CENSOR THIS 08880CENSOR THIS 0888012 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
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 triangle10 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
A Sonnet CallA Sonnet Call10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
No anger fills me, though i'm rather pissed
as here I stand and testify with drawl
(by stand I mean I'm propped against a wall—
I conquered seven vodkas with a twist).
My call is for a woman I once kissed;
the girl back at the bar that stopped the brawl
and told me that I had one lovely call!
As firm as metal clasped around my wrist,
her love has grasped my heart and won't let go.
My lawyer said I should not say a word,
but I must tell the world about this treat!
Inebriated glee from head to toe
that frees my heart and makes my vision blurred…
oh officer, you make my life complete.
splitting micasplitting mica10 years ago in Typographical More Like This
Uncloud the borealis of your eye, show your iceberg secrets
on an axis that intersects the surface
an axis that Greek geographers established as a reference line
from pole to pole. While Greece preserves the memory of itself in Rome,
its philosophers deduce morals from the nature of man
rather than from God
and baize of whitened-green mouldering
from the pews-sides
leaving naked wood
to the disturbance caused by a water droplet,
that will be smoothed out by gravity.
This complex folding over cannot be drawn, though its properties
can be specified in full mathematical detail.
∑ 2398 a & b (put > zero as quantum) α 161
~Artpolitics handbooks~Artpolitics handbooks11 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
101412PARALLAX101412PARALLAX11 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
BeautifulWhen I see you feeling so empty,Beautiful12 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.
"ocean hunger""ocean hunger"11 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
April FoolsApril Fools12 years ago in Socio-political More Like This
I've been waiting all day.
All day, I've been sitting in front of my TV waiting for the constant war updates to switch to a special report. They will go live to the White House where the President will be sitting at his desk with the same concerned expression he always issues himself.
"My fellow Americans," he will begin, "As you well know, we are currently in the midst of great toil and hardship. It cannot be denied that there have been significant casualties and obstacles facing the course of Operation Iraqi Freedom. But as we forge on, I feel it is necessary to tell you, as well as the entire world…"
"APRIL FOOLS!" Saddam Hussein will scream, jumping in front of the camera. Bush, laughing uproariously, will stand and put his arm around the Iraqi leader.
"Man, we got 'em but good, didn't we!" Bush will say to Saddam between guffaws.
"We sure did, bro!" he will reply, nearly in tears. "At first I didn't think all these months were gonna be worth it, but every single person in the worl
108801PLANESCAPE108801PLANESCAPE9 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
Ender's RhymeEnder's Rhyme11 years ago in Open More Like This
Are more than gifted,
And the subtle balance;
Of power, is shifted.
Know more than adults,
And deep inside,
Have no hidden faults.
Are smarter than me,
And you will never know,
Because it hides where we cannot see...
By: Patrick Patin
"dreamcake""dreamcake"11 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
FateFate11 years ago in Scripts & Screenplays More Like This
A sunny day in the park. There is a single bench CENTRE stage. GOD is sitting on the LEFT side of the bench. He has long, white hair and a long, white beard, and is wearing a simple white robe. He is reading a newspaper. Enter PETER from the RIGHT. He is wearing black pants, leather shoes, a white shirt and a garish, comical tie. He is carrying a paper bag. PETER sits on the bench next to GOD, setting his bag next to him. He folds his hands and admires the weather.
PETER. Beautiful weather today.
GOD [focusing on his newspaper]. Mm-hm.
PETER. [Extending his hand] The name's Peter.
GOD [shaking PETER's hand]. God.
[GOD returns his attention to his newspaper.]
PETER. Um… God?
PETER. Not to be rude, but… your name is God?
GOD. I am God. Or at least I was God.
PETER. I… see.
GOD. You don't believe me.
PETER. Would you?
GOD. No. But it doesn't matter whether or not you believe in me.
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.
The Eyes Of The Night Teaser 1I used to fear the night. The way all children do. You know the stories… monsters hiding under your bed, sandmen, wraiths, and all sorts of other evil things from hell whose only purpose was to stop a child's heart. For children are innocent and defenseless… .The Eyes Of The Night Teaser 110 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I used to draw the curtains closed. Not that it could stop monsters of course. But I thought if they could not see me they would forget me. But they never did… whenever I switched the light off, darkness embraced me; I heard those voices, whispers in the blackness. Everywhere… there were words in it, lots of words, but incomprehensible to me. Devilish. My eyes would open, but they continued to tease me. Always mocking me with laughter from spots I didn't look at. Finally I would turn on the lights and run to mama… crying…
My parents used to say there are no monsters. Mom said I should grow up and stop dreaming about nightmare creatures. Dad was a little more gentle. He said I was living in a dream world and that he understood. Bu
Rain Gods Men bring their hammers to our roof this eve,Rain Gods8 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.
Working Without a NetWorking Without a Net12 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
the way people movethe way people move through you, leaningthe way people move9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in to tell the stories of their lives by the
places they've met you in. except you know
there's been words whited out, sentences
removed, and whole pages glued together:
secrets scrawled franticly onto transit stops
or dropped from wallets while crossing a set
of railway tracks before an early snowfall
RealizationRealization12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Radiant static drifts from the radioactive aura of the television.
Diminishing my pupils to pinholes of perception.
Bleeding the captions of the ten o'clock news with the dreams of death i see forthcoming.
Blah blah Blah...
Buy your American flags and your "Fuck Muslim" Bumper Stickers...
Layers of reality melt away as the hours count away like minutes.
Infomercials cloud the path of perception.
Breaking concentration into small fragments of space and time.
Spilling the contents of human comprehention all over the surrounding landscape.
Blood streaming through my veins relaying communication across the "Central Nervous System"</b>
Dial-up mindload disconnection.
Virus found // infected file ..... scaning...scaning....... Corrupt file found:: [Soul.dll] //
Reformat drive /H:/eart.
All feelings will be deleted Press cntl + Alt + $ .
Feelings wash away with the checkings of e-mails from unknown person[s].
Fiber-optic suicide televised for th