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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    And I’m dancing with a lion And your smile is a sunrise And I can’t look away from your pearls And my eyes are dazzled by your golden coat And I thank God for music And I thank the Devil for dancing And we share a thought: “I’m glad I’m not epileptic.” And we laugh drip, drip And...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I am dead Or will be soon My toes are numb And my sight fades I did not expect the blade That would plunge into my chest Penetrating flesh, shattering bone Cold as ice, hot like fire The wound seeps a river of my blood As I lay dying I am dead And will thus be forgotten I am a soldier ...
  • Reviews > Music Reviews
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    I first experienced the magic of The Airborne Toxic Event on a ride home one day. My mom and I were sitting in our car and suddenly the sound of a symphony playing a dark melody came streaming through the speakers. As the orchestra faded, a single guitar playing a series of repeated notes like littl...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    First, you must enter the library, pausing a bit as the sliding doors hiss open, thus leaving you with a sense that you’ve entered the Enterprise. The hum of voices at the checkout counter will be the first thing you hear. You walk through the detectors with a mix of confidence that you are not in...
  • Opinion > Love / Relationships
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    Teenage love is a real thing. I mean, I’ve been in love with the same guy for two weeks and we’ve talked maybe three and a half times. It was really real, you know, discussing such deep topics as the weather, how much the basketball team sucks, and debating whether or not the nacho cheese tastes...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    You invited me over to watch anime. It’s your favorite show, I guess. We’ve been leaning up against your bed with a couple of inches of space between us for over two hours. I wonder what your parents think, hearing us laughing, shrieking, angrily shouting, our entranced silence. It must be stran...
  • Fiction > Fan Fiction
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    “Albert Peterson,” the secretary drawled in a New Jersey accent. “Albert Peterson.” Albert sprang from his seat like a nervous squirrel and scurried to the desk where the bored secretary lurked behind her desk. She welcomed him to the Literary and Film Character’s Employment Office and ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    1 – Oh. My. Gawd. 2 – I think you’re looking. 3 – Please, please, please. 4 – Your head’s tilted toward me, right? 5 – You’re looking at me, I’m sure of it. 6 – Your eyes are so pretty. 7 – I think I told you that once. 8 – Or maybe I dreamt it. 9 – Why aren’t you...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    I’m holding your brain in my hand. It’s warm and soft from when you took it from your pocket. A pocket composition notebook; black and white, dog-eared, well worn, crinkled. You’ve written words on the cover, but they are barely legible. Some of the pages are trying to escape, but I hold on ti...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    I’ve come to the pizza parlor so many times now, and yet he doesn’t even notice me sitting here, eating my ice cream ever so slowly, just to watch him filling orders. I’m not stalking him, I just have a crush. And who couldn’t? Those black skinny jeans, tight white t-shirt with a black peace...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    [The office is the size of a large bedroom. Shelves line the walls with books on medical subjects as well as some classics and poetry. A low table sits at the center of the room, surrounded by a burgundy couch and an off-white cushioned armchair. On the table is a vase of white roses. White light su...
  • Fiction > Fan Fiction
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    [Qui-Gon, Yoda, and boy Anakin walk on stage] Qui-Gon: [points at Anakin] He is the Chosen One. I wish to train him. Yoda: Cannot you. Full of fear, he is. [Darth Maul sprints onto the stage and stabs Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan enters.] Obi-Wan: NOOOOOOOOO!!!! [slashes Darth Maul in half] [kneels ...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    Speaker 1: This is my hand. Do you see it? It’s small. Imperfect. A callus on my middle finger from where my pencil rests. The edges dry so I get hangnails often. The fingers themselves are short and stubby, the nails rounded from the cutters. I wear rings because someone once told me, “You neve...
  • Fiction > Romance
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    No one said anything about falling in love. Not that anyone really would say something to me. I mean, people don’t normally talk to me. Why would they? I’m pretty sure I’m one step above invisible. They see me, I’m a body sitting in that chair, leaning against that wall, standing at the ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    music from the sky scurrying Pitter, Patter as a mouse through a field a rhythm without boundaries accents and staccatos here a crescendo as your heart takes hold beating and pounding as fire falls from heaven there the breath of the wind angering you into a tantrum From mother's cotton...
  • Opinion > Movies / Music / TV
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    Listening to popular music can be a good way to stay in touch with change in our culture. Many popular bands make it to the pop chart. They are heard on the radio, are seen on TV shows and on the internet. There are some major differences about these bands that make them either appealing or trash. S...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    One day passing; from deep within a Shadow Knight emerges enticing my loathing with its barbed wire lash; and with said weapon my foe shall be smote with lies. Two days passing; and from what Knight in reflection has given the b**** is a deserving gnash; a Knife's cut no more cleane...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    There are stories one can recount of roses in the deep escalating toward the light which burns with incandescence imparting the strength needed to rise beyond the gloomy hollow And when their petals soak in the torridity of this rubicund gyre it is like love drizzling from above in showe...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    I've missed you Did you miss me? The summer's been lonely And I've had no one to talk to People have asked me why I'm without friends I try not to answer I'll tell you if you want But it's a really sad tale I don't think I should I'll push you away if I repeat such sadness And I don't want...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    The days in the desert burn like a fire in the forest, The nights in this forest chill like a glacier pressing through the mountains, The mornings in the mountains soar like a hawk in the blooming sky, The evenings in the sky sparkle like thousands of eyes watching over....
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    It is silent Cold Too Cold Mother sleeps near Little Sister too Huddle close Need warmth Must have it So Cold And the silence... I awaken Must get up The cows need milking The chickens feeding Silence... I stand Pressing away my Mother's arm Tucking the blankets under my little ...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    An old man... He sits with feet propped up on a stool icy hands tucked beneath his thin quilted robe eyes half closed... So deeply in thought he sits that not even when Sorrow joins him is he roused to greet her... Realizing after a moment that he has a visitor he lifts his eyes to th...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    The story never goes just as we want it to We make our mistakes along the road And yet we have so far to go I feared I wouldn't reach the end But when I looked deep in your eyes I saw the story might truly begin Just as I wanted it to set out On this long and difficult path... There was trut...

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