"fanfiction" poems
I like Homestuck,
Donald Duck,
Ancient Greek Gaea,
APH Hetalia,
Marzia and Pewdiepie,
Random bow ties,
Doctor Who,
That colour of greenish blue,
Sherlock Holmes,
Garden gnomes,
Boy/boy ****
Sweet tea,
Left 4 dead,
Books I've read,
Minecraft,
When I laughed,
Yu-Gi-Oh,
Gateau,
Ender's Game,
Notre Dame,
World War One,
World War Two,
Mouse and shrew,
Bugsy Malone,
Jam scones,
Birthday cake,
Milk shake,
Drawing art,
Taking part,
MLP,
Shopping spree,
Sleeping in,
West Berlin,
Random songs,
When bells go ****
Stars shine,
My blood line,
All my friends,
The latest trends,
Yuri much,
And such and such,
Fanfiction,
A prediction,
Doujinshis,
Marshall Lee,
RhymeZone,
My touchscreen phone,
I could go on,
But that's too long,
But my favourite is,
Hello poetry - so don't diss!!
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
Jumanji was your favorite Robin Williams movie
Mine was Dead Poets Society
You didn’t think it was too interesting
And you fell asleep on my shoulder
When we watched it on a pixilated
2” by 5” screen
Moving at 1 ½ miles per hour
On a bus
Going 5000 frames per second
Over a burnt sandwich chips
We stopped near Michigan and State
To talk about our favourite books
Yours was As I Lay Dying
Mine was The Old Man And The Sea
We talked about the relationship
Between Faulkner
And Hemmingway
And if they ever kissed
Or shared coffee
Or at least thought about it
If Faulkner liked Jumanji
And Hemmingway was partial
To Dead Poets Society
If it turned out
They were chips of a fractured whole
Did Faulkner ever take Hemmingway home?
Does the Hemmingway house still have Faulkner’s toothbrush
On a splintered wooden nightstand?
Did they ever wake up with the wrong socks on the wrong feet
And laugh it off because it was so funny
Were they ever afraid?
Were they ever happy?
Did Faulkner write to Hemmingway
About the Post office?
Did Hemmingway write to Faulkner
About fishing?
“The old man lay dying in the sea”
We wondered if they ever wrote together
Held hands
Traded coffee cups
But you fell asleep
And I kept writing
And watching Dead Poets Society
Wondering if Hemmingway ever would have
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 12:41 AM UTC
I ran towards the full moon, into the controlling night sky. I was breathless, chasing this mysterious guy. I asked myself “is it possible to be in love with someone you don’t know”. But we had met, in a dream, somewhere under the rainbow. The blinding moon casted my shadow, but as I got closer to my mysterious love, I knew there will be a faithful tomorrow. Even though I don’t know this fellow, he made me so happy yet so hollow. I felt so drained, my sadness still remains. Because I am chasing after a guy, with the darkness following me, but when I meet my love, I know I will be free. Just wait and you see, the way he will kiss me. And hug me. How he will adore my soul. Wait and you'll see... how we will
slowly become a whole.
Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 7:00 PM UTC
i am grateful for stretch denim on days
when
**** it
is a fashion statement
for lavender laundry detergent
because that smell reminds me of the home i've built in my head
for tea at
2 a.m.
when all the things i've done race in my head
because the next morning, i usually get my **** together
for colds
because they make eating an entire roll of cinnamon buns
completely justifiable
for the mountains that surround me
for NPR and good, rated M fanfiction
for def poetry when i can't find the right words
for finding a pack of cigarettes when it is only
11:30pm on a thursday night
and i am well past drunk in a slightly damp armchair
for harry potter and neil gaiman
for when twenty dollars fills up my gas tank
for my grandma's potato salad and biscuits with honey
for feminist zines that make me want to smash the patriarchy
for burts bees chapstick and jasmine-green tea
for friends who let me cry on their
bedroom floors
for books that keep me entertained
(even if that means me crying in my bathtub while reading them)
for courtney love and joan jett because those *******
have ridden in my car with me over many
heart-breaks
for well-water and sulfate free red wine
for johnny cash and new orleans and whiskey
for salt-- because that **** can wash away anything
for farmer's markets and co-ops
for bottles of water and for cookie dough
when my mouth
is the consistency of cotton and my mind is a little bit gone
for warm days in January and cold days in September
for breakfast and for hikes that begin at five a.m.
for summer nights drunk on wine and a little too much fire
for friends who call me 'momma bear' and for friends that call me 'baby bird'
for poems that give you cold chills
and flowers stolen from my neighbor's yard
for skin that smells like the sun and sage
for beeswax candles
and the smell of clean laundry
for days when i wake up and realize
i could have died on a bathroom floor
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
I would like to ask you Russos, why Tony Stark is dead?
And who the **** dropped you both on the head?
Cap needs to apologise and his found family,
Nat needs less lies and strong female company.
Thor’s depression should not be overlooked
And where the **** did Pep learn to cook?
Stop letting Fury traumatise a child,
And for once let hope do something wild.
Stop dropping our favourite characters off cliffs
Stop saying you’ll fix it in ‘what if’.
Strange’s PTSD could not be cured by magic
And yes Clint’s story is tragic,
But that does not excuse his ****** spree.
Why aren’t more characters more like Rhodey?
Maybe try reading the comics your work should be based on
And we’ll try ignoring your obvious hard on,
For self-insert fanfiction with you as the token gay character.
Because representation doesn’t fit your parameter.
For all your stories I have one simple wish;
Stop making us cry over ******* like this.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 11:04 PM UTC
slash, gay, romance, grind house, love, boyxboy, **** fanfiction, angst, horror, death, ****** fantasy, race play ****** sadist ladies friendship, lesbian, school, fanfic, hate, lgbt, music, sad, adventure, alex, boys, cut, emo, harry, humor, hurt, lgbtq, magic, mental, anorexia, aris, axl, blood, blue, boy, boy love, boyfriend, girl on girl on boy on **** spank me daddy burn, cute, dark, drama, edward, fan fiction, pom pom **** dance, femslash, fiction, fluff, gay ***** fun love, toilet slave, hula hooping hula
Because you're worth it
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 11:06 AM UTC
Ask me what kind of **** I am into
And I will take you on a magical journey
To fanfiction dot com backslash Harry Potter backslash NC17
What turns me on is Ginny Weasely in the restricted section
With her skirt hiked up;
Sirius Black in a secret passage way,
Solemnly swearing that he is up to no good;
And Draco Malfoy in the room of requirement slithering in to my Chamber of Secrets;
I am an unapologetic consumer of all things Potterotica,
And the sexiest part
Is not the way Cho Chang rides that broomstick
Or the sounds of Myrtle moaning,
The sexiest part is knowing
That they are part of a bigger story;
That they exist beyond eight minutes in ***** ***** Gang Bang,
That their kegels are not the strongest thing about them,
And still I am told
That my **** is ‘unrealistic’.
Not quite as ****** as flashing ads saying 'just turned 18’
So you can fantasize about ******* the youngest girl you won’t go to jail for.
I’m told that my **** isn’t quite as lifelike
As a room full of lesbians begging for ****
Told that this is what is supposed to turn me on.
Don’t you give me raw meat
And tell me it is nourishment,
I know a slaughterhouse when I see one.
It looks like 24/7 live streaming
Reminding me that men are going to **** me whether I like it or not,
That there is one use for my mouth and it is not speaking,
That a man is at his most powerful when he’s got a woman by the hair.
The first time a man I loved held me by the wrists
And called me a *****
I did not think 'run’,
I thought 'this is just like the movies’
I know a slaughterhouse when I see one.
It looks like websites and seminars teaching you how to **** more *******
Looks like fifteen-year-old boys bullied for being virgins,
It looks like the man who did not flinch
When I said stop and he heard 'try harder’.
If you play-act at butchery long enough
You grow used to the sounds of screaming,
It is just a side effect of industry;
Everything gets cut into small, marketable pieces.
I will not practice ****** hands
I will not make believe dissected women,
My *** cannot be packaged
My *** is magic
It is part of a bigger story
I am whole
I exist when you are not ******* me
And I will not be cut into pieces any more.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC
Somewhere out there, there is someone
who had a Creative Writing class in college
with E.L. James.
He remembers her
as that annoying sheltered Mormon girl in class
always telling people about how great a writer she was
and reciting her bad poetry
to anyone who pretended to listen.
He remembers fondly
the time she sobbed to her friends
because of the D she got on her final project
and the time the professor told her:
"Sometimes passion just isn't enough.
You've got to have talent too."
He knew that if he never made it as a writer
at least he could take solace in the fact that
wasn't as bad as that Erika chick.
After college, he cried weekly
over his mountain of rejected manuscripts
and eventually abandoned the pursuit of his art altogether
in favor of work that pays the bills.
Years later,
he comes home from work
at his 9-12 factory job
he finally, reluctantly, gives in to his wife's demands
to take up ******* in the bedroom -
- and Mid-orgasm she calls him Christian Grey
So, what I'm saying is this:
Somewhere out there, there is someone
who killed their loving wife in sudden rage -
because of poorly written Twilight fanfiction.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 9:03 PM UTC
We had *** to the Bell Spelunking
Of Andy Bird, Saturday night,
And when I stuck your ****
Into aghast chasms you said
There was nothing. Tingles
Pinpricks on your spine.
You cannot feel me.
Outside your glass eyes beneath
Dark cool lenses, and I am but
A freshly born babe, clutching
My sexuality in greedy paws,
Bashing the shell upon my chest.
I bit your **** You cannot feel me.
It bled. You cannot feel me.
I am distraught over years of wasted dental work
And twenty cavities.
You only feel me when I am ***** deep
Brushing the holy grail of slash fanfiction
And in reality it's a messier, uglier
Business, and I don't know, I am a newborn,
I am a newborn, I was just born today
As a sinful lump of flesh, as
A lump on the log of love,
And we can never be married and
You cannot feel me.
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 5:21 AM UTC
ive heard that
to be a better writer
you have to read
at least as much as you write
but you cant sit around
and read fanfiction
written by a 12 year old
and expect to be
the next john green
you have to read pretty good books
to have better writing
i think ill read
the holy bible
and the quran
and the torah
and any popular religious texts
because if they have gained
billions of dedicated followers
world wide
they must be pretty good
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
Today
I ran into the cute boy
at work who I’ve seen.
I was getting that
morning hot chocolate
leaving the kitchen
and I thought to myself
this is how the fanfiction
I wrote starts
By bumping into someone
leaving a coffee shop
And then it really happened
Leaving the doorway
the cute boy at work I’ve seen
came around the corner
We both said
Oh sorry
And I got to hear his voice
I barely even looked up
but I knew it was the one
who’s desk I walk by
when I take the long way
back to mine
When I walked away
I wanted to go back in
to see the boy who almost
made a fanfiction be real
But I put my hand
over my mouth
and kept going
in order to not ruin the moment
of the almost.
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC
A writer's glory
Is a quick thing
Never does last long
Shorter than the time
I've spent writing
The novel in my mind
First page written
Plot half finished
But enough about that
A writer's glory
As fleeting as it
Can be
It is a glorious
Feeling of
Triumph
of feeling like
That your words matter
But then you
Realize that
what they love
you can not
Write another single page
It's sad really
They've forgotten
What you wish to write
I bet you have too
I've spent so much
Time too much
Time
Writing fanfiction
A terrible plot
Wraps you up
In the
What ifs
I can't bear
That anymore
I want to
Write about
What I want
And when
My glory fades
I'll be okay
I know that now I
know nothing
of life
And the way it should be
So goodbye
Writer's glory
I will not fall
Under your spell
Because after
Every glory
There is always a
Tragedy
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 8:45 PM UTC
Mom, I’m not addicted to my phone.
I simply need that connection I have with
My friends, the ones who I don’t get to talk to
Often, that have all but disappeared from
My life, but I can still see them on the screen.
Mom, I’m not addicted to my phone.
I like to read stories and poems,
Browse the Internet’s fanfiction,
Write my own works, and receive feedback
From friends and critics alike.
Mom, I’m not addicted to my phone.
I just worry about the people I care about,
Wanting to know where they are
And what they are doing;
Not unlike the protective nature you have with me.
Mom, I’m not addicted to my phone.
Sometimes, I just need to check the time.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC
Shut up people
Just leave me alone
Let me zone out
And read until I feel calm
You push me
I freak out
Here we go again
I know I’m gonna fail
You don’t have to rub it in
I expect to fail
Don’t you see?
That’s just part of being me
Shouting won’t help
It’ll just make me freak
Thanks for making me panic again
My anxiety is really fun to deal with for me
You think I can do this
But I really really can’t
Sure I’m smart enough
But that ain’t the problem
What do you think my tolerance level is?
I’m not invincible
Far from it
And stress is a real *****
Stress leads to anxiety
Is that really such a twist?
Anxiety leads to me panicking
Ain’t that just lovely?
And panicking causes more stress
No duh
And the cycle begins again
You thought I could walk into a mega church
5,000+ strong
I don’t know how you could think that
When I panic in a room full of 2,000- strong
And I knew at least half of them
You say I’m fine at RFK
But that’s completely non-sequeter
Because it really isn’t the same
Sure there’s way more people
But the environment ain’t the same
Cause A, it’s a DC United game
B, I know the lay
C, I know the people
D, I know the players
E, I know the rules
F, I don’t have to keep quiet, I can yell and rave and swear
G, if I panic I can go somewhere
H, I don’t have to watch the game
Or pay attention to center stage
I have neighbors all around
All I gotta do is turn around
And say hi
How are you?
My name’s Julia, whats yours?
Well nice to meet you George
Do you like to write?
Yes, yes I do
I write Fanfiction, how about you?
I, I don’t feel like I’m in a cage
J, I do panic, I just don’t panic as bad
As I do in a loud room
Full of people I DON’T KNOW
In an area I don’t know the lay of
Or know how the people act
Where I can’t distract my self
Where I don’t know the routine
When I have to pay attention
To a dude up on a stage
That I’ve never even heard of
K, I know the routine of everything at RFK, I know the chants, and the rants, and the yells, and the smells
The rules and the cools of social interaction
The do’s and don’t ‘s of stadium reaction
So don’t say that RFK, Which feels like home by the way
Is anything like a Megachurch in Arizona
You tell me to try
And I try
I do
So don’t say I don’t
Because it really isn’t true
But I can only go so far
Before I fall apart
Because life, school, and stress
Try to tear me apart
So me being lazy
Is me trying to hold myself together
And it ain’t really lazy
When I write, and I read
And sometimes I bleed
So shut the **** up
And leave me alone
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 8:21 AM UTC
I spend
Fictional money on fictional things
Because I am more fictional than I am real.
Because I feel alien, like I am not of this world.
And I make
Digital purchases in digital worlds
because I've been living in one since I was three.
At least my cage had a dusty old computer.
So often I wished that I could climb inside
to be with the sparkling gifs, and neon dogs
and people whose names I did not know.
They too, were aliens, not of this world.
Maybe we all live in a poorly written fanfiction
or a comic littered with jpeg artifacts
posted on deviantart in 2007
and abandoned to rot by our god.
Maybe someday, she will pick me up and dust me off
and protect me from all those who cringe
at the juvenile creation of just another moody artist
of just another sad internet poet.
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 7:29 PM UTC
That feeling
That I can't describe
When I know someone is genuine
It's physical
And emotional
It's happy
But calmly
Without any flourishes
Or bubbles
I feel it in my chest
A feeling of connection
It's...warm?
Not quite the right word
It's lukewarm
But bright
And roundish
Kinda like a sphere
Sitting next to my heart
Centered in my chest
There's love
But little magic
It's pure
Unfiltered
Connection
When I think of someone's face
I see open eyes
Open to watch another
But not wide with shock
I see a small smile
I hear a voice
Clear as a bell
And indeed
I think of pure
Golden bells
Not twinkling
Not ringing
Just a single
Unbroken note
I think of gold
Or is it orange?
Yellow?
Orange with a yellow halo?
It's energy
But not radiant
Not growing
Not destroying
Not dark
The feeling I get
When reading a classmate's essay
Or reading a good fanfiction
All this
Does not capture the feeling
But at least I tried my best
May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 10:31 PM UTC
The return of the wolf-
Apex predator back on these streets, all these fat little pigs rockin bad words with dusty thoughts- writing loud like their Stephen King elites.
That's a work of fanfiction, you write shallow and brag deep but deep down your soul is only surface level.
I came back to my roots to check up on the place, came back to find a million fake poets tryin to run things like the topics they write cause heat.
You're lukewarm at best and I know you can't think this fast so I won't wait for a reply.
While you're dyin to rhyme I'm dying while trying to produce something new to me.
While you live in your comfort zone and write about the troubles of the world from the safety of your home- you want to impress but don't want to offend, no wonder all your thoughts have been said before by better.
You wanna be down with the street, you wanna be the thinker o the block- problem is you're just a little read writing in this hood.
Out in the deep woods where the words run thick apex thinkers act like scavengers to stay hungry so we don't lose edge.
Pigs get fed, hogs get slaughtered. I'd rather be a truth speaker and free thinker than a fat cat who soul'd out to the biggest fish on the market.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
wish, wisely,
on this elegant night, and I will grant, draining your fright.
let the moon, shine as bright as your soul, and let you play your deserving role.
don't be arrogant, don't be bad, or this honour will be something you had.
make it worth the moment tonight, and I will end your painful fight.
it doesn't start with me or the moon, it certainly starts with love and you.
so for once in life, I speak out these words, memories might and can forever be blurred.
but this event won't be a second or third.
it will be first and last, thus it's up to you to write your chapter and make it a blast.
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 6:35 PM UTC
I stared into his teary eyes. He hurt me, he really did. And yes, the pain haunted me, it still does. But when he wrapped his arms around me and told me how much he missed me. How much he loved me. How much he is sorry. I went numb, sensing the familiar touch. The familiar warmth of his love. A smile crept up my lips as I realized what I was holding. This fragile, delicate boy. The boy that sent my heart on a marathon. This **** that I love. No matter how dark my nights were. When I heard his words and felt his lips, I finally saw the horizon.
Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 9:01 PM UTC