To 13 Year Old MeChin upMore Like This
No need to pick up
The pistol, there's more than one way
To soothe the pain, you'll be missed and
You'll lose the love you would've had for this chick
I know his hand's heavy and you wish
You could escape, burst the levee
But it's best, bite your tongue and start forgetting
And you can't hold it in
So pick up the pen
And let it out that way
They can break your jaw, but not your will
You can walk away
Easier said than done
I know it, son
But five years does a lot to change
Your life, and it's worth waiting
A year through college at 18, while working
Way to bring home the bacon
Just wait and hold on and you'll see
13 year old me
360 Blind Eyes360° Blind EyesMore Like This
Those street corner pharmacies don't bother me...
cooking up that crack...
serving that black...
caramelizing those apples...
crystallizing that meth...
but at least it's not my kitchen...
He's Robin Hood...
on the level that Hollywood...
would be in contention...
terrorizing the scene...
mad scientist splicing the genes...
with killing machines...
but at least it's not my dimension...
They combine these positions...
with Columbine vision...
plus out-of-mind conditions...
lead to out-of-body renditions...
a suicidal homicide mission...
but at least it's not my decision...
and it's not my problem...
not my solution...
not my blood...
so it's not my ablution...
not my business...
not my institution...
it's not my crime...
so it's not my execution...
You know it's not my world...
these are not my people...
they are not my equals...
this is not my power...
this is not my evil...
this is not my chase...
they are not my steeples...
this is not my realm...
A Rhapsody of Mellifluous ClairvoyanceSpit to itMore Like This
A rhapsody of mellifluous clairvoyance/ tantalizing stars to quasars revolutionizing the premeditative thoughts of the creative righteous children/ which are currently quarantining the future of sound... a new Amerykah/... boozila baby/ The Class shouts Ens(A)mble...
peep it.. thoughts progressive like an hourglass element compose push pressed of a hundred and twenty lessons/ when time is of the essence and masters pass truth to teachers seekin secrets revealing meditation techniques to stimulate enlightened elevation/ so I keep on meditating/ while simultaneously eradicating the tasteless touches of Yakub's grasp/ in order to find my former self upon this righteous path/ back to the past /as the black sun of Abraham/ aging in faithful futures to be presented as bein...a mufuckin educated black man/
so enter with me into the center/ soul cold like its the winter/
when third eye -4th dimensional metaphysical perceptions of militant heavy methods/
become too crucial to dwarnis
God s wondrous work of artWe all come into this world the same way,More Like This
we´re just born on different days.
Everyone is so unique,
some are strong , some are weak.
Some do good, some do wrong,
some are touched by the devils prong.
Society and up bringing play a central part,
in how a person performs and acts
and if he has a heart.
Parental love can influence
the way a child behaves
and fill his life with happiness
throughout his childhood days.
we are all so very different
we must learn to get along
showing love in this world
to which we all belong
cos every man knows deep down
at the center of his heart,
we´re all great individuals,
Gods wondrous work of art.
by Suzanne Karbach 17th August 2014
30 Learn, to LiveGreetings everyone! I hope my journal finds you well. Today I will be speaking about many things in life--concerning my own feelings and thoughts. It has been a very long while since I last poured my heart and soul into words. So be ready to go through a long set of paragraphs! But before I start, though, I would like to inform those I have art-requests/gifts with that I am really trying my best to work on your pieces. Keep in mind that you need patience, for the time duration may vary from several months to a year.Please forgive me!More Like This
Now let the adventure begin.
Have you ever thought about the traits you gained and lost throughout your life? Especially the ones during teenage-hood?
Whether you did or not, the following is a story to explain my own experience, and how I feel about it. Memories of such time remind me what innocent yet blurry perspective I used to have back in the year of 2007--when I was only 12 years old. People's faces and body shapes caught not a bit of my attention.&
Healing flame of unity.I wait hereMore Like This
In hope that someone might-
Ask for my aid.
I am you
You are me
We are candles
Standing in darkness.
Everyone knows their pain
See their suffering
But I see your pain
Because mine is not that important
But your happiness can burst my candles flame
But it seems you are not interested
Instead you blame.
I live to help
Because I was also helped
Yet I fall into darkness
Because of carelessness
That this world has
My life's purpose is to heal
Yet you say I am unreal
Let it be
But I know that everyone will walk-
Out of darkness
With a candle in their hands
And that is...going to be real.
schizophrenia?psychology defines schizophreniaMore Like This
as an impairing, delusional disorder
borne in the person’s inexorable inability
to tell right from wrong,
hopeless fantasy from harsh reality,
or even suspicion from acceptance
but aspen is a lovely, flexible woman
with names of imperial animal races
that never belonged to them,
with the countless colors of her eyes that
she makes up with named numbers
written in cursive sharpie on her palms
she takes pills that seem to
dampen & take away those charming
things she always says to me;
the voices don’t haunt or tease her,
they’ve always respected the way she
counted with willpower & the way she lived
psychology defines schizophrenia
as a disorder in which one cannot escape
their head long enough to
stop the thoughts of self-destruction,
to halt the onset of war on their
bodies as the asphalt hits their head
but aspen is a star amid the wreckage
when she asks you to hold her
until she can’t hear the bad numbers
crunching her ears int
HonestyThose of you who do notMore Like This
wear masks need to be careful.
Some of your tongues become
so infatuated with mirrors
and text messages
and honesty that you let it
you let your lack of modesty
swallow who you are supposed to be
and these little black holes
and white lies are damaging to
a society of false expectations
and made up realities.
RevelationsI: Reciting SunsMore Like This
Was the name
Of the girl
Who divided us.
All those years
All those sunsets
Are now garbage
You promised me
Holding my hand
Will be forever”.
I saw the tears
Waiting in your eyes
A sign to fall.
But the rain
I said yes.
Touch my soul
Reminding your words.
I was in love
Sleeping on the clouds
Where you were
Reciting me suns.
August the nine
A rainy day.
Over the church
With black wings.
Were they crying
For the future?
Worried my flesh
In a good way
I wanted it now
I wanted the end.
Would be in Paris
The most romantic
Place on earth.
Leaving the decoration
To another lucky couple.
August the ten
Now in France
Away from home.
Love in the air
Taking my senses
To beautiful landscapes
Full of roses.
I feel art
At the museums
Where the life
Is red and black.
Owns my body
I hate the water.
Psalm 42:1The sun filled the earthMore Like This
with half a chalice of wine
dipped her finger in it
and sipped drops of fruit of the Vine
She tilted her head with a face of great pleasure
for the taste of the wine
was beyond mortal pleasure
The depths of the sea
preserved red wine
laced with such passionate want of desire
her lips parted but only enough
for the chalice
to trace upon her lips
to embrace her with naught but a lover's kiss
her breast full of wine
her lips still wet with red drink
she smiled at the skies
and they blush from blue to a stir
of lavender, orange and pink
as her hair danced in the air
her beauty set her suitors
in a crusade of jealous flair
The wine half poured
but this was the most precious of wine
for the vineyard which pressed the juices of
vinegar sour vines
did not come from a breed
which human hands can conceive
but of Christ Jesus
from Whom redemption
gives life to all who in Him believe
Jesus the Lord in His awesome great splendour
makes man's heart to sing with unbound pleas
Finger TipsTake my hand, and let us flyMore Like This
We both know you are not shy,
Just scared of rejection
I, too, lack affection.
Though I would never use you
To fill holes no one can view.
So, are you ready yet?
Please, my dear, do not fret.
Let me take you far away
As to help you make your day.
No harm is intended
For hate here is ended.
You deserve only the best
Not because you need a rest,
Since time is drawing signs
Guiding me to your lines.
ProphecyI'm traveling aboard the sands:More Like This
Traveling, trying just to understand...
Wishing I could read aloud Almighty's plan
Like an angel-gypsy would, from mortal hands
Hear the empires of the world in fright,
"God, show us mercy before might!"
Who lights the oil in darkest night,
What spark could make evil take flight?
There's too much terror, too much pain,
Don't want to pulpit-preach ever again,
What shred of comprehension can I claim?
The desire to know everything is just our stain.
Under the DomeEyes fall aroundMore Like This
like auburn leafs
burdened by raindrops.
And I ride their tails,
following the silage
for comfort and release.
For the bed of limbs
intertwined and sewn
with maple boughs.
For your cloak,
wrought of breaths,
where I hide and covet
for the sun; for the light
brought forth in our
colloquy of braces.
For it to fill the brim
eloquently with pristinity;
washing over the ruins,
wrying ornate walls
and marbled floors,
and a throne for our realm,
so we lay under
the sacred dome.
For our hubris to echo
through elysian halls,
where your regal scent
creeps in the mosaics,
so I bathe in its solace
and it mends me in rebirth.
in the garden.More Like This
the chrysanthemums and the radish flowers towering highest
all bright heads gazing upward except the squash growing
whicheverway it finds room to grow, as it goes
and the caterpillars eating the shit out of the cabbage
me without the will to kill their little faces, placing them
just a few steps away, then waiting
for they'll come back as winged things
pollinating all the growth and green
their worthy way of thanking me
IceWhen the glacier slides,More Like This
I'm the one
. . .
Wondering where the right path is, with doubt biting. Frozen memories, icy distances.
When the world grows colder,
I'm the one
. . .
Standing on my own, with the past craving for me. Stolen, missing.
When the snow falls,
I'm the one
. . .
Trying my best, to make sense of it all. Wandering, wondering.
When the hail storms,
I'm the one
. . .
Holding my guard, locking my heart. Smiling, pretending.
I read your words and pretend I read your words and pretendMore Like This
not only to know you but to
be the one that saves you too.
Who will restore your faith in
Who will erase the pain
you don’t feel but in your rhymes,
because the poète maudit is so much
more attractive than the metroman.
Drink another whiskey, smoke some more
and write with a coarse voice,
I’ll fall at your feet and pretend
not only to know you but to
be the one who is saved by you.
Prompt 14: The Beginning! Just one day left to send us your slice of weirdness! I'm working on my desperate and pathetically last-minute entry--how about you?More Like This
Just under one week left to get those entries in! We've only had two so far, so all you people who favourited and shared and rhapsodized about how goddamn awesome it was we were back, get your arses into gear!
Yes, it's us again. We reincarnate more often than Kenny.
This time is going to be different, though. And you can trust me on that, because it's not me who'll be ensuring it. futilitarian, a long-time contributor and judge for transliterations and someone whom I'm sure you all know if only by reputation, is stepping into the breach and making sure this dead horse keeps getting whipped. The one major change you should be aware of is that prompts will now go up on the 15th of each month and end on the 10th. Of course, this ending date is purely arbitrary and only influences who gets into the news feature; you can continue
ConfluenceAccording to the old religion, a scribeMore Like This
must bathe in natural running water
before she draws what is dictated to her,
because writing's just like cleaning a mirror,
she says, it's like rearranging stains
left on wholesome rivers. For three nights,
I drew geometric shapes in the margins;
I had been instructed to take notes on
the underside of snow, and how it colonized
the lithosphere, musically and without hurt.
It felt like a call, but it wasn't a calling.
The paper was made in Himalayan foothills
by a woman who had cleansed knots from fibrous bark
and dipped her bleached hands into boiling water.
I mangled the page into a cottage, then a castle;
for I imagine that the grime of Dublin
could fold me up into my questions. But to give
creative attention is always an act of love,
and the most sincere. You have always known that
only at the fringes of the intellect
can love become voice. So may
it all be fringes and love
its nonexistence, but not yet, not yet.
Do you feel?Our backs to one another;More Like This
our lips so close i can almost
taste your intoxicating scent
Do you feel the tension?
The ever rising lust driven between us?
I feel you and i melt
Your eyes are dark,
hooded with power
The dam breaks and my crystalline tears fall
Do you hear me?
My cry every time you strike
I hear you
I see you
Your in my every dream
I awaken each night, glistening with
sweat, your lips inches from where i want them
My lips so cold from abandonment
Do you remember our past?
Those days i would annoy you even
if you sneered with hidden love?
To me; your my everything
Am i so important to you
I think not
One day you shall fall from your throne
and i will be there to catch you
just like a fallen angel form his stead
broken but true
evil but pure
Do you feel me?
I feel you nowManifest your angerMore Like This
call upon your lust;
Flamboyant tirades and
I feel you now;
Come into my arms,
weep for the dead
anguish for the lost
I feel you;
Set aside that awareness
crumble your sadness
I feel you now;
in my heart
How much can one being bare?
Trust me with your thoughts
open up your mind to me
I am here for you now;
Relax the tension;
Soothe the anxiety
I am here
I feel you now
Will you feel me?
Take the weight from my shoulders and
soothe me as i have done for you?
I trust you with my thoughts,
Will you feel me now?
Complex feelingsCrystalline annihilation-More Like This
The breaking of the heart.
Such fragile things we are,
To love with such naivety!
An ode they'll never see.
Such an oblivious emotion,
And one I'll never be.
If I live tomorrow,
Only to die my way.
Will you endeavour,
To find bliss in pain.
A complex operation,
To break a broken heart.
A paradoxical approach
To a strange simplicity.
conflictionFragile, Fragile, Fragile,More Like This
Human emotions are,
I will destroy them all
No hesitation it's wrong.
The only way to win is obliteration!
If I cannot feel then,
Nothing will harm me.
Is this assumption conceivable?
It must all be overthrown,
By my own hands!
please stop me
I can't take the pounding in my head,
It hurts so much,
I-I-I need no emotions
I need them!
A hindrance I swear,
I will be better off!
Please, I need to be free,
From this ultimate price.
The sin of emotion,
It will not rub off!
a mark of life
brokenYou took my fragile heartMore Like This
and crushed it
and let all the pieces
come crashing to the ground
falling like glass tears
It feels like my insides
have been burned to ash
The light has been drained
from my soul
I have no reason
to get up
and play the part
of my life anymore
You took that from me
And you pushed me down
even deeper into the dark abyss
and locked me in
Now there's no escape
I finally broke
The pieces lay
could pick them up
Because I can't
I am the pieces
of a girl
who used to be whole
The Fading ChildThe Fading ChildMore Like This
I know you feel helpless, child
Just as you should
Death is coming for you, child
As we always knew it would
Your fate has been sealed, child
And there's nothing to be done
Just lay back and accept it, child
Don't you try to run
So save your remaining strength, child
And drift off to sleep
I would just hate it, child
If you were to see me weep
We've gathered 'round your bed, child
We've hopelessly cuddled and kissed
And when you pass away, child
Know that you will be missed
Harmony Fights MelodyAnother blowMore Like This
To the heart I've known
As well as it hates my mind
And soon it'll be free
For a moment at least
Till another knife opens it wide.
Just as you swore
You couldn't take more,
Our enemies challenged your words.
A moment of peace
Remains out of reach
For a wounded soul weathered by storms.
The rhythm begins
It heals and it mends
Or murders us without remourse.
Our feelings exist
As a complimentary risk
To alter what numbness rehearsed.
Ode To PaternityI don't usually do it,More Like This
But when I do,
It's because of you.
The savage, hateful
Drips out drop by drop
The pusillanimous child
Cowers away faint-heartedly
Drop by drop
Bounding away from
The black-hole heart
Dripping out is my anguish,
The dejection I feel around you
And your blazing red eyes
Can you feel
The vultures circling you?
The dogs in you,
For another taste,
One last delve into the freezing water.
You can't deny.
My child mind said
But I've grown now
Grown enough to see
What you owe me
I am numb now
Can't heal me.
The love I know
Can't give me feeling
In this heart; you
Did you know
I've forgotten half the day dream?
The sweet summer days
And lemon drop
Did you see?
The spiders crawling
No, you m
The Last BreathI'm in this mess,More Like This
and it's spiralling down.
There's no more to confess,
Yet I'm starting to drown.
Every time I try,
I get knocked to the ground.
And I'm still asking why,
this keeps coming around.
This pain in my mind,
is infecting my soul.
I just need to unwind,
'Cause it's taking it's toll.
My heart's at it's worst,
And i'm starting to break.
I know I've been cursed,
'Cause my life's just an ache.
I beg for my death,
As I hide in the dark.
Wait for my last breath,
I will leave my mark.
Drag yourself to the door,
Feel the tears on your cheek.
When there isn't a cure,
And your outlook is bleak.
I keep going wrong,
Why can I not do it right?
I don't think I belong,
I'm losing this fight.
This is what I deserve,
This sick in my life.
I could lose my nerve,
But I'll still draw the knife.
My hunger for you,
still fires in my heart.
Now you can't see my truth,
And i'm falling apart.
Why can't I grow wings?
And float in the skies.
I had my warnings,
Yet I still told my lies.
Where did my wh
A Tie 4 My Chest, Ty4 My HeartI would hide from the heart that searched for me, it is wrong,More Like This
That I could be more then a single note in a two hour song,
I watch the rain fall and feel warm,
The rain drops plus me, we would form,
The outline of one sad and fleeting life,
The assumed justification of a bleeding knife,
I look down when trapped alone in my room,
I locked the door and accepted this man made tomb,
Posters stare and begin to pray,
That my negative thoughts wont stay,
Books stand and dare me to read,
Collect our information and challenge the desire to bleed,
A TV flickers in the background, hoping to be a distraction,
From the blood under my skin that causes fascination,
My blanket lays, hide under me,
Rather then accept my negatives thoughts of what I see,
The blood of my shadow falls; I watch the moving wall,
Then have regret with a sound, my phone screams a phone call,
I answer with a strong voice, the way as an actor I live,
The voice of distance then gives a reason to accept what he wants to give,
KinkInnocuous and inoculated,More Like This
but never innocent; never fully immune.
Breath caught frozen beneath
an indifferent and proud powdered moon
ground down in lines to make
my eyes crest red, like family
Blood thick and hot like a stranger,
running in sleepy molasses.
A stranger like my predator,
caught in a reflection on her glasses.
We're a tragic habit,
an umbrella formed
when excitement meets cinderella
and crushed-quiet trachea--
Doesn't quite do her gasp a justice
like the smile on her face,
eyes rolling back and fading out
beneath the flash of a musket.
Fetishism is a funny thing.
Not funny strange,
but funny ha-ha.
Living as that desperate, chained-up youth
under our loose floorboard constitution
we knighted long ago, farethewell morality.
Nurse'She a real painter's sunrise, done up in cherry smoke and brush stroke. I draw her in my mind like she's always been here and I haven't -- a thousand lines like chinese print signs, banners screaming out in the night:More Like This
"Why god, can't I fit my hands around you
Why can't we make what's come and gone, what's been so wrong
makes its rounds like opium come to put it right?"
Instead, I'll be a student of solace
and comfortable arms' length conversation
reaching for what I can see but not touch
it must not be there, because to her I'm no sensation.'
vignette 1we used to sitMore Like This
smoking cigarettes you rolled
in your driveway
you held my free hand in yours
and twisted your fingers through mine
like a noose
and promised me you'd quit
smoke curling behind my teeth
i kissed you
and it tasted like shit every time
your mouth was a graveyard,
an ashtray of souls,
a parade like a funeral
dripping off of your lips
i associate you so much with tobacco
i realize, now, that means death
sarahbot says (experiment)I always have told youMore Like This
You were so by breaking
why would you
Shut the blue shore of silence or
just find me
oh, the soil falling over
first rain tonight
We could just kiss it.
I'm sorry, I don't hate everyone, but i am too
i want to accept defeat--
look like I'm getting thinner.
I always have this rain
sometimes it's just melting
where's the point
And why am i going to feel; now
You were 50 years of
the greatest instrument of masochism
tu me manques beaucoup
things i have come to know about the sky1.More Like This
you are endless, a backlit canopy
or stage of infinites; some say
you speak to them in low murmurs,
that you rain judgement down upon us,
i fear you not, you've caught my eye a few times
but i only looked up to see what
the hype was all about
when i was born, doctors said i was blue
—cerulean as the sky
scientists say the sky is like an onion;
layers of celestial sphere you can slice off
with a thumbnail, 217.5 miles of teary eyes
& thick skin
we know not of what it is that compels
gravity to roll this sorrow down our faces
in some cultures they say the sky is a
thronedom, an altar for the gods; weather,
an instrument of rageful indifference,
a beautiful devotion worthy of arthritis
and a place in our school books
you torture us as the romans did,
we the bread for your melancholy circuses;
apathy never looked so poetic
as you do when you paint yourself with humid
we watch from the shoreline,
taking pictures for our friends who couldn't
quite make it an
RE: The Identity FarceParrots parroting parrots;More Like This
It's no wonder why most all of everyone has those long minutes looking in the mirror, wondering what all of this is for. Questioning life as it is to be a redundancy. Whole generations of people living reflexively to the shadows cast onto them by their mothers and fathers, ignorant to even their ignorance in an age of information, walking forward with cement shoes.
What is authentic but a sensation? Processed and sold in an answer in a book or at the bank, at the end of a telegraph from you to God, god, or dog, when you get no reply back you go ahead and blame it on yourself. Put it on your tab of guilt and take it with water three times a day with three hours to spare, sitting in your chair and making shapes out of the stucco on your ceiling, just trying to make out something --- just trying to feel something. Feel something like a child would describe it, innocent to the world, there's a drug for it and no one wants to prescribe it.
Authenticity is a big wo
The Crown of Left'Loss is a fascinating thing.More Like This
It can turn you into a mythical beast, lost in a labyrinthine text of self-dialation and drug abuse. It shines like a piece of glass from a black mirror that you wish you'd never gazed upon as it melts and twists inside you as you sleep, every day squirming, cackling, closer to your heart.
I call it fascinating because outside of myself, that's what it is.
Burden is an interesting thing.
I only ever really knew one thing, at the end of the day. It was how to end days, and how to fearfully, shamelessly, manipulate and stir the mortal fears laying dormant in my heart the same as all men to slip in and out of where I want. It was a pin, red hot from this life lived by a man my mother called my father, pulled from his knowledge and pressed into mine. That pin was destined to wrack me and change me and make me his. The skills beat into me were supposed to fulfill the agenda of whoever could feed me, because they sure as fuck weren't fishing. The cold pressed in
nautI saw the wrecked universe unfold inside of you like a flowered freeway.More Like This
Replayed, their bodies translate to a massive cloud.
I look back, I think you moan for the astronauts.
Guilty walls and black nailsI allow the black nail polish to chip, watching fragments fall into the puddle below. And as every flake disappears beneath the murky surface, I feel flashbacks of guilt coagulating in my conscience.More Like This
A blackened ache slamming through my brain.
"What have I done?
I prayed for rain. Asked the clouds to wash me away, but still the sky offered no satisfaction. Still the sun sizzled skin cancer across my silhouette, laughing at the dilapidated state of my bare nail beds.
He can see through my transparency.
"Once again I fail to be real."
And if I were to be honest, I'd tell you the hallway of my home was never lined with family photos. Instead those walls adorned a ghostly art; claw marks dragged against drywall.
I remember what drove these nails into the drywall.
"Those words were black."
Midnight made me safer, cradling me in a cloak of invisibility. I tried to escape, feeling safe
Salty Meth WoundsMy heart slaps like elastic, like a rubber ball snapping against my sternum.More Like This
You see my heart smokes meth but I'm the one whose an addict.
I just couldn't forget that taste, the essence of caustic crystals penetrating epidermis.
That delectable prick, strawberries and fire.
The glimmer of rivulets and rubies.
My blood thins; watered-down, salty.
Blood cells weaken, sickened by malnutrition and overcome with anemia.
I am cancerous, addicted to meth, malnutrition and self-mutilation.
I could never forget the feel, the fires of self-indulgence.
The strawberries sprouting in my skin.
I was weakened and anemic but I loved those rubies.
That rubber ball pounding through my ribcage
MetamorphosisYourMore Like This
wing shiverstiny tremors that
will keep rhythm with your quivering heart, only to
later, clandestine and yet nearly poetic, unravel you from the outside-in.
on disagreements doughnut eyes and aMore Like This
second-rate smile, he said:
i love you, so i'll always fuck you
with the lights on. because that's
what love really is.
i always thought it was something else
like writing letters or righting lefters
riding rafters in dreams about patterns
like climbing mountains, together
excitedly sweating, bone jars full of weather
-ing telepathy. taking charge of the industry!
because to me, i have never really
believed in love unless i am in it,
faith unless i can sniff it, or kindness unless i can binge it
i seldom disagree with god,
and you are god,
and i am disagreeing with you
Presence(I)More Like This
God lived in the larynx of Ella Fitzgerald
and sat silently
bouncing along to her blues
not daring to interrupt even
while she wore through wooden shoes,
He left only for a short time to sit
quietly between the toes
of Astaire as he astounded and rose to the ceiling,
Almost kicked the walls down peeling around the edges
to stop himself from falling
head over heels
Not too long after,
God laid under the skin of Jackson and told
his father's belt "Do your worst! I'll overcome your actions!"
And cursed the wrong choices in a thunderclap of
leather on paper thin child's skin,
And he hoped that the boy could believe in him
as much as God believed back.
And God would have wished he could hold him
like river Jordan after that.
They walk in each other's foot steps
keep to the imprints left for each other
it is easy to deviate from the path
it is easy to fall over
but it waits,
There's hate hovering in the wings and down
of the sharp tongued street
if you put one foot out of
NextMore Like This
Timothy J Swann
An expensive bar in Canary Wharf, frequented almost exclusively by journalists.
NATHANIEL: Yes, so I've been working more freelance ever since, well, the closure.
DEAN: Unlucky place to be caught, I guess.
NATHANIEL: It was a good deal. At the time, anyway. Change of pace, a step up in pay, a step up in readers... do you know the Star gets double the readers of your paper? And you do some stuff for the Observer too, don't you? News of the World got nine times as many readers than them. The people wanted the sort of journalism I've been doing; your stuff... less so.
DEAN: That's... somewhat blunt.
NATHANIEL: You clearly haven't read many of my articles recently. We don't soften the pill. We don't pull our punches. We don't
DEAN: Say no to a PI hacking a dead girl?
NATHANIEL: I wasn't even there when that happened!
DEAN: Nor it seems, was your boss. Or your corporate oversight.
NATHANIEL: Hey, I just lost my job, aren't we supposed to b