The Importance of Being FrankThe Importance of Being Frank10 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The Importance Of Being Frank
At the end of this story, a Frenchman will be eaten by African driver ants.
* * *
Silvie closed the stall door behind her; she closed it timidly, with an empty expression on her face. Her hand shook. She paused for a moment, her mouth half open, her lip curled upward, and a frown on her forehead.
Then she walked over to the wash basins.
A fly buzzed between her and the mirror. She turned on the faucet, filled her cupped hands with water, and splashed it on her face. She looked at the stall's reflection in the mirror, closed her eyes, and slapped herself.
Let us slow down to take in the sights. At the exact moment Silvie's hand hits her cheek, everyth
Another Sad Song - Part One******************Another Sad Song - Part One9 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"Mom! Fuck, just shut up!" Anna screamed, walking ahead of her mother towards the parked car
"Don't speak to me like that! I'm your mother and you should know better"
"Whatever" Anna sighed when she reached the car "can you just unlock the car?"
"Listen to me Annabelle" her mother said, leaning against the drivers side of the car "I've just sat there and listened to your teachers complain about your behaviour, your behaviour that is when you bothered to show up for classes"
Anna sighed in frustration "Momů"
"No, what the hell is going on with you? You didn't used to be like this-"
"Oh fuck not this again" Anna muttered, biting down on her lip ring
"Like that, two years ago you wouldn't have sworn at me like that"
"Can you just unlock the car?"
Her mother sighed, realising that once again she'd failed to reach her daughter "Sure" she whispered, turning the lock, and slipping into the car.
"Honey, honey its okay it was just a dream" Her f
NORMANSCRISMUSNORMANSCRISMUS11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
am i mising sumthing?
how did this awl begin
wat duz this holedae
never mined look at all tha presants
a seeson of desepshon
of plesent lys
so cute wen we fule children
wat hapens wen thay find owt tha truth?
wat is tha truth?
never mined look at all tha presants
look at tha presants
stand in aw of tha presants
its all abowt tha presants
you no its sumthing deaper
pretend you no wat it meens
or just enjoy yur presents
and eet turkey or ham
watever you eet evry yeer this tym
and i well call you nayber
and ride yur slay
wen the nite is silent a baby is born
that duznt cry wen thare ar lowd sownds
and sheperds bring presants too
becawse He is speshal
who pepol well always argyoo abowt
Nemiah - a fragmentNemiah - a fragment10 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Nemiah a Hesirion fragment.
Two gliding shadows, hot to the touch as they caressed the salt-glass sand, mingled and fused with the cooler unmoving shade of a tall Levaan Palm. The trees twisting stems marked the edges of the spreading fingers of the great Inship Desert; sun burned fingers that had long ago begun to stretch and claw their way into the cooler, ocean quenched lands of the Dol-Haalat, and here, at the north-western edge of the land of Hirad.
Dadengo, the sun, not quite halfway through his journey across the cloudless lapis lazuli ocean that served as the Haradi-Inship sky, shone as only a god could; and the heat of his love for this land would only increase as noon approached. Below, a pair of tattooed lizards danced a foot-cooling dance while keeping at least one of their rotating eyes on the interlopers.
Of the two owners of the now motionless shadows, the most immediately striking was the tall graceful woman. Poised like an ancient bronze st
WasteWaste9 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Call me Anna, she says, hoping they'll get the vague reference, but they never do, mainly because it's too obtuse, and partly because nobody really reads Moby Dick these days.
But it matters not, nothing ever does. She wears her hair swept up and her mind swept away. There are the remains of a meal speckled upon her collar and down the front of her top, but people make sure not to comment. It wouldn't be right, but that's for later.
First, call her Anna. Heroines always had such exciting names, she mourned, drowning in jealousy that she instantly hated them all. She embraced the plain out of spite, and insisted that people called her by her boring middle name, started work as a librarian, and married a man who was the human embodiment of beige.
He didn't stand out anymore than she did. He wasn't tall and wasn't short, wore glasses in the least imposing way and sometimes spoke too quietly. He hated repeating himself, so told people to forget he said anything at all if they hadn't heard
.:fight:.Once again.:fight:.10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I've fallen flat on my face
I can't see Your face for the dirt of my shame...
I fell willingly, knew what I was doing
Refused to stop, though I knew I was hurting You
I have to be honest enough to say that part of me didn't care...
After all has been said and done, I sit on this shower floor
Wondering what went wrong
Wasn't it I that was so passionate about my love for You yesterday?
Now it hurts, like there's a piece of me missing
I can't cry, but I curl into a ball
Lashing at myself for being so stupid...again.
I can see You turning away from me in the acts of my sin
Then being subject to a brutal whip
Because that's how much You love me...
Why? Why do You love a failure such as me?
How could You?
Why offer Yourself for this unworthy one?
I look up,
Crusaders for ChristWe need to stand togetherCrusaders for Christ10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It's time for us to fight
Our God has called each one of us
To set this lost world right
We soldiers fight our battles
Down upon our knees
For the Lord we have so many
Hearts and minds and souls to seize
We've roused our mighty force
For an onslaught against sin
So get ready, because it's been said
That those on God's side win
Our provider is our Father,
Our Faith has forged our shield
The mighty sword of God's Word
Is the weapon that we wield
Legion of the Lord:
Prepare for a crusade
Arise, now, fellow soldiers
It's time that we invade
Invade the hearts of lost ones
Invade a world gone dim
Shine a light for all to see
We give our lives to Him
This is your call to arms,
The battle cry's been sounded
Our mission is to ambush Sin
By which we're all surrounded
We aim to break the chains
With the Word that is our sword
Of those under sin's domain
We're winning souls for the Lord
We've got soldiers in the trenches
In the midst of battle where
They're launching coun
LogosWhat are words, but that which gives ephemeral formLogos8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to thoughts and pictures,
or syllables weaved together to create a new sound?
And from whence does it come?
A box that cannot contain that which it produces:
foreign creatures with wings,
anxious to break free and be taken away by the wind,
left to ride the backs of thunderheads
This is the immersion of voice, buried deep yet exposed,
raised letter by letter like the resurrection of saints
and falling as a holy waterfall
Yet so much more are the strokes of a pen
that grace the surface of a sleek white virgin page,
truly allowing it to breathe some new thing
Word given form, shape and purpose
bringing to potential paper and ink, united as a bride to a groom
The result leaves humanity colliding with divinity,
drawn in by a shepherd's hook that brings the cold close
and holds her in a warm embrace
What are these words that fall off the tongues of cherubim,
cresting the edge of the world like satin white horses?
The lungs of man will be f
I am...I am a mortal...I am...9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
made whole by flesh and bone
and fortified by resolutions I have set in stone
I am not...
my weight, nor the color of my skin
not bound by my transgressions nor the extent to which I sin
I am not...
a beliefe or religious choice
nor am I without a faith for which I'd gladly raise my voice
I am not...
my money or balance due
for I have seen immorality invest in some who pursue
I am not...
my house, rivaling the steeples in rome
for what good is a house if it is not my home
I am a romantic...
marred by imperfection and mistakes
endowed with a heart that occassionally breaks
I am an optimist...
with an unshakable smile
who in this heart knows there is so much worth the while
I am a lover...
of my friends and my kin
whos relentless devotion reinforces the strength I've developed within
I am a mortal...
falsely labeled naive
for I am capable of things you could never conceive
But in absence of the heartBut in absence of the heart9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't want elongated days
or shadows that curve & stalk round corners
or even segmented hours,
the next one unattainable.
I never look too far forward
in fear of
the second after eternity
and then nothing will go to plan.
Atop a hill that whispers to the clouds
there lies valleys only seen from here,
valleys usually pathways trodden
to see this monstrous mound
(and not so deep at all).
And gloomy seas set in feathered cliffs,
the rocks are sharp to touch
but from the shore
are statuesque and sculpted
by indecisive tides
that tease my toes
in knowledge they have seen the hidden seabed
& I have not.
I wonder if the deeper sand
is swished around like the sand upon the shore
never here or there
or sometimes taken away
& never seen again.
There are no stories to be told
with each survivor engulfed
and persuaded (only by distance)
to ensure they are secrets kept.
Or if the grains of sand between my toes
have seen it all
but dare not speak
Myosotis SylvestrisMyosotis sylvestris (Forget Me Nots)Myosotis Sylvestris9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Knotted stems cling tightly
to the pole pushed, just yesterday,
into loamy garden soil,
flecked with bark and leaves.
Read the packets fine print:
water well in dry spells.
These arent the hardy daffodils
Im used to planting.
I finger each new bud gently;
picking them up, one by one,
and caressing them with a careful hand.
Each one lined with scratches
and creases marring the weave.
At last I dust my hands
on dirty jeans and turn towards
the cottage and the awaiting kettle.
But not before catching one last glimpse
of dusky fingers waving farewell
from the trellis.
sparky's rampsparky's ramp10 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
"Sparky, get over here, man!"
The Outsiders, (a.k.a. the Howard St. gang of Waterloo, Iowa),
yelled out with emphatic glee. I was the gang's leader.
"Look at this ramp we built."
"WOW, AWESOME!" I replied. "Anyone jumped it yet?"
All eyes, in one accord, stared at me with crunched in eyebrows.
"No wayyyyy, do you think we're loony bins or somethin'? It's all your's buddy-
"Yes, you're the Sparkman, come on."
Why, yes, of course I am. What was I thinking? I'm not human; I can accomplish
anything that dares get in my way. After all, I'm nine years old.
Tears of EternityLooking up into the darkest manifestation.Tears of Eternity8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Eyes blurred with tears.
Shed for the fallen.
I feel pain.
A burning ungodly pain.
And an utter sickness of humanity.
Parasitic and malevolent they are in nature.
They've hurt me.
Again and again.
No matter how many times I've forgiven.
It happens again.
It never stops.
And so the tears fall freely.
Through time and reality.
To heaven and hell.
Where they finally dissolve.
Only to be replaced by more.
So it never ends.
The hatred and agony.
It always affects me.
I have to witness it.
I am there when the blood is spilt.
And I'm the one who dies inside.
The tears won't stop.
Like a cascading waterfall.
They flow freely into the universe.
And for reasons I may never know.
Man will never stop.
Until it kills itself.
And there I shall be.
Sitting in the middle.
Watching it all play out.
And my tears shall run.
For the intolerance of man knows no bounds.
As well with their arrogance to difference.
They are weak.
The Dolomite Man 1.The Dolomite Man10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are openhanded. Of course you are openhanded.
Yours is a more civilized hand than Gods,
a softer hand, a slower hand.
And your mouth discloses the first great secret of the world.
I cannot hear it. It
is a secret for your mistresses and your four wives,
and for your mistresses and your four wives only.
The child will learn it on his own. You may edify him
this way, you may make a lesson out of it
though I will learn close to nothing.
Perhaps how to make my expressions less vacuous,
my hands softer and more civilized,
my tongue-pallet the purer.
Hand me that Madeira and I will tell you
RUBBER TIRES FOR TANNIN! How perfectly
the aftertaste traipses its tails and trains along behind it,
thick, yes, but gone in the creases.
God watches from the library room, envious
and with locusts.
You sat once,
MirrorsMirrorsMirrors9 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Mirrors have long entranced human minds. Visiting sailors would trade looking glasses with the savages, who would be mystified by the reflected world within. In ages past, Narcissus, for want of a portable mirror, withered away above a lake. The 'Hall of Mirrors' is always popular, with children worried, alarmed, intrigued by their misrepresented alternates.
I am today scared by mirrors, because I am compelled to look into them. The image I see, I hate. I hate that it may be this myriad assortment of reflective cells that determines whether I get second glance or not, rather than what I say, do, or the company I keep. I hate that the image is visibly imperfect, as if my private cankers were advertised with every blocked pore. I hate that it is not me, just a shell- I hate how people don't realise this.
I hate that, after all this: I still look.
In Peter Hedges, 'What's Eating Gilbert Grape?' Gilbert, presented with a mirror, looks into it for only a
In DreamsIn Dreams10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In dreams, one wanders, lost
Through a furled and silver fog
Shapeless shadows lift like spectres
Dancing silent across the plain.
To those who like I live within
Each day is like a passing lamp
Drifting swift as time itself
In currents deep beneath the waves.
And what a dreams but silent requiem
For what visions we once possessed?
In light, in life, in dark, in death
In sorrow we weep and mirth we laugh.
To hearken to, within argent cloud
A strain of music softly plays
Guiding over the sea of thought
Gentle fantasies once visited on us.
And oftentimes someone waits
For you at the lights across the blue
And wind-swept gulf that all must pass
Alone, in death - they call you now.
For me it is a cloaked girl dark-eyed
Behind her ears sweeps straight hair
Drawn about with shrouds of light -
A ghostly nymph drawn from times gone.
Over the waves her music rises -
That clear pure voice beckons me seaward
O'er the waters deeper than my shallow life
My love is drawn forever to her.
She holds al
TomorrowTomorrow8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
With each day that passes, another tomorrow comes.
and with each tomorrow that comes,
so does my soul grow more fragile.
It becomes difficult, as the years grow longer
to find the fragrance of the once loved
that's been snatched away from me.
It becomes irrecoverable, the once beloved sight
the heart that has grown fonder
But while every moment passes
and with each second that flies,
the value of the memories we shared
neither ripens or depreciates into nothing
but remains unchanged, as if perpetual within time.
For even after one hundred tomorrows,
or even after one thousand tomorrows,
the signficance, of what you taught me,
remains the greatest, and most wonderful
memories I experienced.
The Gargoyle and The MermaidThe Gargoyle and The Mermaid10 years ago in Children and Teen More Like This
If you traveled far from where snow capped mountains make their berth, through golden deserts on camel back, and over countless emerald plains you would find a beautiful ocean, blue like a Himalayan Poppy and as fresh as a baby's first breath. It flows with fish, all colors of the rainbow, and within it is a kingdom constructed of both sand and coral. Along these sandy roads swim not only whales and goldfish but the prettiest of mer-people too.
Their skins are shaded in a multitude of color like the fish, ranging from lilac purple and sunshine orange to coal black. The luckiest of them even have tails that reflect different pigments, as though carved from diamond. The mer-people spend a great deal of time indulging on oysters, adorning themselves with pearls, and playing silly love games. They court each other day and night, the mermaids batting their lovely lashes at the handsomest boys, while the mermen performed daring feats before the most beautiful girls. At night they gather upon
To Never ReturnTo Never Return11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To Never Return
He was my immortal love.
Eternal light fed his veins,
And he gave himself to my fangs.
For that he was a tortured angel.
Like a plague who has found it's prey,
My craving could not be quenched,
For I was a vampire captivated,
Undead, yet dying in his arms.
I drank deeply of his soul,
Devouring his flesh,
I drew him deeper into my abyss.
And with every bite, his light withered.
And with me, his wings delved deeper.
And the more I consumed,
The more we were torn asunder.
We were both lost.
I was to die.
He was to never returnů
(c)2004 Joseph Palladino