I'm feeling lucky so take my hand.
Let's be slammed against the ground by the music
and the nervous beating of our teenage hearts.
PalmleafThere have always been hard, bright prophets
their words filling our mouths like
the tipping of sunlight
There have always been Christs
placing two fingers under our chins and smiling,
blinking dust from kind and distant eyes.
We have always asked questions of the sky.
Someone has always tipped our faces up, and said: ‘Look –
look. There it is.’
This is what we find.
LittleHis parents were shouting,
and hated each other,
flush-jawed and aching across
the cheap table, the cheap hot rash
of kitchen air all filled with meat and
3 veg and everything else,
so the boy went outside,
where it was a desolate and bitter July,
with the paddock grasses of frost-slick knives;
drew his knees up to his chest
like a foetus
in the black coiling
womb of sky.
A mad neighbour shouted – a cow
lowed, a soft sad call.
He stayed sitting
for a while
kept his blood cool
until he'd lined his lungs
with winter, bright.
KnittedThe men, they come into my home
loudly strung with all night’s stars,
all beer-glint, all roughly-bright;
they bring their heavy boots,
their boots and their heavy mud.
Their brassy, mirthful talk;
harvests and ale and golden things.
I have been in here alone,
excepting the dogs in their slumber,
and I have been spinning. And spinning,
spinning mice, and men,
and fates, and coarse
You clap each other’s backs,
the centre of your beings in the
largeness of your hands.
You bring the cold night’s mud
on to my floor.
I am the centre of your beings,
I link you. Like a spinning wheel
I pull all threads together.
Cat’s cradle. Cradling you
in my fingers and my hips.
My tongue is sharp
this coldly wintered night,
this mudded night. You are abashed
like little boys, unlooking
you mutter your apologies
to the hounds.
All talking's done.
PerthIn Western Australia, it’s likely
that we have no prophets,
we have no damned,
there’s probably no heaven to be found –
only this dry and aching span,
roads laid down on burnt red dirt like tar-crossed,
humming brands. Only construction sites
You know, this city, it doesn’t grow, it doesn’t burn,
it only stands.
It is all, and endlessly, and only,
the slam of car doors being shut, the tradie’s
first cigarette, the mother’s
harassed reply, the toddler’s sticky
grasping hand, the tight and cerulean sky.
The freeway, the peeling tunnel,
the sloping oases of white sand.
FleetingTo be content
with one night
is the hardest thing to swallow;
but I believe it may be possible
to look back on smeared stars
and softly smoke-spiced mouths
and accept all
like the passing of a cloud
seen only once
by only one
TunnelIn several tiny ways
I put my head on the block:
his head is heavy,
thin limbs drooped with sleep, and I don’t move
away like I should – there is a bright, beating second of contact,
then the train jolts him awake
newly born and blinking.
This is one.
Tired, heart-dazed, amongst all the stars of the city
spinning in all their roaring dark, I readjust
so that our shoulders
do not touch.
the other sondear james,
your name means "hold the heel,"
among so many other things,
and i think i could list them:
your eyes are funny. during saw v i saw your pupils
and i thought, hazel. his eyes are definitely hazel.
and they aren't: they are green-gray, they are gray,
they are tinted with blue, they are stung with brown,
but mostly, they are a soft, indecisive green, and your
lids are permanently half-closed, lazy, and you continuously
look like you may be waking up from a dream, and i am
continuously wondering if i was in it
i can recite things about you.
all kinds of things. your middle name is
david. your cat is a gray tabby with bright, vibrant green eyes,
and she has been de-clawed, and her name
is samantha. your bed is on the floor. when we are on the
phone and you get a text, and you sigh and tell me
to hold, i close my eyes and listen to the sound of your telephonic
keyboard, tap-tap-tapping, and think maybe i could
fall asleep to the sound, but there'd
honeysucklei cant discard those sunsoaked flower petal days
the fragrance of the warmed rough sidewalk
and the air slipping past as soft as forgetting
honeysuckle bloom yields a small kiss of nectar
one that rolls and sings across the tongue in f major
and you would yield small kisses
and i would yield also
SasusakuSakura: Do i ever cross your mind?
Sakura: Do you like me?
Sasuke: Not really
Sakura: Do you want me?
Sakura: Would you cry if i left?
Sakura: Would you live for me?
Sakura: Would you do anything for me?
Sakura: Choose --Me or your life
Sasuke: My life
Sakura runs away in shock and pain and Sasuke runs after her and says....
The reason you never cross my mind is because you're always on my mind. The reason why i don't like you is because i love you. The reason i don't want you is because i need you. The reason i wouldn't cry if you left is because i would die if you left. The reason i wouldn't live for you is because i would die for you. The reason why im not willing to do anything for you is becasuse i would do everything for you. The reason i chose my life is because you ARE my life!!
just never check your junkmailWhy is it that you contaminate
my feeds and favourites? Why
is your website my homepage?
Why are there playlists with
songs that remind me of you
or files dedicated to you? Tell
me why the first thing I do when
I get home is go on the Internet,
Google your name. Slap myself.
Google both our names together.
Did you mean Never in a Million
Years? Actually, I meant billion.
Fuck you, Google.
Drag mouse. Point-click the top bar.
Erase web address. Enter new URL:
promise me three things:
to never reveal my password.
to never read my messages.
to never send me Spyware.
that's what your
heart's made of)
Logout. Sign on Myspace. See that
you're online. Ignore you. Wait for
you to do, I don't know, something.
Refresh page. No new messages.
Refresh it again. Still nothing.
Refresh, refresh, refresh. &
Zutara Unexpected_ part 1
Narrator(me):After Zuko was finally accepted, the banished prince was mostly left out by the gang. Everytime they have plans, he just sit's in the corner and would quietly wait for them to finish.
One night, while they were eating dinner, Toph, a young earthbender, felt Zuko's sorrow and decided to let Katara call him knowing that it was the last thing the young water tribe peasant would do.
Toph: Hey guys, don't you think we should invite Zuko over here. He can't be that dangerous anymore. I mean, he hasn't laid any finger on us all week. It's the least we could do.
Aang: I guess your right. He did teach me firebending. I guess having him for dinner won't hurt.
Sokka: Fine by me. Go get him, Toph.
Toph: Nah. Let sugar queen do it. She never talks to him at all.
Narrator(me): After Katara heard this, she accidentally spit out the food she was eating.
Sokka: Good idea. Hey sis! Fetch!!! hahaha!!!
Katara: Oh yeah ver
Chapter 1 Love is complicated (Cilan x Reader)Fanfic Cilan x Reader-Insert
First than everything this story is based about 90% on the Game Pokémon Black/White (I got the information from my game that is in Italian, I guess is almost the same, if something is wrong please let me know) You are like Touko/Hilda/White/However you call her. Please enjoy reading.
WARNING: It got a bit of Cheren x Bianca ,If you don't like it , don't read .
(y/n) = Your Name
(f/c) = Favorite Color
'' Blah '' = Text
' Blah' = Thougths
''Hey, Bianca, Don't you wanna enjoy the last day of vacations somewhere???'' You asked to Bianca, the next day all of you begin school, you where catching Pokémons with her, Bianca is your best friend since you two where kids, she was almost like your younger sister.
'' Sure, why don't we go to the beach?, We can invite Cheren, Chili, Cilan and Cress'' Bianca answered; Cheren, Chili, Cilan and Cress are your other best friends in all the world but not too much like Bian
Love is...Love is like a flower,
Delicate, but strong.
Love is a power,
That can't be used wrong.
Love is what we wish,
and what we dream.
Love is that first true kiss,
It's everything we need.
Love is true,
A beautiful sight.
Love is you,
You are my light.
TnM-juguemos a ser novios-es realmente asqueroso!
-eso!....lo que ellos hacen
- ...sentarse en la banca?
- no!....besarse en publico....es repulsivo..
-marie no digas eso....no es repulsivo
- bueno, repulsivo no, vergonzoso..... acaso no notan que estamos en un parque?!!
-maire, has visto a muchas personas besarse antes, tus padres, los mios la tía candace y el tío jeremy... en fin, por que es diferente?
- por que ellos se besan en casa, donde nadie puede verlos, aquí hay mucha gente, no hay privacidad
-algún día seras igual a ellos
- no!, jamas lo seré, creare un invento para no crecer jamas, no ser adolescente y no enamorarme
-marie, no seas ridícula, debes crecer en algún momento..... ademas quien dice que solo los adolescentes se enamoran
- pues nosotros somos niños y no veo que ninguno este enamorado
-ademas, en caso de crecer, jamas tendré novio, me asegurare de que así sea
-y como lo aras, podr
mas que amigosthomas muy agitado de tanto correr, casi sin aliento, tomo un gran respiro y toco el timbre de la residencia flynn, pasaron solo un par de segundo antes de que la puerta se abriera, una chica de cabellos rojizos y con la vista perdida en el muchacho solo puedo reaccionar a una cosa... jalar lo de la camisa para que entrara rápidamente.
marie se dirigió a su habitación, aun tomando la camisa de thomas, entro ala habitación y cerro la puerta tras ella, se apollo en ella y contemplo a aquel chico frente a ella que parecía confundido y muy cansado.
thomas- ma...marie...a.. aque...se ...de... debió... tu .... llamada? * recuperando de apoco el aliento*
marie-.....* aun perdida en la vista de thomas*
thomas-* acercándose a ella y tomandola de los brazos* te encuentras bien?
marie en un movimiento extraordinariamente rápido, abrazo a thomas dejándolo completamente confundido, pero luego correspondió el abrazo mientras le