Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Long cloak, black hood
A demon you think
Motionless, human like
Standing tall, head bowed
Misty breath, dimming light
The imminent twilight
Disturbing silhouettes
Flashes before my eyes

Tall trees, dark thickets
A jungle you think
Rustling, human like
Chattering loud, foot steps
Heavy drops, closing in
A racing heart
Indistinctive echoes
Whispers in my ears

Loud growl, a beastly phantom
A reaper you think
Screaming, human like
Bleeding slightly, a young maiden
Red stain, white cloth
A purification ritual
Lost virginity
Swirling thoughts in my mind
Just a play with a pen on a paper...
Fantasy
Shirley Mar 2015
Art
Weak static creates an uncomfortable tautness in the air.
A sound emitted from the screen is heavy, weighing.
Muted light grips to ions which imperceptibly moss over the dusty glass monitor.  
A world within a dish.  
Slapdash pixilation.
Fragments—just fractions, part in snaps.
No image takes form in the storm of digitalized points, indistinctive refrain is absently composed.
The apartment, thick with a cloudy green hue.
Stripped, pink shoulders, a flush which spreads in a subtle frenzy—
Bleeds across an exposed chest.  
Vulnerable core.  
Noticeably contracting, beating the high concentration of life from one source
Into branched capillaries.
Into plush, coy lips—
Hush.
Sinews tear, a dark liquid pools, liberated from perforations.  
Flowing from the source and staining porcelain teeth.
Indulgence.
The innate capability to devour proves true outside feasting.  
Femininity of unbridled ******* and echoing amusement,
Eternalized.
Cataplexies pressed and dried upon blank, white pages which prove difficult to turn—
only facilitated by the hand of time.
A vast expanse of briny depths outstretches further than what’s perceivable.
Waves rock a feeble coo which escapes from child’s lips at the spectacle of a mother.
*Cri de Coeur
They were not blind
They just lacked eyes
Never knew a single ray of light
Worked a full clock, until they dropped breathless

And they were not deaf
They just lacked ears
Never heard a single wave of sound
Listened to their own thoughts scream

Yet, each had a mouth
An unquenchable hunger
Driving their minds,
To whatever it is that they could eat

And while at that,
Some mumbled,
Others screamed
To themselves and others

It was a disturbing imagery,
And many indistinctive voices
That my head spined endlessly
Swimming through countless thoughts

May be,
humanity was lost,
To the long structures touching the sky,
Beautiful vessels floating on water,
Amazing crafts flying in the air
And the astonishing world of tech

May be,
while trying to be better,
We fell deep down an abyss
That now we need implements of war
To guard our own interests,
From a brother next door

Skies spread wide with dark smoke
Land eroded to the bottom seas
lakes filled with oil spills
And bodies lay within ruins,
Soaking the ground in child blood

yet, we look into each other's eyes,
A firm handshake, beautiful smile,
Talking about the future,
The one we've strangled with our hands
And leaving our filthy prints on everything

Should say, we can clean our mess,
But yet, time itself offers not enough to correct our ways

But pass down the responsibility,
To a boy in blue boots,
And a girl in pink shoes,
To clean the remains of a generational mess
when pain grabs a pen and paper, and writes her tears
kip May 2020
taking the words right out my mouth
stealing my style and patterns
appropriating my thoughts and ideas
for your own use

you're so stale and instinctive
you have to take all my creativity
all the energy that I've put
into even living, and you've yet to take my last breath
The cold sense of a
Dreamy deja-vu;
I feel the shadows
Crowd around me
And I’m p
                  u
                     l
                       l
                        e
                          d
Into a familiar darkness.

I roam the dreamscape
In search of an exit.
Although I already know
What lies ahead,
I’m still distressed.

A constant reincarnation
Of the same faceless
Figure, waiting for me
At the end of
My dreaded ascension.

Chilled to my soul,
I face my indistinctive
Nightmare. The ghosts
Of the past seen so alive
From behind closed eyes.
Jemevic Jan 2020
Chestnuts shoot out of seeds fire,
begging my attention for a while.
I have to embrace
the change, for its better.
Being a volcano, wouldn't help a lot either.
Unlikely I will accept
when I have it in my mind.
Standing on this street,
Anonymous shadows fading out of sight
Indistinctive voices waving in and out

I become silent to the many heart beats,
But my own,  skipping between seconds,
A frozen time, a conscious self finally awoken

I look at a moving cloud,
An awareness of lightness,
To see that am floating through space

Below I see, a man in a black suit
My unmoving body within time,
Oblivious to the passing blurry faces

And so, he speaks to me, asking,
"Who's there to love?"
"Who's there to care?"

That suddenly, I fall fast,
Back into my flesh and bones,
Just before the lights hit green

Across I see, an elderly lady,
In the road, just before she is sent flying,
By an SUV, to the other world of silence

And then, distinctive whispers,
"Who's there to love?"
"Who's there to care?"

— The End —