CENSOR THIS 08880CENSOR THIS 0888013 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I remember when I know why the cage bird sings
was challenged for the "encouragement to take action
in premarital sex, homosexuality, and the use of
I remember when the Bible was banned and/or
challenged for being "pornography and obscene"
in Alaska and Pennsylvania in 1993.
I remember when the The Autobiography of
Malcolm-X was challenged in Flordia in 1994--
because it was "racist against white people"
I remember when Jambo Means Hello: The Swahili
Alphabet was charged with "degrading white
children" although it was a book for white children to
understand the African-American culture much better.
I remember when Daddy's Roomate was removed
by most libraries by most of the United States---for
Working Without a NetWorking Without a Net13 years ago in Humor More Like This
I did what any of us would have done when learning that my Internet service had been shut down. I cried.
Actually, that's not completely true. The first thing I did was frantically dial up the campus tech people, who told me the problem would be resolved in an hour. Anyone who has ever dealt with Electronic Device Repairpersons should already know that "an hour" in their language translates into "sometime between an hour and the rapture."
So I waited an hour. Then I cried.
How could I possibly function without instant access to news, entertainment, and all that other stuff that's just sort of there? What could I do in place of checking my e-mail every 20 minutes and playing Slingo? This was a major problem.
But after a moment of despair, I dried my tears with the hanky of determination. I would not let this defeat me! I had lived happily before without the Internet and I could live the same way now! I only had to remember how.
I first tried reading an ancient text recording from when p
Mind, I'm writing.Mind, I'm writing.11 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
Mind, I'm writing
A dark, untidy study. JACKSON slouches in his chair, smoking. Arrayed around him are six characters, all in shadow. JACKSON types a few words on his computer keyboard then pours himself some more whisky.
JACKSON: This isn't going anywhere!
GORDON: And you don't even get to screw it up and throw it away.
JACKSON: Oh, not again.
JACKSON: picks up bottle and looks at it suspiciously.
I hate it when they do that.
KATE: We're only trying to help.
JACKSON: You're not real.
GORDON: Define real, you bastard. Do you think I like this shadowy existence?
JACKSON: Shut up.
GORDON: You never finish anything, you slack, unimaginative moron. Stop knocking back the booze and write something.
JACKSON: shakes his head and pours more drink.
You're worse than my conscience. Which one are you, anyway?
GORDON: I think I'm the clichéd angry young man you called Gordon in a short story you never finished some two years ago now.
JACKSON: You think
'ocean hunger''ocean hunger'12 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The inky mass opened its many mouths; they gaped and retreated. The water always looked like a trained dolphin pulling itself through its daily routine, wanting only to be fed.
Camille wanted to sacrifice herself every day, that desire never left her. Beside that wide oceanic arm, she was less than a microbe, a speck. The water owned her. She was its possession. She owed it to the river, to feed it. And often the fall looked more inviting than a chocolate cake or a feather bed.
But she wouldn't jump, because then what would Harold do? He was not self-sufficient. His existence depended on her.
The river just kept shimmying along, through the track it had worn deep. No seagulls circled the water here. It was a no man's land of beaches that stunk like an collection of fish markets. Down below were stretches of salt and pepper sand with rubbish buried beneath like ostrich eggs. Some houses and buildings that replaced trees were fastened on the vast hills on either side of the river, attach
Tea StainTea Stain13 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"You call this bollage toast, man?
It's nowhere near done fully..
The middle bit's all burned'n'weird,
The outside bit is fluffy."
The toaster's broken inside,
And outside stands a goat..
And I am citing to the moon,
My tea stained suicide note.
"I can't believe I'm eating this."
I do wish he'd shut up..
In fact I'd wish this all away-
This blasted tea stained cup..
So many must have pondered it;
To leave it all and fly..
Fly to the moon ne'er looking back,
And let the morning die..
Yet, this cup's a might addictive,
And shalln't let me forget..
Yet seems my tea stained suicide,
Has not subsided yet..
And so, the middle of me's burning,
And outside's so unclear..
Why the devil there's a goat outside,
Is something rather queer..
The tea grows slowly strong and cold,
Like my unwritten note..
And I shall sip, and wait and wait,
Until the day I'm smote..
Pach, 31st night of Summer, MMII.
Grim PenanceGrim Penance12 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It was raining, pouring like a Biblical event on the sinners. Rain hit my face, slid off the edges of my hat in waves. It felt Biblical, certainly. I wanted to turn my eyes upward and let the water beat twin holes into my brain. I imagined I'd feel it happen with a child's look of wonder pointed at the clouds. A stupid, silly grin too.
The day I met Jack Silver, and by association Conrad Reynolds, was memorable not for the God-wrath behind thunderclaps, but for the way it smelled. Old. Musty. Missing that rebirth in air composition I associated with storms. So I blame the smell for the geriatric way I crossed the street and approached the door of Jack Silver on a miserable Wednesday morning. Jack had the sort of ass backwards name that had inspired Chandler to invent noir. It deserved mocking and admiration in equal doses.
He also lived in a shit-hole of an apartment, but at least it was out of th
108801PLANESCAPE108801PLANESCAPE10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your shiver-smile is exultant.
i thought that
while i waited for the
suns to fall,
i would sing quietly
of the planescapes;
and how we, hand in hand
held the rising
jewels of the eternal apex
in that void, brimming with
life and interstellar
"your shiver-smile is exultant,"
i breathed in your ear
while you frosted over
and when again the suns
did climb to their zenith,
we were seen
as nothing less than
made of superstrings
'dreamcake''dreamcake'12 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
He's seated in the front row, passing a blue stress ball back and forth between his hands. It shrinks and expands, shrinks and expands. He didn't win anything, but I can assume he's intellectual. He has the hair for it, all in his eyes and choppy. He's concentrating on the ball's pattern, and I want to know what stresses him out. I think about stealing one of his hands. Leaving the ball on his chair and rushing him out of the building without speaking one word.
Before I realize it they plant me on stage, nudging me towards the microphone. The echo of my voice sounds painfully young. I feel completely isolated, with my toes lined up at the tape and my mouth reading separately from my brain. The words of my so-called "art" sail into the air and fall at all the parents' feet. Their hands are folded like Origami, and their ears are shut off except for when it is their own child's moment of glory.
No one in the room is hearing what I actually mean, even those that are listening. They
BeautifulWhen I see you feeling so empty,Beautiful13 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I just want to hold you close to me,
Wipe those tears of fear from your eyes,
Wishing you could see your beauty.
Its clear to me that you're hurting,
A thought that tortures me inside.
I long to take away your pain ,
But that request has been denied.
I'll stand by your side forever,
Till death tears me away from you,
I'd never leave you willingly,
My love will always remain true.
Give me your sorrow, pain, and fear,
I would gladly bear them for you,
One like you does not deserve them,
In sympathy my heart bleeds too.
Listen to me and please believe,
You're beautiful as none can be,
Incalcuable in your worth,
Yet you give of yourself freely.
Be strong and know that you are loved,
Your trust I could never betray,
I'd hold you close comforting you,
I promise it will be okay.
Tips On Self-PublishingTips On Self-Publishing11 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Tips On Self-Publishing
I recently decided to self-publish a compilation of my work. It is something that I've wanted to do for a long time, but have always put off for several reasons; the imagined cost, basic lethargy in editing the damn thing, and laziness when it came to mail-outs to publishers. If this sounds like you so far, you might be able to benefit from a few things I learned along the way. Below I will discuss almost everything you will need to know before jumping into a self-publishing project, some pitfalls to avoid, and approximately what to expect to come out of your pocket. (I'm talking about money, pervert.)
Once I decided I was definitely going forward with this project, my first step was to find publishing houses/printers that offered the services that I wanted. There are many resources for this, but I found the below link most helpful in finding presses that would actually not only turn around a quote quickly,
Your PoemOn the twentieth day of July 69,Your Poem11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
For the first time in history,
The moon landed on a man.
The first time such move had been attempted by a celestial body,
A great feat of precision,
Didn't crush the man at all.
You see, we see things from our eyes,
And everyone knows our eyes see upside down.
Or is that the right way up?
I could tell you about walking through deserts,
The beauty of running water, of rain,
You'd be thinking of TV shows.
When was the last time you were challenged,
Walked away from a conversation stunned.
Who are you listening to, me or yourself?
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
Is meaning in the eye of the reader?
More importantly, are you reading this upside down?
Every word you read is yours,
Make your own sentences,
Take your own morals.
And even though I wouldn't dream of telling you what to do,
Look within other people,
You'll see yourself.
Find out what you are,
Where you are headed.
Find your own moon and land on it.
after dinner, afterlifeafter dinner, afterlife9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
After Dinner, Afterlife
If it were you and I,
both of us
bearing crosses on our backs,
and lifted high upon our crimes
(like a Bible story
or a fairy tale from some
damned, banned book)
we'd surely be honoured
at the gates of Saint Peter,
with medals, wine, wings
and songs of praise
for our lives within fables
and our ability to conquer
with only a blind mule -
and a switch.
Political LimericksThere once was a man named Bush,Political Limericks10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Whose head was stuck up his tush.
"There's weapons!" he cried,
He weaseled and lied,
Because his brain was made out of moosh.
Two men went to get married,
By parliament the two were harried.
"We have the right!"
They put up a fight,
Until Canada's views were varied.
Bush isn't the one who thinks,
Their routine's still working out kinks.
Sometimes they'll show this,
Did you ever notice?
He stops talking when Cheney drinks.
So the surplus could be bigger,
We could market a Chretien action figure!
With a kung-fu grip,
And a crooked lip,
He'd scare the crap out of Tigger.
The Conservative party is mean,
Harper's heart has yet to be seen.
The liberals forced out,
NDP with no clout,
Next time consider voting Green.
an isosceles love triangleIf two angles of one triangle are similar to two angles of another triangle, then the triangles are similar.an isosceles love triangle11 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Recalling the memory of His geometry makes me sick with longing. That's the real reason I don't call Him every night, don't spend hours stuttering out words onto paper in some tremulous imitation of a love letter. The space I have behind conversation and human interaction is where He really lives, ready for me any time I need to remember. I don't even have to close my eyes before His own stare back at mine, revealing the storm clouds and stars that hover around His midnight-black pupils. The angles of His eyebrows, the slope of His nose, the arches of His eyelashes, the degrees of His gait, the radius of His smile when He sees me, the surface area of His strong embrace; sometimes the formulas back me into a corner where I try to understand, try to meticulously calculate every possible equation. I never solve for the answer before I snap out of my stupor, realizing His abs
~Artpolitics handbooks~Artpolitics handbooks12 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Interesting links :
- http://www.petersingerlinks.com/ : info about Peter Singer, animal rights activist and Professor of Bioethics at the University Center for Human Values, Princeton University
- http://www.churchofeuthanasia.org : Church of Euthanasia, a group of people against human supremacy
- http://www.calvin.edu/academic/cas/gpa/ww2era.htm#Posters : Nazi propaganda archive : all about National Socialism from orriginal German sources, translated in English
- http://www.propagandacritic.com/ : Basic info on propaganda. Noone is imune to all propaganda.
- http://www.lp.org/ : American Libertarian Party
- http://www.nazi.org/party/theory/ : Libertarian National Socialist Green Party
- http://www.nsm88.com/index2.html : American Nazi Party
- http://www.nsec-88.org/: National Socialist Education Center
- http://www.parecon.org/ : The Participatory Economics Project
- http://www.marxists.org/ : All about Marxism
- http://www.infoshop.org/ : All about Anarchism
Faithful WaitingFaithful Waiting11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Babies crying in their cribs,
Gunshots ring through empty halls.
The bells in the tower
Clatter with fear.
And all ears pause.
Oppeneheimer's fateful tool.
Mark the world down,
For a price.
Buy the toys,
For a dime a piece.
Children laugh and unaware.
Silent gas leaks through the gates.
Fake a smile,
And close your eyes.
War machines grind
Through deserted streets.
And ragged feet.
No one talk,
Let's stand in line.
With unfaithful dreams.
Another wasted dayI was your Girlfriend and lover,Another wasted day1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
your fiancèe, your wife,
your best friend, your partner
and the mother of your child.
The one who cooked your dinner
when you came home from work,
kept your home and clothes clean
and always liked to talk.
I showed great understanding,
I think I knew you blind,
loving and respectful,
Yeah these words come to mind.
I was so proud to know you,
be part of your exciting life,
your friends became my friends
I was so happy being your wife.
I then became the worrier,
your carer, your nurse
turned to God almighty
prayed to end this curse.
I agonise at losing you,
it's really hard to bear
and what my future has in store,
I somehow just don't care.
I sit now in the quietness
of another wasted day
I wonder really who I am,
Cos,I've lost Me along the way.
A poem by Suzanne Karbach 2nd June 2014
101412PARALLAX101412PARALLAX12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
per aspera, ad astra.
to the angel of the halls of time:
in the space of those untold-thousand terminal
heartbeats silent; the treetop sunbeams gliding
some forest thaw in spring where he was static
bled like ruin and heather in the cloudshperes
she danced not far, and whether or not she felt
the dynamic of weathered-storm skyshallow, yet
untired he moved to make not a sound and thus
was fashioned the beginning of an end
Rain Gods Men bring their hammers to our roof this eve,Rain Gods9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Invisible children splash in the streets;
This is what I hear,
This is what I see;
This is what guides my mind to sleep.
The rain gods drum a lazy beat,
I rest my head-- my wishes keep;
This is what I hear,
This is what they speak:
Close weary eyes and softly dream.
The silence grows, the clouds move on,
They bring with them a dewy dawn;
They lie in wait,
For when I need
Their soothing song for a gentle sleep.
Religion Compared to ComputersChristianity is LinuxReligion Compared to Computers13 years ago in Humor More Like This
Many different variations. Some distros have little if nothing in common, and there are three main distros in circulation at the moment. Derived from Unix. A fast way of getting things done, but prone to rogue distros. Some take pain and effort to install via a text-based installation, others require no effort to get up and running.
Judaism is Unix
Often advocates of Unix can be seen with large beards. They can be hard to understand, and may sometimes appear eccentric, but they get the job done. Hard to master, which is why Unix gurus are few and far between in the modern world. Users of Unix have dwindled in number since Linux was introduced.
Islam is OSX
Seems fundamentally different from the other two but is quite similar. Shares some elements from Unix and Linux. Source code is strictly proprietary, i.e. it\'s not open source. Users of OSX argue you have to experience it for yourself