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Literature
11:59 Manhattan
I cannot know what's coming;
I only know what was.
I stand in cold so numbing
But warm up to a buzz
Of music, dancing, drinking
About a crystal ball;
And soon, a crowd unblinking
As all await its fall.
A chorus starts down-counting:
A Six!... a Four!... a Two!...
Anticipation mounting
Till midnight's mad ado.
Through air go ribbons snaking,
That final tick now had,
With joyous chaos making
Manhattan's bosom glad.
To lurid pyro-sparking
Which blossoms with a burst
Do lips lock tight, so marking
This January First.
Is this a form of coping,
To blow up dark with light
And show by kiss our hoping
That things will turn out right?
With party still climaxing
My spirit sings its might,
Its aspirations waxing
And void of guilt or fright.
I cannot know what's coming,
But is that not a gift?
Why drown in doubt so numbing
And cast your faith adrift?
What was I'll go forgiving
To hush its trying sound.
And as I now start living,
Our world now starts its round.
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 1 0
Literature
It's Lippo and Graham!
"Pilot"
"Hiya Graham! Whatcha doing?" Lippo bounds downstairs with childish mirth.
Graham involuntarily grunts. "Counting my profits, if you must know."
"Fun! Christianity or Islam?"
"Huh?"
"Abraham, Noah, Paul, Muhammad...Oh! Nostradamus!"
"No, Mr. Malaprop, 'profits' with an F. And I'm doing it with a gizmo of my own making, so as to work out any kinks it has."
Scrunching his brow, Lippo slants in towards Graham for a good look. Graham's hand is a blur as it swoops across a small grid of buttons, his digits striking with snaky accuracy. A scroll continuously unfurls from a printing slot atop this contraption, showing his amounts.
"So you built a calculator."
Graham murmurs a mantra—tranquility now—and sighs. "No. Not totally. Calculators do four functions at a minimum: Addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. This only adds."
"So why not add on a normal calculator? Oops—I don't think two and two is six."
"Too many buttons. I'm a mini
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 0 0
Literature
a maximum vacuum [viva vain rasa]
a maximum vacuum's axiom: "roar,
man, roar as raucous as a caucus; oar
a vacuous vacuum's carcass sans arms"
xmas saviour, ransom an anxious man.
icarian aims swam, an ass's smarm.
mars, amass assassins: mars, canvass wars.
unarm voracious caravans—war soars.
main swarms mass; mars's aura roars, "c'arn, c'arn"
vicar, savor a wan man, a raw man.
a cannon rains moira—miasmic can-
can—warm animus rams marra's marrow.
unca sam: "'nam mania via scam"
unca sam saw usa moan an' scram.
maximum vacuum can, anon, narrow.
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 1 0
Literature
Birthright
Through fathoms unknown fair Atlantis now sits,
Its glory long ground down to crumbling bits,
Its ghost hung forlorn in a Stygian abyss.
And who would but cry for a fanciful myth?
By gods was it built in harmonious bliss;
Its sun-sparkling courts would Osiris admit,
But now, only found by things blind and unlit,
Oblation is had as a scum-sucking kiss.
No-body can cry for a fanciful myth.
But spirits still call through a black monolith
With crystal inlaid round its prism-cut girth
To spurn fathoms' crush with a wailing forthwith:
"Oh child of ours who forgot your own pith!"—
All this did I know from a vision at birth.
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 1 0
Literature
Incarnation
Lain down, I yawn and drift away
To what locations, who can say?
Nocturnal films to play through mind—
What plots of fancy will I find?
A child again, I'm in my room
A flash, and back in mama's womb
A flash again, and out I float,
A soul aloft in cosmic boat
And out and out and out I go
A dart of conscious light aglow
To look for what, I do not know
But as a liquid, now I flow
A form—a doorway—black on black
Awaits afar, ajar a crack
Into it now I pour, intact,
Into a body's final act
But backward was this playing out:
A soul withdrawn to roam and scout
And waking up, it starts to dawn:
I will go on and on and on.
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 1 0
Literature
Adventures in Minimalism
"Dinner Plans"
"Cut here," instructed the cannibal.
"Revelation"
"You," lied God.
"Pangaia"
The cosmos retracted,
Sighing
The End
"With a Difference"
I slept, bloody, like them.
"Lineup"
She pointed. "Him." My brother.
"Emergent Sea"
The ocean waved and waved. The fisherman finally gurgled back a greeting, and could say no more.
"To Understand"
She saw me smiling and wept with fear.
"Victory"
He finished first, flipping, awarded death.
"Answer to a Question"
"They can." I ran.
"19 1/3"
The man in the heavy coat enters the market, returns a child’s unsolicited wave, and pushes the small red bu-
"What News the Morning Brought Her"
dark ends,
dawn breaks
Dawn breaks,
darkens.
"Homeless"
Cold hands are warmed
In the glowing embers
Of little Billy's accident.
Billy, and his fucking matches.
"Babel"
The tower rose to confusing heights and gebume tuterly hebadebubicle.
These next two work bette
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 1 0
Literature
To Make You Afraid
The Sevenway found me
in the cosmos of my mind
Grip like a gnarled tree
Telescopic eyes
"Can we really do this?"
"It's all we can do"
The 8-track was broken
But the music kept playing
The music kept playing
"What is this hellscape?"
"Karry Him's ambition"
Thank you Sevenway
Thank you Sevenway
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 0 0
Literature
At Mountains of Mania - Chap. 2
II.
Popular imagination, I think, was avid about our radio accounts of Pond's start northward into parts untrod by human foot or unlit by human imagination's torch; though said accounts did not touch on his wild aspirations of totally and dramatically transforming such a study as biology or physiography. His initial tobogganing and boring trip of Jan. 8-15 with six of our party including Pabody—minus two dogs lost whilst crossing a stamukha—had brought up additional Azoic rock; and I must admit to fascination in a singular profusion of obvious fossil markings in that astonishingly primordial stratum. But such markings—truly primal bio-forms—could not stand as paradoxical, saving that any bio-forms at all should occur in rock as plainly proto-Cambrian as this probably was; thus I still could not grasp Pond's logic in stipulating a hiatus in our opportunistic program—a hiatus calling for utilisation of all four aircraft, many of our party, and all drilling a
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 0 0
Literature
Writings from r/AVoid5
WRITINGS FROM r/AVoid5.
Annotation: This doc continually updating.
INTRODUCTION.
This is a fairly odd paragraph. Do you know why? Hint: It's missing a thing invisibly ubiquitous, a thing that surrounds us in our day-to-day affairs, vastly important for normal communication, constantly popping up without a solitary thought, but crippling if withdrawn from, shall I say, a symbolic communal bank of ours. No doubt you could do without it, if you unavoidably must, but to do so voluntarily and whilst maintaining an air of natural fluidity is a wholly difficult task. I admit, I am fond of this particular hobby, if you can call it that, and affirm that an imposition of constraints is nourishing to your imagination. As this paragraph grows in its loquacity, though, my fight to hold my arbitrarily sworn villain at bay grows continually tiring. And so at this point I must stop, finish, bring to a conclusion, wind up, wrap up, find climax! (not that kind of climax
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 1 0
Literature
At Mountains of Mania - Chap. 1
At Mountains of Mania:
A lipogrammatic adaptation of a popular story by H.P. <3craft, writ without that glyph which sits fifth in our ABCs
I.
I must talk, for champions of natural philosophy and scholarship spurn my dissuasions without knowing why. It is wholly against my will that I lay out my motivations for opposing this notional antarctic invasion—with its vast fossil-hunt and its mass boring and thawing of icy cap—and I am withal unwilling as my warning may turn out in vain. Doubt of actual facts which I must affirm is not surprising; but if I withhold what will sound absurd and outlandish, I will find no surplus of words. Photographs both on land and from air, damnably vivid and graphic and until now hid, will count in my favor. Still, such photographs will spawn doubt owing to what ambit cunning doctoring can hold. Ink drawings will indubitably find scorn as obvious frauds; notwithstand
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 1 0
Literature
DINR - A Story of Loss
I lost my mom to a horrific mishap on my fifth birthday. I wish I couldn't still call it all to mind with crystal clarity, but I can. It was just us two on a mild autumn morning, window shopping up and down Cadsby Road. Mom's hand was tight around my own so I wouldn't stray far. It was hard to contain my joy, skipping from shop to shop, smushing my mug against thick slabs of glass to gawk at what lay tantalizingly just out of grasp: rows of candy, suit-clad manikins, color TVs, rusting knick-knacks of old – an imposing display for a child!
“Stay with Mommy, pumpkin. How about lunch soon? Anything for my birthday boy.” My loving guardian, smiling down with sunlit hair. It's a vision that haunts my thoughts to this day.
It was nobody's fault, I was told. Just awful luck. At first, I didn't know what I was looking up at. A big, gray...thing tumbling through air, fast approaching ground, falling, spinning...and finally crashing down right on top of Mom. My loving g
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 0 2
Literature
The Lost Cosmonaut
Officially, Yuri Gagarin was the first human to reach outer space. His historic flight in April of 1961 kick-started the space race in earnest. The Soviet space program, however, was shrouded in secrecy from the beginning. There have long been questions regarding the existence of “lost cosmonauts,” those individuals who'd ventured beyond our atmosphere at the cost of their lives, their failure and very existence expunged by the Soviet government in an effort to save face.
From a listening station just outside of Turin, Italy, two amateur radio operators had been scanning the skies since the 1950s. In October of 1960, a full six months before Gagarin flew, they picked up a strange transmission from space. Breaking through a sea of static came the ghostly voice of a woman, which they were able to record. She spoke Russian, and while they couldn't understand it, the distress in her voice was clear. She seemed to be choking back tears as she spit out the words. After a moment t
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 1 0
Literature
Rachel and Jill, or The Eternal Pull of Rurality
Oct 27, 2015, 1:16:15 AM
Hello
from Heavier-Lobster
to alapanamo
Sorry if I asked already, but Could you do a story based on this, please?
It would be about a goth girl with long purple hair, a black top hat, and a huge purple cigar in her mouth. Her name is Rachel. She works at the local circus as the human cannonball.
She's friends with a young lumberjack girl, who she tries to get more in touch with nature.
First Rachel tries mixing up a drink out of natural ingredients and giving it to her friend, but it just ends up giving her diarrhea
Then, she tries loading her friend into her circus cannon and firing her out so she can get a view of the trees. She ends up putting in too much gunpowder and blasting her friend far off into the night sky.
When her friend gets back a few days later, Rachel has one last idea. She takes a long drag on her cigar and blows a cloud of purple smoke onto her friend. When the smoke clears, she has turned into a tree.
Oct 27, 2015, 1:55:21 AM
Re: Hello
from
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 0 2
Literature
The Wolf and the Wanderer
In the Valley of Wanderers I sat alone under the great oak
Awash in my thoughts beneath a blanket of fluttering stars
A lost soul who pitied his self-pity
And regarded life as a chore
I grew tired
I did not care
Out of blackness crept the wolf, coat slick with moonlight,
Primal yellow eyes shining arcane wisdom
Why do you despair? he asked
Your destiny is yours
I do not care, I answered
To seek it makes me weary
Let me show you what you seek
Lest you judge too quickly

I became as the wolf
And together we left the dark valley
We journeyed for what seemed like days
Me in a trance, my companion slinking ahead
We will not arrive until you open your eyes, and see
My eyes were shut, and when I opened them I saw.
It was you he showed me, basked in a blinding light
I turned away until my pupils could adjust
I had not cared until I saw your smile
Its radiance melted my gloom like the sun set on ice
I had not cared until I heard your voice
Stolen from an angel, its me
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 1 0
Literature
My Visitor
Every night I hear the growling and scratching at my bedroom door. It's annoying but eventually goes away. I know by now not to open the door, because if I do there'll be nothing on the other side but the smell of wet dog, which lingers for hours.
I'm grateful I can only see the thing in reflective surfaces. Keeping the mirrors covered helps keep my vanity in check, I'd like to think.
I have a little picture hanging in the dining room that says, "Pomeranians leave paw prints on our hearts." A gift from Mom, pretty cute. My visitor only leaves paw prints on the walls and ceiling. At least they come out with soap and water.
I know moving will not deter my visitor. It travels with me everywhere I might call home.
I also know it doesn't want company over. It took two incidents for this fact to crystallize. The first time, they were sitting in the living room, talking and laughing. I excused myself to the kitchen for a soda, and when I came back a second later they were all gone, without a
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 0 3
Literature
The Solipsist
I know where goes a thing that sings
A dying song of life
In lands of sands that bite at night
With lonely planets rife.
It dreams of me and too, of you
And all the things that are
But once it grunts the breath of death --
At least we got this far.
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo
:iconalapanamo:alapanamo 0 0

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Activity


I cannot know what's coming;
I only know what was.
I stand in cold so numbing
But warm up to a buzz

Of music, dancing, drinking
About a crystal ball;
And soon, a crowd unblinking
As all await its fall.

A chorus starts down-counting:
A Six!... a Four!... a Two!...
Anticipation mounting
Till midnight's mad ado.

Through air go ribbons snaking,
That final tick now had,
With joyous chaos making
Manhattan's bosom glad.

To lurid pyro-sparking
Which blossoms with a burst
Do lips lock tight, so marking
This January First.

Is this a form of coping,
To blow up dark with light
And show by kiss our hoping
That things will turn out right?

With party still climaxing
My spirit sings its might,
Its aspirations waxing
And void of guilt or fright.

I cannot know what's coming,
But is that not a gift?
Why drown in doubt so numbing
And cast your faith adrift?

What was I'll go forgiving
To hush its trying sound.
And as I now start living,
Our world now starts its round.
11:59 Manhattan
Lipogrammatic quatrains for 2019's arrival.
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alapanamo
United States

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:iconmobiusderp:
MobiusDerp Featured By Owner May 1, 2017
Hi Alapanamo,
Read your story 'Lightning' and though it was fantastic! Great twist! I have to make a student film at some point in the near future and was wondering if you'd mind if i adapt it into a short screenplay giving you full credit if it gets approved for production?
Thanks
Reply
:iconalapanamo:
alapanamo Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2017
Go for it.
Reply
:iconblob123789:
Blob123789 Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2016
You will be given full credit of course
Reply
:iconalapanamo:
alapanamo Featured By Owner Edited Mar 3, 2016
Look forward to it. Good luck!
Reply
:iconblob123789:
Blob123789 Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2016
I'll for sure let you know when it's complete and send you a link to it. I'm excited to start production. Thanks!
Reply
:iconblob123789:
Blob123789 Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2016
Hey, I just read "Stomping Grounds" on creepypasta. Amazing job! I was wondering if I could have your permission to turn it into a short film? Thanks!
Reply
:iconhopeburnsblue:
hopeburnsblue Featured By Owner Jul 14, 2015  Professional Writer
Thank you so much for the :+devwatch:! :iconrainbowbounceplz:
Reply
:iconkatie-11six:
Katie-11Six Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Hi, I just read "Stomping Grounds" on Creepypasta. Congrats bro! It was an incredibly creepy poem, I haven't read to many great poem pastas but yours? Let's just say I won't be swimming in any ponds at night for the rest of my life. =D
Reply
:iconalapanamo:
alapanamo Featured By Owner Aug 12, 2013
High praise indeed if that's the case! Thanks for the comments.
Reply
:iconkatie-11six:
Katie-11Six Featured By Owner Aug 12, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
No problem, all is true. =D
Reply
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