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Styrofoam BreathA new sun rises,
A day has dawned.
The tables have turned
And the curtains are drawn.
Static faces in blank disguises,
Two suns can't set before another rises.

Gazing to the unknown horizon,
My whole world is torn.
Flowing from her eyes and and into mine,
Prospects are reborn.

The vision forever lingers:
Hair clasped in rigorous fingers.

The sky was murky,
Two drops of color lost in a glass.
Stirred once and left...
Left to sort things out with the amorphous deep.

Frail foundations
Without fair warning,
And angels at night
Have never dreamt of morning.

Expressionless smiles,
Wrinkled, cracked plastic...
Hollow words,
neither believes.Styrofoam Breath23 hours ago in Songs & Lyrics

2444 points giveaway!!! winner every 38 min. You may be wondering is this for real? 2444 points giveaway! yes, this is real. My brother just give me 8956 points. O.O ( he don't have time to get on to DA anymore, so he don't need it anymore.) (I already spend about 4000 points)
I'm going to use the points go promote my comic "Ni comic strips".
All you have to do is favorite this journal to enter and Take a read of my comic http://tapastic.com/episode/2920(If you don't like to read comic strips, please click through all the pages so i know you follow the rules for this giveaway.) If you already did it from last giveaway please do click through it again so I know you follow the rules.
As a thank you for reading, you may either win 0 points, 1 points, 10 points, 50 points, or even 100 points.
If you want to please create a account or sign in with&2444 points giveaway!!! winner every 38 min.4 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms

Forgotten Past - Part 1 - Chapter 7

Kagekao opened his eyes, squinting at the bright light of sunset coming through the window. He coughed and lifted his hand to his chest, feeling the bandages wrapped around him that were caked with dry blood.

He tried to sit up, but a sharp jolt of pain came from his back; he groaned.

“Kage, don’t sit up; you have some deep gashes on your back.” A voice from beside him informed.

Kage lied back down and turned his head; Yuki was standing beside his bed.

“Mom, I-” Kage started to speak.

“Kagekao! What were you thinking?!” Yuki interrupted him.

“It’s just that I . . . umm . . . IForgotten Past - Part 1 - Chapter 710 hours ago in Introductions & Chapters

2p!America x Shy!Reader Cold. It was cold. Freezing really.
Washington this time of year was, really in lack of better words, numbed to everything in the outside world. Time seemed to slow down, as did crime, accidents and the such. Walking outside was just a bad idea, but you needed inspiration for your writing. Anything to spark your creativity, but as I said before nothing happens in December.

The small sleepy town of (make it up .-.) was not much help either. The snow plow had already come through and piled high icy mounds onto the sidewalks and median of Main Street, and thrown salt on the rode to prevent black ice. Most of the shops where open, warm2p!America x Shy!Reader23 hours ago in Short Stories

He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white aHe doesn't write poetry anymore.21 hours ago in Free Verse

Carried Away-Colonist!AmericaxIndian!Reader part11

America's POV

Alfred slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear the fuzziness. He thought it was strange that the ceiling was made out what looked like tree branches, instead of the thick logs his father had secured with great care. And while he was thinking of that, why was the ceiling so low?

He sat up quickly and was assaulted by cold winter air. That's when everything that had happened came rushing back. Getting captured by Indians, becoming friends with _____, getting captured again, this time with others, the kids escaping, and then... It was really blurry and could easily been a dream, but he seemed to remember _____ hauCarried Away-Colonist!AmericaxIndian!Reader part1120 hours ago in Introductions & Chapters

PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lintPocket11 hours ago in Free Verse

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Saturn & Venus,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
neither the Sun nor the Moon no longer
ache to see me fly in their luster.Astrological2 hours ago in Free Verse

GermanyxReader- Been a Long Day

Well, here it is at five PM, the finish of a long day’s work. The both of you are standing in front of the elevator, shyly averting your gazes from each other, though you couldn’t help but glance over occasionally. Upon meeting each other’s eyes, you turned away again just as quickly.

The secretary and the clerk, not particularly well acquainted, not very much to say. Yet, anyone nearby could hear your minds ticking away.

Your lovely (e/c) eyes flicked over to his broad-shouldered form, wondering if maybe you took the same bus.

He glanced over and flushed as you ducked your head and looked away, running his hand through hGermanyxReader- Been a Long Day22 hours ago in Introductions & Chapters

False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.False Prophets15 hours ago in Free Verse

Honesty Written

from the

heart.

No eraser. Honesty22 hours ago in Free Verse

Just In CaseYou can dig up a grave
If you think you can wake the past
But what's the point
You're just opening old wounds
It's like sitting by a bomb about to blast

For someone who claims no death wish
You could have fooled me
But I guess you already have
There's nothing about you I'll miss
Like how you can't see

And here comes another pointed finger
But who's really to blame
You can't bring yesterday back to life
If the dead have already lost the game
But you can revive the ghosts
Violent spirits with a grudge
How the hell will you survive again
Your point of view hasn't even budged
In a court where I've become the judge
Face it
You're screwed
While yJust In Case17 hours ago in Songs & Lyrics

Miraste sonriente hacia arribaMiraste sonriente hacia arriba,
hacia la luna.
Tu sonrisa se desvaneció al ver que una parvada de cuervos nublaron la luz de aquella redonda, no dejaron nada de ti, solo tu ausencia.Miraste sonriente hacia arriba22 hours ago in Concrete Poetry

SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.Sister8 hours ago in Free Verse

paper flower pressed worriesroughed drips of sun in wet light you bathed there for me to find you in the subtle
of sleep like the press of trumpet shelled lily's arms placed on paper frail & shy of thin as
your lungs blanket in a shiver of salt water dream for only arms of Galene to keep wilting,
closing in the breath of winter's cold frame of cypress blooms stealing every little moment
we could have caught in the blue limbs of the looking glass "and i'd like to turn back
time," though this it lapses in a film's negative spectrum the forgotten stem minolata xd-7s
holding quiet, as the window flowers. unmoving with the thyme of sadness roughed like
the arbutus flowering in my hands held them in helpless so but the bless of red cypress,
blossoming grace of august spring seems to be the only language of flowers spoken
you'll ever even kpaper flower pressed worries9 hours ago in Free Verse

I feel nothing.The numbness is almost comforting
The feeling of absolutely nothing
No sadness, no anger
Just dead silence
I couldn't care less for his reply
I couldn't care less if he's gone for good
No nervousness, no fear
Just emptiness
My life just goes on, the days drag by
My cuts don't get worse, nor do they improve
No worries, not anxious
I feel nothing.I feel nothing.7 hours ago in Urban & Spoken Word

Your Still Mine (Marshal's POV)

I sipped my vodka as I sat at the lone table on the west side of the ballroom. I am at a wedding for my frenemy, Bubba 'Gumball' Gillion. I'm just here to see the ugly faggot who married this loser. If you didn't know I am just here to perform a song or two, but I feel too drunk to even do that. I mess with my ivory locks of hair and unbutton my suit. I should be dancing, I know I should be doing something other than sitting on my ass. Women have came up to me so many times today it wasn't even funny, they were flirting and being down right stupid. "Marshal Lee please report to the stage" ugh that's my que, ha you know what's funny about this, I don't even know what song I'm gonna sing, ha. I gallantly walked up to the stage, taking in my surroundings, oh I am gonna laugh when I see that ugly mother fucking bri- "Miss Fionna Your Still Mine1 day ago in Introductions & Chapters

Twinkle StarTwinkle twinkle little star
Noone cares just who you are
When you fall the fall is far
Twinkle twinkle superstar.Twinkle Star5 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire
Voices6 hours ago in Free Verse

Sonadow: Forbidden Feelings 2

Sonadow: Forbidden Feelings 2

Deep in the mountains lived a Were clan, it's where all the Werehogs, Werebats, Werefox and other come to live, the had hot springs where they mostly wash them selves off, they were guide by the Werehog leader Shade, the uncle of Shadow the Werehog, who took his fathers place when he pass away. Shadow didn't mind not being the leader, he grew up to be a strong and talented hunter. One day Shadow wen't down the mountain to near by forest to take a walk, "Hey Shadow wait up" called out Mephiles as he wen't to the other Werehog, "Mephiles? What is it?" asked Shadow, "What can't keep you company?" asked Mephiles, Sonadow: Forbidden Feelings 2 8 hours ago in Profiles

Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,
you'd be wrapped in the sweetest
perfumes
(learning
how to engulf the ocean
with your lungs
and think of how to cup it
in your hands
despite
your broken prayers and
still be beautiful)

dance with the gypsies
'till noon
(a quake in
your hips like the thrust
of continents
and the faultlines
emanating from
your spine,
but still
so, so graceful)

sing with the nymphs
in tune
(your voice,
it's growing old,
raspy even.
your throat's burning dry
like a monsoon
faltering in a desert,

and tones
still octaves
powerful)

be nestled in a king's arms
soon
(oh, you precious
little thing.
how Pretty little things called words and dust20 hours ago in Free Verse

Free. Ch. 10: Special BondsFree. Ch. 10: Special Bonds

I screamed as the strange girl pounced on me. She stuck her tongue out and hissed her tongue in front of my face. I saw two white fangs glint in the light as I looked up at her. She looked so familiar. Where had I seen her before?

"Oh come on Anabelle. Get off the poor girl." I heard a voice from the doorway.

Anabelle got off of me and flew back over to the doorway as I sat up and looked at the man in the door.

"Fionna? Are you alright?" Marshall ran downstairs over to me helping me up. He had a few scratch marks on his arms and face. "Why did you scream?"

I pointed to the man in the doorway who looked at uFree. Ch. 10: Special Bonds22 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes

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