05602

It was the hazy almost-drunkenness
The rush of blood to the head
The city noise below us
The way the florescent light hit trunk-like legs with peculiar simplicity

It was the lie of it all
The new, disorienting perspective
The alcohol induced bravery
The humor in all that pain.

It was the outreached hand
The unexpected martyr-like sadness
The reflection in those familiar eyes
The inability to interpret any emotion.

It was that room—
Those close quarters, that cot bed.
The thin walls—whispered words
An incapacitated brain couldn’t interpret.

Maybe it was the late hour—
The drinkers in the street,
The feeling of giving up without a fight
The oppression of a summer breeze.

It was the waiting
The patience of it all
The expectancy, the anticipation
The crushed feeling, the sinking feeling

It was the way everything solid was suddenly slipping away
The desperate grappling to regain ground
The helplessness of being replaced.

It was the defeat in the aftermath
It was the way
Both sides had some sinking impression of a diverging path

It was the silence in it all.

  Read more »

(Turns out growing up is just saying
goodbye a bunch of times)

She and the other girl are bent back to back like flowing
spokes of a wheel.
Their arms grasp each other's waists, legs straight
points & turn, as a unit, one girl over
another, immaculate.
Her partner, when she lifts off, jumps
into the air, preparing and then performing an action, but she
she just— rises; slow, smooth, strong—
hovers...
They have practiced this many times.
so much, I think, that it's no longer something they
do together— it's something they do
for each other.

(Turns out growing up is just saying
goodbye a bunch of times)

I will know this girl— no, woman for another month, maybe less
before she is gone for Cali-college
—she will continue to dance—

(Some people just deserve
a beautiful life)

The two-girl wheel makes its way turn
by
turn across the stage and almost into the wing before
they step off of each other like becoming
two people again.
They are coming back and
yin-yang-flowing on and
off, back and forth, they know
how to do what they do.

(Some people just deserve
a beautiful life)

Her hair curls
close to her head, face so
her own, like a painting, like
the music she knows how to dance to
like liberty—

(Some people are just beautiful)

Everyone here is saying goodbye to one family.
She is saying goodbye to everyone here.
She is leaving— all of this. Read more »

(Turns out growing up is just saying

goodbye a bunch of times)

She and the other girl are bent back to back like flowing

spokes of a wheel.

Their arms grasp each other's waists, legs straight

points & turn, as a unit, one girl over

another, immaculate.

Her partner, when she lifts off, jumps

into the air, preparing and then performing an action, but she

she just— rises; slow, smooth, strong—

hovers...

They have practiced this many times.

so much, I think, that it's no longer something they

do together— it's something they do

for each other.

(Turns out growing up is just saying

goodbye a bunch of times)

I will know this girl— woman for another month, maybe less

before she leaves for California, and then college.

—she will continue to dance—

(Some people just deserve

a beautiful life)

The two-girl wheel makes its way turn

by

turn across the stage and almost into the wing before

they step off of each other like becoming

two people again.

They are coming back and

yin-yang-flowing on and

off, back and forth, they know

how to do what they do.

(Some people just deserve

a beautiful life)

Her hair curls

close to her head, face so

her own, like a painting, like

the music she knows how to dance to

like liberty—

  Read more »

(To the Authorities: this poem contains quotes from E. E. Cummings and Coldplay. If it's best to make a note of that, by all means that can happen. If that's just not okay, I can easily remove them. Thanks!)

finding no glory or victory in the news channels,earth/sprung
triumph out of her own breast/earth sprung up
stillness & the smell of goodgooddirt/earth
sprung
the sunsprung leaves/bled/mud in gratitude.
flies, it seemed, came out of nowhere, & found their own favorite circles of air still waiting to be
glid on.
the world bled mud for gratitude Read more »

It wasn’t raining when Baby fell, it
was only fear of the rain that kept
a little splash of color in her black and white world.
Baby didn’t mean to do it but
She’d been falling for a long time
And now it was all bruised knees and bloody hands and that
Was too real,
And it hurt.

Baby just wanted to
Keep her black and white world, with
The color seeping in
But that was going, if the rains came
She would have to feel it on her skin
And that was
Too real, and it would
Hurt.

All I want
is to be as happy as the smiling people I see in photos.
With the vibrant green hills behind them,
illuminating brilliant smiles.
Friends gasping for air from laughter,
grasping onto their comrades shoulders.
There’s not a care in the world.

There’s no thinking about the future,
or leaving the company.
There’s nothing to do but smile at the world,
just daring it to stifle the sunshine.
Protected by the frame of the camera’s lens,
these smiles are safe.

Behind the camera the story changes sharply.
The shadows lay their cold hands on your shoulders
and a shiver passes painfully down your spine.
When the moment begins to thaw,
things start to change.
The smiles linger too long and become hollow.
The friends walk away.
With only their Polaroids as proof of the sunlight,
proof of being that happy.
Because away from the lens
memories get awfully foggy.

(With quotes from Coldplay and E. E. Cummings.)

finding no glory or victory in the news channels,earth/sprung

tr-i-umph out of her own breast/earth sprung up

stillness & the smell of goodgooddirt/earth

sprung

the sunsprung leaves/bled/mud in gratitude.

flies, it seemed, came out of nowhere, & found their own favorite circles of air still waiting to be

glid on.

the world bled mud for gratitude

O sweet spontaneous earth

i thought to have seen more children than did show

laughing in the  blidmud/but

i suppose

there were lessons to be learned in desks Read more »

**Author’s Note: In writing this story, I attempted to replicate the writing style of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, author of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries. **

                Standing at the corner of Grosvenor and Davies Street after a brief promenade at daybreak, I removed my pocket watch from my waistcoat as I waited for a cab. I had but a brief twenty-four minutes to make my way to my acquaintance’s residence; it was not in me to make a foul first impression by arriving tardy. When the small, one-horse carriage arrived, I promptly ordered the driver to carry on with posthaste. The minute hand on my golden pocket watch had only traveled a quarter of its way around the clock when we arrived at my destination. As I disembarked from the cab, I took a gander at the small, wooden street sign, which marked the road as Baker Street. Read more »

In life, we have lots of enemies. One could be an evil person we know about who poses no threat. It could also be a assassin we don't even know who will kill you and will get away with it. There is one enemy that we have a hard time to consider as our enemy. It has been our enemy since birth, and will be until we are 4 yards underground in a coffin. It is ourself. We have a brain, and that brain is the mastermind behind our own personal alkida. First, it makes us have impulses to do crazy things, it makes us create mass destruction. The only reasons it makes us sweat to cool our bodies down, or to shiver so we generate more heat, is for it wants to make your death happen when you are weak, broken down and defeated. Now, when it's first try by making you freeze or overheat, it will give you a cold or fever. After that, it tries to give you and infection, tumor or some sort of dangerous bad thing. That is stage three, and while that is playing out it has stage 4 going out. Stage 4 started when you were around 10 and started to understand the sorrows of the world. Stage 4 is when your brain finds out 2 things. It is harder to kill you then it first thought, and that the world is terrible. So it starts to strap on it's vest with some dynamite and starts to die. It will use the bad things in life as the victim blammed for the murder. It begins to make you go insane. Sadly, some people suffer much faster and die at birth. That is the brain that had it's vest on and it's finger on the button when he came out.

So, we gather round the computer screen to read the prompts before writing away. We have solutions currently on the table, so I thought 'why not?' One solution. Well, I'd have to say I'd solve a question no one can answer or could be able to answer. I'd find out what is the meaning of life. You'll be told that each life is sacred, this and that, and all of that junk. I want to know the reason we are all here. Whether we all have meaning, or if we are just a stepping stone for a new species on earth to capture us, torture us and condem us to extinction. Whether I will become the new Czar, or whether I will become a slave of the bears. The only problem is that if we find out that our fate is ending, with no possibility of error, then we would be watching the clock waiting for our death. Each second getting closer to your death. The only way out is if you get shot by a mad mass murderer, or if you get a disease that is quicker than the end of human life. That is the problem with questions. Once you find the answer, you could be changed in a way that kills you, slowly, from the inside out.

There they sit, all alone in their small house in the woods. No one visiting, no one knows they're there. Not since the crash. They were rescused by the leader, and now they had to live there until the leader let them know when to work on their plan. They owed their life to the leader, and he had their kids. They had only one choice. One life for another. What would you do?

She sat down next to some strangers, and began reading a magazine. At least she was pretending to read. The man next to her was talking on his cellphone with an accent.

"Ello chap. Yes? Of course I did, what kind of a fool am I? I have it planted, yep."

Planted? That was suspicious. She knew she needed evidence before she started saying that there was a terrorist on board.

"Several hours until it goes off. Yes, and the other one is planted as well. The embassy is going to go up into flames. Yes, there is one in the train as well, that will go off sooner. Several minutes from now, so while they are busy dealing with us, the embassy and all people in it will inevitably die as well. Yes, you, me and the girl next to me I am about to obtain knows." He hung up, and stabbed her with a small spike concealed in his ring. She blacked out, and woke up seconds before the train exploded, and several hours before the embassy did as well.

Yamato clutched his bow with all his might, his mind focused on the battle. He was under the command of General Haruka, and they were about to attack the enemy. Thousands of men were on each side, getting ready to charge. Both waiting for the enemy to make a move. Yamato's heavy gear were beginning to weigh him down, his bow aimed towards the ground. Then, Yamato heard a yell in the distance. The samurai in front of him charged at the enemy. The enemy imitated them, and the samurai clashed. Yamato and all the other archers lifted their bows up, and loaded it with a arrow. Yamato light the arrow to make enemy morale lower than it was previously. Yamato aimed, and fired. The arrows soared high into the sky. Yamato gazed at the sky, always amazed at the sight of the millions of small fires in the sky. Sadly, the wonder was not to last long. The wizz of arrows was heard, and they tried to cover themselves with their helmets. Men around them fell. Yamato saw no more arrows and reloaded and aimed. Then, fired. The enemy was less worried about casualties apparently, and arrows came down and made a large majority of them fall. One hit Yamato in the stomach, and he fell to the ground. He blacked out for a while. When he opened his eyes he moaned and looked up. All around him were dead soldiers, and the enemy samurai were marching towards him. Yamato removed his katana from his sheath. He wasn't very skilled with it, but he knew it was his best bet. He got ready to swing, but all of a sudden an arrow hit him in the back. He screamed in pain, and the samurai came and finished him off.

Orange. One of the best six-letter words in the world. It has its ups and downs. It is just like life. It has the good and the bad. Orange, can be found in the pain and death of fire, which consumes all. It can also be found in the delicate beauty of an evening sunset in June. Orange. The perfect mix of bright and dark, dull and exciting, abstract and real. Orange, a wonderful fruit. Orange, a color that can lead people to their highest zenith, or their lowest low. It can make you reach your apex, or fall to your grave. It is the pinnacle of your life, and the end of the world. Orange is everything, and it is a part of us all. . .

the things that cross your eyelids [when you shut 'em

tight an' squeeze 'em hard] i used to think were little

signposts, lil' scrap notes from God.

when i was seven years old, i prayed near every night.

eventually it took too much time and i wasn't seeing no difference, so i only

prayed at

Christmas.

these days i laugh in God's face & i laugh at karma too, because i know

i ain't done no wrong.

mama they took

my ponderosity an' they put it in a safe with locks an' all.

daddy logic ain't enough

for all the traps.

you can't dodge everything by bein' smart, or fast.

i was hopin' if i did everything i was told

everything would go alright.

now they closin' in.

i ain't done no wrong.

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"Goodbye," she said to her boyfriend. Victor was going to the army. They were in NYC, and the days were cloudy. It rained not that long ago, and it was November. A gray, snowy slush was on the ground. Sandy began to cry.

"What is it?" Victor questioned.

"Be careful. I don't want you to die out there," Sandy muttered, tears covering her mouth, her voice next to nothing. She ran off into the street, unable to see Victor in the army uniform any longer. Victor tried to catch up to her, give her on last kiss before he left. She ran across the street, and he followed. He tried to at least.

**********************

The bus driver slammed down on the breaks, but the bus didn't stop, but it did start to slow down, lots of slush on the ground. He looked up. He saw a man between the bus and the crossroads. He didn't know this, but the girl on the side of the road would never forgive herself for the goodbye she gave him. Sadly, goodbye isn't the easiest thing to say, but we wish we have.

I went to the store to get some pears.

On the day that was fair, I needed some pairs.

On the day that was fair, before I got pears, I cut my hair.

On the day that was fair, the day I cut my hair, the day I tried to get pairs, not a penguin was there.

On the day that was fair, the day I cut my hair, the day not one penguin was there, the day I tried to get pairs, is the day I found a evil dragon's lair.

When I found a dragon's lair, after I cut my hair, when no penguin was there, even though the day was fair, I still wanted my pears, for I need them since I was triple dog dared.

Lets see. (Sigh) When I found a dragon's lair, after I cut my hair, with no penguins there, even though the day was fair, and I still wanted my pears, for I was triple dog dared, before I was elected mayor, in the city of Devair(d-v-air), which when I say most people say where, but no one there really cares, for-WAIT!

I didn't find a dragon's lair, after I cut my hair, with no penguins there, even though the day was fair, and I still wanted my pears, for I was triple dog daredm before I was elected mayor, in the city of Devair, which when I say most people say where, and there no one there really cares, but none of that is really real, it's part of how I feel, and it is about my good old poem, the poem which I just finished in my home!

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Somewhere out along the lines

of universe and curves of time

amidst dusty scattered skulls and spines

I seem to have lost a friend of mine.

I dropped her at her destination

(she'd long been bound for other nations)

but by our arranged visitation,

she was not done with exploration.

the first sister I could have kept—

when we parted ways, I think she wept.

But by her choice, as New England slept

she left, to freer lives accept. Read more »

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They’d sunken into the habit of being two, the old woman and the young boy. It was odd to think that she was gone. She’d had an ancient, proud, elegant patience about her he couldn’t seem to find anywhere else. The way she sat on the porch in the late afternoon, small feet just touching the ground, her chin up, back straight, her eyes watching something far away—he could sit there for hours, just looking at her. Read more »

Maine Read more »

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     "Fine, but not for revenge. . .for my daughter."

     "Very good. Keep this phone with you at all times for instructions. For now, go to your old navy base, and bring a pistol with ammo."

     The line went dead. John was about to begin his own personal torture. He was a patriotic man, even when he was discharged. His new objective was a prisoner of himself.  Read more »

     He sauntered into the room silently. The normally clean, stuffy room was in pieces. The glass window was in pieces on the ground, dark red blood on the ground. The bedspread was twisted, the green Italian lamp was on the ground, shattered. Then, a ringing began to sound. An annoying tune. He noticed a cell phone on the bed. He picked it up and answered it. A deep, heavy voice answered. Read more »

When poor young Margaret died of the flu,
the doctor unable to cure it; Read more »

     People always mention your name. It makes me happy that you're my grandfather, but sad that you aren't here. I know you spirit it always here. Heard your building and fixing a lot of stuff up there in heaven. Bet you laughing up there alot at me and some of my "smart" ideas (doing backflips off the couch, getting hurt all the time, gluing my hand to stuff hehe :)  Read more »

You are our best friend

You left way to soon

Left us all crying

Also thinking of all the great memories we've all had with you

The good and the bad

we all miss you so much

we all wish it didnt have to be this way

the way that you had to leave us

we never thought we would have to say good-bye so soon.

and some of us still havnt said good-bye, 

and maybe never will. Read more »