Arts + Entertainment
The central nexus for all things film, gaming, art, and music.
Conformity
Sever my wings as I'm falling from grace, Losing control and gaining disgrace, I'm not a person and I'm barely a face, Hearts put aside and thorns in their place.
Bria HutchisonPublished 7 years ago in PoetsTwilight's Secrets
For the gentle wind on the seventh heaven A traveler came by silently goes invisibly line From the richest heart hidden the fire angers
E. NATASHAPublished 7 years ago in PoetsBreathless
Even in the best of days, the stress you take can fade away, Dangerous effects leave you breathless at best, capturing your heart and putting you to test,
Kharma ScribblesPublished 7 years ago in PoetsWe Are America
we are America Where are you, America? Where is the dream that brought the endless, teeming masses to your shore? Where is the lamp you lit and held beside the golden door?
Bill DavidsonPublished 7 years ago in PoetsStruggles
It isn't left, and it isn't right. After all of this time, didn't you know she'd be alright? Whether in fair weather whether in rain.
Emily MastenPublished 7 years ago in PoetsAn Ode to the Donkey Den
Welcome to the Donkey Den, Of my many, many homes Where 24 loving cats And the six dogs do roam Where the gun-slinging sheriff
Nova MaddonPublished 7 years ago in PoetsLife Roulette
No one sees me. I throw up my hood over my head, and turn the world off and my headphones on. I glide through the crowds like a specter on a cold and eerie night. Nameless faces pass by, the drums of death beat on and on in my head. Icy rain pelts us all. The air itself is as cold and stiff as a frozen corpse, and they all rot away. The clock runs forward to 1 am. The other mindless ghosts have left the sidewalks in search of shelter. But I still walk. I'm never sure what it is I am doing. I look for something that cannot be found. I hunt for a beast that cannot be killed, but I refuse to give up. In school they tell us we can do anything, but life says otherwise. Life loves you while you are young. And then, like a manipulative succubus, life throws you down, stomps the air out of your chest and drowns you in the responsibilities and expectations of adulthood. We don't all make it. Many fail. Some don't even try. And then there are the fallen angels who end it themselves. They feel more than the rest. Life has been particularly spiteful towards them. They long for the feeling of bliss and darkness. They long for death, and sometimes, they get it. Whether it's in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey, or a quick bit of lead to the brain. The razors cut deep, the blood runs into the overflowing tub. The rope tightens. We can't handle it. This world is too much, too cruel, too angry and hateful. We are a people divided, and it kills no one but ourselves.
antonio rizzoPublished 7 years ago in Poets'Fuller House' and the Nostalgia Factor
I grew up watching Full House late at night on Nickelodeon. I would sit in front of the television with my parents, and my mom would croon over Uncle Jesse while my dad worked on his computer. I would wish I lived in San Francisco in the 80s and 90s and I would be jealous of how large and close-knit their family was. Despite the cheesy music that played during the shows cyclic emotional moments, I would continue watching. The show in itself was a huge part of my childhood.
cassidy bowenPublished 7 years ago in Geeks