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MorticianCarefully, he peels back age-stiffened skin
the last skirt a lady has to be lifted
and knows her little grievances, the aches,
the smoker's lungs, the ribs broken years ago,
the little scratches on the leg where she picked
and picked, when nervous.
He takes the too-large heart in his hands
her heart in his hands!
He knows her, although never acquainted formally,
her calling-card affixed to bluish toes
still coated with clear polish.
Amidst smells of formaldehyde, stiffness in the air,
he adds color to worry-bleached cheeks
and tells her not to fret, reassuring
that she'll look lovely, regardless of tobacco teeth.
Outside"[Poetry is] honest, raw, unapologetic."
Unapologetic? My every word
is apology, in some context; an apology to myself
or to the reader, to everything else, to the mewling thing in my guts
that cries and cries and
Stop. Is this free verse? Is this blank verse?
Does my psychodynamic stanza have a rhyme
that can be identified not once, but all the time?
If this is my honesty, my rawness, why
does it have order at all? If I am honest
I am a scrabbling thing in the dirt and my thoughts
my thoughts are like moles in the sunlight
squealing and blind, flailing for cover.
But that's not the case; my thoughts are clean
and cold, produced by the mechanical pulsing
of the light in the bones in my head, collected,
and for that I must apologize. I don't have
the rawness, the honesty
to pry bittersweet beauty
from seventeen years of crusty cloth
without a pattern, without a pattern.
exists as trap-lines in sand
I lay mine carefully
never to be broken
pulled, they break
back, contingency cracks in veneer
in bulletproof glass
in my parlor
in my Oval Office
in my back-alleys
in my boardrooms
And You Will Lead Me ToIt has been one thousand eight hundred forty-nine days since the beginning of my sentence began. This is the one hundred eighty-fifth time that I have been placed into extended segregation for the good of the general population following dangerous and uncooperative behavior.
I have been in here for two days four hours, excepting thirty minutes for a shower and sweep of the solitary confinement cell. Three thousand ninety minutes. The room is dark. One hundred eighty-five thousand four hundred seconds, three seconds ago. Time progresses, as it always does; I have been placed here following a confrontation with the prison psychiatrist. They are calling it a confrontation. I am calling it survival.
Square peg, nonexistent hole. They ask me why I chose to do this. Why I chose to do that. Why I chose to be the "villain" in all of this, as if the world is a shape with definite sides. They continue to demand an explanation for my crimes. For my justices.
Animals, filthy animals, all of them.
Advanced Science ResearchAdvanced Science Research
I have a problem.
I have surveys to solve the problem.
The problem, though, is that I have surveys
to solve the problem.
One hundred twenty-two surveys
and, so far, none of them have any solutions.
To get my solution, I have to state my problem,
except I can't state my problem in the surveys to solve the problem
because that's biased.
Likewise, I can't wait until I'm done with the surveys to state the problem
because that's biased.
I'm biased against surveys, I think, but that doesn't solve the problem
because I still haven't clearly defined the problem I'm
trying to solve because the surveys aren't evaluated.
I should evaluate the surveys
to define the problem
to use the surveys
to solve the problem,
but to evaluate the surveys, I need a problem to solve.
The only problem I have at the moment
is the problem of having surveys,
but that's biased.
Advice to a CaterpillarMy dear, what they told you is true:
everything will be alright, in the end,
but what they didn't tell you
is that the means will be terrible.
The world will be cold when you escape yourself,
and when you
the cucoon, when you
the skin, when you crawl free? You'll be doomed.
That's the truth of the matter, plain
You'll be soft, little crawling thing; you'll be naïve,
and the wings they promised you
will be limp, and wet.
They will not work when you need them most,
clinging horrified to the gnarled edges of the world.
Every breeze will remind you
of what you thought you could do,
of what you must do,
of what you cannot even hope to do,
and hanging there, bedraggled and raw,
you will stare out unblinking
and know that you won't make it if the rain comes too soon,
Re: ModernTo the urns, to mirages that hover close
with talk of Dickenson, and Hughes, and Kerouac
Be quiet. They cannot hear your loosening screws.
For what would you want the breakup of all wondrous things,
the fractioning of personage?
Be quiet. None are listening, but
for the guttering of a candle flickering,
no audience is audience all the same, having lived at both ends,
The world shrinks, and I am not
the child of ghosts, of powdered glass reflecting
brightness and green glowing things, immaterial
and sickly. The ozone stink of burning cord,
the tired plague of heavy gold, of lead,
are me. My alchemy has run dry, and, brittle,
I resign myself to analysis
and am disassembled.
I am The PragmatistI am The Pragmatist, criminal mastermind, nemesis of the League of Crimefighters, supervillain, genius, monster, prisoner. This tale I pen is not for my own benefit. I stand only to lose from telling my story, and I know that I will lose terribly. I am writing this because I am compelled to, and I can only hope with what remains of my faith, and of my sanity, that some good will come of it.
I remember the first time that the true nature of my world was revealed to me. I was in prison; I had been apprehended once again by Apex and his league of masked heroes and left to rot in a cell identical to ones I had been in before. Fool that I was, I thought that it was due to my error, a flaw in my plans, and as I lay on my cot I reviewed my actions, vowed to finally realize my goals as soon as I escaped. Then I set to work, crafting an escape route out of the prison; materials came to me as they always did, unknowingly gifted to me in the furnishings of my cell and the implausible technologi
Reminiscence of a Postmodern CriticOh yeah. Preach it
We are the children of a thousand racketeers
with wheels strapped to our feet
and wings to our backs
and stars burning the palms of our hands
so that we let go and fall, whooping, back to the ground.
I can't forget the smell
of ozone and bones, like a gasoline fireplace
and the sound they made when they hit the dirt
like birds against windows:
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Political refugees from the stratosphere
we failed our road tests
and had our heels revoked for being too round
even though they were really too flat, like busted tires.
I can't forget the look
on their faces, like a lightbulb burning out
and the sound they made when they tried to walk
like cars without chassis:
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Crazy scribblers, trying to write the billion names of God
we traded feathers for dollars
and dollars for feathers
so we could pen our tales with politically-correct quills
although our words fell heavy on the pages
like acid raindrops, bitter:
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Slender - Urban Angel, Archer End
Offender didn’t seem to take any notice to Archer’s wailing as his head dipped down to the wounds just below the ribcage. Archer squirmed when he felt something warm and wet snake around his wounds, occasionally letting out grunting sounds in distress as it silvered inside the damage. There was heat of pain against his cold skin. So hot it felt like it was burning.
Archer probably would of just laid down and accepted fate if Offender hadn’t of decided to torture him. Yes, maybe Archer had deserved this… maybe, but he wasn’t going to let this Slender see any submission. Stubborn Archer was, he wasn’t making any difference to the lapping Offender was doing.
His claws raked against the dirt as the burning increased.
What the hell is Offender up to? Was he savouring the taste or making the wounds worse? Archer let out a loud hiss as his maw ripped open and wide, his chest suddenly felt… numb. Just to be sure Archer breathed harder but felt nothing.
In Harms Way: Chapter 3"And we all know what happened this mornin'! I don't know what that son of a bitch is gonna do next!" Kenny said.
"So you wanna ring the dinner bell for a herd of walkers to show up? How is that better?" Mike added.
"Cause this place'll be fuckin' chaos when that thing hits! No one'll be paying attention to us and that's when we go! That's our opening! We just gotta figure out a way to draw em to us."
"Your friend here wants us to get killed by lurkers before Bill can do it." Rebecca said as she looked at Clementine.
"What is it with you?" Kenny growled.
"Maybe Luke could help us, he's outside he wanted me or Leah to get him a radio so he can keep an eye on the guards." Clementine mentioned.
"Thank you, that's the plan I vote for." Rebecca smiled.
"Wait- you know about Luke?" I asked.
"He flagged us down when the guards weren't lookin' told us his plan.... mentioned he talked to you two." Mike said.
"If Luke can tell us where the guards are then that's how we'll escape." Rebecca said.
Fantasy Films Adventures - Red Waters (2)
The GEP and the Madagascar Crew rondevued at Manhattan Beach Park. The sight was packed with tourists young and old, whole humans and anthros alike. With surf boards in hand, Prowl and Blaze wasted no time heading for the water.
“Wait up-a for me!” Stefano cried out as he ran after them.
“Guys!” Cassie called out to them. “We got work to do!”
“Relax, Cas,” Jag said as he was unpacking his laptop and satellite equipment “It’ll take me a while to finish setting up anyway. You should all go have fun.”
“Need some help,” asked Melman.
“Yes, thank you, Melman.”
All the while Jag and Melman were monitoring the water for activity via sonar, everyone else was having fun in the sun. Tye, Zuba and Florrie were building sandcastles. Gloria was getting herself a tan. Casey, Cassie, Palladon and Alex were playing volley ball against Vitaly, Gia, Marty and Leonette.
Leah- Episode 5 EndingsEnding 1: Kenny lives
During the fight with Jane and Kenny, Leah injures her ankle once again and becomes weak as she lays in the snow. She begins to cry as she sees Clementine raise the gun, once Clementine looks away and Kenny kills Jane, Leah gets up and hugs Kenny.
-If Clementine decides to shoot Kenny after he kills Jane, Leah will start to freak out and scream, she ends up running away from Clementine.
-If Clementine does not shoot Kenny Leah will try run with Clementine to find the source of the crying. Leah is furious with Jane once she realises she started this for nothing, she agrees with Kenny on her being 'crazy'
-If Clementine doesn't go with Kenny he tells Leah to go with Clementine and after a lot of crying she does go with Clementine.
-Once they reach Wellington Kenny tries his best to convince both of them to go into Wellington. With a lot of crying and tears Leah and Clementine refuse to leave Kenny and the four go on to survive outside of Wellington.
The Haunted Mansion: Dracula WG - CH.1Chapter 1
The autumn night was cold and quiet in modern Transylvania. Tall silver edifices were lit in the background distance of the outskirts. The luminous moon hung high on the dark canopy of stars. In its dark outskirts, there lay a sinister forest of dead oaks stood a very sinister looking castle. A cloaked figure exited and arrive in a field between the town and forest. The figure moved with grace and agility. He could run at unnatural speeds beyond a normal human. He leaped very high in the air, and began flying.
The figure found himself in a wealthy, lavish neighborhood of mansion and large houses standing proudly and were garnished with fall trees. Though these estates were not the ones the figure was looking for. He passed them like the wind. He was heading towards the tiny forest that was on a hill a few kilometers away from the neighborhood. The figure ran between the trees, and found a large opening with a small Victorian mansion situated. The figure jumped on a
The Monster Hunters 8 1/2Ben screamed. Mark kicked Ben in the side again , blood spilled out of Ben's mouth. "I'm going to make you feel as much pain as I have....and more!" Mark gestured to his missing arm. Ben smiled, blood covering his pointed teeth. This disgusted Mark, he kicked Ben again. This was harder and more forcefully than the last one. The blow knocked the very breath out of him. Ben lay sprawled out the floor, gasping violently. "Take the son of a bitch in." Mark said in a cold monotone.
Amid The Ruins: Chapter 1I ran through the herd, stumblimg and tripping over my own feet, even had to take down a few walkers. My heart was racing fast, all I could do was run after Sarah, she was running in a sort of zig-zag pattern which made it harder for me to keep up with her, although she was screaming so I could still follow her voice.
"SARAH!" I screeched. I ran straight into something, I got my knife at the ready, most likely getting ready to pierce a walker. But it was Luke, he grabbed my arm. I took a deep breath and called out to him, "Luke you need to help me!" I admitted, asking help from Luke was something I didn't think I'd ever hear myself say.
"Go get Sarah I'll be right behind you!" Luke yelled as he nudged me own forward.
Once again I quickly followed Sarah, she was still in my sight and I dodged walkers on the way towards her. Surprisingly enough we both made it out of the herd and into an opening path in the forest, although there were still some walkers following me I kept running. "Sara
The Monster Hunters chapter 7As the hunters marched up everyone began bickering. "We need to get out of here!" Dustin cried! He was frantic, shaking horribly. "No, we stay and teach those bastards a lesson!" Ben growled. Key sat in the room pondering what to do. Xillia and Ruby watched Ben and Dustin bicker. "Hey! You'reall so loud you could wake the DEAD!!" Terra boomed. She had appeared half way through the wall and was wearing her classic cheery smile. "Get it? Because, I'm a ghost!" She giggled uncontrollably as she said this. Then she fought wind of the tension in the air. "What's going on?" She was now very puzzled. Xillia simply pointed to the window. Terra glided over to the window and peaked through the curtain. Her widened as she seen the army approached. "You guys have to get out of here!" She said she said flailing frantically. "We are!" Dustin said as he grabbed Xillia and Ruby. "I'm staying to fight!" Ben said as he walked over to the front door and leaned against the wall. "Well, I've decided to ret
The Bloody End Chapter 9Love Complications
My boss practically pounces on me the moment I walk in through the doors of my work. Okay so I got a bit too caught up in my lunch date with Leah I kind of forgot I was working today and have now arrived just a tad late.
"You're 20 minutes late!"
As I said. Just a tad.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry. I lost track of time. See I was-"
"Never mind! Just hurry and get started!" He rushes off. I shake my head and quickly hang up my hoodie and bag in the cloakroom. When I emerge, Derek is all flustered and panic stricken. I'd ask him what's wrong but he seems too agitated so I ask Shawnee, our newest employee, instead.
"Oh he's just getting into a flap because Catherine's off sick today."
"That's all? Jeez I thought someone had died."
"Yeah but with Catherine off sick and Iris and Lydia on holiday, we're pretty short staffed today."
"Hence Derek's panic-mode."
It's not so bad. Usually when I work in the Bingo I'm what's called a "steward". I hand out prizes. I check al
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More