Arts + Entertainment
The central nexus for all things film, gaming, art, and music.
Conditional Love
I wear my father's wedding ring, not as a promise to be kept, nor a reminder of idyllic familial love, but as all the things I never want to be,
Amanda FrazierPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Meaning of Colour
When you look at old photographs They are colourless Bland Full of hopelessness No emotions are conveyed The world seems lonely
Arian MasonPublished 7 years ago in PoetsYou in the Night
It's during the nightIt's always the night...She speaks to meBarely answering me whenever I ask somethingI ask for youIt's always youBut you don't speak to meAt allI try to reach for youBut you run and you keep runningSo why do I have a feeling that you want to stay?It's late in the night nowAnd I wish you were hereBut you're not, as usualSo I'll wait for tomorrow, and early in the morningI will beg that, tomorrow's night, you'll come this time
Irina SofiaPublished 7 years ago in PoetsDisney Gets Ready to Stream the Magic Kingdom
Technology has blown a hole in the traditional entertainment business model. That’s been true for some time — at least since 2007 when Netflix vastly reduced its position in the DVD rental business and committed to streaming content directly to consumers. Now, Disney, the whale in the waters of entertainment content, has announced plans to get into the streaming game.
Michael Eric RossPublished 7 years ago in GeeksNuclear Lovers
When the bomb starts to fall, Plummeting towards the Earth Remember what you whispered In my ear the night before. As it explodes and the air
LJ ChaplinPublished 7 years ago in PoetsA Bittersweet Duet
-Me Come... Come closer… Take me as your prey. Engulf me with your darkness. My Muse, and nemesis, my fall and my rebirth
Miguel MeloPublished 7 years ago in PoetsTwo People
Two people in my world, Two people do not sleep. Two who don't know what is fatigue, The ones who are my life,all my life.
Arzun NasufovaPublished 7 years ago in PoetsHidden Place
Leaves turn to flame as summer is forgotten. Autumn spreads its power through the veins of trees. He wanders as a ghost, pushed along in a breeze.
Matas ZenkeviciusPublished 7 years ago in Poets