Luz
@Luz
21 Years1,000+ Posts
Comments: 0 · Posts: 2091 · Topics: 183
Edge of Crossing
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Holy butter.
Some people are so shy about what they write, they won't share it...<BR> <BR> I ask: why do you write if not to be read?
I'm suffering from a little writers block. I'd would *appreciate* any help given by the inspiration dxpians. The piece is humor.<BR> <BR> What would a good break-up speech sound like if it is heard over the answering machine? I want her to be cold and s
Have been away for a few days & haven't checked in. I am going to the local "book mine" tomorrow & will look for your suggestion. Sounds like something I'd enjoy! For me, besides dialogue, it's all about the characters & how the author describes them. Wil
You will not tame this sea<BR> either by humility or rapture.<BR> But you can laugh<BR> in its face.<BR> <BR> Laughter<BR> was invented by those<BR> who live briefly<BR> as a burst of laughter.<BR> <BR> The eternal sea<BR> will never learn to laugh.<BR> <
Freedom... Pure naked freedom. It's the loss of all inhibitions. It's like stipping off all your clothes and running bare bottomed through the desert durring a lightning storm, sand burning the soles of your feet and sweat and rain water running down your
I just thought like saying I finally got my prize for winning third place and second runner up for this stupid literature contest at school... I won ten bucks though. Yay! Ten bucks... Well, I at least had lunch money this way... I really went over board
First you must be able to spell. NOT<BR> I have always wanted to, I did write a play once and it was proformed. Its kind of like Steve Wright said I would kill for a nobel peace prize.
I think that I shall never see a beer as lovely as a tree<BR> the brew that joe's pub has on tap with golden base and fomey cap<BR> The golden brew I drink all day <BR> until my memory melts away<BR> poems are made by fools like me <BR> but only
heaven's blue and violet shadows<BR> captive in forgotten dreams<BR> 'tis in memories where her soul forever roams<BR> and she waits for he who knows
The same scenes carry on
Sun glistened flavors seep through her eyes
She hangs onto the edge,
Knowing the edge is the will to live
I dont understand where you come from.
I dont understand if I should hold on.
Or if I should cry,
If I should run.
Death the misconception
Hanging onto the edge
Where it's a cross between
Shredded micro pieces walking below the edge.
Where life becomes death.
She's in hell
She's in hell
Heaven, the mistaken hell.
They blind themselves, empty shells like love.
Death of love has come.
She falls to her knees; holding onto her telescope
Looking down at the edge
Streams of raven hair shed tear,
Replacing her knowledged eyes
Living at the edge,
Was the only way to go.
For there was no heaven, hell, nor the purpose to having a purpose.