Feb 20
audio 0 comments challenge: Song

Lily By Alan Walker, Summary By PandaStoriez

This is not my song, this is Lily by Alan Walker

Lily was little girl
Afraid of the big, wide world
She grew up
Within her castle walls

Uh oh~

Now and then she tried to run
And then on the night with the setting sun
She went in the woods away
So afraid,
All alone

They warned her,
"Don't go there!" 
"Theres creatures, who are hiding in the dark!"
Then something
Came creeping 
It warned her,

Don't you worry just,
Follow everywhere I go
Top over the mountains and valley low
Give you everything you've been dreaming of
Just let me in

Oh~

Everything you wantin' gotta be the magic story you've been told
And you'll safe under my control
Just let me in

Oh~



Just let me in

Oh~

She knew she was hypnotized
And walking on cold, thin ice
Then it broke,
Feb 03

Meeting

One moment
One oppertunitity
A simple eye connection
And secret looks at the ground
A bag spilling with coins
Bills 
Faces glaring up at us
Screaming take me.
But this money comes with a price
We both know that.
Take the money 
Pay the price
And you're filthy rich.
In money anyway.
Our hands touch on the bag
A thick canvas sack
Rough under our fingertips
Take the money
In that moment our eyes meet
A train whistles
We stand up and walk away.
Our heel clicks fading into the distance, 
Leaving behind an undesirable canvas sack

 
Feb 03

Elemental

They say that
He was the water
And she was the fire
But his riptides overcame her
And buried her flame.
She was caught in his wild storms
And tossed around like a rag doll.
She used to be fierce 
But now she is soggy
And flexible like a rubber band.
He scattered her ashes
Like seed to a starving bird,
His dark eyes flashing with a thousand storms.
He was the water
And she was the fire
But then she grabbed hold of the wind
And whisked him away.


 
Dec 23

Forgotten Friendship

A charcoal sketch of long ago
Our footprints faded in the snow.
The smell of honey always stays
A reminder of the far off days,
When we liked each other
Sister from another mother.
Music you played I can't delete
It continues on in my heartbeat.
I know I should say adieu
And start letting go of you,
But I can't bear to break your heart of glass
So I guess this lie will forever last.
We are doomed to be together I suppose
Just like the thorn and wild rose.
Someday I'll tell you how I feel
Our movie reaching the end of its reel.
But untill that time
Though our friendship is sublime
I"ll look into your starry eyes
And hope the rain will leave the skies.


 
Dec 18

And I Breathe (SONG)

And as we grasp the burning fire
Our lungs are exhaled into sparks as we drift higher
The poison burning from our lips
Struggling for a bitter grip
And I breathe
And I breathe
You are the mother of my wounds
You are the lover of my accusations
You take the ripples from my life
And put the ripples in this poison patience
And I breathe 
And I breathe
Push through the caverns with a lighter
That evermore will bring me dark
If I keep looking
We will fall into the binding 
The forest crumbles from my spark
And I breathe 
And I breathe
You are the mother of my wounds
You are the lover of my accusations
You take the ripples from my life
And put the ripples in this poison patience
And we breathe
And we breathe
And we breathe

Dec 12

A day in the Life of a drop.

Our story begins in the bare forests of Vermont, with me. One water molecule among hundreds of others, formed together as a snowflake that is lighter than a feather. It is a wind forsaken day, and the leaf I sit upon doesn’t stir, though it is dipped low to the ground with the weight of many others like myself. Snow covers the landscape in a never ending blanket. And then slowly, as if in a dream, we watch as white turns to green, bringing with it the melty warmth of spring. The nearby river swells with runoff, and as I drop to the ground, now unfrozen and swift, I feel certain I will be joining it soon. But wait! In front of me.. Something white.. I’m stuck to its sides and become slowly absorbed. Roots. As I travel through the plant, other collected molecules beside me are turned into nutrients, but I find my way to the pores at the top of the leaf, and begin transpiring to the sky above.
Audio download:
Rose-Story-Drop.wav
Dec 11

A moment of quiet in the locker room

One shoe off
then the other.

Quiet besides the
rhythmic replacement of clothing
fabric against my skin.
The lights don’t buzz
the sink doesn’t drip
for once
my day is quiet as
nights on Inis Mor
I the only one awake
after
Good Will Hunting was over
and we in our corner room were tucked in.
Me, climbing out of bed
socked feet padding
to the window
and the breeze was
like
Cape Cod
like
my grandmother
my childhood
cookies from boxed mix
and books from eight cousins.

I existed in many places suddenly
in the picture frame on my mantle
in the surf at the bay
in that quiet little room
in my sister’s heart
in the empty locker room after class
in my memories
as I unmade 
and then
made
myself again
taking off one version to
be another. 

One shoe
then the other.
Dec 07
Dubz's picture

light finder

I traveled
deep into the earth
foraging my way
to the devils hearth
slipping
on the gravely stones 
taking in the faded bones
in that hellish place I saw 
an unholy,
toothless, 
demons maw 
and as I looked
down that yellowish throat

I found the light inside myself
 
Nov 24

The Winter Painters

The brushes of the winter wind
Whisk across the cottage windows.
Only in the darkness do they paint
For they are shy
And work best in the night.
When the world is fast asleep
They come
They come across the freezing moor
Peering in the windows of all the houses
Riding the tendrils of clouds
Carried along by the gusts of chilly wind.
They come to each window
And dip their brushes in the frosty air.
Then they create 
They paint small spirals and designs all over the glass.
They dance through the winter air and dab at their canvas.
When each window is a masterpiece
They retreat back to the sky.
In the morning,
The children wake up and gasp in surprise at the painters' work.
They use their fingers to add their own touches to the frosty art.
Soon the sun
Melts away their work 
Clearing the canvas
So the winter painters can cover them once more.
 
Nov 24

Peace

The snow swirls around me
Covering up my footprints,
Leaving me stranded in the colorless blizzard.
The cold bites at my bare skin
Turning it to a rosy red.
Trying to take me over,
But my heart stays beating like drums
To a wild rhythm,
The wind whistles like flutes
A mini orchestra sings in my ears.
Keeping me walking
Keeping me alive.
My journey continues
My fight persists
My destination?
Peace,
For all of the world to take in.
 
Nov 10
audio 0 comments challenge: General
Layjmo's picture

I'm Sorry, But...


I'm Sorry, But...

I’m sorry, but...
What are we teaching the kids these days?
Are we teaching them to go along with whatever the most dominant person says?
Don’t have opinions, just move on, avoid distress.

I’m sorry, but…
That’s not going to work for me.
Why is it considered bad when someone states they have a side?
When they want to do or be one thing over another?
Saying “I don’t care,” “whatever,” “it doesn’t matter to me...”
Makes you a better person, the desired person, more so than the one who actually knows what they want?

I’m sorry, but …
That just doesn’t seem right to me.
Why is it good not to have a preference?
I’m always told that I care too much.
I always try not to care.

I’m sorry, but...
Remind me again why I don’t want to care?
Why is that wrong, and bad, and strange, and different?
Oct 26

20/20 Vision / The Sun Will Die

The year I turn eighteen,
our atmosphere will release
the last particle of helium
Into space.

I was born in the
2nd
Year of the
2nd
Millenium,
On the 20th

and the 2nd atomic element
will leave our planet in 2020,
2 years from now.

If the universe is made up of math,
all algebra
glimmering with geometry,
tinted in trig
and cradled in calculus,
Then tell me,

Is 18 an equation where if
1 is singularity
and 8 is upright infinity,
then 18= adulthood?

But of course no mathematician will answer me
till I solve for that constant,
find the double of fear,
the square root of censure
round to significance -

To 18
to having
rights a
Vote a
Voice a
Person.

A person
That  forgets anyone with less than
2 digits painted under their eyes,
Oct 19
Kittykatruff's picture

The Dream Lives On

Background:
I wrote this song awhile ago, for the Martin Luther King Day of 2018.
As I was looking through files on my computer, I found it again and listened.
I thought about how we need more people like MLK in our world today, and how we need to realize this more often
instead of on just one day of the year. 
This is why I'm sharing this song now. 

The lyrics are below, and there's also a recording above (the recording at the bottom is the same; please disregard it). I'm the singer, and my former English teacher played the guitar.
The song is titled "The Dream Lives On".


One night I woke up                      
Wishing I’d stayed asleep,                   
Walking into a world                        
Different in my dream.                 

Such terrible suffering around me,              
When will humans solve the inequality?        


Chorus:
Oct 18

Sorrows (Rap)

There’s a girl in the corner 
Hat pulled down to her nose.
Hiding from friends,
Seeking out foes 
like the
 
Man on the bar stool 
Whose had 15 wives 
Drowning his sorrows 
And watching the FaceBook Live
 
of the
 
Boy in Miami 
who wants to be heard.
His teachers don’t want him.
They say he’s absurd.
 
the only
 
Person who got him
Cut themselves with a knife.
I wonder what it’s like to live in his life.

 
 

 


 

 
Oct 12
m.fredella's picture

Changes


A woman hurries down the street, her pale hands pulling a coat tighter against the cold. Her long auburn hair tumbles down her back in loose waves. The brisk air bites at her nose and cheeks, turning them a rosy pink. The red scarf she wears around her neck pops against her paling skin and dark coat. Her tan, freckled skin and blond hair from Summer is gone, along with the glowing, golden brown hair from Spring. The tips of her hair are already fading into a muddy brown color, for winter is coming. Her breath puffs out through crimson lips, wafting like a cloud of smoke in the cold air. Her shoes click-clack loudly on the cracked pavement, drawing the attention of others. She walks with purpose, shoulders squared and head high. She pops in a sea of people, all in different stages of transformation. Red, orange, yellow and brown hues surround her on all sides. A rush of warm bodies, pumping hearts, and hurried strides.
Sep 30
audio 3 comments challenge: General
Layjmo's picture

The Box

The Box

The idea that people aren’t the same

Seems to be something our minds cannot frame

Young people want to “fit in” and “be cool”

But is that really how we’re getting through school?

Kids are stifled, trapped in this cookie cutter

Our unique abilities tossed down the gutter

Too scared to show who we really are

But tell me, will that truly get us so far?

It seems we’re being trained to fit into a box

The way we all walk, the way everyone talks

Moves alike, identical syllabic flow

But what is it that we’re trying to show?

That we’re all able to be one and the same?

To follow societal rules in the avoidance of shame?

The alternative isn’t so bad, it turns out

Just showing the world what you’re all about

Where is the problem in that, I ask?
Sep 03

Marble Doves Can't Fly



Salt and pepper purled carpets
smelled of sultry dandelion fluff,
the sun illuminating the cinnamon
lincoln-log blocks resting on the dove-threaded swells.
(Is there peace in a metric rectangle, perched on the clashing seas?)

The hickory seeds would take to their feathers
as we kicked through their sunny fluff,
I'd see the full-seeded flower head as a globe
where the equidistant inhabitants raised their wizened brows in triumph.
(How long ago did you realize the world could never be that sage?)

Those dandelions are stitched 
into the foreground of my memory,
though even then I knew
why the fences wore obsidian arrows:
the stones in this meadow were graves.
(Did you know any of the dead, or are you searching again for kinder strangers?)

We searched for the most distant date, 
one eights, one sevens, last two digits trailing...
Aug 29

A Quick Question to those in Positions of Authority (SONG)

(A/N: my younger brother is doing the spoken word part.) 

"Now here's a little question for you all to try on for size... who put you in charge, huh?" 
The world is turning
And you can't stop it
Your act doesn't fool us anymore
So why don't you drop it?

And if the bridge breaks 
Then you will fall
So down falls the piggy
Money and all

"So listen, all of you! Yes, you! 
Things are gonna change around here!
Instead of war, you're gonna get
ART! 
And instead of money, you're gonna get
REVOLUTION! 
Yes, you heart it right!"

The world is burning
And we can stop it
Your act doesn't fool us anymore
So who don't you drop it? 
 
Aug 24

Speak her Heart (SONG)

If I could speak my mind
Like you could speak your heart
If I could say I tried
Then maybe we wouldn't be apart
If I could stay away
From the concept I called "golden pain"
Then maybe to this day
We wouldn't call it a game
Is the cost a tear?
Or is it a smile?
My words can reach her ears
But they won't reach her mind for a little while
If she could've kept her head
She just might have been someone instead
But she said what shouldn't have been said
And now she's...
If we would speak our minds
Like she could speak her heart 
If we really had tried
Then maybe she wouldn't have to depart
She could've stayed away
From the hearts that would give her pain
Then maybe to this day
I could call her name