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Late Evening, JulyYou and I, world I think we have the same heart;Late Evening, July by ProvenParadox
I think that you've got the same crazy bits stuck
Right behind everything you're made of.
You've got the same contradiction as I do
And I think I've gotten muddled in exactly the same way.
It's the most beautiful muddling. The prettiest one
That you could have.
It's the wind over the dry grasses and the white pine
And the hills of sandstone and old men's dying farms.
And it's the late night drives into nowhere
And the look of the joyful befuddlement.
And I think, world, that you and I
And all the other muddled people out there
We'll get along all right. And maybe, I think we might,
If we're lucky and if the grasses flow just right in the breeze,
We can go down to the brook, world, and hold hands
And smile quietly and watch the geese
And smell the sweet rain over the rivers.
The Three SongsThe First SongThe Three Songs by ProvenParadox
The first song is easy; it is the song of magic and love. It is a song for the world and, therefore, it is the sort of thing you hear murmuring through the streets late at night or in the hum of young people dancing. I first heard it long ago; I was travelling deep into the recesses of my mind, and I discovered the image of myself. It was like a mirror, but one that was thousands of years old. Rather than bother him, the image that is, I decided to just watch. And to just see where he might be going.
The image of myself was walking in the garden.
He was wandering, clearly unaware of where he was going: lost and lonely. Through the canyons and forests, across the desert. The images flashed by, but I knew he'd been travelling for a long time. While I watched, he met a girl in the forest, and she took his hand and g
Teach UsWith an exquisite pension for the painTeach Us by Chaues
I don't think its me you're missing
when you move beneath my skin;
you're all ready to leave, and
tattooing your heart black again.
Shame can be such a dirty place to begin.
Or you could stay and cut me down;
render me speechless, and show me
there's something worth believing in,
when the cold sympathy of sedation
gives way to the best of intentions.
I can't help but find beauty in your grace.
SecurityIt was a cold February morning. There was snow on the ground and wind in the trees. Jeff Mosley's bedroom was as messy as usual, full of items "borrowed" from various stores. Since it was Saturday, his various alarm clocks from Sharper Image hadn't been set. Around ten, he got out of bed and went downstairs for breakfast. His parents, as usual, were at some important business meeting. Why the hell did they always work on the weekends? At least this gave Jeff an excuse to go to the mall alone. After a meal of cereal and milk, Jeff got on his bike and rode a few blocks to return it. He never kept one bike for too long, it's former owners would recognize it. Jeff discreetly parked the bike in it's owner's backyard, then walked off towards the mall, an empty backpack over his shoulder.Security by Benerror
His first stop was Sharper Image, he had a sort of tradition about it; he would always pick one product he didn't have already, and the newest, most expensive alarm clock. He wa
Out With the Old"Out With The Old"Out With the Old by NotAnselAdams
In a place not far from L.A., a medium-sized city was in the throes of widespread modernization. The city leaders were convinced that cutting edge was far better than tried and true. Most of the people in that hamlet seemed to agree, or were at least so enthralled by the pretty new buildings and modern landscaping that they didn't complain about anything. A few people here and there did, but were never listened to.
Sitting on a small cliff atop a gentle incline that lead down to the beach, city leaders from a time long ago had set aside a small area sheltered from the hustle and bustle of the surrounding city by a huge wall of hedges peppered with pine trees, and a round, ivy-covered brick wall. It was a tiny glen, with a rustic oak bench up against the brick wall facing out towards the ocean. About forty feet in front of the bench near the edge of the cliff grew a large, weatherworn sycamore tree bent bac
Jaycee and All She Knows Lettie dreamt. She didn't know she was hooked to monitors to show her faltering heartbeat. She didn't know she was in a coma. Lettie dreamt. Lettie saw her beloved lover in a dream, the very handsome and unreliable man who gave her that first baby, now ten years old and wanted. Lettie dreamt a second baby, a boy playing with the first one, the girl Jaycee.Jaycee and All She Knows by xlntwtch
How happy Jaycee looked! Jaycee taught her brother everything from how to hold a little cup to how to climb a tree.
Lettie didn't know her own role in the dream. She didn't see herself anywhere. But she certainly felt surrounded by love and a little family. Vague idea that Jaycee said there were two brothers, but that wasn't even possible.
Jaycee often said outlandish things. Lettie liked that about her daughter.
Lettie dreamt. She didn't know her nourishment came from tubes and left th
• 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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Painting Without ColourLike fire hiding in thePainting Without Colour by Wynt-rs
deepest trenches of the ocean,
her stomach's alight with a feeling
like helium. When she takes a
deep breath, she wishes she could
exhale all of her fears, but they are
engraved on the curves of her
bones with the symbols of angels
and she's never been able to
Somewhere in the golden-dusted
corners of her mind, hope lives.
It whispers to her, it taps on the
door with sound like a sweet melody.
Her voice breaks when she tries to
sing anything but a melancholic tune,
and the sewn-together pieces of her
heart stretch tight and threaten to
unwind with every note.
Wishes like white paper litter the
ground around her, and more than
anything she wishes that one would
cut her. She wants to draw forth
colour like passion, let it spill into her
hands so she can escape the grey-
scale world of things like broken glass
that glitter with cold beauty under a
She wants to breathe in stardust, so
she'll never lose sight of hope again.
RehabilitationAfter havingRehabilitation by Kupo9089
years to rehabilitate,
He thought that it would be simple,
to remember what it was like
many years in the past
Back when hands
softly pulling him to slumber
Back when words
that failed to wrap the tender wounds
the monumental movements caused by actions of a ghost
one year ago
Recklessly into oblivion
with words upon his lips
seeking solace in a ghost that threw itself
in the middle of crossfire
He remembered the words
uttered by the higher power that chose
to govern his life
It was then,
that he fought back
Pounding down his pride until it was shattered with words
until he could fight back with his battered soul
that never seemed to give up
From that point forward,
He was reborn;
he wasn't invisible
With wings, glorious,
holding him upright
He allowed himself to float to the surface of the moon
where meteors and comets
until his skin bruised purple a
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)