tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60571820451947815742024-03-12T16:51:50.178-07:00ProcessingUnitpunctuation becomes infinityProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-80784593424880925382008-07-28T14:41:00.000-07:002008-07-28T14:45:47.193-07:00Apocalypse Appendix<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">By: William Briggs</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /><br />A</o:p>ppendix is fucked. I can tell. It hurts like it’s in a bind, being held by hairy hands and wringed. This pain has got to go away. Cut it out? Sure get rid of it. I don’t need it. </span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s like my gut had tacs and nails for breakfast and on its way out of the diner decided to finish the last of the lemon juice with a big swig.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">You don’t even need an appendix. It’s a waste of space, extra weight. Trim girls should get them chopped out before they slip into that dinner dress. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“Look, I don’t have a deal for you. I have an offer that you have to take.” </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I was getting started with the tough talk. I pretended I was talking to my big, wet, appendix. All goo and blood looking at me with heaps of pain. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“I can’t make it more simple, if you don’t take this offer, you’re dead. Fuck, you’re kid’s dead too.” </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">That’s right. Squirm in your seat. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">My appendix opens his mouth. How the hell did he get a moustache?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“Ok, I know you’re serious and your friends are serious, but I’m serious too. I’ll have everything delivered tomorrow morning. It’s that simple. Kill me now and you don’t have a package—just a waste problem."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://puwbriggs.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Continue Reading</span></a><br /></span></p>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-58791492744287506782008-07-27T21:31:00.000-07:002008-07-27T21:33:28.494-07:00The Ones Who Sing At NightBy: Dennis James<br /><br /> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">Look</i>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">Listen</i>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">Love him</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">Never give up</i>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This will leave me haunted.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">“This will leave you haunted in your mirror…”</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now, all that I hold dear shatters with the light of coming dawn.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Suddenly, love is nothing but distortion and prostitution of my desire— the consequences of which confront me under unforgiving fluorescent lights.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It was St. Augustine who wrote that human unhappiness is divine evidence of our immortality— for we are all wild and restless hearts, and intuition tells us that Earth is not our true home.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We devoured all that we knew was rightfully ours and still wanted more— the city was a playground on permanent strobe effect, a wonderland of Technicolor delights. We danced like blue white fire despite the fact that our lives were dictated solely by the mistakes of our parents and disguised as ones of extraordinary privilege.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Before long, we ourselves were untouchable incandescent gold dust gods, foolish enough to believe that we could live forever with and within our bathhouse Garden of Eden, a white hot crack pipe fantasy world where Dionysius put crystal on his giant cock and fucked us for what seemed like an eternity of sleepless nights, where we burned with anticipation like a gasoline fire in a paper lantern Shangri-La. God’s sweat fell from his forehead to our lips as we savored the lemony sweet taste of freedom in our mouths...</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://pudjames.blogspot.com"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Continue Reading...</span></a><br /></p>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-2926427988156160202008-07-27T21:10:00.000-07:002008-07-27T21:13:05.291-07:00My precious plant that didn’t take<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">By: LDP</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><br />Each year I wonder,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">How he’d look.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">A seedling,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Injured when removed from his flat,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Killed when transplanted</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">into the dirt of this earth.</span></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-70028870759407042822008-07-27T20:59:00.000-07:002008-07-27T21:00:16.369-07:00Death will leave its tracks<p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">By M. Plucky<br /><br />Beautiful boney cheeks<br />freckles that peek unabashedly<br />young, curled around my thumb.<br />Angel hair, fairer than what's fair<br />and never there. Never there.<br /><br />Fires start around your bed, I take a match<br />and lay them there to feed the too much need<br />that ignites the freckles that I touch too much.<br />I take them out and scatter them on the floor<br />to start small fires instead of starting a war.<br /><br />A trail of drunken longing lines the tops<br />of chairs from her bedroom to her stairs.<br />I dragged my fingers there to stain them with<br />the drawing of her name that told my feet<br />which way to go: not home. Never home.<br /><br />I will pull a book down off a shelf a shelf and graze its spine<br />until it's softer than mine and peels back the sheets that hold<br />all those words I need. I'll squeeze<br />the edges<br />til they curl. A world of ideas<br />spilled open<br />just for me.<br />And then I'll read the words, gulp them down,<br />their ripe and tender juices coating me with shameless hope<br />and healthy greed.<br />I will bleed along the pages, leave<br />a trail for you to read<br />until you find me.<br />Death beyond the stacks.</span> </p>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-12522853052050179562008-07-27T20:49:00.000-07:002008-07-27T21:33:42.725-07:00XaoS GENESIS<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">By: Kalyle Schereer Samuel<br /><br />In the Beginning there was XaoS and out of XaoS came everything. The whole universe and the galaxy were created by this spiritual being we call XaoS. XaoS is the entity of Creative energy from both forces of light and Darkness. XaoS then split into 3 different spirits. They names were Xen, Mithra, and Kezef. Each ruled a portion of the universe created by XaoS. Xen’s complexion was golden brown. He had glowing blue eyes and long wild glowing blue hair and he dressed in a Blue Robe and precious colorful gems as jewelry. Mithra’s complexion was Golden like the sun. With long wavy shining white hair and gray eyes. He dressed in a pure white robe with gold as jewelry. Kezef’s complexion was dark and he had long dark black hair and the darkest black robe with silver jewelry. Xen had the powers of Fire, Water, Wind and Earth. Mithra had the power light. Kezef had the power of darkness. Xen would go off creating more for the universe and keeping everything in order. Mithra and Kezef would constantly fight with each other over everything...<br /><br /><a style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" href="http://puksamuel.blogspot.com/">Continue Reading...</a></span> </p>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-13461454454362986692008-07-27T20:18:00.000-07:002008-07-27T20:20:11.563-07:00Diner Parking Lot<p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">By: Andrew Glikin-Gusinsky </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">These Hudson Valley parking lots are always the same.<br />They're always dirt and gravel,<br />Mud and puddles.<br />In a month and a half they'll freeze over.<br />People forget that once you get fifty-five miles north of Manhattan,<br />You might as well be in Ohio.</span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Ohio has its charm, so people say anyway.<br />If it's anything like Poughkeepsie,<br />It's understandable why.<br />There is a comfort that lies,<br />Within the little houses that line the streets.<br />Their unassuming forms slumber lazily,<br />Their windows project soft, amber light,<br />Not unlike the jack-o-lanterns,<br />That smile menacingly from their porches.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">"You got a light?"<br />One more cup of coffee,<br />To go with the fourth cigarette of the hour.<br />It's drank in the parking lot,<br />From one of those paper cups,<br />The kind with the pseudo-Greek motifs,<br />Which may or may not exist in Ohio.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">A five ought to cover it,<br />Not much for shelter after all.<br />This diner is a modern oasis.<br />Its awning serves as a communal umbrella.<br />Shielding passing pilgrims,<br />From the cold October rain,<br />Which rustles and moistens the dying leaves.</span></p>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-50616684399773137022008-07-27T20:16:00.000-07:002008-07-27T20:17:32.163-07:00Of These First Breaths<p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">By: Stephen Luke</span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p>We waited.<br />Your eyes closed.<br />Breath baited and my eyes -<br />Wide.<br /><br />Unpolluted by even a sunset!<br />What I thought I thought - shadows...<br />Your eyes see only that is true.<br /><br />All of this in a few first breaths.<br /><br />Slowly a moon will come, many more to follow.<br />Know their light is refraction -<br />Your eyes as bright as the sun.<br />Chase that light, know nothing but its truth.<br /><br />You are whom we hold our breath,<br /><br />And you've already changed the world<br />With these first few.</span> </p>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-13165227386813175202008-07-27T20:04:00.000-07:002008-07-27T20:09:13.592-07:00The Peril in surpassing mediocrity<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">By: LDP</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It had to stand out</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Why, she wondered,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Was in necessary for it to set itself apart?</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Brighter, it’s color more true</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Exquisite structural symmetry</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Bordering just barely on the side of natural</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Its petals soft, supple</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Yet strong</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Their velvety texture</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Tactile to the human eye</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The garden around it was more than adequate</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">But its presence nullified the other blooms efforts at beauty</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">This annoyed her</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It wasn’t larger, or taller</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Yet it effortlessly drew the eye</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">She turned her gaze away</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Then turned back again</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Still it appeared as an anointed soloist</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Among a pleasant, yet ordinary choir</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Singing with clarity, “Why be content with mediocrity?”</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It pained her, this blossom</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">If it had stood out because of disease or lack of appeal</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Her duty would be much simpler of conscience to fulfill</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Yes, this flower angered her</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It forced her to execute an unpleasant task</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Her gardening shears glinted in the midday sun</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Illuminating her target like a spotlight</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is too bad, she thought</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">She shook her head, clucked her tongue</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Closed her blades</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And lopped its head off</span></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-10040866677777470602008-07-27T19:57:00.001-07:002008-07-27T19:57:56.109-07:00Beautiful Night<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">By: Kalyle Schereer Samuel</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I see stars of all colors clustered in the night sky</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And worlds beyond galaxies far as celestial eyes</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">On this beautiful night as the moonlight comes to rise</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And as this time of darkness converts to a time of heavenly light</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">To bring Gods gift of this beautiful night.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Celestial arrows shot by the angels of the night.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Streaming across the sky illuminating a sprits life</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">for they sing the songs of the creation of life</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">As our spirits glow with the aura of Gods great light</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Reminding us that the night is the time when our spirit truly takes on life</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">As we fuse becoming one with the universe even far beyond our sight.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">So we may join the universal soul of Gods everlasting life.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Flying with God our spirits will strive on this night.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">For we have no evil demons to fight at this time</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Because on this night God gives us a new life</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">As we become one with the Galaxy on this beautiful night</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Awaiting to watch the sunrise as it brings on another beautiful sight.</span><br /></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-85487570698786110712008-07-06T18:47:00.000-07:002008-07-27T20:01:30.874-07:00Had Loved<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">By: DJ Hopson<br /><br />With the phone against my ear I stuttered.<br />Words would not come fast enough.<br />You doubted me. I doubted me.<br />You asked if I had loved him.<br />Had loved him.<br />Loved him.<br />Him.<br />If love kept a schedule with arrivals at 2a.m.<br />and departures at 9a.m. with frequent cancelations,<br />than yes.<br />You made me realized the truth I had been<br />denying my heart because it had already broken<br />and I thought that one more crack might break<br />it clean in two.<br />The myth of love was a lucrative tale and one I did<br />not want to associate with the past. I did not share the<br />tale with him because as much as I wished on my<br />favorite star in Orion’s Belt,<br />I knew his touch was just for fun.<br />My heart broke around 3a.m.<br />I couldn’t stop it. I tried so damn hard to break my<br />ribs open and to bloody my hands in efforts to give<br />you, someone I care deeply about, a whole heart.<br />A heart with pristine veins, healthy muscles,<br />and most importantly – no pieces missing.<br />But I couldn’t scratch away my skin fast enough<br />and I convulsed as the tears hit my hands and wished<br />again that you never asked if I had loved him.<br />I wished you had asked if I loved you.<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </p>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-65008938329770550372008-07-03T12:49:00.000-07:002008-07-03T12:51:18.213-07:00DG<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">By: LDP </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The brown corrugated cardboard box arrived intact</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Or so it seemed</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Until he threw it on the porch</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The smashing sound of shattered glass was startling</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">If it were breakable</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Shouldn’t the box be marked fragile?</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Examining the box</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">He saw it was free of warnings</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Opening the box it was difficult to surmise</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">What had broken</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The doll, meant to be a gift</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Still exquisitely beautiful</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Hair, strawberry blonde, soft and silky</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Skin, porcelain</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gazing at its lovely face he watched the eyes roll</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">The color, still the vibrant green he was drawn to in the catalogue</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Obviously, now lacking the stability</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">They were meant to maintain</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">He shook the doll gently</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">A rattling sound…</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is unfortunate, he thought</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It wasn’t as though it was something he could repair</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And he fancied himself quite good at fixing things</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Taking a big black Sharpie</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Marking a large DG on the outside of the box</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">He laid the box outside the front door</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">For the messenger’s return trip</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">No one, he thought,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Should have to keep damaged goods</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">But in the box she screamed,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">“You broke me!</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">You wanted me and you broke me!</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">You were careless, cavalier,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">You blame others for not warning you that I could break,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">But it was you who tossed me casually aside,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Only to pick me up later thinking I might still be whole</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Can you not see your part in any of this?”</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Alas she was only a doll…</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And her silence</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">A trait he found most appealing when ordering her</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Was still intact.</span></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-32362614843878195582008-07-03T12:00:00.000-07:002008-12-10T07:24:59.203-08:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"> By: </span></span><span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;"><a href="www.twowatches.com">Dima Otvertchenko</a><br /></span> </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s2WZyIFbGJ8/SG0h-qSLg9I/AAAAAAAAAE8/OXuQ0viTTIQ/s1600-h/nypic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_s2WZyIFbGJ8/SG0h-qSLg9I/AAAAAAAAAE8/OXuQ0viTTIQ/s320/nypic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218864903578420178" border="0" /></a></div>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-87981500186096127592008-07-03T11:50:00.000-07:002008-07-03T11:52:00.201-07:00We Are All Lighters<span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >By: Alwajihah<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">We are all lighters</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> waiting for matches</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> to match us to our skins</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> The paper</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> oh, it is rolled</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> but it will never</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> turn back to gold, no</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Lets wait for the matches</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> because if we start</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> we will surely die</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Let's wait for the matches</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> to flick and click and start</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> so we can lie, oh, lie</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> in the pockets and the drawers</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> of men</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> my eyes, they don't know what to see</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> like I don't know what to ask</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> or when to talk, or how to breath</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> when the smoke becomes me</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> The wick will quiver, shiver</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> in the wind,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> I am half finished</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> can you restore me to my golden glory</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Lets wait for the matches</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> because if we start</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> we will surely die</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Let's wait for the matches</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> to flick and click and start</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> so we can lie, oh, lie</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> in the pockets and the drawers</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> of men</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> We'll set them afire</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> and turn them into liars</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> yes, we will change them all</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> And ashes, will be left</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> and there will be no one left</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> but us, in our flaming glory</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> We'll set them ablaze</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> and burn away the hate</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Oh we will start</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> and we will die</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Lets not wait for the matches</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> if we start</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> we will die</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> Let's not wait for the matches</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> to flick and click</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> so we can start, and burn the</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> pockets and the drawers</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> of men</span></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-51018907329974058732008-07-03T11:36:00.001-07:002008-07-03T11:36:56.700-07:00The Pink and The Grey<p style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">By Andrew Glikin-Gusinsky</span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">A slip of paper, a vinyl seat.</span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Freedom lies within the dark waters that mingle with the bubbling amber.</span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The amber holds no truth however. It never did and there is no reason why one should continually look for it there, trapped within.</span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">No, the truth remains locked within the burgundy tar that you will submerge yourself in once you reach the old ancestral spawning grounds that expelled you not nearly as long ago as you would like to believe.</span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">You visit them often, trying to reclaim a sense of self that was ripped from you when you entered the world, when you stood among the Pink and the Grey.</span></p>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-15356327776905120642008-07-03T10:54:00.000-07:002008-07-27T20:45:09.044-07:00Poultry Scholarship<p align="justify" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">By: William Briggs</span></p><p align="justify" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">America’s largest protein supplier, Tybelt Inc., is helmed by none other then Kirk T. Sunbelt. In the last financial quarter Mr. Sunbelt made a record 35 million US dollars.<br /></span></p> <p align="justify" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“Business,” he told his horse, “is doing good…..woahhhhh boy.”<br /></span> </p> <p align="justify" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">So, when Mr. Sunbelt met Arthur Trent he was smiling and a little drunk.<br /></span> </p> <p align="justify" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“Hi, I’m Mr. Trent, Arthur Trent, from the AmPoultry Scerican Scholastic Committee.”<br /></span> </p> <p align="justify" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Mr. Sunbelt, looking up from his food, dropped his chop sticks, and smiled—making one eye merrily wide and other happily lazy.<br /></span></p> <p align="justify" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“Pleasure, Mr. Trent, is all mine.”<br /></span></p> <p align="justify" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Mr. Trent slid into the adjoining chair without pulling it from under the table and quickly wove his hands together and placed them on the empty plate before him.<br /></span></p> <p align="justify" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“I know you are a busy man…”<br /></span></p> <p align="justify" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“Guilty as charged, please produce my sentence!”</span></p><p face="verdana" align="justify"><a href="http://www.puwbriggs.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Continue Reading</span></a><br /></p>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-18857461512212428942008-07-03T10:11:00.000-07:002008-07-03T10:14:54.944-07:00Heart Is Just Heat With An R<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">By: Daniel Weatherfield Lichtenberg</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm late for some bull shit something so I rush out of the house.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"> I'm a block off my place when I trip on a crack or a tree root or mountain of little not paying attentions.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And I look down. And I see that my sneakers are covered in puke.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"> I stand there for a bit and think about walking on.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Then I look down again and see one of my pant legs is covered in puke.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Then I turn around and think that Heart is just Heat with an R.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And maybe I was supposed to be late to this something.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And you know how long goodbyes are so awkward?</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Like if you say goodbye to someone,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and then go onto opposite tracks of the subway,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and just awkwardly make small waves and smirks</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">at the other person</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">from across the tracks.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">And then when the other person's train comes</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I think how</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">it's good to be in love.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Even if I'm just fooling myself.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Even if I just like to use</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">love as a scapegoat.</span></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-3088884880154580472008-07-03T10:02:00.000-07:002008-07-03T10:14:39.728-07:00Apostrophe to Drunk Villager<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">By: Mary Li</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong></strong>"your country is so beautiful," </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">your faces so refined in innocence.<br />rape me before the sloping hills<br />lie in mocking smiles.<br />she cringes beneath his thrusts,<br />flounders toward soldiers<br />slung artillery over their shoulders.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: verdana;"> </p>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-85056815155016708742008-06-23T19:51:00.000-07:002008-06-23T19:58:01.351-07:00Hardly<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">By: M. Plucky</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I love you like I shouldn't.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">hard.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">with one eye cocked</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">for the cockroach</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">on the wall.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Chains rattle and</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">so does my breath,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">uneasy and queasy,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">through to the other side</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">of dawn.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I grab your jaws</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">with mine</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">and eyes lock</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">into battle.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I want to butcher</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">your lovely lady ribs</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">like cattle.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><a href="http://www.puplucky.blogspot.com"><span style="font-style: italic;">Continue Reading</span></a><br /></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-16769908489645488472008-06-23T12:44:00.000-07:002008-06-23T12:45:26.665-07:00Ode to James, Hydrocephalus<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">By: Anya Bochman</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">There are tornadoes on the sun</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Big as your head and yet</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">You'll never know because, for one,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">the force of gravity is cruel; it bends our</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">burdens towards the earth, 'til all we see</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">is feet (is egocentrism strong enough,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and does the bending of our knees keep</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">this globe moving round its core, or are we helpless as an ant,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">as the ants of Herodotus, oblivious to the gold before us?)</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">But I digress; they say when Helios was in the sky</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">your head was like a pane of glass,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">your brain exposed like an ambered fly,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">like wine inside a jug with your ears as handles.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I do believe if I could see your thoughts</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'd pin them like a thousand moths</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Upon my sunless darkful shelf</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">So that, when pressing my skull</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">against a window, regretting this sin or that,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I could instead palpate the crevice of your mind,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dark eyelashes over too-large eyes,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and feel within a long-dead space</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">a ghost of hope.</span></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-65821375362952867392008-06-23T12:42:00.000-07:002008-06-23T12:43:20.857-07:00Personal Elbe<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">By: Andrew Glikin-Gusinsky</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sometimes in winter afternoons, after your cup of coffee, you turn south,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Meandering downward along the main artery of town, sucking on an empty cigarette holder.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Passing Starbucks after Starbucks,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">They are the sign-posts which mark the versts of the torpid journey you make towards your own personal Elbe.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">You know, however, that there will be no Joe waiting for you, to offer you a Lucky Strike and a Hershey Bar.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">You turn around to stare at it knowing that they will never let you cross to the other shore,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">So you lean against the railing and watch the gray horizon and the ferries that go back and forth.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">When night falls, you catch the One back to your bed on the hill, knowing that you cannot go home.</span></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-49339264692324326762008-06-23T11:37:00.000-07:002008-06-23T11:46:42.547-07:00Free Tongues Abound<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">By: William Briggs<br /><br />In 2054 a drug was invented that inhibited the human tongue from producing speech. (Tests were not performed on animals due to recent "All Creatures are All Right" legislation.) </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">It was discovered rather haphazardly. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Joseph Zach Lieman was in the process of finding the cure for Oedipal lust when he noticed that his lab Males were having trouble speaking. He discovered that his testing humans could move their tongues but they failed to produce syllables that would later lead to words. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Failing to cure Oedipal lust Lieman lost his funding in 2055. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Oedipal lust continued to rage and all Lieman had produced was a tonic that rendered tongues, inclined to speak, useless. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">To make matters worse his wife had recently died of cancer. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Lieman, deviled by depression, managed to write a brief article describing his new tongue bracer.<br /><br /><a href="http://puwbriggs.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Continue Reading</span></a><br /></span></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-20043892108611443872008-06-23T11:07:00.000-07:002008-06-23T11:53:07.774-07:00In June<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">By: Lisa Marie Basile</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">1</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I met a kid from Nebraska.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And he says he watches the freight trains go by. And he says he's gained 14 pounds from sweet tea. He says he can smell honey suckle blowing from behind his window and he read most of The Idiot during a dust storm and he hated the protagonist. His father makes pickles and literally sweats into the pot. His mother braids her long red hair every night. He says he doesn't understand what toxic means.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And I forget everything I've ever known about TriBeCa. And Happy Hours. And the Poetry Project. I forget free AIDS clinics. I forget gentrification. I forget the people I've loved who call themselves musicians. I forget my byline. I forget the way I got there. I just want to sit in the wind. I had met forever.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I never got his full name until I visited the cemetery.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">2</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Well, I am on Avenue A with a balding, missing-toothed New York Times ex-pat still boasting his one writing credit. "But now I'm a photographer," he says. I study his face and he reminds me of Jocelyn Wildenstein, a half-feline, half-recovered meth addict. I don't believe him. He's a fool. His eyes are sunken and his lips are pulled down, but he was in his mid-thirties. And his hands are shaking, and it's not because he's nervous. I fake an English accent and tell him my name is Emma. It wasn't half bad, but it certainly wasn't creative. He asks me where I lived in the East End of London, and I say, "Near the Water District."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><a href="http://www.pulisamariebasile.blogspot.com"><span style="font-style: italic;">Continue Reading</span></a><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-49783442377141941842008-06-22T22:45:00.001-07:002008-06-23T11:47:54.326-07:00Trauma<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">By: DJ Hopson</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">You shocked me and left me to deal</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">with the emergency crews and the police.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">There were hundreds of survivors and</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">only one death in the ordeal.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">You said your duty was to tend to those</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">hurt and who had a chance.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">You lick my blood and rammed your</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">fingers into my cuts.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">You slowly slid on your belly towards the</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">survivors and licked their blood and</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">gently rubbed salve on their cuts.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I tried to yell to you, to call you over,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I tried to sit up and announce my survival,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">but the pain sealed me to the ground and</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">my eyes refused to open to the sun.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was the only death that day.</span><br /></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-73077856505569580752008-06-22T19:55:00.001-07:002008-06-23T11:48:25.740-07:00the eyebrows<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">By: Lisa Marie Basile </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">the defendant came through the attic door from the roof</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">it didn't matter he had a restraining order</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">he preceded to shave his eyebrows in the dark</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">he begged us not to let the police in</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">he begged us to forgive him</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">the defendant gathered his collectibles,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">my mother's jewelry, an old kitchen set</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">the clanking of worthless goods in a bag</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">i hurried my brother to put his shoes on</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and quietly dialed nine one one</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">non emergency</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">we slipped out the door</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and heard him from the bathroom</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">with an electric shaver</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">talking about whose fault it was</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">he had no money</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">i saw orange pill bottles and</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">dietary supplements and</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">an alcoholics anonymous book,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">a bible</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">i saw his green eyes flash as i left</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">he had no eyebrows</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">i pushed my brother down the path</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">where he felt resentment i felt pity</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and we crawled into a flashing car</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">where the police had me scribble down</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">our information and my brother had to write it</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">for me because i couldn't</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and they parked behind a tree behind a tractor</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and took him out in hand cuffs</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">for us to see</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">now we argue diminished capacity</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">when we found out he robbed a bank</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and i never saw him again</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">just the shavings in the sink</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6057182045194781574.post-56008563659046934102008-06-22T19:50:00.000-07:002008-06-23T11:49:07.496-07:00four friends<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">By: Lisa Marie Basile</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Three months ago Plato came up to me and asked how many</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">bundles of ribbon and flowers and I'd like, he said I would want to select</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">each color carefully and ask for just the right amount</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">he said, if you let it,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">the world is gonna think you're dead</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">he said, follow his directions</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">four visitors will come toward your box:</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">intemperance, unrighteousness,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">cowardice and ignorance, and they will</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">hold your hands</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">don't be afraid, ignorance only feels warm,</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">but your formaldehyde</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">might crack off</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">this is what you want, he said</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">i am in a coma</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">i listen to the pit-pats from down the</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">hall with the worn Victorian rug</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I hear Forgiveness coming but he's slow</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">cause he's got nothing to lose</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I didn't know he'd be here</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and he sweeps right past the guestbook</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">there isn't a handful of scribbles</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">i wonder who saves this sad memory</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">i am in coma</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and he sits with gentle eyes and</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">somewhere between empathy and pity</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and he feels right</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">between warm and cold</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">he says he can't do a thing about biology</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">or any divine clock</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">i'll wake up on my own</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">as the charity-hearse pulls in</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Plato's guests take leave</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">and i can't describe the temperature of being free</span><br /></span>ProcessingUnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644882630310475302noreply@blogger.com0