Arts + Entertainment
The central nexus for all things film, gaming, art, and music.
Inner City Living
The bad thing about summer, Is all the drive-by shootings. The good thing about winter, Is everyone is too cold to load a gun?
Amanda ZylstraPublished 7 years ago in PoetsDad
I used to look up to you with all the stars in my blue eyes, the very ones you gave me. Tell me, what did I do to make you hate me?
Kaitlyn MarquettePublished 7 years ago in PoetsHow To Build a Grammaton Cleric in the Pathfinder RPG
The future is at peace. A place of prosperity, where all are cared for, and where each individual has a purpose. From old men to small children, everyone works to maintain the glory of their great society. Libria is a cold place, though, and despite its name, is a place of servitude. A place where emotion is a crime, and where every commission of sense offense is hunted down by the unfeeling warrior monks of the Tetragrammaton.
Neal LitherlandPublished 7 years ago in GamersLines Composed at Thirty Thousand Feet
I fly, and learn the meaning of delight: to taste rich wonder, edged with tang of dread as hills fold down to flatness from this height.
Galadriel CoffeenPublished 7 years ago in PoetsWith Each Breathing Desire
Incense blazing trails of clear white answers; guidance. She takes in the scent of everyday lies and confusion — left dry, drained and looking blankly into a future forward. Another night passes, replenished from worldly toxicity; she does wonder, from every time from beyond and under: 'Will I survive another chain of flesh or is this a blessing in disguise that's about to be uncovered?' — questions only the clouds would answer.
Philip von GravePublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Influence of Black Music
On August 24, I came across a music documentary called Bad Rap on Netflix, and it’s about young Asian-American rappers striving for success in the entertainment world of hip-hop music.
Darryl C. RichiePublished 7 years ago in BeatChemical Imbalances
Chemical imbalances rule her mind. Her mind is a prison filled with snakes and vines. Only she can cut the vines away from her foggy eyes.
Amanda ZylstraPublished 7 years ago in PoetsTransformation
A feeling of emptiness deep inside, like a dark place, an endless black hole. Where everything once lived in the mind, now turns into a dying soul.
Earth AngelPublished 7 years ago in Poets