The Secret to SuccessConstantly we set goals for no reason whatsoever. Dream of the day when there is nothing left to accomplish, torn from your roots with nowhere left to grow. Feel the rush when you gasp for breathe and have nothing left to grab onto. What's the point of progression?The Secret to Success8 years ago in Literature Submissions
Never worry about being forgotten; don't try to leave a mark by improving near-perfection. Live your life for you. Ignore those who ridicule you for having no real aspirations.
Trust me, when you're eighty-seven, on your deathbed, you won't be disappointed that you never accomplished something you didn't set out to do.
The Dark People of Sao TomeThe dark people of Sao Tome with knotted muscles were told not to flyThe Dark People of Sao Tome8 years ago in Literature Submissions
By science, and a God that poked his head through the blue above.
There were dangers untold in the sunken underbellies of clouds
And none to wait with opened arms when they lost their hold on air.
But things stirred, ever full and rich with truth
In the depths and canyons of their minds.
A weathered woman, old as rocks and water,
Would sometimes steal a moment or two to dream, to remember.
The passing days and months turned these moments into many hours.
One boy, young as sunrises, would place a foot in their air
And then the other, just to know that he could.
The passing days and months moved on to see him walking home
On the air, all the way.
By the light of moon, a youth who had much to learn of the world
But knew every secret of earth and sky
Would climb to the spindly, flexing tips of trees, and leap into chilled air.
He would slow himself, stop himself before he touched ground to hang there,
Lessons for flying and divingMy best friend is a big fan of diving. Me, I'm more of a flying guy. The only difference is that when flying you're not supposed to plummet in the end. I can't say I ever understood the fear of heights. It's the depths that really get to me.Lessons for flying and diving8 years ago in Literature Submissions
The last time my best friend went diving he forgot to come back. I'm still waiting. They tell me he's going to rise up some day. He better have, so that I can finally teach him to fly. There's just one trick to it: don't fall. That ain't no rocket science.
'Life's like a tree''Life's like a tree'8 years ago in Literature Submissions
to age-lines of fallen trees --
I feel growth.
MirrorFluid reflectionMirror8 years ago in Literature Submissions
He launches forward
But will it shatter?
The Tragic Cyclelife starts with a seedThe Tragic Cycle8 years ago in Literature Submissions
and grows to become a tree...
---till one cuts it down.
ProgressMy bare feet are clammy against the dank raftProgress8 years ago in Literature Submissions
air chilled my pale lips as I breathed in and laughed
I swang side to side readying myself for the run
and off like a bullet I ran towards the sun
I progressed down the deck up to the blue swell
and my nose cringed quickly at the cruel acrid smell
I looked into the water and jumped off the end
My body's so cold, but the chill is my friend
The wind brushed my cheek as I began to fall down
and for the first time, I thought I would drown
but I couldn't go back so in the water I splashed
and into the waves I cowardly crashed
In the frigid cold flood I searched for a breath
If I didn't find air it would be my own death
My lungs burned so hot, an anxiety attack
so much pain to go through, before my vision went black
The last thought I had, my last good farewell
was the reason I let myself get caught in this swell
how I was nervous and scared, but I jumped anyways
the fact that I did it for me and not the appraise
Five minutes ago I was caught in
Eyes On the HeavensIm going home now. the man repeated in earnest. An elderly village woman continued to sneer and a little boy laughed, others only shook their heads in shame.Eyes On the Heavens8 years ago in Literature Submissions
Be sure to bring us a souvenir! one cruel looking fisherman yelled over the heads of those who had gathered on the dock.
Indignant, the self proclaimed savior searched their faces for any sign of understanding. Finding none, he turned toward the expanse of ocean before him and, his eyes blissfully on the heavens, sprang towards home.
The subsequent splash caused laughter from some and a burning sense of shame from others.
Seamless SeamlessSeamless8 years ago in Literature Submissions
Every day, every hour, every minute
Something, somewhere changes.
Life is like a bus going nowhere and everywhere
People get on and off all the time
But the run never ends
People disappear and manifest beside you
You dont know where youre going today
Whether youll end up somewhere new
But you packed sandwiches like always just in case
Nobody knows where youre going
Nobody laughing or running around or listening to loud music
The bus has stopped.
You stand and walk down the stairs
You pass a tiny pyjama wearing passenger
A friendly smile, an all knowing nod
And you step onto the curb
To find a bench somewhere to have lunch
Release the anchorMy very roots extended manically into the ground, holding me down like an anchor. No matter how much I struggled, they just wouldn’t let me go. I swayed and swayed, I swang in the wind with all of my might, but I feared that the only way I could escape was… death. Death, or luck.Release the anchor8 years ago in Literature Submissions
I didn’t know what to do, until another tree sprouted next to me.
If I’d had eyes, they’d have been gleaming. If I’d been a bird, I’d have soared five miles into the sky.
Now I’m old… Rotting.
And I know that I’ll die smiling.
ProgressRoots seek through the earth -Progress8 years ago in Literature Submissions
sparrow's call rides falling leaves -
still making progress.
Death of Lightbulb.He lingered for only a moment, because even after all these years, he still remembered. Her face was unchanged, beautiful in its own way. The folds of black looked harsh against her delicate features.Death of Lightbulb.8 years ago in Literature Submissions
People were eyeing him, perhaps made uncomfortable by his grief. There was a cough and someone behind him fidgeted. But he wasnt finished. He couldnt say goodbye. She couldnt leave him, not like this.
He leaned down close to her, close enough to kiss. He let the words hang in the air between them, unspoken. Then he reached behind her head, and flicked the switch on.
playgroundPlaygroundplayground8 years ago in Literature Submissions
The eyes are watching from above, and below a snail crawls across the playground.
The little girl grabs the next monkey bar, and a little boy tries to pry her fingers away from the metal. She looks up at him, glaring, and he smiles back mischievously. He pulls her fingers off and she falls down, landing on the soft, yellow sand. She misses the snail by little, her hand within reach of the brown, swirled shell. She yells at the boy that she will tell his mommy, and he jumps off the metal structure, landing on the other side. He runs away, red tennis shoes blowing up the sand. The little girl struggles to get up and begins crying as she runs towards her brother. Her foot scrapes past the snail, but she doesnt notice.
The forehead frowns from above, and below a snail breathes a sigh of relief, or the snail equivalent thereof.