Short stories & poems

If silence had some scent

It would smell like vanilla with cinnamon

With a drop of strain

It’s fragrance could drown someone in the

Most sorrowful nights and someone to

Shine and ignite

The scent of it may smell

Bad for many but

Also it has its own melody

That many do like

Like me, I love to dance in this fragrance

Sometimes it does smell like dust

But many times it gives me the trust

Trus...

Can,can youu-uu hear me-e?

Can you?

When I cry which makes sounds

Molded with silence

Can you? Justtttt hear me?

When I say things that are audible

But, but people don’t hear it

But can you? Can you hear it???

Can you hear my voice which cracks

Sometimes

In the most odd times?

Can you hear my heartbeat when it wants to die

And lie

Can you?, hear me?...

“He kicked the dirt and marked the dry earth beneath him next to an incapacitated rival; bellowing victory cries that could be heard 5 miles away. He demonstrated to the Lionesses with their former Leader’s limp and bloodied carcass, that he was the victor, and the new King.

And if that wasn’t proof enough, he solidified his new status by devouring one by one; all of the lionesses’ cubs that w...

Yes! The web of comfort zone traps us so deep, it gets really difficult to make a bigger web from the previous.It makes us like a mad king who would consider eating junk but also dream certain things like what he wants as it takes a very high level of willpower to jump out of the previous web to the later....

He knew me somehow and I too, we looked at each others eyes for a second and we both experienced each others pain that sorrows our heart fully. Everyday we both feel weird but warm,his eyes have a stain on me and mine to him . His eye are dark brown,bold,like dark chocolate.i was wondering how would he described mine dull? Boring? Or beautiful like a diamond? Maybe. But what I feel is the sorrow t...

A bolt of lightning danced across the sky, setting it aglow with a purplish hue and illuminating the skyline. Of course, the skyline didn’t need much illuminating.

The small buildings stuck out like small shards of glass, swept under the rug and forgotten about until someone who’s trouble is worth something steps on it.

Near the outskirts, I could still see the dumpsters where the bussers would...

‘Work It Out’ is a call to arms for freedom from the bonds of a cynical world, calling for the listener to embrace the changes that come from within. It is a song about both letting go and moving on and finding a reason to continue along your path when times could see at all lost. It is as hopeful as it is grounded, and a stoic hymn for the surviving optimists still marching for a brighter world. ...

The air smells of rhubarb, occasional

Roses, or first birth of blossoms, a fresh,

Undulant hurt, so body snaps and curls

Like flower. I step through snow as thin as script

Watch white stars spin dizzy as drunks, and yearn

To sleep beneath a patchwork quilt of rum.

I want the slow, sure collapse of language

Washed out by alcohol. Lovely Shelley,

I have no use for measured, cadenced verse

I...

In our grand America

The holy land of the

Supposedly considerably free

Rays shine no more on the once proud sea

Swallow your Hallelujah

Always the bad news but never the good

Where wild buffalo on the plains once stood

They say the grass is greener on the other side

Shant forget this country was founded on pride

Instead of what we will we preach what we would...

When I think back to those days.

Rolling hills, fields of wild flora.

Bass in the creeks as the you lay in a daze.

Picturesque lands full of fauna.

Honeysuckle dreams so vivid.

Imagination knew know limit.

I can still envision it, when I will.

Grandmamas apple pie there on her windowsill....