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  • Showing only topics in ~creative with the tag "death". Back to normal view / Search all groups
    1. boats. (or, Kintsugi Bitch.)

      I was a kintsugi bitch A dull, forgotten, broken pot And then you fixed me up . You lined me with your own dweomercrafted brand of gold Lac, Mel, et Saccharum . And when you’d starve me for...

      I was a kintsugi bitch

      A dull, forgotten, broken pot

      And then you fixed me up

      .

      You lined me with your own

      dweomercrafted brand of gold

      Lac, Mel, et Saccharum

      .

      And when you’d starve me for attention,

      Fed me more from your breast

      Til you filled me up

      .

      And then I’d look you in the eyes

      Sugar broiling in the stomach

      Am I pretty now

      ..

      Lost, full, and quite ignored

      When you had leapt onto the floor

      And said we’ve got to go

      .

      I grabbed your hand and followed blind

      My stomach churned I lagged behind

      You were the love I know

      .

      You said we’re going to the sea

      My dear you’ll spend a life with me

      We’ll make the waves a home

      .

      And I smiled ear to ear

      Cheeks were blushing like a deer

      Am I pretty now

      ..

      And then we made it to the bay

      quickly climbed into a boat

      They never have to know

      .

      We headed south for centuries

      They cannot take the memories

      I never hunger now

      .

      And after weeks of solitude

      A stranger came into the view

      There was another boat

      .

      My stomach burned, concerned,

      Not a soul had stood astern

      You produced a rope

      ..

      You gave a gentle kiss

      And slid the twine across my wrists

      And tied them into knots

      Dipped my legs into the water

      Either hand tied either helm

      Stretched into a cross

      I looked up at you in fear

      Just to see you’ve disappeared

      I started crying out.

      My stomach burned under the water

      And the sun was getting hotter

      And I’m all alone.

      I pleased come to feed me

      Don’t leave me weak, depleting

      I got no response.

      The fish were getting curious

      Flies buzzed something furious

      They knew what I did not

      That if you leave out milk and honey

      In the heat, in weather sunny,

      It’ll start to rot.

      .

      Months had passed in sickly motion

      Head leaned back, my eyes were open

      I died long ago.

      The bugs ate at my open mouth

      My skin was yellow, wrought with drought

      My throat housed a mold

      The waters smelled of sulfate

      As the serpents ate my stomach ache

      My blood has washed away

      The rope gave up on hope and

      Threw my purple, molten corpse into the ocean

      Am I pretty now?

      .

      .

      .

      5 votes
    2. metaphysical sigh.

      one day i will die one day so will you. the pictures on the wall will end up in the trash or old and tattered in an attic. our greatest of great-grandkids won't know our faces or how deeply we...

      one day

      i will die

      one day

      so will you.

      the pictures on the wall

      will end up in the trash

      or old and tattered

      in an attic.

      our greatest of great-grandkids

      won't know our faces or

      how deeply we were saddened

      to never see them grow

      to never learn the world they know

      to never speak their modern language

      or watch the trees around them

      grow.

      for we'll be dead in the ground

      and we'll never hear a sound

      for what comes next ain't only silence

      it ain't blood and it ain't violence

      it just

      ain't.

      so for now we're killing time perhaps

      we'll get laid or

      learn to paint.

      but in the end, it all goes out

      into the trash

      into the dust

      and rest assured

      into the ground.

      .

      if you choose to abuse me

      i'd rather hear threats for ever than

      hear no sound.

      because if you're still here to hurt me

      i can say that someone

      stuck around.

      .

      .

      .

      before i'm buried in the ground.

      9 votes
    3. music.

      bishop. tw: death i remember the day that they died. you called me at work in the middle of my shift shooken up, you wailed and cried you were hours away divorce was on the horizon your mother she...

      bishop.

      tw: death


      i remember the day that they died.
      you called me at work in the
      middle of my shift shooken up,
      you wailed and cried
      you were hours away
      divorce was on the horizon
      your mother
      she went to get the last of her things
      brothers in tow, each under her wings
      wanting to grab their toys, their cars,
      living in an apartment, left the trampoline

      the pool's mostly empty now, and green.

      i was always taught that ghosts scream
      that any haunted house is a broken record
      out of a low-budget horror scene
      blood on the walls, ripped at the seams,
      what they never tell you in the movies
      is that the real scare is going to the house
      six months later and finding it empty

      and silent.

      all that's left is the memory of the violent
      no one left to water the yard
      grass is yellow, in the garden
      wilted violets
      and the paintings still hang on the walls.
      the lamp is still there on the nightstand
      the pots and pans are still in the kitchen
      the paper is still on the desk
      everything is still where it should be
      every item right where it was left
      except this sudden void in your soul
      and the unending feeling of being depressed
      and lost,

      scared

      a lost lamb in a land once shared
      a home where you would draw or write
      and now all that's left is light
      flittering in through the windows
      that just feels so out of place
      paintings on the floor covering up
      the holes where the bullets laid
      open casket you broke down
      at the sight of his little face

      god what a fucking monster

      two years now since the day you lost her
      and i have no idea how you are.
      i took it upon myself to watch over you, a foster
      and hoped to show you real love after this imposter
      came into your life and ripped it in pieces
      with this targeted hatred and ceaseless screaming
      god if i could go back in time.

      even still now i wish to trade their lives for mine

      even if it just meant another day,
      maybe one last time for you to
      share a smile or say goodbye
      to make peace and hug your mom
      or read harry potter to your brothers here
      in person and not occasionally from beyond
      the grave that plays that same god-fucking-forsaken
      song as the house does when you visit.

      silence.

      why dont they play music in the graveyards.

      why dont they play music in the graveyards.

      7 votes
    4. Winter poem

      A little pretext. I wrote this poem in november 2017, and I slightly improved it today. I enjoy creating stories and poems are a way that I did not try much before. I don't know much about it,...

      A little pretext. I wrote this poem in november 2017, and I slightly improved it today. I enjoy creating stories and poems are a way that I did not try much before. I don't know much about it, except the few things I learned in school and i can't remember most of it. Also english is my second language and there might be some words that don't fit in.
      The changes in lines and rythm are intended to match the story.
      If this does not meet the high-quality content and discussion and therefore doesn't fit in with ~, let me know and I will remove it.

      To stop my rambling: Feel free to leave criticism. I plan to make poetry my hobby so any tips, comments, feedback and thoughts are appreciated.

      Somewhere,
      deep in the wild
      Layed there,
      Cold a little child.
      
      It wasn't very long ago,
      The rotten did not show,
      All consuming deafening silence,
      Pierced only by crows crying violent.
      
      What happened here?
      She ran from fear.
      To escape the grasp,
      Of the ones she hold dear.
      
      One soul has passed before her,
      Taking with his life,
      The only thing she ever strived
      Her mother, father and her brother
      Two of these caused the disaster.
      
      It began with a fight,
      In a cold winter night,
      Snow falling lightly,
      And the ice growing wildly.
      
      Suddenly the moment
      when all seemed to fly
      Death was potent
      Coming in the blink of an eye.
      
      Crushed by the car's roof,
      Not needing any more proof.
      The little boy left,
      She cried over his death
      
      Sad things passed
      and bad will follow.
      To escape the sorrow
      Two chose their paths
      
      Alcohol in mornings and nights,
      Followed by overbearing fights,
      Inbetween this shit
      Was one little kid
      
      Treated like air,
      It was just not fair
      Her family's break,
      Was the last thing she could take
      
      She ran into the woods,
      Only on foot.
      Soon she lost her trail
      And soon after she wailed.
      
      In her last thoughts
      she met her god.
      Looked him deep in the eye
      And pierced him with a knive
      
      Somewhere,
      deep in the wild
      Layed there,
      Cold a little child.
      
      

      Edit: Formatting mistakes

      17 votes