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Literature
The Days
Tuesday has always been the boring cousin, the one who you sit next to on Thanksgiving just because he doesn’t talk too loudly or attempt to start burping contests. Tuesday is the boring friend, the one you invite to your get-togethers not because of his skill in conversation, but because he has such well-assembled playlists. Tuesday is the one who always goes to work with his necktie in a perfect double Windsor knot, making everyone else in the office look kind of bad by association but not doing so consciously. Tuesday has won Employee of the Month twice, but not consecutively, and neither he nor anyone else ever brings it up in conversation.
Wednesday is the funny uncle, the one who tries ridiculously hard to fit in with the younger generation but fails spectacularly. Wednesday tries to make jokes, but most of his jokes are stupid puns, knock-knock jokes and the sort of groan-worthy lines that even two-year-olds don’t find humorous. Nevertheless, Wednesday is a fabulous
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Literature
Spinning Blades
Approximately half an hour's drive east of Bloomington, Illinois, is the village of Ellsworth, a zero-traffic-light town with a population of some two hundred eighty. Ellsworth's primary (and only) attraction is a pair of baseball fields, on which elementary school summer baseball leagues play, and which were the inspiration for the water tower, painted to resemble a giant, water-tower-shaped baseball. These baseball fields are situated in the "park," between a small conglomeration of playground equipment, the only business in town (Midwest Electronics, which supplies arcade-type machinery to the surrounding area), and a large open space. Of the (few) interesting stories that have taken place in Ellsworth, perhaps the most noteworthy occurred in that empty space.
*
Ellsworth had been chosen to become what was then the center of Twin Groves Wind Farm, which, when it was constructed, was the largest wind farm east of the Mississippi River. At the time, the subject was a matter of hot deb
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Literature
Love As An Adverb
Alone is an adverb,
and it was all I knew
until you.
It started with a chai.
I burned my tongue twice....
Twice is an adverb.
And it had already begun,
though I don't think I knew
that you knew.
Already is an adverb too.
And it didn't take too long
for me to realize that
everything I thought I knew
(about adverbs)
was a lie.
Hollowly, falsely
rings the past,
empty shells of hot air.
Presently I realize
fully, truly,
and there are no more empty shells.
And you know what,
Forever is an adverb.
It's also a noun,
but just this once
I think we can make an exception.
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Mature content
Censorship: A Sestina :iconthe-queen-bee:The-Queen-Bee 0 0
Literature
Villanelle
O villanelle, you villain! What to do?
You've drawn me in with loftiness, conceit.
I've worked so long, so hard avoiding you.
It seems like too much work, too much ado
About some rhymes and five iambic feet.
O villanelle, you villain, what to do
About the cage you've stuffed my mind into?
And furthermore, I'm sure I've lost the beat.
I've worked so long, so hard. Avoiding you
Has put me in a mood that's far too blue
To worry how my poem's too concrete.
O villanelle, you villain! What to do?
And now no matter how I work, it's true,
I cannot write a line that feels complete.
I've worked so long, so hard avoiding you.
Do you know how just how much you've put me through
Just trying to make this one work, you cheat?
O villanelle, you villain! What to do?
I've worked. So long. So hard, avoiding you.
:iconThe-Queen-Bee:The-Queen-Bee
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Literature
We Are Us
We have no pretensions.
We are us.
I am not perfect.
You are not perfect.
But we, the us,
We have perfection.
We dare not pretend to be
that which we are not.
We are not inseparable.
We are separate but united.
We are individual, and
We are unique.
We are us.
We are unyielding.
We are adamant;
We know we are not indestructible.
We are permanent because
We are flexible.
We have no demands, so
We have no worries.
We are us.
We understand more than
We are expected to, and
We understand the limitations
We currently face.
We will overcome them.
We are us.
:iconThe-Queen-Bee:The-Queen-Bee
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Literature
Manifesto
I'm nothing to you,
nobody of any importance
from nowhere to worry about.
I'm more sincerely nobody
than even Emily Dickinson,
of less importance
than even an idle daydream,
from a place that nobody worries about
which shouldn't even have a name.
And yet I know you.
I understand
the way you think,
the way you feel,
the why you think and feel.
I understand
your shortcomings,
and I want you to know
where you fall short
I fall even shorter.
I'll lie if I don't,
so you'll always be
better than me.
I'll be your Atlas,
and fuck Ayn Rand,
I'll never shrug
your worries or
your responsibilities off,
even though
I'm still carrying my own.
I'll be your Sisyphus,
an ecstasy on my face
whenever that boulder
falls back down
because I've
kept it from falling
on you
by making it
fall on me.
I'll be your Daedalus,
toiling for hours
for your freedom,
for your wings,
just so you can enjoy
those few golden moments
before you plummet
to oblivion.
And I'll be your nothing.
:iconThe-Queen-Bee:The-Queen-Bee
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Literature
An Observation
i wanted to give the world a hug
and then i realized
i could
:iconThe-Queen-Bee:The-Queen-Bee
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Literature
More Truth About Twilight
"Girl, I am hazardous. I am fully capacious of demolishing you. Excuse yourself from me. I think the bouquet of your sanguine fluid is entrancingly addictive, but I am dotty about you and so I will shun chomping you." Boy looked splenetic, but his ecru oculi sparked with entombed sentiment.
"But, Boy, the aroma of claret makes me feeble! I know! I'll stage an utterly melodramatic scene in which I seize the scent of cruor and then languish. That ugly boy will escort me to the nurse's agency, and then you will come and whisk me away in your shiny silver import car. It's a Swedish car, though, and you know how freaky those Scandinavians are, like, oh my gaaaaaawd, did you see what that oddball blonde girl was wearing, I mean, hell-ooooo! Oh, sorry, I was being almost realistic. But, yeah, you are the solitary male who has not plummeted for me hitherto. LOVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" I (Girl) could no longer stand feeling as though Boy anathematized me.
“Girl, I only perform the way I do be
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Literature
Trial By Farce
The Wizard's trial has at last begun
though somehow he refuses to believe
that anyone would ever really shun
the Man-Who-Doesn't-Know-How-To-Deceive.
And so he's run away from his defense,
and anyone who'd help prolong his reign,
offending a more serious offense
in new complacence and in acting vain.
And so, esteeméd jury, cast your votes.
Strike down the one who dares laugh in your face.
And now at last he's made some final quotes,
to try to salvage what's left of his case.
Dear Wizard, if you still think you're a hero,
I offer you this: fifty-nine to zero.
:iconThe-Queen-Bee:The-Queen-Bee
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Literature
Scribbled at a Lucid 1AM
   I've just got to write something. I don't care what I don't care how good I just want to make my pen dance. The world is full of color and drama and cupcake smells and all that good junk and I can see it. Almost through Coke-bottle glasses it seems where everything's distorted and magnified like you're looking at it through a fish bowl.
   Yeah, I need to write. Because once I've got something written I don't care how good people are gonna start seeing the world through their own personal fish bowls.
   And I'm the glassblower. The fingers, the heart, the brain behind the words.
   I have to write now. I just noticed there d'you see? The wind in the leaves are the leaves of a book that's sitting on the shelf of the Great Library of Life. And Time that great dizzying librarian.
   That's a story right there.
   College rule's never close enough you know? 'Cause just waiting inside every single s
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Literature
The Truth About Twilight
  I'm a girl called Girl! Because I'm a girl and a protagonist, I'll be requiring the author to donate to me everything I desire: pretty pretty face, my own car, and of course, a plethora of boiling males who are contending for my affections. That is my backstory.
  I'm a boy called Boy! Because I am a male character in this story which is ostensibly about a female, I necessitate being the archetype of the faultless provider, but also physically tantalizing. I have a history. That is my backstory.
  "Hello, Boy!" Girl stated. "You love me, don't you?"
  "Of course I do, Girl," Boy responded flatly. "You should realize that by now."
  "But, Boy, you are so far out of my reach! You are the only boy who is not falling at my feet!" Girl exclaimed.
  "Ah, Girl, if you only knew. I am exactly like those other boys who are falling at your feet. How I wish I could fall at your feet like those other boys. But I am dangerous," Boy expla
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Literature
The Man Behind the Curtain
The fearsome Head has crumbled into dust,
The curtain drawn, the Wizard full exposed,
Destroying once again our public trust
And finding he should never have imposed.
By offering to sell a vacant seat--
A sale for which, of course, there was no need--
The Wizard spun a web of blank deceit
And showed us all the true depth of his greed.
And in the streets, the joy irradiates
For now the man who killed our joy will pay.
If there's one thing this citizenry hates,
It's governors who do more than they say.
And while he still has some hope left to glisten,
For once I'm glad the Wizard didn't listen.
:iconThe-Queen-Bee:The-Queen-Bee
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Literature
A Visit from the Cliche Fairy
At long last, the thing was finished. I held it out in front of me, at arm’s length, so that I could better scrutinize the cover page. There it was, right in black and white. Soldier’s Sojourn, A Novel. By Richard Jamison Greene. I couldn’t believe I had actually done it.
“Ah-hem!” Someone behind me cleared his or her throat. That struck me as rather odd, as I was the only one home at that moment. I spun around.
It was one of the strangest figures I’d ever seen. I wasn’t quite sure whether it was a male or a female. The attire it was wearing would usually belong to a female, but the frown on its face suggested a domineering father-figure. It was roughly five feet tall, with very broad shoulders but very delicate ankles. The blond wig—or was it a toupee?—that was perched atop its head was tilted at a rakish angle, revealing black hair beneath. It reminded me of a hairy beret. The tutu it wore had seen much better days; the purple tulle of the
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Literature
A Writer's Life
She sits at the keyboard, staring at the little white letters on the little black buttons that torment her so. She presses one. Click. That little sound, the one which had seemed so musical in days past when it was accompanied by thousands of its brethren, now mocked her. "Listen to me. This is the sound of one tiny little splotch on the mammoth whiteness that is a completed manuscript. Good luck making any more."
She sighs, stands up, and goes to the pantry, fishing out a packet of pork-flavored ramen. As a means of displacing her extreme frustration, she withdraws a very large spoon from the drawer and crushes the ramen until the noodles have been reduced to a fine powder. Then she boils it, takes it back to the computer, and moves on. To nothing.
She can't get over the nothing of it, the blankness that keeps staring her in the face, just how... oppressively white it is. Whoever said that black is the absence of everything was clearly not a writer, she thinks. Sh
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Literature
Canvassing
Good morning, my buzzing killjoy. I’m really glad you woke me up this morning, because I was definitely not having that dream where I become a rock star and have twenty fans mobbing me all at once. Yes, thank you for waking me up.
It’s a decidedly gray day already, wonderful. And to think I was going to forgo packing the umbrella today. Oh well, looks like I’ll have to get drenched instead. Darn.
And Senator Marshall’s at my window, smiling and waving. Perfect.
Wait a minute, what in blazes…?
…I’m in my nightgown!
I run to the window and yank the shade down so hard it pulls off the rod. And now Senator Marshall has an even clearer view of my pink plaid flannel. Joy. At least he’s still smiling, as though I actually looked good in my pajamas.… Now I know I’m not voting for him.
I duck into the closet and throw on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. And then I sit in the closet for a second. Maybe if I stay in here long enough, he’ll go a
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Activity


  • Listening to: The Lady Killer- Cee Lo Green (explicit version)
  • Reading: The True Meaning of Smekday
  • Watching: Mad Men Season 2
  • Playing: Fallout 3, PC
Well, I have volunteered to help select submissions for the literary magazine of a local community college. I have done this for the past three years, and not once has one of my pieces failed to get in. (It's a blind submission process, so I actually earned it.)

This year, I have decided to exert as much influence over the magazine as possible, so in addition to being the copy editor, I have volunteered to help with submissions for prose and poetry committees. This means that I must read through 164 pages, most of which will likely be horrific, in order to find the hidden talent in this dry wasteland. It's possible.

In fact, the prose committee have been known to be complete hardasses, which is why I'm more than a little nervous about one of my prose pieces. It's called "Insecurities," and it's completely hilarious, but it's also pretty random, and I know Prose Committee has shot down worthy prose for that reason before. I am only one of four voices, so if I am the only one who liked it, I will be overruled.

Poetry committee is generally more forgiving, simply because more people submit horrible poetry than horrible prose, and they generally end up having to publish some stuff that's just mediocre to avoid publishing the truly awful stuff. Also, it seems that the really terrible poets submit a lot of poetry, sometimes upwards of twenty poems, so when that happens they usually choose the least bad one.

So that's what I'll be doing, apart from my ten-page creative nonfiction portfolio, which, if I do it correctly, will be a snap. I may even publish part(s) of it here, if I like it enough, and so far I do.

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The-Queen-Bee
Blocked/Unblocked/Bored
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I am, to the untrained eye, simply a young adult female. Look beyond the surface, though, and you'll see just how big this iceberg's thought process really is.
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:iconthe-queen-bee:
The-Queen-Bee Featured By Owner Nov 16, 2012
Thank you! :) I'll read it right away.
Reply
:iconorphicfiddler:
orphicfiddler Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2008
Tagged!
Reply
:iconorphicfiddler:
orphicfiddler Featured By Owner Apr 16, 2008
:boogie: Just going through your stats, and I love every single one of your favorite bands/musicians. I've actually seen Evanescence live, and they were amazing. And Stardust! And Neil Gaiman and Victor Hugo!

You have good taste.
Reply
:iconthe-queen-bee:
The-Queen-Bee Featured By Owner Apr 17, 2008
Thank you! I'd have to say that you do too, then. ;)
Reply
:iconorphicfiddler:
orphicfiddler Featured By Owner Apr 16, 2008
Thank you for the :+fav:! And your writings are lovely.
Reply
:iconthe-queen-bee:
The-Queen-Bee Featured By Owner Apr 17, 2008
You're welcome- it was well deserved!

And thank you very much.
Reply
:iconsakabatochick:
SakabatoChick Featured By Owner Feb 13, 2008
why thank you muchly for the favorite, yessums' >w< :dance: :3
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:iconthe-queen-bee:
The-Queen-Bee Featured By Owner Mar 6, 2008
You're most welcome! :D
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