the blindthe gardensthe blind5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
stretch their green arms toward the fields
like a river passing the torch
to the great blue of the ocean.
steady now, the hyacinths lean north
like an army of men, listening
to a young boy and girl speaking of love
as if they have found some sort of treasure.
it is the first day of spring to them:
the flowers stand, salute the sky,
and blossom as if undressing,
vulnerable but stern.
and as the blind dream
of what they have never seen, you dream
of what you have never allowed yourself to see.
Five Silly Arguments to AvoidIf you are (a) someone who spends half their waking life on the Internet, (b) a user of YouTube or (c) a philosophy student or (c) all three, the chances are you've encountered or participated in your fair share of arguments. As someone who generally prefers reading debates on the Internet as opposed to actually taking part (although God knows I've had my share), here are five basic fallacies that one should try to avoid. As some of them do affect me on a personal level, expect cursing.Five Silly Arguments to Avoid5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
5. 'x' says it, so it must right.' - appeal to expert fallacy.
Ever had someone justify their point on the basis of '*insert name of famous clever-clogs here* has this view, and because he's a clever person, that means my point of view is right?' Now I'm not saying should not use quotes from experts, but one must not treat them as though they are God. By all means, use their wisdom and quote them, but explain why you agree with them. Experts are your allies, not magic wands that automatically make you r
SkinVerden looked out of the window and sighed. It was a summer's day, complete with fresh grass, singing birds and rainbows. It was a good day, a perfect day; or it would be if the weather was real, and the window for that matter. It was just an illusion, a curtain, if he pushed it aside, it would only reveal the damp wall behind it. He grimaced; it had taken him almost a year to make all the windows on request of the King who was catering to the whims of the Higher Ups. The snobs who couldn't stand the fact that they were surround by grey brick and the green slime that seemed to trickle down from the ceiling. Not that there was anything good to see if the windows were real, just the occasional dead tree, miles of wasteland and the eternal black sky.Skin6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He hated being in the service industry, catering to the wishes and 'needs' of the stupid people, the Higher Ups who couldn't see a decent bit of magic if it slapped them in the face. He ran a hand through his dark green hair as he
IncubusHead of a hammerIncubus7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
against the head of a nail
through the flesh of the innocent
it does impale
a madman's temper
drives it home
wild-eyed and cursing,
bruising and splintering bone
applied as a tourniquet
and hope fades
for any respite
eyes clenched shut
through wretched pain
violent images are
all that remain
as a spark ignites
a funeral pyre
of sacrilegious rites
carried on a forlorn wind
to feel never again
the rage unpinned
now, distant nightmare sounds
the head of a hammer
against the head of a nail
You Can Say That Again*Flash fiction Island styleYou Can Say That Again5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Jesus saves! I cast you out in the name of Jesus! So screams the preacher man slamming his palm against foreheads to drive out demons. Not more than a few feet away from the pulpit, an eighteen year-old member of his congregation claps her hands and shouts hallelujah!
Jesus' name is again invoked a few days later as they lay sweating and groaning in the back seat of a rented car.
-See me and come live with me is two different ting
The girl is pretty in an unrefined way, brash and loud and totally unselfconscious.
Baby powder coats her neck, chest and back, visible in her low cut top.
Her rival, five years her senior, cuts her eye in contempt. 'Country booboo,' she thinks. 'She look like fish ready to fry. Plus she skin ashy and she look like she doan know how to use hot-comb.'
Despite her belief in her superiority, her man doesn't come back.
-Puss and dog no have d
Out the windowI look upon an empty road where concrete rollsOut the window6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in dry spools of gray.
Wires criss-cross like spilt vermicelli hung in air.
Cats prowl in narrows, dust rises, and the day
smells like a grave - blank, supine, where one by one
all voices die.
Poradnik - jak napisac romans paranormalnyJak napisać romans paranormalnyPoradnik - jak napisac romans paranormalny3 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Trafiło się nam żyć w takich czasach, że napisanie poczytnej książki tudzież bloga jest łatwiejsze niż kiedykolwiek— wystarczy być człowiekiem jako tako piśmiennym, mieć Worda i dostęp do internetów. Niestety, ta jakże piękna idea równości wobec tworzenia literatury rozbiła się o kant dupy w momencie, gdy światło dzienne ujrzał Zmierzch. Niejaka Stefa M., gospodyni domowa, matka trojga dzieci, absolutnie nienastawiona na robienie kariery, spisuje swój sen, tworząc na jego kanwie jeden z największych bestsellerów w historii literatury — może być coś bardziej motywującego? Wszak ludzie lecą na takie kopciuszkowe historie.
Jak bardzo Bellissima, Eduardo i Alpaka przemówili do rzesz czytelników można się przekonać przechadzając się po Empiku i zachodząc
Dry Clean OnlyDry Clean Only10 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
There is nothing on earth I abhor more than laundry day. It is the eater of a thousand productive hours, the devourer of days on end. Each moment of procrastination, from the point at which you first start looking very carefully at a shirt that any rational person would discredit as dirty, to the point where you no longer have any other underwear to turn inside out feeds the beast, waiting for that enviable day off, when you naively think to yourself:
"Well, I've got a little time to kill, might as well do a little laundry."
Next thing you know, it's 10 years later and the man who used to be the kid next door is going through your pockets, and has already taken the time to write "GONAD" on your forehead in sharpie, and the most interesting thing about you, is your bumper stickers.
Save a cow, eat a vegetarian
My wife's other car is a broom
Osama loves your SUV
Laundry day has consumed your youth.
Multiply your dread by ten if you have to leave the sanctity of your house to launder your
Barbaric TreatmentLate summer, 2261 AURCBarbaric Treatment7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The noontide sun gleamed off Hrothgar the Northmans rippling thews, and his shaggy mane of golden hair shone. The cheap tunic he wore could not conceal the hard, rangy lines of his frame as he stood astride the path through the narrow pass he had made his own.
Voices reached his ears; ears that, although attuned to the clash and clangor of battle, had never been deafened by the clatter and bustle of what men called civilization and so remained alert to the slightest threat: the padded footfall of the wolf, or the quiet hiss of a blade drawn from its sheath. But these were careless voices, chattering and laughing, heedless of the peril that loomed before them in the barbarians mighty person. His grip tightened upon the hilts of the sword which he held before him, its point resting upon the stony earth; and his nostrils flared in fierce anticipation.
Up the slope before him they came: Two youths walking side by side. The one was tall and well-bui
MayflyMayfly11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When we were mayflies our wings were
worn from wire screens, but the tentative
beats of your belly chimed like iron.
And it occurred to me that through
the breeze of burning leaves our eyes
were open to wasps and weeds.
insomnia and other things...at night I claw my way into my own chest and silenceinsomnia and other things...7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my heart between my hands. I can't sleep with the sounds
of breaking echoing off my bedroom walls.
my room is so much emptier without you, I say,
sleeping in the corner on the floor. there's nothing
here for me when I'm the only one in it.
I know, you say. there's nothing there for me when
you're the only one in it,
Winter Againdescends, the finalWinter Again7 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
traveler in autumns close
a leaf touches snow
Farmers' MarketFarmers' MarketFarmers' Market6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
At daybreak, we make our aching bodies rise,
caffeinate, survey the still pink-patched sky,
pray for a dry day. Once loaded, we truck
bushels of produce, potted plants, sawhorse
and board tables, stabilize crates of pie
between bins and strawberry boxes, drive
down the mountain, into town and set up
the fruits of our labors, hoping neighbors
and weekenders alike will buy, eyeing
vendors wares, wishing there was cash to spare.
Down-street, a bow begins to sweep the strings
softly, bringing bed-headed children out
to watch the band set up. An old pup roves
over to the barbeque cart, gambols
off when the butcher shouts Git! Later on,
after church, hickory smoke scents the air,
tempting travelers- passengers stare, stop
to wander along main street, squandering
another summer Sunday in Vermont.
A Game Of ChessA Game of Chess.A Game Of Chess5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"It's your turn."
Il Carnefice, devoid of his normal executioner's apparel, looked up from his thoughts. He took his attention off the chessboard for a moment and stared at his friend. Malfatto simply smiled back, leaning his arms on the small table that held the chessboard.
It was a pleasant day in Rome. It was the middle of summer, late in the afternoon, the time when the Italian heat was at its most agreeable. Just below the terrace of the good Doctor's home, the merchants could be heard selling their wares and crowds of people went to and fro to either buy them or conduct social matters of their owns. It was a perfect time to sit outside and enjoy a friendly game, along with a glass of wine and a side of biscotti.
The Executioner then moved his eyes back to the board, moving one of his knights, before looking back at his comrade. Malfatto looked quite different without his doctor's attire. Instead of his usually disturbing presence, he was a somewhat peculia
Ghoststumbled beamsGhosts6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
an owl calls
I will search out your shapeI will search out your shape--I will search out your shape7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your parted mouth, the red esophagus,
a tongue limp with hunger
like the heavy sound of a bell.
I will find the dust of my skin
in the ancient impressions of
fingers on your body.
and In the cool stone of your nails
I will rest and grow to be the moss
that only you can see,
the downy hairs penetrating
the back of your long neck
are tall trees in the Sahara.
We will sleep in one room
and share exhalations.
Your eyes will be the windows.
and we will keep our secrets
pressed between our bodies
until they are wet and run together
like slick fish--
and finally, when it is dark,
we will lay to bed our cares,
our thirst, when the dust on the
floorboards retreats like a soft gray wave--
we will scatter our clothes and offer them
to the Spring moon, and peel off our skins
as carefully and easily as flower petals--
and then my kiss will swim in your blood,
freely and without despair.
Soul MatesSoul Mates10 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Every drop of your love
brings amazing warmth to my world
and gives me something no one else can,
a reason to open my heart
and share all of life's wonderful moments.
You have this incredible universe inside of you,
with the gift of laughter, the miracle of honest friendship,
and the blessing of a caring soul. You are the rose of my love,
the sunshine in my day and the smile of my every thought.
I hold these glowing visions of your infinite tranquilities
closest to my heart, inseparable in everyway.
When I wake up I can't breathe without you and
I don't want to waste another second without
letting you know how much your love means to me.
You are the spirit of my hopes, the passion in my dreams,
and all of the familiar joys of my life.
When I look into your gentle eyes, I realize.
I've been loving you my whole life.
I Will Love You Forever
Our Meaning and PurposeIOur Meaning and Purpose5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All of death is death. Life,
too, is like death.
The way it erupts over you
laughing and spinning.
I was confused
so I asked God: What should I do?
Move your body and have emotions. The birds were dancing.
Could you be more specific?
But now God was busy arguing with Moses.
All of life is life. Death,
too, is like life.
The way it erupts over you
laughing and spinning.
Tomorrow is the sound
of a question falling
on a bed of questions.
Today I hold out
your name, God,
in the public square.
Yesterday reason, the slayer
of song, wended its way
into our will.
All of light is linking. Dreams,
too, would see us separated.
The way it erupts over you
laughing and spinning.
All of God is God. Dark,
too, is like God.
The way we usurp it
laughing and spinning.
The Opus Of The Everythingthe ocean floor, the twisted sea andThe Opus Of The Everything5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all the flying jacket bees, and all
the flying birds and he, the one who
caught the glint of spring, who laid
it on the downy dew, the crispy green
of May fescue, who saw the plans of built
up lights that burn to light a thousand
pools of dripping rain and puddles lay
on any given night or day, the brick by
brick, the mortar spread, the snap of sugar
sweetly felt, the brine that made it
through the cloud, the opus of the
everything, the great and wide, the heat
of flame, the sun in cold but sunny sky,
the sound of when a child laughs,
the opus of the everything
Morning - for Carl SandburgThe morning eruptsMorning - for Carl Sandburg5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on little cat feet
A flick of the tail
a breath exhaled
too fast at the end of a leap
placed on lid's soft fan of lash
breath whirring, throaty, warm
eyes still closed
A stunning velvet attack
innocent lids unwarned
warm sheets no safe haven
The morning erupts
Unfinal SolutionJim and Dave shuffled down the street in the hot summer sun. Occasionally they would encounter an obstacle, such as a shopping cart, corpse, pile of trash, or burned out car. Depending on the size and nature of the obstacle, their zombie intellect would kick over into high gear, and a conversation such as this might ensue:Unfinal Solution7 years ago in Horror More Like This
Rains! Rains! Raaaaaaaains1 .
If the object was large, such as a chunk of flaming airplane wreckage, Jim and Dave would do the Zombie Shuffle around its perimeter, sometimes bumping into each other and the obstacle itself. On rare occasions, the not-quite-cooperative maneuvering deflected them from their original direction of movement, which was entirely random anyway.
If the obstacle was small or spread out (like the 2000 individually-wrapped packages of toilet paper theyd encountered yesterday, rolling and skittering before their tattered
Becoming BrianThe soldier coming up on him was swaying, limping, climbing wearily up the stony street towards the terrace. He walked like an old man, thought Brian Strong, though he was scarcely older than Brian himself. He dragged himself along, tripping over the cracks in the cobblestones, hauling behind him a filthy rucksack all covered in gray trench clay. Pausing by the café, the old boy took off his garrison cap and worried it between his black-tipped fingers.Becoming Brian4 years ago in Historical More Like This
"Well, hey," said Brian Strong. "Sit down and have a drink on me."
Regarding him for a moment, the soldier conceded and sat.
Brian Strong ran his hands over a perfectly polished uniform and propped his shiny-shoed feet up on the trumpet case under his table. The fellow soldier opposite him rested his head on his hand and, though his eyes seemed hollow, Brian thought with a good night's sleep and a shave he'd be right as rain. He looked like a man who had seen things, thought Brian, and done things. A worldly man. He saw now that t
Retrograde Scents from inside the suit intertwined their intentions with the sights of tangled and tessellated hair illumed by firefly LED's, spiking my circulation with memories and murmurs of dopamine.Retrograde5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I took her by the gaze; she steered her sight away from mine. I led her through a glance that involved no scuffling of hands.
She was one of two wayward strangers passing in the cosmos; two separate glances met as objects in motion tending to motion. People aren't the same however.
Drifter was the term we were known as, people cast off of vessels and ships, mostly by accident, condemned to trudge about the universe until starvation kicked in or their oxygen-starved filters were finally incapable of operating. My unplanned departure from the mysteriously flaming