The Opposite of Once Upon a Time

The opposite of

once upon a time

really blows my mind

Doesn't fit like a glove

never beneath timelessness

always under infinity

just doesn't seem to mean much

nonsensical musings

needing fine tuning

the mind wanders

as it wonders

if there really is an opposite

of once upon a time

isn't there an opposite of everything

for instance nothing

seems to fit for

the opposite of once upon a time

a thought provoking piece

that never seems to cease

I'll leave you now in peace

unless ofcourse your train of thought

won't stop until this puzzle's solved

for now you have become involved

in this weird enchanted dance

you stumbled upon happenstance

some things just don't calculate

and they're hard to erase

best to leave this place in haste

for you'll find it's just a waste

of time inside your mind

it's too hard to unwind

you know what, never mind

Author's Notes/Comments: 

just weird thinking out loud about if there is an opposite of Once Upon a Time...there must be one, right? I did write something awhile back called Time Upon a Once that is kinda sorta the opposite but not really...I even post it on soundcloud with some crazy interim music I did...

View pamschwetz's Full Portfolio

Flying down the driveway




Didn't I put my foot on the brake

So hard the road skinned and grate

The soles of my Flintstones?

Though I did skate through

The junction at the end,

A whallaallabambam,

T'was Blarney for sure.




Author's Notes/Comments: 

for the challenge driveway

View coffeepot's Full Portfolio

I Sued Because I Couldn't Be A Nun

Everybody is shocked by my lawsuit and because I won.

I sued a Convent because they wouldn't let me be a Nun.

They said that I couldn't be a Nun because I'm a man.

I kept begging to be a Nun so much that I was Banned.

When they rejected me, it really hurt my feelings and one of my problems is my vanity.

A Funny Farm put me in a straight jacket because they said that I suffer from insanity.

I was told that I can only be a Priest or a Monk.

It was sexual discrimination and it really stunk.

I'll be wealthy when the Convent pays me.

Why does everybody keep calling me crazy?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a fictional poem.

View randyjohnson's Full Portfolio

Hell of a World



Living in a world of cries

Strung with death, abuse, and lies


Peace is damned a myth

Along with sanity and grace

Corrupted yet alienated

In this vile place


Where guns are standard

Prostitution and drugs too

Where abandonment is legal

And the innocent are accused


Our children are forgotten

They’re misguided and lost

Parents no longer helpful

No worries, no cost


In this pathetic world

The greedy people shine

Constant repulsive destruction

Of everything divine


This earth is plummeting

A single dark tear

Waiting for Hell

But it’s already here.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The world deserves justice, not anachary. 

View truthintragedies's Full Portfolio

Ode to Beer

Disclaimer. This was intended to be a joke. Please direct all comments to Facebook.. or Google, if that makes you feel more tech savy.
I am not feeling creative at the moment. I've drank five or six beers, and that tends to make me very apathetic, even lazy. There are many noble, original thoughts swirling around in this head of mine, but they are far too powerful and meaningful to be seen very clearly while sober. No, in order for one to coax them out, one must be at least slightly inebriated - that way the thoughts aren't frightened by the razor sharp point of a well maintained, prodigious mind. It is, or should be, common knowledge that things of such vast portent  be carefully cultivated - that is to say, they sprout best when watered with liquid courage. I hope my point is not lost.. Still, as I have already stated, I approach the singular problem of perfect expression with the aptitude of an only slightly successful alcoholic. Friends, do not mistake my brief forrays into sobriety a thing born of betrayal, or even neglect. Every good man strays once in a while, and nobody can stay drunk forever. A few of us have tried, and although our successes may have warranted a gossip or two, all that was really accomplished died away when the booze ran out. Whatever courage, whatever humor inhabits us while we drink, it is only as fleeting as the time it takes us to piss it away, and then we are left with the debt, be it a wicked pounding in the head, or a hangover. I believe every person chooses to see themselves through a tarnished reflection, be it genuine honest reflection, or the antagonistic, paranoid view of the unhinged. The reality we impose on our own lives is not a rigid, static thing, but one that is ever changing, one that adapts itself to suit the multitude of circumstances and scenarios we are forced into, desperately trying to impose some semblence of order and justice on a world that only grudgingly accepts our existence. To drink is not to escape, or the relief of pain, it is an attempt to live life in the moment, in the realization that the past never happened, and the future is not yet here....
Author's Notes/Comments: 

no idea.. i was working at walmart stocking shelves overnight & write this after I got off a shift & drank a lot of Red Stripe

View sequencedlife's Full Portfolio

The Circle and The Triangle

The Drabble Ditch

One day, a circle burst into life. Life, which the circle had never experienced before, was overwhelming. It crashed around him, in his hypothetical ear holes, Cramming him full of self-acceptance. He was dense with himself. He was fit to burst. Everything inside him was pure, imperfect circle. He would have to get used to it.

            It was a big moment for the circle, for he had been drawn. A simple, elegant flick of the wrist, and now he existed. Within a second, he had been catapulted through time, whizzing through moments and memories like an acorn from a sling shot, the circle saw the fall of empires and the rise of evil. He saw the start of life and the desperation to end it. He was apprehensive for his Ultimate Start, but at least he got the heads up.

            After a while, the searing pain of being turgid with life began to ease. It was a burden he was happy to carry.  His drawer, the amateur creator of life, drew him a friend. The Triangle. The Triangle was beautiful, or so The Circle thought. She was stronger, more prominent. Three lines, all poker straight and defiant. WE EXIST. WE HAVE CREATED A FORM. The Circle felt inferior with his fragile outsides wobbling and uncertain. I do exist. I just don’t know why. Or for how long.

            The Circle gawped at the glorious triangle, and watched her slowly come to terms with existence. She was alive, and they had one thing in common: They were a part of something, and they had to fit in with whatever it was that they had to. But The Circle started to worry, for The Triangle was too scared to open her eyes. The drawer frowned at The Triangle and stabbed at her with the end of a pencil. The Circle let out a cry of despair as he watched the beautiful creature dissolve into nothing: She had been erased.

            Enraged, The Circle decided to defy the drawer, and break his boundaries. He roared with determination as he launched himself towards the forbidden. He watched the drawer’s face spin as he rolled himself towards the edge of the page...


            ... Beyond the edges of the page was nothing. Nowhere for the poor little circle to exist. He was confined to the white flat land of a million possibilities, but the drawer was bored. She would shut the sketch book eventually. She’d forget about The Circle, and then his existence would be even more painful.

            ‘Well this was nice!’ Said The Circle to himself, before swallowing his pride. And then swallowing himself. 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Nope, I have no idea either. 

View nelgenielark's Full Portfolio

There's holes everywhere.

Children's Poetry
There's holes in your blanket,
holes between your toes,
Holes in your ears 
And holes up your nose
Holes in the ceiling and 
Holes in the floor
Holes that you never knew were there before...
Holes that are big
and holes that are small,
holes that you've never seen at all
Now who puts all those holes there?
A small mouse under the chair?
Who knows, they're just there. 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

I just told this randomly to my son while putting him to bed. He seemed to like it & I hope you & your families do too. 

View moondial's Full Portfolio

Glitter Salad and A Little Bit Of Glee


Eggs, Bacon, Pickles and Shoes. Birds, Cheetahs, and Big Balloons. Smoke it, Toke it, Light that shit up, just don't forget to put cookies in your cup!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Don't ask...I was bored...

View mrslivingston©'s Full Portfolio

Oggy Song

A groggy froggy sat on a loggy
With a doggy and a moggy
In a boggy that was foggy
But they all fell in and they all got soggy
So the soggy doggy and the soggy moggy
Went off together for a joggy
While the groggy froggy did hoggy the loggy
And ate some yoggy and flies

View intothedawn's Full Portfolio