Under Pressure- PrologueUnder Pressure- Prologue in Short Stories More Like This
"Mr. Lennon, are you paying any attention?" the professor stared down at John with cold eyes.
"No sir," John smiled, "I wasn't paying any attention whatsoever."
The teacher sighed, "Mr. Lennon. Please pay attention."
"Will do sir!" John exclaimed, saluting the teacher and making everyone giggle.
The teacher refused to give John any more attention, so he ignored John and continued with his lesson. But John Lennon wasn't about to be forgotten. He'd been forgotten all his life. There was no way he'd let that stupid teacher at the front of the classroom forget about him.
John watched as the teacher excused himself for a moment, slipping out the door quietly. John stood, all eyes on him, and walked to the board. If the teacher wasn't up to teaching at the moment, who better to teach than John Lennon himself?
"Now boys and girls," John put on a nasally tone, making everyone smile.
They looked up to him. He was rebellious. He wasn't afraid to break the rules. He wasn't afraid to get
He's A Woman- PrologueHe's A Woman- Prologue in Short Stories More Like This
I yawned and sat up. The first thing I heard was the snoring of Ringo Starr in the bed on the other side of the room. Oh joy, I thought as I stretched out my tired limbs and yawned again. I swung my legs around the other side of the bed and slowly lifted myself up. Something was wrong. I immediately felt that. What the hell? I thought as I stared down at my chest. It was a bit bigger, so to speak. I shook my head and was surprised that my usual light and short hair was much heavier, much longer. I slowly walked over to the bathroom, turning the knob and walking over to the mirror. I stared at myself, my mouth dropping open. At first, I didn't know what to say, so I just screamed. I screamed at my reflection in the mirror because it wasn't, it couldn't be mine.
Ringo stumbled through the door, muttering a sleepy, "Wha' 'appened?"
I turned to him, asking, "Do I look different to you?"
Ringo sighed and rubbed his eyes; then turned to look at me. He looked me up and down, sta
He's A Woman- Chapter OneHe's A Woman- Chapter One in Short Stories More Like This
I hate John. That's all I could say at that time. I hate John. I continually repeated it in my head as I walked into my room and slammed the door shut. I took off George's jacket and placed it on the bed, walking into the bathroom and beginning to run the hot water into the tub. I needed some time to think about all this. Especially about what had happened in the car:
"John whipped around to stare at me, making me uncomfortable and fidgety. John smirked, "So Paulie, now that you're a woman, which Beatle do you find most attractive?"
Brian scolded, "Now John. That's not fair at all. Paul has only just switched genders and he isn't used to looking at boys that way."
"Stuff it Eppy, I wanna know," John snapped, turning back to me, "So who is it? Is it me Paulie? Have you had a crush on me ever since ye lost yer dick?"
"John," I gritted my teeth, "You said you wouldn't tease me."
"This isn't teasing!" John exclaimed defensively, "It's a question! Answer it."
I sighed, "Fine."
He's A Woman- Chapter EighteenHe's A Woman- Chapter Eighteen in Short Stories More Like This
George's Point of View
"W-What's going on?" I asked, my eyes still wide.
"U-Umm " Paul stuttered, "I-I "
"It's my fault," Ringo said, pulling away from Paul, "I came onto him."
I saw Paul stare at Ringo with shock and I realized that Paul had played a major role in this. I grabbed Paul and shoved him against the wall angrily, "What the hell is the matter with you Paul?! Do you ever understand how much John loves you?! He won't stop talking about how great you are, and here you are off with someone else! And not just any someone: John's best friend. I just don't understand it Paul!"
Paul just gazed at me. Had he not been a girl I would've punched him right then and there. Ringo pulled me away from him, whispering, "It didn't mean anything George we're just doing it to do it ye know?"
I exploded, "YOU GUYS ARE SEX BUDDIES?!"
I grabbed Paul roughly by the arm, dragging him out of the room and into the studio. The whole time, he begged, "Please don
He's A Woman- Chapter FifteenHe's A Woman- Chapter Fifteen in Short Stories More Like This
A smile arose on his face when he saw me walk over. I winked back; our secret way of saying hello. I grabbed my Hofner off the stand and began to tune it, when I felt arms tangle around my waist. I giggled a bit as warmth breathed against my neck. My face was red as I felt him gently kissing my collar bone.
"Hello John," I giggled, turning around to face him.
"Hey Paulie," he chuckled, pulling me close and rubbing my back, "I missed you."
I grinned up at him, "It's been about three hours."
He smiled back, "I know, but I still missed you."
I leaned up and kissed his lips gently, wrapping my arms around his neck. He held me closer and swayed me a bit, kissing me back. I heard an "ahem" and broke away, suddenly remembering that there were other people in the room. My face went red as I saw George smirking at us and Ringo, who hadn't been told about us, stare at us in complete shock. I whispered to John, "I missed you too" and quickly pulled away, grabbing my Hofner again a
He's A Woman- Chapter FourteenHe's A Woman- Chapter Fourteen in Short Stories More Like This
I woke up with John lying by my side, his arms tangled around my middle. I could feel his breath on my neck, his naked chest pressed up against my naked back. I sighed contently and looked over my shoulder to see him still sleeping soundly, with a faded smile still on his face. I smiled as I remembered what happened last night after George and I had told Elvis that I didn't want to be with him anymore.
George and I walked out of the club, my arm linked through his. He smiled at me, "Well that went well didn't it?"
I nodded as I remembered that Elvis had just agreed sadly that we wouldn't be together anymore. It had made me feel somewhat guilty, but it had to be done. I couldn't date someone I didn't really want to be with. George helped me climb into a taxi and immediately he asked, "So are ye gonna go on that date with me?"
I giggled, "Maybe George, maybe."
He smiled, "Okay, just think about it, alright?"
I nodded and began to stare out the window. It was ab
He's A Woman- Chapter ThirteenHe's A Woman- Chapter Thirteen in Short Stories More Like This
Sometimes we'll sigh- sometimes we'll cry
And we'll know why just you and I know true love ways
Throughout the days out true love ways
Will bring us joys to share with those who really care
This was beyond insanity. It was it was like the whole world had gone on drugs and I was the only normal one. I was slow dancing with Elvis to "True Love Ways" by Buddy Holly. I could feel his warm breath on my neck and his body pressed up against mine. I kept panicking, thinking it was John every couple of seconds because of what he'd done earlier. But it wasn't. I had to keep reminding myself that this was Elvis Presley. Then I'd groan in my head because that was way worse for me.
"Sam? Ye wanna get something to drink?" Elvis's smooth voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Sure," I replied, relieved to be anywhere but pressed up against Elvis.
He pulled away from me and we sat down at a booth, right behind a couple who were close to yanking off their clothes and stic
He's A Woman- Chapter NineHe's A Woman- Chapter Nine in Short Stories More Like This
Ringo's Point of View
"George?" I murmured sleepily as I opened the door, "What are you doing here?"
There were tears in his eyes as he asked, "Can I come in?"
"Sure," I nodded, stepping aside as he walked in.
I closed the door and asked, "What's up?"
"P-Paul," he whispered.
"Yeah, what about 'im? Did you guys break up already?" I asked, my mind still spinning that George and Paul were actually dating.
"Sort of," George said, "I-I need to explain something to you."
"Okay," I replied as we walked into the kitchen and sat at the counter, "Go ahead."
"John and Paul were together. You remember, right?"
I nodded and he continued, "Well, after John had that seizure, he said he didn't love Paul. So Paul was really upset and came to see me. He and I agreed that we'd try and make John jealous by me dating 'im. So, I wasn't really in love with Paul. But he invited me to this club tonight with Cynthia and John. So I went with him, and I know this might sound crazy but I-I t
He's A Woman- Chapter ThreeHe's A Woman- Chapter Three in Short Stories More Like This
"Paul," George poked his head through my bathroom door to see me staring into the mirror, "He's here."
I nodded, "Alright. Be out in a minute."
George nodded and left the room quietly, sensing that I needed a moment alone. I took a few deep breaths, staring at my unfamiliar self in the mirror. Am I seriously going through with this? I wondered as I stared at myself. I thought back to our shopping trip and nodded. Yes, I thought, I'll have to. I walked out of the bathroom and back into my own room, my legs shaking. I lifted my hand to the door knob and twisted it to the right. I swung the door open gently and sucked in a breath: Elvis was sitting in the lounge chair next to John, Ringo, and George, who were all squeezed onto the couch. I slowly entered the room and the conversation stopped; all eyes went on me. Ringo was staring daggers at me, as if he knew that this was all George and my scheme. George was smiling at me and John had his mouth open, looking as if he were g
Under Pressure- Chapter FiveUnder Pressure- Chapter Five in Short Stories More Like This
John watched as the three glared at Paul, who was standing there with wide eyes. Finally, Pete stuck out his hand to Paul, who shook it quickly.
Pete said, "Welcome to-"
"Hell," Tom snapped, grabbing Paul's hand and shaking it roughly.
Stu shook Paul's hand silently, unsure of what to say.
"So where do you guys wanna go?" John asked.
"Dunno," Tom murmured.
"How about we go down to the drug store and see if they have any cigarettes. I've run out," Stu said.
"Alright, sounds good," John sighed and the five of them began to walk down the stairs.
It was awkward and silent for a few minutes, until Paul murmured, "I didn't know ye smoked."
"Of course we do," Tom snapped, "Why wouldn't we?"
"Have you ever smoked before?" Stu asked.
Paul shook his head, "My dad doesn't want me to smoke."
Tom, Stu, and Pete all laughed, making Paul go red in the face. He didn't understand why he could fit in with these boys.
"You don't need to listen to your parents!" Tom exclaimed, "C'mon, somebod
youYou've become the dawn unfurledyou in Free Verse More Like This
in vengeful loves and false hearts;
A wicked flower.
You kiss with fire
and sing breaths of plumed ash.
You are what weeps free from nothing.
The birth and death of all things made manifest.
The footprint and rippled waters
of daughters left in want of saints.
You are the bullet and blade;
the momentum of decided things,
the shutter and echo between wind.
You are with wrath the ghost of broken reeds;
a moment intended to have been elsewhere,
an answered prayer at once regretted.
You are holy and wholly at want for it
a rare and poisonous dream
once the cause and cure of hysteria.
The plague by any other name
Away fromAt some point you'll break free,Away from in Free Verse More Like This
leap arms bound toward broken glass and streaking sunlight.
At some point you'll tell yourself how anything mattered;
anything Could have.
believes in angels,
believes in stories.
I'd heard God loves love,
and hates us through it.
Streamingthe child dreams he is a childStreaming in Other More Like This
and is woken to find nothing
the man dreams he is a man
and is woken to find
he is a child
the fruit gathering fly
left alone in honesty
to wallow about absence
to collect among corners
you dream still linger
and chase wildly from windmill
to chasm to prayer of prayer of
hands once much more than withering in place
once more of much or many
once truthful for having no other line drawn
once where yesterday had grown wings
and buzzes about your mind gathering momentum
of notions best left wandering somewhere else,
best left where regret had been laid comfortably
across the backs of stone chairs
at some point clinging as lint
upon a passing ghost you dont notice
seep gluttonous and starving
through gray brick and paint
bleached too simple to hide plainly seen
or mercuryIf I were God,or mercury in Free Verse More Like This
I'd light incurable fires.
I'd light everyone
like turning left.
Shaping stoneAt best Ill disappoint you;Shaping stone in Other More Like This
Ill from most heights
Ill promise though
To love you more than breathe.
To breath but for your name
as at best four letters might pretend.
As coiling now might somehow fracture
what in besting itself might belittle
or believe in,
I cant but might
alcoholism and angels.
45 of us at bestBind of our thorns bent copper thin,45 of us at best in Free Verse More Like This
Bind of knots;
Bind of writhing.
Bind of where loathing profits
too much threadI am the sum of my parts. And with what you leave behind,too much thread in Surrealism More Like This
I am at a loss and travel back and forth between doorstep and tomorrows empty clock in prayers of ghosts or lines between dust
for counting the dreams you forget begging between cracked floorboard or a reckoning in twine save ropes hope filled knots
the slack of sudden gripping.
KaddishFor loan in all of us,Kaddish in Other More Like This
Is a great longing.
Our collective and unforgiving vestige;
where torn crests
For want their matriarchs
Rely on little more than time
To sew whole the broken branch
or raise in memory
Like its followers
Cannot adequately escape
Cannot for itself be saved,
Despite, and in spite of
We become caretakers
Holding on to feeble grips.
Holding on for grace
Of what in forgetting
We would lose.
The Kaddish between leaves
Weaves itself incoherent,
And as we watch,
Were absolved to mourn.
She wont stand to raise the casket lid.
She wont force herself from piled earth.
She wont open her eyes and smile
A great pride upon us
For us being us
tangentsIsn't it thoughtangents in Free Verse More Like This
for any other narcissist
only ejaculate and conjured breezes.
Isn't it as Brooklyn sleeps
the pool of what at best buries itself
and at worst conforms minstrels upon the broken night
in hollowed silhouettes as cum stained excuses for wandering.
Isn't it the tatter and flame in friction which coils with hemp twine;
clawing purposeful scars in pale and reasoned skins
until grown men weep delirious for mothers
or would-be-anyone's womb in hand
and symptomless as empathy washes like mud in fresh rain over everything.
I picked up a rockI picked up a rock.I picked up a rock in Open More Like This
It wasn't just any rock.
It was a magic rock.
And it was magic because
It inspired this verse.
It had been sitting there still
For a millennia,
Flat side down,
Waiting for something special
It could have been a
Meteor impact or a jostling
From quivers of a nearby fault line
But it was, instead, just me
Picking it up.
Barring the daily rotation of the Earth,
Its annual spin around the Sun,
And the expanding race of the galaxy
It was the most movement
Enjoyed by the rock in quite some time.
But even more astounding,
My rock is now two.
Its second reality
Encountered on this page
Through the glow of an overhead desk lamp.
And that's why I carry the rock
Around with me
In my front pants pocket.
Because it's not just a rock.
It's a magic rock.
I picked up a rock
© 2010 Mark Pearce
I Can't Write AnymoreI cant writeI Can't Write Anymore in Philosophical More Like This
Oh, I can write it
But I cant make it
Oh, I can make it
But I cant make it
Perhaps with a few
It would all
All make sense.
I Cant Write Anymore
© 2008 Mark Pearce
Llama KarmaLlama Karma in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A camel, it has two humps.
A llama, it has none.
Poor llama fears such lacking
May result in much less fun.
One hump for dry hydration.
Another hump for symmetry.
Poor llama doont have either
Its as sad as sad can be.
But theres justice in this story
Into which you blindly fell.
While a camel may have two humps
A llama has two Ls.
(c) 2007 Mark Pearce
Poetry is IIIPoetry is takingPoetry is III in Philosophical More Like This
fleeting mental abstractions
and elevating them
to levels of seeming consequence.
Poetry is III
© 2008 Mark Pearce
Construction TheoryConstruction Theory in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I'm going to build a house with pimples
so you can't tell when the paint starts peeling.
©2008 Mark Pearce
A Lesson In Pantry CareA Lesson In Pantry Care in Free Verse More Like This
Shelve em tight
The pickles, peanut butter and the crackers.
Squeeze em in
Plastic cups, canned sardines and the light bulbs.
Stack em high
The coffee, tea and sugar with the corn meal.
Make more room
For the bullion and the cereal and the oysters.
Second row for
The oil and the cookies and the candles.
On the floor
The bug spray, long spaghetti and garlic powder.
Aluminum foil, paper bags and a flashlight.
Save some space
For the soup, speed blender and the Pop Tarts.
Hide in back
The chunky tuna, stove-top popcorn and the oatmeal.
Tuck up front
The candies, near the flex straws and the hominy.
Close the door
And pray for a day without earthquakes.
A Lesson in Pantry Care
© 2008 Mark Pearce
SpillageMy thoughts are not interesting anymore.Spillage in Free Verse More Like This
Not thoughts at all, as I can tell.
One would expect in a downpour
That at least one droplet would prove spectacular.
But search as I may,
I cannot find such marvel within these parched squibs.
Perhaps each graph up-loaded, disassembled,
codified, algorithmically rearranged, sorted, tested,
reassembled, downloaded and packaged properly,
there would be something revealed
of keen celebration.
But fortune presaged,
the process would result as Longfellow
but lacking the final "r."
Alas, I'll choose last breath
in this beast this roiling rive.
© 2010 Mark Pearce
Said on ThursdayI said something on ThursdaySaid on Thursday in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
that should not be repeated.
At least not until next Thursday.
Its a say on Thursday thing.
Said on Thursday
© 2008 Mark Pearce
Haiku BreakfastI dream in Haiku.Haiku Breakfast in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
But when the monsters come
I am awakened.
Peanut Butter is
Best when licked off the fingers
(Elbows, knees and toes.)
I pledge allegiance
But my flag is often used
To conceal the truth.
I wrote a poem
But it stuck to the pages
Like a lollypop.
© 2007 Mark Pearce
Don'tDon't in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Kiss me on the cheek,
on the throat
if you love me.
Dont if you dont.
Touch me on the mouth,
at the ear
if you love me.
Dont if you dont.
Whisper moist to me
of your wonderings
Bathe me in the world
of your fantasies
Turn me in your sight
as the leaf
spins toward clutter.
Scatter me around
as a mourner
as the ocean laps
the friction of shoreline.
like the hummingbird
must suckle from the bloom.
Taunt me with your presence
when its there
and when it isnt.
in the quiet
of a lemon scented room.
Do all these things
if you love me.
if you dont.
© 2008 Mark Pearce
Portland 1965 - Ch 10 (Part 2/2)Portland 1965 - Ch 10 (Part 2/2) in Short Stories More Like This
George woke up, his back aching horribly. He looked down and remembered his situation, and shook his friend gently.
"John?" He shook him again.
He pulled at John's shoulders to sit him up straight and examined his hands. The blood had soaked through the cloth and had leaked onto his hands; his skin had been plastered in a dry layer of blood, cracking strangely as he flexed his fingers. He respired heavily at the sight of John's pale face, but decided there was no need for any more emotion.
With an overwhelming silence, on probably one of the worst afternoons of his life, George stood and lifted his friend to stand, wrapping his arm around his waist as he walked the limp body down the forest. The blood that remained among the trees of John's bloody track was in itself a horrifying sight. As he struggled out of the forest and into the beautiful sunny light, he felt there was nothing left of him to do.
George laid John as gently as he could in a shady spac
Portland 1965 - Ch 8Portland 1965 - Ch 8 in Short Stories More Like This
"Do you think they'd be alright?"
The car jolted as its tyres sunk briefly into another pothole.
Curse these American roads.
"Whaddya say Rings'?"
"Well, y'know do you think they'd manage alright, all by themselves?"
Ringo Starr looked into Paul's eyes with an immense intensity of longing. They were all very close friends, they had gotten through so much together, and the turn of events had thrown him off so suddenly that he couldn't help but think this wasn't couldn't be meant to be.
"You're talking as if they're still alive, Ringo." McCartney's voice was hushed and small. He looked down to his knees solemnly, his long pretty eyelashes bowing in obedience.
"Well of course they're alive, Paul." His voice was urgent. "We're going to bloody well find them, and they're going to be bloody well alive and fine." A sense of betrayal overcame Ringo's expression and he looked away from Macca almost in disgust.
They sat side by side in the back of a dark 1960s car as Ma
Portland 1965 - Ch 3Portland 1965 - Ch 3 in Short Stories More Like This
George squirmed and kicked, suddenly claustrophobic at being connected so close to Lennon, and freed his hands from his friend's shirt; but John wouldn't let go.
He tried to squirm away from the leader's grip, tried to pry John's arms off his back to get the point across, but he just wouldn't let go.
The deep blue-green water rose up and down like a sleeping chest; slowly but briefly. A white crashing wave about two meters higher than them billowed on top of them and they sprawled and kicked to get some air.
George spat out the salt water and rubbed his eyes. His clothes felt heavy and were dragging them down. He looked to John, who was still clenching with fear to him and took a breath to speak.
Another wave crashed upon them, but this time they were able to regain the surface more fluently.
Lennon coughed and spluttered, and for the first time they were in the water George realized he was absolutely petrified. He began to scream every time the water beneath them rose; scared a
Portland 1965 - Ch 9Portland 1965 - Ch 9 in Short Stories More Like This
Something shook him with a fair sense of urgency. His eyes blurred as they crept open to a deep and depressing gloom. A tall and fidgety figure stood at the end of his bed, telling him to get up and get dressed.
Ringo moaned. "No " he rolled over and the beautiful comfort of the pillow swallowed him up.
"Ringo. Oi, Rich, wake up. Wake up!"
Another jolt of movement at his lower leg.
Ringo was angry now. He hated early mornings; loathed it with a passion. And the sun wasn't even shining.
How early was it!?
The blankets were thrown off his body, and he curled up into a ball stubbornly.
"I don't want to "
"Oh, God look at the time." Through clenched teeth now: "Get. Up!"
Ringo lay there for a while, and then twisted around to sit up on the bed, facing Paul. His hair was ruffled in all sorts of directions and he still couldn't see clearly. Happiness wasn't the best word to describe his current facial expression.
Something was flung at his head.
Portland 1965 - Ch 1Portland 1965 - Ch 1 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
He didn't like planes. Neither did the Beatle next to him. What was his name? Oh yeah, the bloody kid who tried to make a guitar, and snapped it. George. He was a good player, George, a good guitarist, they needed him in the band, but he didn't really need to be over appreciated. Besides, he was the leader of this band and look where he's taken them!
Could he really be that bothered to turn to face him? Really?
"Lennon " his voice became a bit more stern.
John turned towards George Harrison; the boy with the dark hair that swooned over his ears and in a perfect turnip shaped cut, the deep set concentrating eyes under his common frown and red pursed lips. If John were ever to turn queer he would quite fancy those lips or unless he was a bird; either way. But this time George's eyes were concentrating just a little bit more intensely, his frown a little bit more burrowed and his lips just a tad bit more pursed.
John Lennon replied with a disinterested tone,
Portland 1965 - Ch 2Portland 1965 - Ch 2 in Short Stories More Like This
"Paul Paul are you alright?"
Paul McCartney squinted, his ginormous gorgeous eyes opening slowly, and peered to what seemed like a light; a very bright one, in fact.
He grumbled. He stretched his neck and yawned, but didn't try to get up. He had been asleep. What time was it? How did he fall asleep?
He racked his brains for the slightest hint of memory on what had happened before. It was something horrible. Something he doesn't want to remember
"Paul? Hey bud you awake now? You fainted right on the floor we thought you were going to fall out too " The speaker's voice trailed off. It sounded familiar. What was he talking about? Falling off too?
"Hey, you're alright, love." Ringo was sitting by Paul's head, and Paul was on some sort of bed. He wasn't sure. The blue-eyed Beatle stroked his dark hair sympathetically.
" Ringo where are we? Can you turn off that light it's burning right through me eye sockets."
Ringo in return smiled weakly and r
Portland 1965 - Ch 5Portland 1965 - Ch 5 in Short Stories More Like This
It was now Day 2 after the tragic accident witnessed on that darned plane. From this point onwards, Paul knew it was only going to get worse.
The news reports had done even less than unflatter him; they'd wiped out all edge of hope, all existence of a possible escape or renewal. It was going to be hard work from here on in and he and Ringo knew that, being the Beatles.
The others didn't completely understand the loss. Neil Aspinal and Mal Evans along with Brian Epstein and George Martin never had the connection the four Beatles had, because they were always split apart from them. The Beatles were in it together, whether they liked it or not, they were seen as one.
And now only half.
Paul strummed his guitar half-heartedly. He knew the lyrics so well now, and the chords didn't touch his heart, but yanked on it and dug its nails into it.
This was the song that made hearts bleed.
He choked as he sang and strummed the wrong chord, his finger slipping from the correct fret.
Portland 1965 - Ch 10 (Part 1/2)Portland 1965 - Ch 10 (Part 1/2) in Short Stories More Like This
They couldn't help but notice they didn't want to, but it couldn't be helped. The world already rested entirely on their shoulders, so why should they take up this other burden?!
But there it was, plain as the day.
McCartney, being the one to face the cockpit, was the first to notice. He'd reluctantly given his friend a small kick before informing him of his thoughts. But, always being the one to reassure, Ringo had shrugged it off and told him that it wasn't worth worrying about and why did it matter anyway? His point was understandable, but the matter didn't feel anymore settled.
And then Mal and Neil handed them sandwiches
"Hey, what ya'll doing eating on a rescue mission?!" Norm turned in his seat abnormally.
Neil looked puzzled at the seriousness of the question. "Well, we gotta have something to eat don't we?"
"We're hungry." Paul murmured under his breath, his expression forming a blatant scowl.
To their horror, or rather, their amusement, Norm suddenly unclicked hi
Portland 1965 - Ch 4Portland 1965 - Ch 4 in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Paul sat down next to Neil Aspinall and took a pair of cards waiting on the table.
"What game is it lads?" McCartney choked with the emotion still hiding underneath him.
"Blackjack." Aspinall nodded and passed Ringo a pair of cards. "Come to play too Rings'?"
"Sure." Starr's voice was tight.
"Okay," Mal cleared his throat, "You all know how to play?"
They did. The game was light-headed. No one really got into it, but it's not like they didn't try. In fact, it was one of the friendliest games they, as competitive men, had ever taken part in.
The food was served by the blond American woman who had met the remaining Beatles at the door. The others with Ringo ate every crumb, but Paul didn't even glance near it, his plate completely untouched.
Ringo looked at Mal and then to Neil who both eyed him back, concerned.
The bassist took a ciggy from his mouth and glanced over to his friend, his eyes half-closed.
"Are you gonna eat that?" Ringo nodded towards Paul's full plate.
Portland 1965 - Ch 6Portland 1965 - Ch 6 in Short Stories More Like This
George Harrison had to drag his friend across the sand towards the nearest palm tree, leaving a long and odd dent in the sand. And it must be said he did it with complete amusement.
"Okay, you can let go of me now!" John Lennon waved his arms around to get rid of the guitarist's grip.
"No, no you need to get properly in the shade " George smirked.
"No! Harrison I'm not a baby!" he tried to slap at George's arms.
He giggled. "Well, you sure look like one from this angle, John." He finally let go of the squirming man, leaving him in a mood that created a pout.
George's face twisted into something cheeky and teased, "Would little Johnnie boy like his legs back?"
John turned and sneered. "No, I'm waiting for my massage, dear George." He stretched his back so it clicked in difference places. "All this swimming has me gotten a bit sore."
"Don't get demanding now." Liverpool couldn't be more present in his voice. "I think we need to get our priorities straight first."
Before he could say
it's more of a divine dramedygodit's more of a divine dramedy in Free Verse More Like This
his work until
is all of a man
that can be
(with a cane)
not a one un-
chiseled by the
of the ocean
all are gone
toward the sunlight
now surrounding them
in this case it's
like a truck-
but secrets are
what we're best
we've all opened up to air
seeing PerseidsI want youseeing Perseids in Free Verse More Like This
in the dark
I want you
on the hard ground
in the middle
of the lake
my hips' width
I want you
in so many appropriate
I want us
lost (in) ourselves
golden ingredientsminneapolis hadgolden ingredients in Free Verse More Like This
eyes so blue
I couldn't sleep
wanted to wander
lose myself in her
but memory's unmade
dreams depart with
I ate up pavement
like a twin city
and though I left
before you loved me
I couldn't ask
for a better way
to fill my hours
because I know you're...you mouthbecause I know you're... in Free Verse More Like This
but I'm ready
your own tongue
sex & selfishness
substance(s) & circumstance
excelling at art
excrement & experimentation
I know how
your heart breaks
over the sounds
those empty words make
and everything reminds you
of everything you're not
drowning in booze
and forever in love
I get it
give me something real
of telling tales and pathslittle rabbit,of telling tales and paths in Free Verse More Like This
where have you been?
pawing through some
sharpening your fangs
must you wrap
your bouncing head
your flat eyes
cradles the most
each new habit
earth wormshe has builtearth worms in Free Verse More Like This
but he has
failed to fill
our hearts and
the dark which
devours every part
name of the
a letterdearest dear,a letter in General Non-Fiction More Like This
there is a butterfly breathing its way out of you. there is a red & blinking button pressed to bear releasing. I am ever so sorry, but still collecting your colors. In the midst of apologies, still pressing your fragile frame to pages; special focus on forever. tomorrow, I will visit you inside your house. shortly thereafter, I will hide underneath your bed; making a nest of your blankets. the following morning, I will infiltrate breakfast disguised as a warm sip of tea.
that will become my favorite section, in retrospect. the part when you learned to call me "honey", honey. the part where I whispered and tickled your chin.
I hope this letter finds you well:
la la la-la love
miracle growI spent the darker daysmiracle grow in Free Verse More Like This
of my youth
and I regretted
how the land
for the weight
but the heart
by the sensory
we may dream
are a conscious
The Self Murder of HopeThe excitement of a new anxiousnessThe Self Murder of Hope in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
The twisting feeling of happiness
And heart racing
Little whispered words
And small moments to cherish
Things that mean nothing
And things that mean the world
A smile granted just from a simple salutation
Tripping over my own two feet
Looking down, scared
Hoping the landing is just as good as the fall
Slowly tearing apart these feelings
Pertaining to make me give in
Holding on with the last bits of strength
My mind can hold
Tiny whimpers, asking for space
Just let me live
I take a hammer to the butterflies
Chasing them away
Smashing their beautiful wings, and their hopes that are held within
These are not my hands
Composed of remnants others have left of the green eyed monster
In my hands it forces a chase
The butterflies flee in fear
And the tears fall, watching the hands that are not my destroy their innocence
One year, passed, the butterflies took to recover
Now on their return
The force of others minds, th
Dark City Nightas i see your eyes closingDark City Night in General Non-Fiction More Like This
your hand twists the button
my ear ringing with words
i wish not to of heard
if you didnt want me
just say it out loud
but dont make the song
sing these to me
for all i can see through the tears
is what i shouldnt have done
what i shoud have said
and i said i wouldnt cry for you
as we sat there
i turn my head to look away
you see me, i can feel you shifting beside me
and the words stick
to my ears
they replay in my head
loud and clear
the song continues
but i dont hear it
i just hear those words
like a broken record
and i look into the light of the night sky
and i see
did i ever mean anything to you
because you meant so much to me
and the city lights flash
i see my reflection
my promise broken
as the one tear falls
slowly dripping down my cheek
i shall not cry i say in my head
holding the cycling words away
but yet they still play
and all i want to do
and run away
from that moment.
Lost and Brokenits easy toLost and Broken in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
forget who you are
in this time this place
on this little star
she sits alone
in a dark cold room
wishing for light
finding no truth
lies bend around her
and she is torn apart
they wrap around her
cutting her away from the door
her eyes open slowly, weakly
she watches as the door to the outside
and there she lays, barely out of reach
her last tear drop falls
and the dark consumes her
so close she was to finding the light within
she falls to the ground
Forbiddenwhat we live withForbidden in Spoken Word More Like This
and thou shall not be seen
and for what is hidden
has much meaning
although soon lost
it still is reality
and for it need not be lost
hold above the light of day
for we must keep it tucked safely away
and in the darkest time
we shall return to it
in hopes of the safety
we shall know
the truth of be
of the consequences be heeard
but around them we try
and in search of the finality
we shall learn to hold back the tears that we need
and within the time we shall
find the answer to the qeustion we knew not to ask
and final to be that there is
to the dream
Hold Me Before You LeaveMy hands reachesHold Me Before You Leave in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
finding its way
coming closer to you
and you look away
i reach farther
your almost in my grip
then you pull away
and i slip
you turn around
to see my tears
and within lies
my hopes and fears
i want your touch
to burn my hand
i want to be lost
in your dreamland
i cry out
hoping you will stay
but my only response is
"youll be ok"
my fingertips brush
to edge of your palm
and i find for a moment
that makes me calm
you walk away
leaving me there
to stand on my own
i know that you do care
but you do not know
how to hold me right
you do not not
how to hold my hand tight
you are what i want
you are what i need
but you tell me that
we can never be
Unableeach day i look in your eyesUnable in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and not to my surprise
your expression is unchanged
each day i see
you still dont love me
the way i thought
each day i see
i cannot cry freely
for i know you see me
for everything i do
i cant be alone
to feel what i wish
i hide what i can
but the feelings remain
yet each day i must look at you
and know you have loved others
but i will never have you
and for me
i must hide everyday
that i know
CryEmotions rolling and i cant controlCry in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
the sadness, the loss the anger overtaking
i cant help but not smile
i cant help but not look at the floor
becuse i dont want to be here
thought thats the last thing ill tell you
whats this feeling?
i cant figure out
the pain in my chest
that wont go when your around
i hold back the tears
i want to cry but i have no reason as to why
just that your there
your body is there
why do i keep wanting to run from you
and why cant i?
this place is not where i want to be
i need a plane ticket to New York
where i can start over
figure things out on my own;
call me when you find me
i dont want o hurt you
so i retain the truth
i dont want you to be gone for days again
and only return for her
one of these times
one of us isnt coming back
and im not sure how long i can wait
how long i can stay behind
how long i can hold back
before you find out anyway
Losti am cryingLost in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
but the tears are invisible
i need the truth
but i am fed lies
i want to be close
but i cant open up to the people who
want me to
i dont disguise things
people are too stupid to see them
i am an open book
to the world
but i am written in a language unknown
i am the only person i have
to turn to
and i cant find out who she is
i am broken
with no way to be fixed
i have a deadly disease that isnt real
and theres no way to be healed
i am lost
and there is no way to find me
answerless questions...- If years made me lose all my teeth, would you still want to kiss me?answerless questions... in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
- When cats hide from the rain, do they know the fun they're missing?
- Do pencils get jealous from pens for leaving a trace that's harder to erase?
- Will angels fall if they chose by their own free will to abide by the will of God?
- Is Satan as ugly as they draw him, or did he spend his money on a complete make-over?
- If you were hungry and had only one piece of bread, would you give it to a kid dying of hunger?
- Do all beauty pageant contestants want world peace, or just a piece of that diamond crown?
- When you hear the sentence: "they lived happily, and grew old together, he became a senile diabetic old man and she died of breast cancer at the age of 76", would you still consider calling this story a fairytale?
- If I couldn't help myself anymore, and hugged you and not wanted to let go, would you believe that I really loved you one day?
- If rain was made of fire, would you cry on your cigarette whenever yo
tomato sauce...sometimes love ain't enough...tomato sauce... in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
sometimes it just lacks some stuff...
some tiny details, some bit of rough...
and a bit of tomato sauce...
who cares about all the emotions?
who cares about elixirs and potions?
and dramas causing these commotions...
to a bit of tomato sauce...
damn you, and damn those tears...
damn you, I have no fears...
I utter what my soul hears...
with a bit of tomato sauce...
toothbrush, toothpaste and dental floss
rachel monica chandler and ross
johnny freakin depp and kate junkie moss
you know what? I hate tomato sauce...
not afraid anymoreI look at your face, and the once black and white picturenot afraid anymore in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
suddenly gets colored with the richest palette a soul can see
I try to realise how beautiful you look
and how beautiful the world looks because of you
I listen to you calling my name, and the once sad melody
suddenly becomes the happiest harmony a spirit can hear
I try to understand how happy you sound
and how you replaced those wails with laughters
I feel your hand, and the once freezing flesh of mine
suddenly starts warming up by the flames of your essence
I try to comprehend how alive you feel
and how you were able to revive a once baren core
I'm afraid of this happiness I feel
I'm afraid of you
but how I miss you
how I long to hold you in my arms
how I long to play with your hair
while you're resting your head on my lap...
I love you...
I'm not afraid to say it anymore...
I love you...
I love you...
I love you...
I'm free at last...
and I love you...
it's time...When talks become superficialit's time... in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
And feelings turn artificial
When you think twice before you call
Then do, yet say nothing at all
When you feel empty all the time
And all your poems start to rime
When you miss someone who's not there
Or is around, yet does not care
When you try hard to make it last
Yet see yourself part of the past
When you fail the tricks in your sleeve
Then it is surely time to leave...
Plutonic ScorpioPlutonic Scorpio in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Entrench in the claws of a scorpion in hiding
Into a blissful abyss its tail ever binding,
Venomous desire clad in its body's delight,
Plutonic love instilling into the bright, still night
Determined to hunt, the scorpion rears its ground,
Reeling its prey into the thorns of a vicious crown,
Forcefully crawling its way, devouring the victims
Quest for MeaningRandom thoughts spiraling,Quest for Meaning in Open More Like This
Swirling over ones head
Thoughts, memories and emotions
The issues at hand,
Decrying. A subtle ray
Of hope shining upon
The palm of an individual
While thinking, focusing on what
To act, where to heed
Wolf's CryWolf's Cry in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A wolf basks beneath the night,
Gasping the air below the moons light,
Howling at the rays of midnight sky,
Bewildering the moment with an inner sigh,
I stand alone
In the darkness of this rugged land,
Where nothing can go hand in hand,
Staring into the sky through eyes wistfully,
Into a realm where I can never be truly,
Be on my own
Once I belonged to a pack,
Where trails of footprints go in track,
As we ventured into the mountains bliss,
Where nothing can be seen in the abyss,
I felt so alone
At a time when I needed them most,
My brethren were in the forest lost,
As I journeyed through the woods of Faerie,
Lost in the sensation of a moonlight ferry,
For all the brethren who had lied,
For every lone wolf who had died,
For the hunt where we never succeeded,
For the forest we had never seceded,
For the lost that will never be bribed.
As I wail a lupine howl through the night sky,
An answer to the moon, this is my wo
Creed of DeathThere are times when I think of death,Creed of Death in Free Verse More Like This
Lying in a coffin before my time has met,
Wandering through the darkness of a moonlit night,
Searching for peace towards a long, radiant light
And I ignored,
The fact the people fear what is morbid,
A notion where souls should never forbid,
Imagining the silhouettes of the once departed,
Living through life with a world so distorted
And death will eventually come for us,
Filling the world in a veil of distrust,
Covering the hopes of people beyond dusk
And I imagined,
The coffin where my body shall be put to rest,
Surrounded by the cries of people in distress,
Crossing through the seas of souls in waiting,
Hearing the pleas of the dead while wailing
There is no escape for us.
For this is how I envision it to be,
Where people could never live to see,
A place where I could put my lifes creed,
Where my dangerous imagination could lead
Black BirdBlack Bird in Free Verse More Like This
A black bird
up a gloomy trees branch
Its beak stutters,
of rabid vultures scavaging,
preying on rabbit's flesh,
searching... scanning the area,
as it tries to fix
its broken wings,
learning to fly, away
Tento segurar-me Tento segurar-me. O vazio arrasta-me pelas ruas abaixo. Quero manter-me segura. O vazio inquieta-me, pica-me com as suas agulhas largas. A terapia não funciona para mim. Deixo-me cair, arrastar pelo silêncio absurdo daquelas ruas. A solidão convida-me a dançar sob o luar e as estrelas compadecem-se de mim. Sinto uma lágrima arrefecer-me a face. E depois... O NADA! Não-mente, não-dor, não... Nada! Entrego-me ao nada e viajo. Voo como se fosse uma folha de papel perdida.Tento segurar-me in Free Verse More Like This
A rua. Aquela onde me pegaste ao colo com a tua voz.
8 de Dezembro, 2006
O processo da paixaoComo são as gaivotas, o mar e os seus beijos?O processo da paixao in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
O dia aproveita-se limpo ou o impulso liberta-se do freio?
Como o vento, que oferece cócegas embrulhadas em papel de rebuçado,
como os búzios, que arrastam o som das ondas para fora da costa,
como os outros, com os seus pensamentos esquivos à Razão?
- Não se perderá na Noite?
A lua acende-se trazendo a devoção, que ele inala, em silêncio...
Mas, se formos atentos, descobrimos que as flores possuem pétalas, e que as pétalas largam aroma; que os cães abanam a cauda e esta pêlos; que as pessoas nos seguem e que o eco dos seus passos ainda ressoam nos nossos ouvidos...
Na esquina, brincam com as sirenes e deitam a língua para fora ao passar dos velhos. Querem mais, são crianças!
Enquanto isso, na baixa, as castanhas assadas continuam a dançar de bicos de pés e a bufar pelos olhos quando se sentem quentes; tudo isto debaixo da luz de Coimbra...
À medida que os Ruídos da manhã se dissipam junto com o nevoeiro, os nossos olhos e a nossa b
O furto dos gaiatosVagueandoO furto dos gaiatos in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
(porque na minha rua elas vagueiam)
as estórias desdobram-se.
- O véu é translúcido e finge cobrir a fachada cinematográfica.
dois gaiatos caiados de riso suportando
o peso do furto que um dia imaginei
Descobre-meDescobre-me:Descobre-me in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Arranca a pele com a ponta dos teus dedos.
Não tenhas medo,
eu quero tracinho "te",
que as tuas unhas me descarnem,
que o sopro da tua respiração continue o trabalho
dentro de mim,
[Entre 15 de Março e 2 de Julho, 2007]
PitagorasDeixas-me com o nada encolhido nas mãosPitagoras in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
quando me ignoras.
Imagino o seu contorno e acaricio-o na sua Disformidade.
O teorema dos limites não se resume
à soma dos quadrados das pulsões:
há que adicionar as sobreposições dos triângulos - daí extraindo a raiz quadrada da melancolia.
E o pi (?) por quantas noites se multiplicará?
ScrutinyAnd when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,Scrutiny in Open More Like This
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
~ T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
I am going through the keyless gate
to watch and wait,
to wander here and there among the proud,
among the white and old whose wisdom rots, repressed, untold:
the soporific royals wreathed in leaves of gold.
And to them I shall read aloud from the Book,
read of the sins their lips have took
and upon me they shall look and patiently reflect
I am lost in my own depth, I will say
in a slight, impartial way
(for I lack violets and an antic princes love)
and they, floating through their channels deep
dare to drown me in my sleep and in their orisons remember
So shall I be a queen bone and ash,
of crawling worms and sullied, melting flesh.
Kissed by death, I shall burn upon a pyre
knowing only distance and desire and, rising from the fire,
I shall step with soft, unfettered feet
SilenceTalking to him is like dying in its most extravagant form:Silence in Free Verse More Like This
gradually (the way a wave chips at a stubborn rock,
each word recedes with infinitesimal amounts of me attached).
If I listen carefully enough, I can feel the sharp, consistent pull
his speech reflects - the most fatal form of magnetism.
Not pain, but only lack of will exists within this slow execution,
the word-waves buoy me aloft and there I float upon a tranquil sea,
aware that I am dying, but too at peace to care
until his voice, drowned out by chaos, slips away
and I, an unmanned vessel, sink beneath the still waters
Tabula RasaMy prose sticks insistently to the crisp page, infecting the virgin whiteness with its malignance. These words are as a joker in the pack of Bicycles - an abomination that does not suit the rest, doomed to solitary hysteria, drowning in its undeniable otherness. I, like prose, am not a body but an electrifying non-substance that spawns combinations of words that are inexplicably alive, if only by virtue of their unconquerable subtlety. Serpentine, my uncontrollèd lines wind their tantalizing nonphysical forms around Meaning, fervently sucking all but the last succulent droplets from its barren rind. And I, the Artist, goddess to their toil, only watch as white is blotted black, as abstract symbol yields to abstract concept, as pen ravishes paper.Tabula Rasa in Other More Like This
We, the Dreamers of DreamsWe, the Dreamers of DreamsWe, the Dreamers of Dreams in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A single spiral notebook
Held in a writers hands,
The simple pastel pallet
A painters brush commands,
The sweet, sonorous voices
Raised in a choirs song:
Each artist, with his subtle skill,
Makes every culture strong.
The rich and ruddy earthen clay
A sculptors hands will mold,
The sharply pointed pencil
A poets fingers hold,
The droll, dramatic dialogue
The playwright pens with care:
Each artist, with his separate tool,
Seeks treasure buried there.
Throughout the course of history
The artists hands have tried
To craft the saving graces
Where their humble dreams abide.
For human life without a dream
To chase, to seek, to find,
Means nothing, since a lasting mark
Has not been left behind.
So come my friends, its not too late
To set a higher goal:
Take up a pen, a brush a voice
And soothe the weary soul!
Those footprints left on times vast beach
Are felt by evry heart:
So be a dreamer, leave a mark,