Vocalized Thoughts

on the eve of a decade
things haven't change (but why would they)
blurry eyed
more pills than friendships
on the way to the 911
i'm a cut(ter) about the rest
"we'll sleep when we're dead"
can't come soon enough
heart headed
the only heart burn I have came right off your lips
itchy head minus itchy trigger finger
ive only got bulleyes on chests and promises
hunting for broken hearts to get lost in

This is actually my first time posting in a community. I just wanted to get some feedback on this story I wrote. It's not the first story I wrote, but it's the first that has been posted in a community. Maybe a comment or two?

This was written for our school paper. The editor assigned me to write a story about love. Since the whole school, including the children, are going to receive this paper, I planned to make it child friendly. It was supposed to be about a bratty student who turned out to have leukemia, but since it sounded a little too sad for a child, I changed it to something inspired by children's riddles - Humpty Dumpty. This story narrated in a child's point of view shows her determination to save Humpty Dumpty after feeling sad for his miserable end, that "he couldn't be put together again..."


( Here it goes... )

Become One


So now the two
have become one
and shall untill
one life is done
an oath forsworn
that come what may
neither one
shall dare betray
each one now
the other's own
by loving words
through blood and bone
a testament sung
through bell and chime
a promise to last
the expanse of time


Palm Reader

Translate your whole universe
through
the network of creases
across
your palms

each broken fragment
an isolated period of reinvention

They erupt magically . . . . then perish
(within the curve of flesh at your wrist)
deep dimensions of character are found within these winding lines

love and loss and fortune
present and past and future
no limits to what parts of you
you can discover.
tracing each line
elements of yourself recorded into your skin.
read casually, after tea leaves. 
The musk heavy in the air.

Pretty face, smiling for the camera
Smile all you want, your ruse won't last
Soon you'll be translucent
Your loyal followers will fade
And suddenly you'll be alone
and you'll have to face
what you've been running from all the while:
Your true self.
Underneath make up, tight clothes, and fake poses,
you were always only human.
 

Love is nothing.
It has lost it's meaning.
Lies. deciet.
That's all it really is.
"I love you"
Is just a  word.
Fables. not true.
sin incarnated.

How could something so beautiful,
cease to exist  ?
How could something so joyful
disspaear into mist?

Love is not a blessing!
It leaves you hating.
A fib. bittersweet.
hell's heartbreaking kiss.
"I love you"
Just plain absurd.
A taboo.
Always colored.

Hey guys. Wrote another short story, it's the third one or so that I've posted here. You guys have been tremendously helpful in the past and even if this isn't good it's certainly a step up from my earlier stuff IMO.

I will award any readers/critics with free hugs and internets as well as my thoughts on anything you've written.

Details:
-5,000 words
-Some harsh language
-Fairly darkish tone

If you don't like reading in the LJ format feel free to read it in PDF form here: http://disc.420chan.org/lit/src/Julian%20and%20the%20Worm.pdf

 

( Read more... )

A quick write, non-beta or whatever, just going with an sudden idea in my head.

Might include material that might offend some people. I use a mixture of British and American english, so my grammar and spelling might not be work out for some people.

About the lives of three people in an apartment. I know this is done before but I've never read anything about this so here it goes. Sorry for spelling errors and etc.
( The Lives )

Nobody whispers her name better than sinned stained lips. But her secrets are only for night ears. She flees before morning with a fond smile. Remembering how lust was very pretty last night with lovely eyes, dark sense of humor, and soft laugh.

 I spent the night in your arms
Cuddling close to your side
Knowing, hoping
You would never leave me

I woke up with a smile
And turned as I to reach for you
I found nothing but the dog
Cuddled close to my side

And I cried as I remembered
The beautiful dreams of yesterday
And I turned over, my eyes closed
Not quite ready to move on

Chapter 2:  Willard Street, West Avenue, and Alfred Street

 

Nick Sparks was, most of his friends agreed, a very good-looking, generally congenial guy.  Obviously of Italian descent, he had brown hair, brown eyes, dark features, was just short of tall, and was thin but athletic; he dressed, like a typical young person of nineteen or twenty, in clothes mostly purchased from the mall.  His face was somewhat long and slightly angular, with prominent cheekbones and thin cheeks, though he did not appear gaunt.  His chin was very noticeably cleft.

 

Nick was also, most of his friends agreed, a little odd at times; but at the James School almost everyone was at least a little odd, and so this was usually overlooked.

 

 

( Read more... )

 

Easy as one, two, three
Broken-hearted may I be.

Anyone care to join me?

Memories of childhood are nothing new to me. That stage of my life was the best ever; if I had it to do all over again, I would do nothing differently. Well...almost nothing. There is one thing I would do differently. I would not have gone swimming.

Why, you might ask, would I not go swimming? It's simple, really. I would not have exposed myself to the surroundings that haunt my dreams even now, over 20 years later. I would not have made myself vulnerable to the despair that I feel to this day when I dream about that horrible, lonely day. And, there would not be that awful sweet-metallic taste in my mouth every time I dream about the swimming pool of my youth.

There were two pools in this one complex. One of them was meant for children and for those who didn't swim very well, and the other was meant for adults and older children and teens. It is this latter pool that I speak of in this reminiscence. I would watch as people dove off what seemed to me to be the highest diving board I'd seen in my young life. In my dreams, I'm diving off the same platform, staring down at the dark, unforgiving water below. When I hit the surface, I see nothing, I hear nothing, but I taste bitter chlorine, even when I resurface and struggle my way over to the side of the pool. Although knowing there would be no way for me to touch the bottom of the pool, I try anyway. Suddenly I see the black number painted on the concrete above me...40 feet. I'm swimming in a pool with a depth of 40 feet, and I begin to panic and try to find a way out. I can't do it--I panic. The more I panic, the farther away I get from the side of the pool. It seems I will never get out of the water...

And then I wake up to find myself in my own bed, hundreds of miles away from the swimming pool. Tears flood my eyes as I look around my bedroom and realize that I'm safe. The water had not claimed me. I am still alive.

<< I hope I didn't end this too abruptly; I ran out of things to write about. lol >>

greetings, noble rangers, flaneurs, ne'er-do-wells, cads, bounders, rakes, demimondaines, apaches, and all and sundry!


we of the greater Front Range anachropunk community cordially invite all front rangers to our gala pre-celebrations, if it please you.

The officers have decided to host a Gala Event for this Holiday Season!
We are hosting the day before New Year’s Eve so that people may still make NYE events if they like, and to accomodate those who have holiday work schedules.

Gala Details on Ye Facebook!



The event will feature a Masquerade Ball (less dancing, more costume contest), a Film Showing, a marvelously steamy Soundtrack, some parlor games, a fiction reading or three, and a delicious potluck dinner.

THE EVENT WILL ALSO FEATURE A WHITE ELEPHANT GIFT EXCHANGE: Please limit your choices to the $3-$7 range and keep it relatively clean. If it is specifically a male-only or female-only gift please note that on the tag.

Please make a note with your RSVP! We are voting on what movie we shall be watching. The choices are:
Golden Compass
Steam Boy
Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow
Wild Wild West
League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
Around the World in 80 Days (the newer one)
Howl’s Moving Castle
Write-In Vote

Please also note that we are organizing the potluck in order to guarantee proper distribution of food.
If your last name begins with:
A-C Please bring beverages (non-alcoholic)
D-L Bring a side, soup or salad
M-R Bring a main dish
S-Z Bring dessert

The location WILL BE at the ancestral manse of one Mr. Theodore Thompson, to wit: 100 North 5th Avenue, Brighton 80601.

yours ever.

CRG.

You wake up one day to realize you really don't want to.

It's not that you want to die, that would be a bit too dramatic. You just don't want to get up. Don't want to wash. Eat breakfast. Go to work. Walk. Breathe. Drive. Talk. You just don't want to do any of that. Just couldn't be bothered anymore. All you want is to stay in bed. So you do.

After a while you close your eyes and force yourself back into dreaming. In the dream your mind dreams, life is more interesting, more colorful, perhaps even more vivid - something that you previously wasn't aware was possible. It has more urgency, more verve, more everything. You feel alive in the dream. Which is more than you can say about reality. Afterall, reality is such a dull. A manifestation of boredom. A rundown of emotional dysfuntion. Isn't it?

Wouldn't it be more interesting if our dreams were our realities? Woudln't that be such a thrill? All those beasts and creatures, All those shift figures and faces, inconsistent conversations, non-sequential events, randomness, galatic colors, quixotic chaos. You love and you die and you grow and you fly and you run and you fight and you fear and you die again and again and again....

And you're born once more!

Your eyes open and the ceiling stares down at you. You sigh. Or take a deep breath. You don't move. Are you asleep? Had you been daydreaming? You close your eyes again and you will yourself to resume the dream.

In the dream you make yourself in your head, you see yourself rise from the bed, bright and shiny, wash up and get ready for yet another exciting day of seeing people and doing things. You dream of every fine detail, every move, you could even feel your body flowing in your veins, how it travels through you, rushing up and down and around. And you find that you could live the life you want in your head. Why bother to try and make it all real, when you can have it all, just the way you like it, right there in your head. Keep sleeping. Keep dreaming. Your eyes would sometime try to open, but whatever bit in your brains which controls the dreaming, that force, that power, is much stronger, and it forces me to remain.

Constantly in a perpetual state of floating in and out of the realm of dreams, often losing yourself within the thin space between the two and you are no longer certain of things. Eyes open, and for a manic moment you believe in those figments of dreams, you take them for granted, as memories, moments you've lived, things you've seen and been through. And it is those small moments that frighten you the most, that stun you, that serve as a warning of what could be, might be, would be.

And it's after those moments like these that you ask yourself if you would, if you could? The bed pulls you further in, never letting go. It's your vice, your drug, your obsession. Your mind is your home. Your only safe domicile. Your life is finally, your own.

But you always wake up.

My savior,
my Reverend,
you weren't supposed to die.

You had wings,
such beautiful wings,
but you weren't supposed to fly.

I can't see you.
I can't see you.
Now, I can just listen.

And try to fix the wreckage
of the heart
that has gone missing.

RIP Jimmy Sullivan 1981-2009
I love you.

I want you to lay
between me
and my thoughts,
to harbor haste
until it is needed,
divide what is unnecessary
from this confusion
for I am clumsy
and foolish

Love is awkward
and youthful
innocently inept;
as fragile
as the words I speak
(still,
I am unable to learn)

My bones
are full of rust
they strain
with every movement,
struggling to gain
a secular holiness
that would be worthy
of Beauty

But clumsy I remain
so let me sleep
a few minutes longer
and maybe a little weight
will be lifted

I want you to lay
between me
and my thoughts,
to disentangle me
from them;
to take my warmth
in return
because sometimes silence
is the most precious gift
the clumsy can confer

Temptation waits
for a ravenous heart,
lingering in this pool
of fury
hoping that lust
will not devour love
(I can not let my eyes
rest upon
these anachronistic gods
that bleed desperately
in search of recognition,
I am paralysed
but privy to perfection
and lies;
carved out of truth
so hastily

heartless hinds
hurriedly hide hurt
behind voracious visions,
disguising the disgusting
with painful elegance)

you were yesterday
so quickly archaic,
so swiftly you followed serenity
into sickness
twisting and swirling about
entwining antitheses
effortlessly
(accidentally,
it seems now)

She holds fast
to the years
which grow more and more tired
through her melancholy eyes
(like vines
embracing endless weeds
after refusing to surrender
for so long,
heavy they fall
into each others arms)

This dog. I used to love this dog.
But now this dog is
a government agent.

I cannot trust this dog anymore.

If you are reading this,
you know who you are.
You know where I will go and why.

Together we will escape this world.

Wake up.

Dreaming.
This world is all I ever knew.
Perfection.
Kissing waves of blue,
and breathing...
Every sight is true.
Can I fly?
I float.
All around me, all is clear.
Just like that,
the nightmares stop,
and I am bleeding blue.
Swimming and crying.
There are no more tears
to chain me.
I fly,
I float.
Kissing waves of blue;
my mind is flying,
reality is far,
and I'm swimming
in my dreams.

I hate you -
I'm lying.
I love you -
let me die.

I love the way you choke me
and smother me with blood.
Ripping smiles off my face -
oh, how it hurts.

Crawl on me, I push away.
Come on. Keep on trying.

Make me see
that you want me
more than I want you.