"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." ~Anaïs Nin
"Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known." (from Invisible Monsters)
"Have your adventures, make your mistakes, and choose your friends poorly -- all these make for great stories."
— Chuck Palahniuk
C H A P T E R O N E
21 May 1900
The cusp of the 20th century hovered over them and like the birth of any thing, the dawning of eras. Change and growth were at the height of expectation. Revolutions had begun in science and medicine, literature and the arts. The people brimmed with optimism and focused on all that was new. Such advancement, however, brought about struggles. Some did not long for change and rejected new ideas and methods. As science breathed deeply and charged forward, religion reared up to defend its ground, however unstable its foundations now seemed in light of the new year.
The plaque was new. Shiny, polished brass.
Turning the plastic egg over in my hand, I stared at the dirty surface.  It was painted on the front with "Baby's First Bank" and had my name and birthday on it.  Although I knew what was inside I gave it a slight shake to hear the clatter and clink of the coins.  My fairly new grown adult teeth bit down on my lower lip as I debated.  My hazel eyes shifted to the bedroom door then drifted to the poster over my bed.  My 'White Knight' stared back at me with his coy smile, his pet tiger cub descending his leg as if crawling off a rocky perch.
The little dial on the bottom turned easily, easier
An unbelievable ride
I sit under the arching spine
of a man-made beast
hell-bent on consuming
My sister has climbed on
for a thrust and a swing
that will only last less than 15 seconds.
If only she knew.
I decline the ride
on this metal monster
this fantasy train to nowhere
already strapped in
my own hellish ride.
The air doesn't whoosh past me
as it does her
lifting her golden hair like a banner.
Instead it stagnates within me
until I forget to breathe.
My skin crawls with fears
she couldn't fathom
as if less than 15 seconds
with a predictable
Some kids got singled out for a reason. Troublemakers. "Problem children." Problem parents. Black kids.  Some kids just didn't feel right.
Most times the teachers had a reason. In the case of Marla Sanford, she didn't feel right.
The girl wore girls clothes, but they were always a more boyish cut.  Had she elder brothers Mrs. Williamson bet the girl would have just worn their clothes.  Getting her hair down out of its ponytail was a feat.  Every year at pictures, fight, fight, fight.  And boy, could that girl fight.  She'd given the principal a black eye, and bled open
Girl enters on a cell. As she closes the door and walks up she is talking to her man.
Well if it looks clean enough sure. Yes I'll straighten up the office and I'll feed the bird then just hang out until you get home. Dinner here or you want to try that Thai place? Yeah, sure. Love you. Later.
INT. Living room
Girl opens the birds cage door, feeds him.
Look at you Featherhead, want to watch some TV with me? Hop on out. I'm just gonna go see how messy that room is first...
Four of the five doors are closed as the Girl walks down the hall. Only the office is open.
The room is pi
Some days, rainy days...
...one day becomes the next.
We lose sight of what seemed important once...
...drown in what seems important now.
Sex, Love, Fear, Hate...
...some days they're all the same.
One more box on the calendar...
...and nothing more to show.
Little moments of unaltering divinity...
...pass by with numbing fascination.
All that changes any day into That Day...
...is our capacity to notice.
Salute to the frostbitten sentinals
in line across the snow dusted fields of rye
white mesh armor taut about their corpulent forms
not so ancient as the trees beyond
young grain, threshed and bound
to age and wisen through pain
and solitude beneath the sun
which speaks profound truths
should they only choose to listen.
Reverence is sung at Bowman's Hill
upon fields once strewn with soldiers
no older or wiser than they
but bleeding their courage
upon the snow dusted fields of rye
while wiser men sought solace and safety
among the grand trees that rise
like scarred warriors in formation
about the tower built of stone.
Sun spilled through the windows of the small tidy apartment. The only sound was that of a collection of antique clocks strategically placed throughout every room. Many of those clocks reminded him of the ones his grandmother had; heirlooms that his father had sold for rent money. He was asleep, near to waking, and unaware of the envelope that slid through his mail slot and onto the spotless hardwood floor. No alarm clock would wake him. No phone ring or visitor. He had an internal clock as steady and reliable as any of the ones scattered about his home. At exactly seven a.m. he would wake as he always did. Right on time. He would shower while
With Sword And Conviction She Rides:
An Analysis Of Jehanne La Pucelle As A Continuing Figurehead
Of Feminism In Popular Culture
"Long Before Buffy, Jeanne D'Arc was a true teenage
Super heroine." - Anonymous
Although the writers of the online magazine, www.Women.com, do not overstate their case by any means, this simple statement declares the lasting effects that the 15th century virgin has on women in society. Listed among the top 100 women of the millennium, as voted on by the webzine's readers, Jehanne pulled in a vote of 65% as the most influential woman of historical times. Why is it that in the year 2001, more than 500 yea
is crack-heads and whores
so give up on your dreams
live my dream
be like me
the me that I want to be
to want for anything more
you weren't born to be like them
I'll tell you
what your talents are
they are the ones that I might have
I'll show you
what your passions are
watered down wine and white bread
paint for money
because that makes me proud
the only thing you should want
so live my dream
and be like me
the me I want to be
One wonders why because
I do not believe in God.
I believe in energy.
I believe in strength.
I believe that the more you state the things you want and need
the closer you are to getting them.
Whispered words in the silence
of a darkened room
in the vibrance
of the warming sun.
An affirmation that I do deserve
a better life.
Not to a God
but to myself
to that spirit within me that rises up
and meets challenge after challenge
with a determined fist
Not to beg for anything
or to whine of that which is defeating me
but to remind myself
that I can
If I were to gather a council
of the voices in my head
the table would be round
with me set in the center
as if a great trial awaits.
My Mother and my cousins and aunts
would tally my mistakes
the men are there, but mostly sleeping
some take advantage of the free coffee.
Seie is weeping somewhere on the floor
and Thunder Bunny with her.
Blue is tending his battle wounds
the scars are rather deep.
And sitting atop the back of her chair
her cigarrette dangling just off her lip, her gin held
limply by one hand.
She mocks the others and me
our weakness and lack of thought.
She admits she doesn't know the answers