Melody in My MindShhh...
Do you hear it?
voice of street,
hearts that beat
Rhythm set free:
one two three
one two three
hear the song
dance with me
There's melody in my mind
Magical melody, murmuring, moody
Musical mystical moving melody
There's melody in my mind
I'll tell you a secret.
I cannot sing.
Imagine that feeling.
Those tones frozen between your mind and mouth, that melody you can't express.
Imagine one of those songs that give you goosebumps, that clutch your heart and make you cry "Yes! Yes, that's it!"
Imagine you want to share it with everyone... but can't.
When you try to repeat the melody, it is off and quavers and screeches like nails on the board.
There's melody in my mind, and it wants to be heard, to be set free.
And so I paint.
The colors are my symphony.
I sound the violins of sky-blue, the lutes of green and drums of violet.
And so I write.
The words on pape
Slam poetryWhat is this, Slam Poetry? An excuse to scream and get angry, vent your anxiety into profanities, hide your lies behind a microphone stand? Your attempts at literacy played with a back beat, be careful what you pass off as poetry.
Angsty limerick with less precision than a drunk mans hand at darts. Tell us your story about a man in his forties, who didn't know your name, but knew the colors up your skirt.
Remind us of the time when in your pre pubescent mind, the guy you used to sit behind, meant something by that valentine, so you undressed and tried to play it off as "all his fault" He wont remember you, but you still claim he broke your heart.
These irrelevant tangents have no depth to them. No demands on your intelligence, your rhyming your text messages. Your lack of relevance may impress the masses, yeah, Obama, Israeli, Jesus. You are NOTHING but your references. Broadcasting sexual preferences, minority status, political correctness. Politics are not a[valid] substitute for sub
SwitzerlandxReader: Neutrality SucksWorld Conferences officially sucked. Or, at least without your best friend Liechtenstein there, they did. Fortunately for you, her handsome older brother and the person you had a huge crush on always attended every single one dutifully. He didn't appear to be particularly interested in you, although he never shot at you when you crossed his lawn.
You assumed this was because you were Liechtenstein's friend.
"Dudes, let's get this meeting started!" America yelled obnoxiously from the head of the giant meeting table. You noticed Switzerland rolling his bright green eyes, and stifled a small giggle.
"Sit down and shut up, America." England sighed with irritation evident in his accented voice.
"What? Why?" The younger nation whined, and you burst out laughing.
Fortunately for you, Germany's bellow of "Everybody shut up!" ensured that nobody heard you sniggering away.
"Kesesese, let's just all sit down and drink beer." A voice cackled from the ceiling. Everyone glanced up to see Prussia pee
Dave x Reader - Bodyguard - Chapter Eight [FINAL]It was finally the end of the school day. You wanted to talk to Dave about what he had said during gym class to ask him if it was actually true. You thought that since he was cool, he was messing with your head or something. You hoped to gog that it was real though.
Karkat had said he would meet you out front on the stone steps. You sat on them, waiting patiently. Something in your head told you to just leave him and meet up with him at home, but you knew he would be mad if you did that, so you just sat and waited. You always wondered why it took Karkat so long at the end of each day. You figured he was just having some kind of anger fit about his locker getting jammed or something. That was what usually kept him.
You heard footsteps coming towards you. You jumped off the step immediately. “Karky, what took you so-“ You stopped, seeing that it wasn’t your brother standing before you.
It was Vriska and her gang of gruesome high bloods.
You weren’t sure whether to
Nursery Rhymesmary had a little lamb
it's fleece as white as snow
it's mind so pure, so light and clean
just like the soul below.
father had a little girl
her soul was cold and black
she hates the lamb for being pure
and stabbed it in the back.
father had a troubled child
it's hands were cold and red
the blood of mary's little lamb
lies on my hands instead.
hannah has a straight jacket
its colour white as snow
and everywhere that hannah went
her meds were sure to go.
My GenerationThat Generation, their generation, our parents and the people on TV, they're always saying, "Children are our future, yes, it's your generation that really matters, you who are going to fix everything."
Fast forward to this generation, My Generation, and sure, we're going to fix everything. We're post-X, all of the drugs and none of the values; black kids shouting racist every time something doesn't go their way and white kids running to mommy and daddy so they don't have to deal with their own problems. Every kid beyond the age of seven has a cell phone laptop x-box, because who needs real friends when you have... Contacts? We're a soft generation, taking offense at every conceived wrong, but note this: only when it happens to Us. We defend our integrity and then run to the bathroom for a quick joint or injection, won't even try to half-ass anything, much less aim for perfection, that is, unless mom and dad say so. No one does anything for themselves anymore, everything