The Dark People of Sao TomeThe dark people of Sao Tome with knotted muscles were told not to flyThe Dark People of Sao Tome7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
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,
Shredded From Lifethe strand of life rippedShredded From Life7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
taken from what life was, now
by the soul, one tree
Progress: A DrinkTheyre calling for change.Progress: A Drink7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
The bracelets on my wrists weigh my hands down.
You can drink anything you put your mind to, they say as I stumble against the doorframe, against the shoulder of a man.
My drink tumbles out of its glass and onto his shirt and I sputter. I laugh. I blush the deepest red and I say, Ive never done this before.
Youre out of your league, baby, he says, smiling with his hands coming toward me like claws and suddenly my shoulders feel too soft and I know I wasnt meant for this sort of change.
Seachoppy sea linesSea7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
form splashing circles
as he jumps
darknessDarknessdarkness7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
María watched the dark figure approach.
Im here to bring you back.
She turned away. Red dust blew above the ground. Far away stood the shadowy fossil of some ancient tree.
Its unsafe out here. You could be exposed to the virus.
María nodded calmly.
What if I prefer to be unsafe? she asked then, turning to look at the figure. It stood still, breathing from a tank of purified oxygen. Its face, his face, was shielded by a helmet, like the one María held. She tossed it to the ground.
Goodbye, she said, smiling, and walked away.
progressprogress7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
it started relatively fast
after i had first seen you
that i was reminded of you
every day, meaning in fact each day
one day it would be just your name
popping up like a neon sign in the dark
the next day a smell would waft by
inexplicably conjuring up some memory
then i would catch the sound of some notes
from a song that expressed my feelings so well
and so on, and so on, and so on
along with those memories,
some warmth around the heart,
putting a smile on my face -
that was a phase of surreal romance
of dreams dreams dreams
then, when our smoothly going conversations
became more difficult, subdued and sparse
because of too many expectations, desires, obstacles,
these daily sensations were spiced with a little pain,
but still they occured reliably each day
out of the blue, unexpectedly, disturbing me -
that was a phase of regrets, missed chances,
i got so used to it
the sensations were like the lover youd never be
i lived with them and was s
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 anchor7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
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.
playgroundPlaygroundplayground7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
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.
Seamless SeamlessSeamless7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
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
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.7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
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.
ProgressMy bare feet are clammy against the dank raftProgress7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
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
MirrorFluid reflectionMirror7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
He launches forward
But will it shatter?
"Life's like a tree""Life's like a tree"7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
to age-lines of fallen trees --
I feel growth.
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 Success7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
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.
rememberanceI remember when rain in winterrememberance7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
Meant the arrival of spring
I remember when the only spring time flooding
Was in the garden
I remember when summer showers
Where not destructive
I remember it was in autumn
That the leaves turned red
But there is rain in December
There are entire cities flooded by rain
There are hurricanes destroying the landscape
And we can see the changing leaves in midsummer
We are slowly killing the planet
All in the name of progress
Gasworklately, darkly:Gaswork7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
on old noses.
Shredded From...by novranthe strand of life rippedShredded From...by novran7 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
taken from what life was, now
by the soul, one tree