Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Cecelia Francis Jan 2015
"Tell me to stop if
you want me to stop." God, that
was a **** good dream....

Hope of her future,
one there before her, crying.
freedom: white stockings
Meagan Jan 2013
~The sensation of experiencing everything
   Everything is never nothing; worthy of remembering
~ Beauty surrounding your senses, inhale with every breath
   You're invincible, the outline image of mystery
~ Looking over with increased anticipation
   All words are shuffled with variation
~ Confident in your surroundings, anywhere and everywhere
   Thrilling vibes, never realize a judgmental stare
~ Only recognize the unrecognizable, every detail
   Every aspect of life, all in different realities
~ Immortal visions, images sufficient for a lifetime
   Liberating memories, sensational at its very prime
~ Gleaming within the mind, I feel the feels you feel
   With intertwined consciousness, we debate on what's real
~ Implausible explanations, never impossible excuses
   To acquire this forever, would inflict internal bruises
~ This level of fun, fundamental producer of freedom
   For, this prosperous feeling rids you of being numb
  ~Meagan Williams
   1.15.13
The endless ideas my mind interprets the word "Fun" to mean.
Culpoetry Aug 2014
It’s hard to feel
when you’re waiting
for someone

It’s hard to breathe
Here in Heaven
or down in Hell

Continuing until the end
Mired in false confidence

When drunken minds
Speak sober thoughts

A feeling I had right in the gut

Anxious shivers
To shivered hopes

Time is ticking
and I lie alone

A cold wind blows
from the mouth of fate

And I hope to God
this pain will abate

A serpent to
this travesty

A vulture came
to pick on me

A fox was far
away from me

A lion lies here
Crying in its’ sleep

Silver, black and golden streaks
Of everything I fear to see

It’s hard to feel
when you’re waiting
for someone
Someone else

Someone down
Someone out
Someone help
Help me help me
help me help me
help me help
Someone else

In this cage we dwell
In this pain we'll melt
Here in Heaven or down in Hell
For someone else
Someone else
Song lyrics for a variation of Golden.
preservationman May 2014
The solid color of blue
An assortment of color with enhancement of tone
Seeing the true blue you have never known
Look straight up at the cloudless skies and observe the blue in how it’s shown
A background of blue in what it creates
Now add another shade to blue and see what it illustrates
You will see a totally different style
This was all during while
Blue staring you in the face
The contrast that you can’t erase
It’s the blue that illumines with might
The color blue being well seen in sight
It’s the same blue that stands out bright
Then with another added shade that will simply excite.
Martin Narrod May 2014
They told me the only thing that could cure heartache was war, and since the war wouldn't take me I figure the only thing to do now is take up a life of crime. Gabriel Garcia Marquez says in Love in the Time of Cholera that the only cure for heartache is to find other hearts to break. Five years have passed and I still remember without fail the flint of a lighter, the squint of an eye, and the bell of your dress. I dream a dream each night, sweet variation of the story of you. It comes down to a letter sometimes, I go to the window well with a notebook and a pencil and I draft a sonnet, sometimes a verse, any form of an expression to idle the time it takes for me to find you. I know stars that haven't lived as long. The way I cupped my hands over your ears, the way rapture lived and loved, you kissing me in the shade of the palm trees up their on Notre Damen Ave. I know the curve of the Earth wrapped in the shades of the skin on your body. I live every day for the chance that I will meet you again.
Letter to an ex-girlfriend
Why the **** is there
all this disdain for varied techniques?

So what if I like altered guitar tunings?
Sorry that all my guitars
are in D Standard or drop C.
Yes, even the ******* Classical guitar.
I never meant to inconvenience you,
your Eminent Prestige!


Maybe it's a problem
on thy knavish behalf
that you can't cope
with variation within the
Sacred realm of Art.

Don't ******* tell me
what to do or how to do it.
Don't ******* tell me
my approach to my Art is wrong.

Don't ******* crawl to me
when you want to learn how it's done
and I won't say I ******* told you so
when you confess your perspective lacks variety.

I will still teach you, though,
that is, if you will listen.
I will still teach you, though,
if, indeed, I can.

I will still teach you, though,
but only if you can teach me, too.
I will still learn from you
despite your rigid adherence to traditionalism.

I will still learn from you
if you don't ******* condescend me
about how I decide to do it
about how it feels most natural
about what I like or why;

just ******* deal with it
like a true Artist;
accept it and bask in it,
that everyone's technique
is unique.

Besides,
be it not that very variation
that lends itself to the plethora of Art
that has been, could be, and will be made?

Be it not that very variation
that leads a school of thought
away from being so incestuous
that it kills itself off?

Be it not that very variation
which makes Democracy feasible?

If Art be neither
democratic or anarchic,
then I guess I'm no Artist.

Just ******* deal with it.
If you can't: then shut the **** up,
and let us, who can deal with it,
just ******* do it.
Sorry to be so profane,
I realize it limits my audience,
but I don't ******* care.

But, ultimately,
what is profanity
but whatsoever we decide?

— The End —