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Just A Calamity6.Just A Calamity by ohmistermagazine
He is not quite sure what to say to her. She is grave as she puts books neatly into boxes, a waterfall of caramel hair obscuring her face. She looks so different now than what has become the usual: sleeves of her fleece jacket rolled up to her elbows, cheeks red and heart thrumming.
She is beautiful, and that is the problem.
He grabs his own box and slowly takes books off the shelves, starting with the short story anthologies in their tattered red sleeves. He hears the skid of cardboard across a dirty floor as she pushes a finished box out of the way.
"I have to go," she says eventually. "I promised Anne that we'd go out to lunch today."
"It's fine." He does not look away from his work. "Thanks for your help, Quinn."
She sighs and stays where she is. She is probably fingering the edge of her uniform skirt or yanking down her fleece's sleeves in order to cover her hands.
"I'm sorry," she whispers eventually. "I ruined everything. You must hate me."
He hesitates and stares at the beat
All my little excesses.(or, Five fantasies and a truth).All my little excesses. by OritPetra
The other woman in your bed,
beautiful like crushed-up rotted roses
and the glass of a smashed-up vase stabbed
between a wife's shoulder blades.
Fuck me long and slow
before she comes home.
Stockbroker with an eight-figure paycheck,
money to waste on Porsches, waterfront condos,
and once-a-year charity donations
to keep my taxes low.
Honk squeegee kids off my windshield
on the drive home.
Moments of rock 'n' roll madness and
television sets thrown through windows.
Cocaine highs and tabloid crashes;
my face: front cover of Rolling Stone.
Dying slowly, slowly, gloriously,
choking on glitter and fame.
A modern major-general (the very model, even),
who sleeps soundly in a city where the shells are distant,
snoring loudly beside a long-legged mistress.
Miles away a generation bleeds out, but
my sleeping subconscious entertains fears of
dying, even of old age.
Cocktails on white sand beaches
and a sexy alias (Betsy
Connected.Connected. by OritPetra
The land here is rugged and rich, leaving mud on your boots and dust in your eyes, but feeding your belly and your heart with all the best nourishments. This morning it offered up a snack of tiny wild strawberries to compliment our modest breakfast of baked beans and tinned herring, and greeted us with a quiet sunrise that lit up the lake we'd camped at as we scrubbed our faces clean of two days hard travel. Just an hour later, it fills our eyes with bold mountains and breathtaking ocean vistas.
Dad is quiet as I dismount, carefully swinging my leg up and over my neatly packed and tightly secured baggage. I know he'll check it again before we pull out, testing all the straps and bungee cords, making sure nothing will get lost along the way. Years ago this would have sparked a swell of indignation in me, a bitter suspicion that he did not think me capable. Now, however, it makes me smile. Now, I know that he tightens that strap on the left-hand sidethat one that's always coming lo
The Assault"Grab the camera and do as I do."The Assault by LouisVarilias
As usual, George was leading his troops with a comforting confidence. It was always odd for him to speak with a level of command similar to a sergeant. I liked it though. After all, he is in charge of a profitable paparazzi company. It is something to admire. Well, I'm sure he'd hate that I called his company a paparazzi company, even though I've been his third in command for at least 5 years. George calls himself a photographer of human existence. I've known George long enough to realize that he doesn't actually mean it. It's just for his public image.
Everyone stepped out of the SUV and began following George down the sidewalk. I was beside him, but close enough to whisper in his ear. The other three were behind me. George stopped right at a palm tree on the corner. He stood as though he were hiding, even though it was 1 in the afternoon.
"Our target is in there. The Palorina Restaurant." George pointed to the fancy Italian restaurant across the stre
You can't take it- Wait!You can't take it by Aseela
- As I told you
- What do you mean?
- There is an abyss separating us from the world..
- How is that?
- If you sought to have it, you will fall..
- And what if we already have it?
- That means you have already fallen!
- Then, what can we do to get it?
- Stay where you are and the world will come to you. <b>
FlawedYou look at me after unwrapping me. A masterpiece from an artist you admire and worship. You kept me around for a very long time and you examined me; scrutinized my every detail and seeing things that had not been apparent before.Flawed by Kendecia
You realize that I am flawed.
However, you can't seem to place what seems to be wrong with me. Maybe my nose is too big, my eyes are too doe-like, my lips too full or my frame too small and petite for your liking. It bothers you and torments your artistic senses and you finally set to work.
A stitch here, a bit of powder there; and maybe an incision and tuck hither and thither The world is awed by your handy work, and you show me off. Your fame is palpable and my life is made plentiful given meaning but lifeless hope.
You continue to 'fix' me and everything works out for the beauty you wanted to accomplish. I am beautiful in all the eyes that see me. You had done so well.
You are dissatisfied.
There is something still wrong. Yet you cannot place wh
• written or spoken language in its ordinary form, without metrical structure : a short story in prose | [as adj. ] a prose passage.
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It would be less painful.I would die for you,It would be less painful. by WaKip
I'd rather welcome
a bullet to my heart,
Than have it beat
BereavementYou were my savior, my petite love, my flowerBereavement by LatyreDKaos
A gift unparalleled by anything in this world
Endless yet transient moments stolen to dream of you
Little did either of us know
It was a lovely evening, the sunset weaving ribbons of flame
the wisps of cloud refracting a thousand jeweled hues
I sat carefree upon my couch, a universally idyllic moment
Had I but said yes
Step back, fall back, relive time now mislaid
You asked me if I wished to accompany you that night
"Darling, feel like having a great time?" Your words re-echo in my mind
I had work, unimportant in this new, funereal light
"Sorry babe, I'll pass tonight." My words a scourge most severe
I dithered my evening away, unaware, dreadfully unaware
I saw the news first, a car accident, none dead, one critical
That the one was a girl with your description just passed me by
I called, later, received an answer, though not from you
Your mother was kind enough to pick up your phone
It's a joke, a terrible joke.
Sonnet VIII - A SonnetTo my exalted mistress, don't despairSonnet VIII - A Sonnet by AnachroNonSequitur
When some unknowing philistine maligns
The subtle whims your agèd wisdom shares,
And all the beauty hidden in your lines.
Be not ashamed to show your proper form;
Or hide the cadence of your sultry verse
Your glamor is that you defy the norm
Unchanged in spite of how the times coerce.
Let artless heathens loll in trifling taste,
Pursuing comfort in their thriftless lays.
Enduring their neglect, remaining chaste,
Grow honored as true poets sing your praise.
I speak on your behalf when you're ignored
You give my insights soul as the reward.
Political DissatisfactionYour opinions are not cold hard facts.Political Dissatisfaction by crazyladyyykatie
Everything you say could never be exact.
What is good for you is not good for me.
But, our country is just too deaf, dumb, and blind to see.
If I believe one thing and you believe another,
why can't we compromise for each other?
We should cease to be Democrats or Republicans,
and simply remember we are all Americans.
Our political opinions somehow equate to moral law,
and our unwillingness to bend is turning this country raw.
Don't forget that this country was founded on separation of church and state,
and that politics should never be anything more than a debate.
Perhaps, instead of blaming the profiteering politician or even the system,
learn to remember we are the ones who picked them.
If we take a little more responsibility and let selfishness run its course,
and show even an ounce of more remorse,
America can crawl out of this politically opinionated cave.
And, together, we can learn to heal the land of the free and the home of the brave.
poetry |ˈpōətrē; ˈpōitrē|
• literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature : he is chiefly famous for his love poetry.
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Journal of an Alien3694 the 12th, After the Tragedy (AT)Journal of an Alien by Cobrateen
Dana told me it would be helpful to further practice my Terran if I ever want to leave home and make something of myself in human territories, so I'm starting this Journal and/or Exploration Log. At first I was worried about writing so much, cause I'm not really much of a writer, but she said just do it informally, like I'm talking with a friend. So in honor of our new friendship, I'm naming you Samantha, or Sam for short. I know, it's kind of an ambiguous name, but I'm named Lee and that doesn't sound like a girl's name at all, so no complaining. Nice to meet you Sam!
I suppose if I'm writing you in Terran I'd better use the Human calendar. I'll do that from now on; today is May 7th, 2134 AC. It's funny that both the Coine calendar and the Human calendar use some big event from long ago to start the date from. The Humans use that Christ guy, and the Coine use the day their planet imploded and they set out on a journey across space
Step-SiblingsCast List:Step-Siblings by Same-side
DEGAULLE-young man, mid- to late-teens, CHARLISE's step-brother
CHARLISE-young woman, about the same age, DEGAULLE's step-sister
(Lights up on a near-empty diner. It is early in the morning, and it is still dark outside. Neon letters on the wall advertise milkshakes, fries, burgers and floats. CHARLISE is cleaning the last of the tables with a rag. A bucket sits nearby and is being used by DEGAULLE to mop the floor. The patent-leather booths, chairs and tables seem to shine from the diligently applied polish, but the decades-scuffed floor seems impenetrable to DEGAULLE's half-hearted efforts. The two teens are wearing aprons bearing the name of the establishment: "Andre-Marie's.")
How about I fix us up a milkshake when we're done, OK?
You never offer to make me a milkshake. What's going on, Char?
Nothing. Just figured you might want one. Would a float interest you, instead?
A float nah. Milkshake'll be fine. (to floor)