[x]

The ListShe has a list.

She has a long, long list, spanning many pages in her notebook. There are pages upon pages, coated in a messy scrawl of blue gel ink that varies in freshness from hours to years.

Every night, she adds to it. Every night, religiously, ever since she can remember. She has to stay up as long as it takes to add whatever she can recall to her list, no matter how tired or how busy she is. If one were to happen past her house on any particular night, odds are the light would be shining brightly as she frantically scribbled in her notebook.

Her list is precious to her. She isn't proud of it, but she needs it with her always.

The l

Almost Human - Chapter 2: Not as it SeemsCome on Batsy baby! Let us add another wonderful dance to our grand play!" the Joker laughed manically, arms thrown in the air as if reaching to his Batman for an embrace.

Batman charged for him, that crazed laughter rang agonizingly in his mind. He had to silence that unbearable laughter! He pulled back and punched the Joker in the face with all his might. Almost immediately Joker was bleeding profusely from his nose, he stumbled backwards but he kept smiling. He didn't stop; he connected numerous punches and kicks until the clown crashed onto the ground. With weak giggles he managed to lift himself up and dusted himself off.

"Oh darling,

Distant TravelAbsent.
Far away.
Travelling soul.
Home.

Reminder"Why--why do you hate me?" he snapped brokenly. "I've never--never done anything to you. But you hate me."
"I don't hate you."
"Really? Because I see the way you act around me--quiet and distant. You don't laugh when I'm in the room. But you're different with everyone else. When you can't see me, you're loud, happy... What did I do?" He seems defeated, slumping back.
She feels horrid.
"It's not really your fault," she says slowly, looking away. "I'm sorry. I like you. I really do."
"Then why?
She sighs.
"You remind me of someone. I loved them, but they're gone now. Sometimes, I look at you and I see their face. You'll say something and I hear their voice. I feel... guilty, I guess, for liking you. Things didn't end well between us."
He pauses. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."
"No, it's fine. I needed to get over it anyway."
He nods, getting up to leave.
"Just so you know," he says, "I really like you, too."

EmbraceSky Bridge -
Horizon's end
meets earth.

Forgotten"How was I supposed to know?" he says softly to her back as she starts to leave. "How was I supposed to know you weren't happy? That things weren't working out? You never told me."
"You were supposed to listen," she snaps, turning around. "You were supposed to ask. That's what couples are supposed to do--communicate."
"I spoke to you every day," he murmurs. "I'd ask you what your friends said, what you did, how work was..."
"You never asked how I was!"
"Would you have told me if I had? Because I don't think you would've. I think you would've just let the whole thing sit there and then you would've left anyway, with some other excuse."
She shakes her head harshly, turning around again.
"You promised that you'd never leave!" he shouts at her back.
"Yeah? Well, you swore you'd never break my heart."

5.22once upon a time i would have tried to make this beautiful and innocent but it’s not. nothing about this is poetic or okay in any meaning of the word. and neither am i. my brain is a tornado of screwed up thoughts and 5 am fears and i wish i could shut it off. shut it up. shut it down.

they say that hearing voices means you’re crazy, and i wouldn’t doubt it if that was my case. because what else could it be when my thoughts are telling me it isn’t worth it? that im not okay, or normal? that everything in this world is pointless; a means to an end that i shouldn’t be a part of. i’ve always brought destructi

RestorationAs children, we painted with a prism of passions. The color held its splendor as we shaped a heart masterpiece. We called the image "Identity". But with age, the scarlet tones faded; the crimson heart filled with cracks and tears. Now only a portion of the title remains. The faded letters now read "Entity." The child's colors lie buried in a closet of memory. The canvas, within a breathing vault. We need only to dig; to unlock. As adults, we need only to paint once more.

6. RemnantSat in a chair,
Again.

Window in front,
Warped with images,
Of busy days on a street.

A girl,
With a green dress.

A little boy with an umbrella,
Running through the pouring rain.

Another girl,
Day dreaming,
On a bus.

And the day passed.

_____

Sat in a chair,
Again.

Window in front,
Warped with images,
Of a busy day on a street.

A woman,
With a green dress.

A boy with an umbrella,
Running through the pouring rain.

Another woman,
Day dreaming,
On a bus.

The day passed.

_____

Sat in a chair,
Again.

Window in front,
Warped with images,
Of a busy day on a street.

A woman,
With a green dress.

A boy with an umbrella,
Running through

Philosophy-*Raphael's POV* I live with in a place where monsters seem to pop up everywhere and just attack. It is mainly of no reason WHY they exist and they attack. They just appear.

When I was a little kid, I fought them. I had powers, like my siblings did. My brother was a reaper of human darkness that made him stronger each time. My sister, she had powers of thr worldly elements. And me, well, life, death rebirth, and the flow of time that connects each one (time was of a lesser power) and a bum leg (which I tell about because it is another part of me). However, I digress. As I was saying, for a time I fought off these monsters, because I thought I had t

DecadenciaAquella carga resultaba cada vez más pesada y asfixiante. Aún era tan joven… y ya sintiéndose como un anciano observaba impotente la corriente de cambios devastadores que no paraban de erosionar su entorno, mientras iba encajando casi por inercia el paso inexorable del tiempo.

Se sentía tan vacío. A veces, era como si notara un agujero enorme en la zona más profunda de su interior; todo se lo tragaba. Y entonces se veía arrastrado de manera inevitable hacia un torbellino de confusión, cuyo desenlace no era otro que el fracaso, la humillación, el sufrimiento… la soledad.

¿Cuánto tiempo llevaba experimentando algo así? Intentaba

The DoorRandy

I opened the door and stepped through it. The old man who’d appeared to me had told me this is where I would find my answer. My greatest weakness. And the power to overcome it. He told me I would find the answers to these questions.
I found myself standing at the beginning of a long corridor lined with doors. Each door was identical; the same shape, size, and color. But there were labels on each door, all of them different. The old man had told me that these doors would be here, but they would not open. He said they were shortcuts to the end and that they were forbidden paths, and if they were to open somehow, they would lead to

...All religions preaching love
Without any comprehension
What in fact it really means
Limited by this dimension
Misinterpreting the words
Of the few who bridged the border
And in vain tried to explain
Meaning underlying order

Contemplation: Speaking to an All Knowing ImmortalMyself: I find it hard to believe that someone with unlimited time would feel philosophical over time. Do you agree?
AKI: You sir are quite wrong. While those of you with life spans feel philosophy about how short life is, those of us with all the time i the world contemplate the opposite. We have lived lifetimes. So much so that they run together. Really.. We contemplate why we are to live this long. To watch those with life spans pass and learn? To be doomed to watch those we love fall and wither? Philosophy is not reserved for the length of time lived.
Myself: I see. Well being all knowing you must know what happens after those of our lifespans end correct?
AKI: I do know.
Myself: Could you make it known?
AKI: I could. But if I were I would ruin the fun of finding out.. Also if I were to tell you.. Well what would happen to your religious structure? Already you have "holy" wars in the name of your gods. Imagine. If you all suddenly know which answers were correct? Why a good p

deeper bruisesback when i was all chubby cheeks and wide eyes i would sit on my grandma’s lap (her knees were sharp and bony, but i didn’t mind much) and listen to her tell tales about her abusive first husband. and how when she was my age, she returned home from school to see her baby brother cold and lifeless on the kitchen tile. she called me brave when i didn’t cry at her stories, and i can’t help but wonder if she would still call me that. when i told my mother her face paled and eyes widened with rage, because little girls were supposed to dream of princesses, not marks left behind from belt buckles.

i was grossly interested

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 4.7 KB more ▶

More from ~famouslies

ForevermoreThey gave me parachutes with holes,
But I know I’ll survive.
I’ve got a heart full of memories,
And a star filled sky.
I can see the rugged asphalt from up here,
And it glitters, it glitters in the night.
I can see the outlines of ghostly dolls
That float through the hollow spaces.
I can see the city’s shape now
It spreads outwards and back in,
Roads twisting in and out
Like crooked veins.
But tonight, all I can see from here
Are the golden lights
From the streetlamps
And the silhouette of colossal empires
That arise from the dust.
I remember, I used to walk down the roads,
Afraid that a dust bowl would cleanse the ci

City by the SeaThere’s a city by the sea
And a voice that calls to me
From a rusted old bike.
They came from the village with a dream,
Fabric tearing at the seams,
The city by the sea gave us life.
Maybe I could have stopped this all,
It took time to accept the fall.
And their legs will carry on,
But it all went wrong, wrong, wrong.
Chess boards and the quilts that we sewed,
It’s us four against the world,
Until this time of sadness is over,
A fine balance of tragedy and hope.
There’s a city by the sea,
Friends and lovers call to me,
Some days our bones were breaking.
But we remembered in the end,
That our time was well spen

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

#GaGaloo-LOVE
♥ Little Monsters ♥

#Lady-GaGa-Fan-Club
Gaga for gaga

#LadyGagaInspired
Lady Gaga

Details

Submitted: January 5, 2012
File Size: 4.7 KB

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 3
Favourites: 9 [who?]
Views: 194 (0 today)
Downloads: 4 (0 today)

[x]

Bloody Mary

by ~famouslies, Jan 5, 2012, 5:31:14 PM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / Philosophy & Perspectives / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

Bloody Mary

Love is just a history that they may prove
And when you're gone I'll tell them my religion's you

Death. Death tolls like a chime, calling out for my lost love. Death has come to take the King away, the everlasting King of all the Universes of Heaven and Hell, he who hath not scorn the one who betrays him, he who forgives faster than he kneels.

And I, his lover must watch as he is shot down like a hunter shoots a bird, for the good people of this world.

They may read these words and tell the young ones of our love, but the reality of it all burns and pains me more than I can say. They may say I was the one who wiped his feet with my hair, who saw the Savior first after his resurrection, but have they seen me? Or just the woman of old lore?

When Pontius comes to kill the king upon his throne
I'm ready for their stones.

My Savior awaits a sentence that will allow him to be sent to the heavens in holy repent. The good God above will take his only Son willingly, and praise him for all that he is.

My savior is ready. He knows his destiny, he knows of the greatness he can cause, he knows of the vast power he commands, yet he is ready to throw it all away for the people, the people who once followed him, but now stand before him to crucify him.

Fools! The savior is everlasting. He is eternal in spirit and in goodness. The crucifixion of the Holiest of the holy will ultimately be a sin, blood on the hands of Pontius and his men. I am ready for the stones they throw when I weep at the feet of my holy master.

I'll dance, dance, dance
With my hands, hands, hands,
Above my head, head, head
Like Jesus, said

My hands outstretched to the Lord, I will repent for the sins of those he dies to cleanse. Those for whom he prays as he is pinned to that holy cross.

I will bring my hands high to the heavens, pray like He told me. I'll rejoice the cleansing, I'll rejoice the rebirth, I'll rejoice every hallowed lesson, every hallowed word and revel in the Lord's pureness. I'll bring my hands up to the heavens and pray.

I won't cry for you
I won't crucify the things you do
I won't cry for you, see
When you're gone I'll still be bloody Mary

I won't shed tears for the Lord, I won't shed tears in the holy name of the Savior who hath brought this Earth miracles as the Son of God. I won't rebuke him, I won't disapprove of his willingness to die for the sins for those who walk this hallowed world.

I won't shed tears. I will not be more than the mortal, the woman who walked alongside the Savior to spread the good word of his covenant. I will be Mary, womanly disciple of the Lord, who stood by his most holy feet at the cross, Mary, the ever mortal one who saw the Lord in his true glory when he arose from the dead. I will be Mary Magdalene, whom the savior hath cast devils out of and cleansed with his utmost sanctity.

We are not just art for Michelangelo
To carve.

I am not a woman in a legend, nor a woman of lore. I am merely one who saw the Lord as he arose. Saw him for who He was and relished in his sanctity. I am not just words of a story told over and over, or the stroke of paint depicting a sad eyed one who watched as the Savior was crucified.

Nor can Da Vinci objectify my love, nor can Michelangelo sculpt it. It is something all on its own and it stands pure and holy.

I'll wait on mountain tops in Paris, cold
Je ne veux pas mourir toute seule.

I do not want to die alone. But I know that I will never be alone. Whenever I am cold, the Savior will warm my heart with his Holy words of enlightened veneration.

I will wait on the coldest mountains and the warmest deserts. I will endure scorching pain for the one who hath died for every sin you have committed, people of Earth.

The lord decrees that there will be light and there is. My heart is filled with his praise and his light and I will carry on.

I won't cry for you
I won't crucify the things you do
I won't cry for you, see
When you're gone I'll still be bloody Mary

*"For this reason I say, if one is whole, one will be filled with light, but if one is divided, one will be filled with darkness."

I am complete and whole in your name, my Lord.
-x-

*Taken from Gospel of Thomas 61, Jesus said this to his disciples.

Bloody Maryby ~famouslies

Literature / Prose / Fiction / Philosophy & Perspectives / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

I wrote this as a kind of story behind or interpretation of Lady Gaga's song Bloody Mary from Born This Way. This is from Mary's point of view. It's not meant to be offensive or anything, but I'm a huge Gaga fan and this is one of her more artistic and well written songs.

I always wondered what the story behind it was, whenever I listened to the song, it painted vivid pictures in my head.

Disclaimer: This song is by Lady Gaga.