They're all different,
But they mean the same.
A simple little greeting,That can change everything.
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The same word,
Spoken in different ways.
Yet with the common sorrow,
A parting until the morrow.
Are You Awake?Alice darling,
It's time to get up.
Wake up little sleepy head,
You fell asleep on my lap.
It's time for tea Alice,
I finished your lesson,
The book was read and closed,
While you were off in your dreams.
Was it lovely Alice?
So content in your sleep you were,
Barely a peep or snore from your lips,
Till those silly leaves fell on you.
Come along dear Alice,
There is no time for sleeping now,
Oh look over there sweet sister,
A little white rabbit it poking out of a hole!
Why do you grin so Alice,
Do you know that little hare?
On yes ask a silly question,
A raven is nothing like a writing desk.
Are you sure you're awake Alice,
Opened your eyes,
Stepped out of your dreams,
And into the living world?
Are you ever awake Alice?
DreamDon't wake me up,
Leave me here in my wonderland,
Among the silly cards,
And chaotic tea parties.
Let me sleep longer,
My jabberwocky is not destroyed,
The croquet game is not finished,
And I only have the grin of the Cheshire Cat.
I am still tired,
Of the realities of being awake,
Of the pain of losing myself
To the monotone world.
Don't wake me from my wonderland.
Just Hold MeHold me, softly
Tight against you,
To hear your heartbeat.
Let me bury my head,
In your chest.
To dissemble my horrible,
Just run your fingers,
Through my hair.
And whisper sweet nothing's,
Into my ear.
I just want you to be there,
And hold me,
When everything in the world,
Why A Head?Tell me,
O Red Queen of Wonderland,
Answer me this,
A simple question.
Why a head?
You shout so often,
"Off with his head!",
Or her's if it is so.
Why a head?
What is so special about it?
That silly thing with hair,
Carrying our eyes and ears,
And foolish mouths.
Why a head?
Is it so easy to cut off?
I would think not.
A spinal cord is attached,
And it makes quite a bloody mess.
Why a head?
Are you scared of our thoughts?
Our true feelings about you?
Deep within our conscious,
Waiting for a chance to lash out.
Why a head?
I asked that question,
Yet knew the answer.
We all fear our deepest thoughts,
Hidden in little cages.
Why a head?
Silly, foolish Queen,
Cutting the head won't stop the thoughts,
They're in all of us,
Waiting for the chance to strike.
Why not a head?
Don't Give InDon't forget to remember,
All that you have been.
The past is a part of you,
And will never disappear.
But never forget something else,
Something greater than the past,
That time does not stop or rest,
And you have so much more to be.
So don't give into the anger,
Into the pain and tears,
I've seen you pull through worse,
And you will survive this.
To Ask A Boy To A DanceI watched from afar,
To see if you were going.
Questioning grinning friends,
If you had a date.
I worked up the courage for weeks,
Just to bring it up.
At lunch we sat side by side,
Talking video games and making fun of teachers,
But never the dance.
So innocently my friend brings it up,
Grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
I blush to my ears,
Terrified of your answer.
My heart skips a beat,
Should I ask?
My friend nudges me slightly,
And I fumbled the question,
"D-do you want to go with me?"
I was shaking,
Scared you would laugh,
Call me weird,
And think it was a joke.
But you just smiled,
That perfect smile,
That makes your eyes glow.
Then you said the best word,
To Be HappyEnglish class. For some it is heaven, for others it's hell and for even more it is just another class. For me it depends on the teacher. I have a very bad history with English teachers. I'm inherently lazy but I would pass tests with flying colors. It drove them nuts. My expectations were not that much higher involving this teacher.
I knew no one in my class, all of my friends were in honors classes but I was in a lower class. It was only the second day of school and we were suppose to get up front with three objects to describe us and what we love. Several had already gone up by the time my name was pulled from the hat.
I stood up, nervous. I'm a dreamer not a speaker, I'm silent not loud. Obviously I'm worried how this assignment will go. The teacher smiles, giving me the encouragement I needed to start speaking.
I described my necklace, with its special tie between my Mother and I. I told about my published works in a book I brought with me. I even told the story of my old teddy bea
Down I FallHelp me please,
I'm falling down,
Down and down,
This rabbit hole.
I tried to catch myself,
Clutching at the walls,
Instead it just bled my hands,
And pushed me on to descend.
What awaits at the bottom,
I fear to even think.
Could it be a room of doors,
Or my fateful end?
Yet still here I fall,
Waiting with my bloody hands,
Tears rising up above,
Moving to fast for them to fall.
Can anyone help me,
Grab a poor hand,
And slow my descent,
Or at least fall with me.
I don't wish to be alone.
WinterWelcome to the wasteland of wishful wonders––
icy and wet,
freezing all woes,
in a web of frozen "what if's".
What a wonderful way to spend a whimsical winter––
White rain weeps––
coating wood and freezing water.
Wooly clothes worn for waltzing wind––
Cold walls, wishing for warmth––
Woken wolves wander in whitened woods––
Winter waits while Autumn wilts––
What will this wild winter withstand?
© Rocio Belinda Mendez 2013
My DestinyI'm a loner cause I dont trust.
I smile on the outside but dead on inside.
I have many weaknesses, but also strengths.
I wish someone would understand so I dont feel alone.
But everyone is clueless and Im left alone.
Maybe this is my destiny.
Maybe Im better off alone..
Always...Always in autumn,
the Spring -
The end of a worldAs I look out the window and see the clouds of smoke
People are leaving their house,
With their face drained of hope
Close by I see people crying,
In the distance I hear people screaming
The worst is happening,
Only this time we’re not dreaming
The faithful are gathering,
Holding hands and praying
The tainted are bargaining,
Taking anything that can be taken
The weak are jumping off buildings,
Leaving blood on the pavement
Large scale of suicides
Whether by knife, gun, or hanging
It’s anarchy out there
And it has only begun
I’m damned to the flames
Because my sins can’t be undone
She and Her WolfDearest sweet red
I will come for you, my lamb.
For our unkind fate to be fed,
The basket you hold is my jamb.
I will steal you as you smile, my pet.
To calm my growls you had once set.
Oh wanderer of the dim lit wood,
How you carry the weight of this sagging forest,
And my false pretense voice under that hood.
Let me sink my jaws again into you're quest.
Ride once more when I howl! Satisfy this thirst.
Let me see you grin....in fear, like you should have at first!
But you tore me, crooked soul of that lumber jack;
Away to the other side of damned life and luck.
My silent body you filled of stone; drowned back
To soil who raised the flowers I had asked you to pluck.
My love, beware!
I will always be by your side to scare.
Dikitten Okami Wolfirm Lupus
A.K.A Big Bad Wolf
Call of the VoidL’appel du vide
Concrete at the edge of my feet. Wind curls around my ankles. I sway on the knife edge of the roof, the unilluminated darkness whispering seductively into my ear.
The smell of salt burns my nostrils, and the wind draws tears from my eyes.
The waves lap against the cliff, gently wetting the jagged rocks that I saw earlier, when the last tinges of the red sun faded away. It would be so easy, just to take a step, answer that call and
Embraced by the water, and the rocks. All the problems, the stress, the pain, everything that is pressing against me would bleed out into the sea. The simplicity of it, of walking away and just
About everything. Never having to make another decision. Never hurting another person. Never remembering the damage I’ve wrought, the blood on my hands.
It calls to me. Who am I to not answer its call? It has offered me the answers I seek.
The call of the void.
The Tolling of MemoryDo you remember me?
Remember the days we spent?
The nights we laughed?
Do you remember me?
The countless cars we watched,
The emotion we poured as the rain fell around us?
I remember you.
The closeness we felt. We were in sync.
We understood each other. Like no one else.
We broke each others hearts.
You pushed me off the edge of the cliff,
and snapped that last link of the chain.
You're so far away.
I can see that you've grown. Grown away from me.
But it is a gift to see your smile.
Close in proximity, but distant in friendship.
I'll keep you in my treasure-box, and I'll try to reforge the chain.
But maybe that's what we should be.
A memory and a photograph.
Twist of your SmileWhat I would give to see the twist of your smile,
Or the warm glow in your eyes,
But what we had is now defiled,
From the friendship which has malformed into a lie...
The day tomorrow died.That fateful day in June did not seem out of the ordinary at all.
I woke up to the smell of freshly made coffee, and tip-toed downstairs to surprise my wife in the kitchen, making breakfast. I wrapped my arms around her waist and buried my face in her still damp hair, breathing in her fragrance mixing with that of the coffee.
“Good morning, sleepyhead. Your breakfast is almost ready!”
She smiled at me and turned her head to kiss me before ushering me to the kitchen table. I gratefully grabbed the mug she gave me, and greedily inhaled the smell wafting from it.
Nothing beats the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning!
Apart, maybe, from the scent of my wonderful wife, and the little bundle of joy which is my daughter.
I could feel her tugging at my arm, and put my mug down to lift her up. Poor dear still looked so sleepy and leaned against my chest, drowsing.
“Good morning little bunny, still tired, hm?”
She nodded and yawned, rubbing her chubby little han
A two part bit of prose I wrote involving the words 'Hello' and 'Goodbye'.
Hello © Hidden-Behind-A-Book
on old sanzu - absolutely true fictionlast fall i stole my friend down by the tama river. we sang. we danced. we skipped dead fish like rocks and watched them get swallowed by the undertow. we got sick off of bad chinese food and went skinny-dipping and then a week later she drowned herself.
her uncle was a yakuza, i think, but he really just wanted to be al pacino or something. anyway, she loved him a lot. maybe that’s why she went down the way she went down; cement shoes. not real cement, but it was the same idea. she had two cloth bags with yellow-painted cinderblocks inside, and they were tied to her ankles like the prisoners’ chains from o brother where art thou.
in my mind’s eye i can see her, limping dreadfully close to the edge of the current, her left hand gripping at her breasts through a loose t-shirt. kneeling by the wastelands, elbows in the gravel, crawling forward out into the water. angry like a dermis under wool, all teeth and salt and sand. sleepy, submissive, sublimated.
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