Poems:bulletblue:Stories:bulletblue:everything that's not German
Intoxicated by Panthaleon, literature
Literature
Intoxicated
You are my Heroin
The only thing that keeps me going
my blood flowing
I drag myself through somber days
the grey maze
Only for the fleeting bliss
of your kiss
You are an Addiction
Blot out every other need
like a weed
You are my Luciferin
The anglerfish with luring glow
a fateful show
You make me Wander
Forbid me any hope of sleep
my soul to keep
You make me Wonder
Of things I never bore to dream
without your gleam
You are my Luciferase
The firefly in moonless night
a homing light
You are an Addition
Let me grasp the hidden world
life unfurled
You are my Heroine
The only thing worth fighting for
to the core
Hearten every stride I take
Holy crap and lookout, cuz here comes:
ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A CHALLENGE?!
In the immortal words of Rod Stewart “Every picture tells a story, don't it?” and in the immortal words of...um... some other guy “a picture is worth a thousand words”. Well, I'm dearly hoping I can get you guys to whip up at least 3,000 words worth of story-like writing inspired by my bloated and populous visual prompt, namely “Midnight Dynamite”.
Don't worry about using the title, just look at this Bosch-esque tangle of characters, setting, and stuff and think: what the hell is going on here? Who are those dudes? What's with that
Midnight's starlight shows the way
Hides the shadows and the dangers
Covers up the tears and scars;
To create a flawless perfection.
Perfection the dancer finds all time
When he risks to see his reflection.
The dancers perfection shows his challenge:
Stronger than stone, he is the chosen one.
Chosen by destiny's breath
Cursed to see what once will end
How crippled beauty dies in ashes
And all the peace that drowns in blood.
He's cursed to know about the horrors
That will keep terrorising during eternity.
Dancing on the edge between
Truth and beautiful, gentle lies
Between what has to happen
And everything what could become.
Between duties t
The wind's voice whispers
In the night's darkest hours.
My ears are closed,
My eyes are covered.
I'm hearing the wind's voice
Only with my open heart.
Wind brought messages
Wind brought change
The wind's voice is whispering
Words of hope into my heart.
My mind is running blind
Crashed against a wall
Again and again.
A perfect way to break
This wall is hard to find
But as long as I'm crashing
I'm still looking for the way.
The wind's voice whispers
In my heart, ignoring the mind,
Words of sanity and prudence.
But the wind's voice is wasted -
My heart can't be convinced
Not by rational reasons.
The wind's voice whispers
Reasonable words,
It was 1996 when I was born
on a peaceful winter day in snow
from the trees, all the leaves were torn
and I was eager to get everything to know
Some years later it was May
and the leaves grew on the trees
it was a lovely summer day
but from the pollen I would sneeze
I was twelve years now, at that time
and I knew a lot of things
but it was not enough to play the game
called life, and do it without wings
It was very hard to pay the fine
to be able to keep living
because my sadness would define
everything I could be giving
I didn’t have enough to give
I couldn’t get out of my maze
Not anymore I wanted to live
And now I’m l
Confession on the high seas by OoJitkaoO, literature
Literature
Confession on the high seas
Here we are,
Two broken souls.
You heal my wounds
Can I reach yours?
You always say
I'm not alone
But to be honest
I often feel so.
And when the moon
Is rising above
Our heads and hearts
I feel like being lost with you.
I don't know when
We left the beach
And why we entered
The open sea.
I just know
We were alone
In every storm
Together.
But to be honest
I don't want to go
Back to the beach,
I decided to drown.
And I know,
You want back,
But you don't know
I'd leave you then.
Here we are,
Two broken souls.
My healed wounds,
Still bleed inside.
Here we are,
Two broken souls.
You need me here
But I will go.
The nights we spend
Are in m
It's way too early
In the morning
When she wants me
To get up.
Traipsing through
My room and
Trying to ignore
The mirror.
The face is pale
Blue eyes but
red-rimmed and
Dark shadows below.
I didn't have
Much sleep last night,
Like every day
For years.
One, two spots
uncountable numbers
Of spots in my
pale face.
Red markings
Showing my
Imperfection to
Everyone.
She shouts my name;
It's barely twenty
Minutes past
Six o' clock.
Instead of answering,
I'm examining
My body;
I'm still naked.
I don't want to
Look down; I hate
What I see
When I look down.
She says
I could be
Beautiful if I
Just try to be.
But she doesn't know
The wa
A little point of colour
In a world
Full of dark and grey
A little child
With a smile on his face
Looking up to all the adult faces
But seeing nothing else
Than bitterness and empty eyes
And so his smile turned to dust
And he became one
With the world full of dark and grey