Arts + Entertainment
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Cullen's Confession
“Cullen's Confession” There was an eclipse of the new moon in the twilight. Hours before the breaking dawn. Before our lips even touched it felt right...
Steven BaldryPublished 7 years ago in PoetsLucy
I see life in a maze, haunted or just plain. Came across a fairytale, but she flew away. I haven't seen her since, since then, things don't make sense. Maybe a dollar or two, so chill "why you hollering, boo?" Kicked off my shoes and start hollering, too. I see life in a maze, running, or walking through. I wonder how my coffin feels... Do you? Woody, sandy, or does it smell like the color blue? Who knows, and who knew? Life's a puzzle that doesn't stay together, no glue... I've seen and flown through most of you, I don't want to laugh no need to make a joke of you. No joker here, all love and mixed faces, no poker here. Don't provoke the man that never spoke. Feeling the sight and smelling your fear. The devil is coming... I think he's here. No dramatics, just carefully planned tactics hard as a dump truck, sharper then a cactus. All truths here, no acting. This'll actually happen. He will find you with your family and upon one of them you're smacking. He'll find you in deep sleep or when you're napping, in your favorite place to eat after you made a mess a started dabbing your napkin. He will find you in heaven skipping around, he'll find you in hell adopting a puppy from a pound. He'll be there while you're spending cash or pounds. No worries beautiful people, he's never been found. Dyslexic, but don't put me out for the count. I can't afford it, but don't say I can't amount. You have 28 grams... Well I have an ounce. You pounded, I pounced. I float, you fly. You shed tears, I cry. You have sliding glasses, I have doors. No matter how less, no matter how more, this world is ours... Your favorite store. - JOSH
Case
Presswick train station was old, far removed from the ones you'd see in the big cities today. The white paintwork on the platform walls was chipped and cracked, whilst the damp stench of the local sewer works lingered in the air. The station inhabited a town that looked like a lot of other small towns, though if you dug deep enough you would find a wealth of dark stories buried beneath. Stories of an evil surrounding the old cotton mill and the faces of the dead at the bottom of the local swimming baths. These are the tales that were passed down from parents to their children without hard evidence and truth. You'd be forgiven for thinking the worse of the town that it inhabited. After all, this was a place that had seen better and busier times, before the days of industry and holiday makers disappeared and people discovered more exciting climates. You'd find no designer clothes shops or coffee houses here. This was a place that people used in order to vacate the town for work and brighter places. No-one came to this place unless it was absolutely necessary and in spite of social media and all those town summer campaigns, it had been a long time since anyone had made the decision to holiday in a place such as this.
Adam BlaizePublished 7 years ago in HorrorMother Earth
I walk among the mixed trees in the small, shady forest. The Earth is covered in snappy, old sticks and crunchy leaves that call to me, “Come sit, and hear our stories”
Chahat SharmaPublished 7 years ago in PoetsPenny Poems: Cents
I think an economy makes ¢s. We want money. Money makes ¢s Economies work all around the idea of ¢s. Economies, themselves, just make ¢s
Best Superhero Halloween Costumes
When it comes to costume searching for Halloween, it can actually be a big pain, especially if you don't exactly know what to dress up as. And you don't want to show up to a Halloween party being the only one who didn't dress up again. So, you search and search through stores to find out which costume best suits you. Eventually, you give up and show up to the party with blood all over yourself... Don't do that.
Jacqueline HanikehPublished 7 years ago in GeeksSandcastles
The heat. Stifling. Wilting my memory under the weight of it. It was bright even before I woke. I knew it from the orange sheen glowing radiant through shut lids, and from the flood of blindness as they parted.
Michael Paul MichaudPublished 7 years ago in PoetsBecause I (Don't) Love You
As I closed my eyes I could hear the raindrops sing, I could hear the wind whistling “it’s going to be okay” “it’s all over now”
Amanda ClaudiaPublished 7 years ago in Poets