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We Are What We Repeatedly Do.I am laughter.
I am song.
I am deception.
I am wrong.
I am gossip.
I am shame.
I am anger.
I am pain.
I am kindness.
I am light.
I am goodness.
I am right.
I am envy.
I am sin.
I am hatred.
I am gin.
I am charity.
I am truth.
I am promise.
I am youth.
I am neglect.
I am dope.
I am progress.
I am hope.

Jenga Is a Dangerous Game

Oh, please don't use words like "forever" and "always".

I get a little dizzy when you say them,

And my careful, precarious stack of hopes could fall down at any minute.

Though I don't and do wish you wouldn't,

You build it up, nourish it, make it grow

Each time you are kind to me.

Add a block for every smile.

Cause my heart to fly, my soul to sing;

Make me want to dance with you until the music ends...

But please, don't use words like "forever".

I'm falling.

My tower is too tall, and I can't afford

To let it collapse on me, too.

Say Cheese.Hey, you can smile, right?
Go ahead. Smile for us.
If you don't, people will complain you're depressed and ask questions.
So, come on. Lift the corners of your mouth (like this, see?) into a curved line. There we go. Nice and sweet. Kind of like those kisses he used to give you.

Next, say you're fine. Add more artificiality if they don't believe you. Hold back tears.
When the worrisome inquirer finally gives up and leaves, hide all feelings that may prove problematic.

The next day, wake up.

Repeat.

WordsmithsTo all those who admire me, admire any author
(simply for being a lunatic which in all tongues is called a writer):
There is something you must understand.
These words are not ours.
We did not create them.
They simply sit, waiting quietly in the dusty wings of our brain.
We are the directors of the play, telling the words where they must go, what message they must give to the audience, what they must represent.
The words, so quiet and compliant,
Impact others if we know how to use them skillfully.
For we are just hoping you will enjoy the show.

Hopea little girl stands on the corner of
5th and main.
her shoes are tattered and torn
from the burden of service.
it's pouring rain, but she has an umbrella
(also quite a bit beat-up).

she looks up at the sky, raindrops splattering
on her face.
she wonders - as she has for a while - if any help will come.

but no, that's silly.
she's already seen too much
to believe in fairy tales.

the little girl searches the clouds a bit more,
then lets go of the umbrella.

the wind is so strong that immediately it's caught up and
carried away,
just like a balloon.

she sits down
and sighs,
almost as if
that was her very last one.

*Ideas we set in ink
Do not mirror reality.
No matter how hard we think,
Our words are not actuality.
In writing, all that one can do
Is wish upon an asterisk
And hope that wish comes true.

Leaden.Upon my mind, she weighs as lead
her face will never leave my head.
For when I close my eyes I see
the depths of hers come back to me.
I have not seen her recently
but my sight holds a memory.
Upon the lids of both my eyes
the image of her beauty lies.

SkyeShe was as blind and beautiful as her namesake,
Ever changing and evolving with the seasons of her mind.
She hid not a single emotion.
She always said what she was feeling.
Her face betrayed her, and she knew it not.
If you needed someone to talk to, she was there.
Always.
Every sensation experienced showed clear;
Even if you didn't want to see.

Sometimes you even forgot she was there.

She was calm, catastrophic, serene, stormy, heartbreaking, deep, confusing, ponderous, perfect, haunting, mysterious, amazing, inexplicable...

(And, of course, always nice to look at.)

ForgivenessUsed to have a bird.
Hated it; its name was Grudge.
Finally, we're free.

What it Isn't, What it Ain'tBeauty isn't makeup.
Beauty isn't paint.
Beauty isn't purchased.
Beauty isn't; it just ain't.

It's not a thing to be desired.
It comes all on its own.
Even if you have none, don't you worry:
Here is a secret not widely known.

Beauty isn't on the surface.
It's all on the inside.
This kind of pretty can't be faked,
Although many have tried.

It all depends: What's in your soul?
A princess or an ugly troll?
The qualities that you possess
(Like friendship, loyalty, truth, kindness)
Are what make you attractive.
Now go find your ever-after.

Dear SocietyPaint me over.
With your words, your rules, your regulations;
Your policies, contracts,your abominations.
Suffocate me.
With your lies, judgments, sins,infatuations;
Your hate, your order, your secret combinations.
Stifle creativity, unravel joy,
Throw around common sense
Like it's just a toy.
Redefine our limits, standards,
Color outside the lines.
You are in charge, not those who designed you,
So go ahead and polish 'til you shine.
Once you've gone and had your fun,
You'll be completely smooth.
Of course, it's better for everyone,
No ugly semblance of truth.
It'll be just as Montag said,
Nothing to bother us.
Nothing to h

Dog-Eared and FlimsyThis notebook has been a friend to me.
A good friend.
It is to me what Nick Carraway was to Gatsby:
A listener.
A comfort.
It is even a companion (of sorts),
One who sits quietly,
Waiting to listen to my many thoughts.
It is simply there for me, whenever I need it,
Asking nothing in return.
It is very precious to me.
It is my pride and joy.
Keep your modernized designer notebooks made of recycled paper -
I have this one.
It's as unique and aged as a mountain, and could never be replaced.
You may not understand our relationship,
But if you're a writer, you will.
Out of the pen spill the things of our soul,
With a little ink

Daring - Prologue "Which one of you dares to dream?"
This was the demand fired into the ancient hall, full of potential young witches and wizards. Seated on frigid, stony, benches, the pupils remained silent. Some had their heads bowed, ready for the end; others stared back silently in loud defiance; the rest looked anywhere, anywhere but me.
The deadly barrage of words resumed.
"Which one of you humans, worthless beings, dares to believe, think, imagine, aspire, inspire, hope, create! Which of you has started it? I know there is something different about you. I can see it in your eyes. Ohh, yes," he hissed, seething, flicking his snake tongue at them, in and out, in and out. "You are different from the others. I can smell it. I can practically feel it, radiating from you in foul, invisible waves!" he shouted, quivering with rage. "Which one of you is acting so rebellious, so unmanageable, so high abo

Of Lips and Flowers

You say "hello"
I smile at you
How am I doing? "Fine, you?"
"Me too."
"I brought you something."
You open your hands.
A token of spring shows me that
you understand.
"Goodbye, love"
Is whispered soft in my ear,
The kiss of a dove -
You are no longer near.
I raise the flower to my lips.
Forget-me-not
Its title quips.
Never, I think,
And my cheeks grow hot. ♥

Fleeting"Beautiful things, sunsets. I always have liked them myself. When I finally take the time to look out the window, around 9:00 at night, I smile almost in relief because of its beauty. The beautifully unobtainable colors and clouds -- I just wanted to wrap them around me in a soft, warm blanket of peace. I loved to sit on my front porch and just watch it from afar, always in awe and yearning, a bit. A sunset is a thing that could just slip right through your fingers if you let it. Then later, when you go out to see, there is nothing but gray cirrus clouds fogging up the horizon, the colors long since faded away, disappointed in that you have missed the show. And you feel...in a way...that you have failed them somehow.
I don't want that to be what happens to us. I know that it will if we let it. Let us put the past behind us. I will be waiting.
Sincerely,
Anne"
I folded the humble piece of college lined paper back in halves, along the so carefully made creases, where they belonged. I won

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More from ~theolivethief14

censorship (second attempt)cross out every rule-breaking word.
who are you to say words have to follow your petty rules, anyway?
just because you don't like it
or there is the possibility that someone else
might not?
that's trying to protect yourself from every germ because
(even though it's impossible to evade them all)
some of them are deadly.
what you fail to grasp
is that these words you're crossing out
were written that way to express someone's most
raw, fierce
emotions. opinions.
feelings.
but those don't mean a thing to you,
do they?

(only yours do.)

13. MisfortuneYou took the vow,
You said you would.
By all accounts,
Your word was good.
You loved me,
That much was clear.
And I loved you.
You know that, dear.
So please explain,
Why did you leave?
So much pain,
With no reprieve.
Did our love end?
Not on my side.
Was it pretend?
Or has it died?
Alli know, I'm
A single mom
With two young kids.
I miss you, Tom.

44. HateI hate your guts, Friedrick Nietzche.

Blue StarYou've grown too big to keep going like this
Though others supernova, you ignore, deny
Don't hear what I say; why can't you just resist
You're much too young, I don't want you to die
Blue star, blue star
You're burning up, furious
Blue star, blue star
Can't you see your time has come?
The end is near, you will dissolve
I cannot change your firm resolve
Blue star, blue star
You're burning up, furious...
Unless you cool, dear, you will not survive
The hydrogen is running low, oh no
You don't believe, you're scared; just stay alive
I care, but I can't help what you control
Only the good die young, that's what they say
I promise you, don't have to be this way
Only the good die young, that's what they say
I promise you, don't have to be this way
I promise you, don't have to...
Blue star, blue star
You're burning up, furious
Blue star, blue star
Don't you know that you're dying?
The end is here and you dissolve
I coul

UnableThere's nothing I hate more
Than being powerless.
You can't do
Absolutely
Anything
At all
And as the tears of frustration begin to fall
I know why they say "never say 'I can't'"
And as the sadness threatens to crush me
I know why the angel cries
I'm not mad at you
I'm mad at this
"Dad, that sucks."
I hate it.
Even Mumford & Sons can't help
Wanting to help and not having the strength, means, or permission
Is torture

11. MemoryOut of the blue
You come again.
The brook, the tree, the memory
Unbidden:
A sweet melody
That wafts along my inner ear
I simply
cannot
bear to hear.
And when I, lone, attempt to sleep
My daughter questions
why
I weep.

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Submitted: February 8
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tranquil thursday

by ~theolivethief14, Feb 8, 2013, 1:51:19 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Haiku & Eastern

rainy day. cocoa.

small, warm coffee shop. a book.

current status: peace.

tranquil thursdayby ~theolivethief14

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Haiku & Eastern

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*xtcgm Mar 26, 2013

Like it!

~theolivethief14 Mar 26, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Thanks, I'm glad! n_n

~chancerox Feb 9, 2013 Hobbyist Digital Artist

wish i had more days like this

~theolivethief14 Feb 9, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Me too

~TopHatBigPencil Feb 9, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Aww! I feel the warm fuzzies!

~theolivethief14 Feb 9, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Me too n_n

~cddmanful Feb 8, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Totally love such a picture! Thanks--aahhhhh.......(^_^)

~theolivethief14 Feb 8, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

You're welcome! ^__^ I mostly wrote this for me. I knew I was going to finish up the Mallory story today and I needed something positive and refreshing. n_n

~cddmanful Feb 8, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Yeah--I just got thru reading that--what a sad story! No wonder she lost her mind

This is a good refreshment--should have read them in the opposite order.....

~theolivethief14 Feb 8, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Yeah T.T
Perhaps~

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