous new reality he was in. “This is sensational! Another world, with a different people and a different gravity? Purely remarkable! Huston, are you getting this?” The Visitor ceased his play, instead fiddling with dials upon his wrist. “Huston, do you read me? Do you —“ there was a burst of sparks as the device on his wrist finally gave in to the abuse of being shot through the sky and landed upon.
The Visitor had a look on his face most unbefitting of anyone gazing upon the highest of ladies: a slackjawed gaze of stupefied intrigue. “Are you... really... an alien creature?”
The Princess carefully considered the question, and responded. “Well, yes, I suppose from your perspective that —“
“And I’m really here, above the sky?”
She regained herself from the totally new experience of being interrupted, and had to think quite carefully to the response she would give. Even though it was night, the sky was very much still above her, but maybe humans had different meanings? “I suppose that is the case, depending on —“
The Visitor, in his suit of metal, quickly began jumping around in delight, very quickly noticing the diminished gravity in comparison to his home. His celebration very quickly turned to childlike play as he reveled in the wondrous new reality he was in. “This is sensational! Another world, with a different people and a different gravity? Purely remarkable! Huston, are you getting this?” The Visitor ceased his play, instead fiddling with dials upon his wrist. “Huston, do you read me? Do you —“ there was a burst of sparks as the device on his wrist finally gave in to the abuse of being shot through the sky and landed upon.
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One Thousand Club
If I were a painter
I could capture that face
with all my brushes and paint
and if I were a music man
I could sing that impossible to word
wondrous wonder of you in a chord
and if I were a poet
I could write down my heart's howls
with just the right consonance and vowels
but I'm not those things
and I can't say what I want to say:
the things that would make you smile.
I could capture that face
with all my brushes and paint
and if I were a music man
I could sing that impossible to word
wondrous wonder of you in a chord
and if I were a poet
I could write down my heart's howls
with just the right consonance and vowels
but I'm not those things
and I can't say what I want to say:
the things that would make you smile.
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One Thousand Club
It’s not suicide if my life has been over for years.
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One Thousand Club
This post is a series of poems I wrote in middle school that I just found hiding in my wardrobe.
The Carnival
The box in the sky hung
Regretfully inched downward
The tired glow of the June sun
All around a blur.
Forgotten smiles
Somberly stared at the other,
Faded hair like fires,
Both knowing only eachother.
Future tears cast their shadows
From the glow of the umber embers,
But all fools know that shadows
Are overpowered by Jasmine-scented splendors.
--
It Was Like a Flame
It was like a flame. Not the piercing summer sun that swung high but close enough to touch, nor the licking flames of the wind that tumbled over our shoulders, through our ears, into our eyes. Her hair was flickering and crackling, not as a raging fire but as and ember, glowing umber in the dying light of the summer, chaotic and blowing yet warm like a fading heart and as beautiful and intriguing as a world of stars, smelling of sweet bitter jasmine. Two eyes, blue as sky, piercing as glass, darting and analytical, yet ultimately comforting. We sat in that rusted box in the sky which inched further groundward, slow and powerful. Our breaths were slow and counted, our eyes locked and mouths pulled irreversibly into a serene smile. Nothing was there but the sky and us.
--
Rules
Th3 rules of
Poetrie
R naght real l y nec-
Essary when w0rking with
Free
Verse
The rulz of ur life are
incredibly fundamentally important
And respect for them
Is mandatory
Dress Neatly.
Talk Nicely.
Always stay
Inside the lines.
I gess than im
@ frea virse.
--
Calico
She's like a blaze
Snaking through the world.
She's like a dancer
Her dress stained and twirled.
She's like a summer's day
Lazy and warm.
She's like the winter,
Nipping and long.
She's my Calico.
--
The Party
Quite literally,
There's a party in my pants.
I'm not invited.
--
I am from thousands of pencils.
From Kleenex and marbles.
I am from the tiny suburban shack
Forgotten and broken.
I am from the clouds,
The cacti and mulberry trees.
I'm from terminals and hangars,
From mothers and brothers.
I'm from flying and coloring
And from watching the rain.
I'm from "Go away" to "Call me mom"
And "Come on, Eileen".
I'm from New York and Indiana,
Sushi and shepherd's pie,
From crying in the basement
Over a dead cat.
The Carnival
The box in the sky hung
Regretfully inched downward
The tired glow of the June sun
All around a blur.
Forgotten smiles
Somberly stared at the other,
Faded hair like fires,
Both knowing only eachother.
Future tears cast their shadows
From the glow of the umber embers,
But all fools know that shadows
Are overpowered by Jasmine-scented splendors.
--
It Was Like a Flame
It was like a flame. Not the piercing summer sun that swung high but close enough to touch, nor the licking flames of the wind that tumbled over our shoulders, through our ears, into our eyes. Her hair was flickering and crackling, not as a raging fire but as and ember, glowing umber in the dying light of the summer, chaotic and blowing yet warm like a fading heart and as beautiful and intriguing as a world of stars, smelling of sweet bitter jasmine. Two eyes, blue as sky, piercing as glass, darting and analytical, yet ultimately comforting. We sat in that rusted box in the sky which inched further groundward, slow and powerful. Our breaths were slow and counted, our eyes locked and mouths pulled irreversibly into a serene smile. Nothing was there but the sky and us.
--
Rules
Th3 rules of
Poetrie
R naght real l y nec-
Essary when w0rking with
Free
Verse
The rulz of ur life are
incredibly fundamentally important
And respect for them
Is mandatory
Dress Neatly.
Talk Nicely.
Always stay
Inside the lines.
I gess than im
@ frea virse.
--
Calico
She's like a blaze
Snaking through the world.
She's like a dancer
Her dress stained and twirled.
She's like a summer's day
Lazy and warm.
She's like the winter,
Nipping and long.
She's my Calico.
--
The Party
Quite literally,
There's a party in my pants.
I'm not invited.
--
I am from thousands of pencils.
From Kleenex and marbles.
I am from the tiny suburban shack
Forgotten and broken.
I am from the clouds,
The cacti and mulberry trees.
I'm from terminals and hangars,
From mothers and brothers.
I'm from flying and coloring
And from watching the rain.
I'm from "Go away" to "Call me mom"
And "Come on, Eileen".
I'm from New York and Indiana,
Sushi and shepherd's pie,
From crying in the basement
Over a dead cat.
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One Thousand Club
playing the piano
with my head in your lap
stroking my hair so you don't admit
that you forgot the left hand part
your voice forcing its way to the surface
unsure, unready, afraid that I wouldn't like it
and flowing down onto me where I can barely hear it
over the magnitude of your beauty
with my head in your lap
stroking my hair so you don't admit
that you forgot the left hand part
your voice forcing its way to the surface
unsure, unready, afraid that I wouldn't like it
and flowing down onto me where I can barely hear it
over the magnitude of your beauty
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One Thousand Club
There is a memory of a memory of a memory
Of holding you in my arms
And singing the words
To a memory of a memory of a memory.
Of holding you in my arms
And singing the words
To a memory of a memory of a memory.
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One Thousand Club
I hear in many fonts
The voices in my head all have their own
A million colours, a million styles, a million ways to spell.
I hear myself in Times New Roman, black.
There’s only one other voice that uses that font
it’s the one that says nothing but “Kill yourself.”
And it drains the all the other colours
And I’m always afraid that it’s not another voice
But that it’s me.
The voices in my head all have their own
A million colours, a million styles, a million ways to spell.
I hear myself in Times New Roman, black.
There’s only one other voice that uses that font
it’s the one that says nothing but “Kill yourself.”
And it drains the all the other colours
And I’m always afraid that it’s not another voice
But that it’s me.
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One Thousand Club
Being insane
Is like being on the moon
You’re so far away from everything
And you don’t know why.
Music
Is like a radio
Reaching across the miles
And letting you feel human.
I don’t have a better word for myself than insane. It seems applicable.
Is like being on the moon
You’re so far away from everything
And you don’t know why.
Music
Is like a radio
Reaching across the miles
And letting you feel human.
I don’t have a better word for myself than insane. It seems applicable.
