Tag: writing

She Was, He Was

She Was She was sitting on a park bench, basking in the lukewarm sun. The only shade that cloaked her body was when a cloud passed in front of the glowing, high noon orb. The light kissed her body like the reflective wrapper on a fresh piece of hand crafted chocolate. When you unwrap it,…

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Questions? or Answers!

What am I doing here? Seriously! What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Seriously! What are you doing here? Has my life led me to being a so-called, quote on quote, writer so all my hard fought words can sit on a page and wither away with other people’s writings? An endless…

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Little Whisper

My todays tarry, flaked, bright sunrises to glowing, midnight moon, tangled in an inevitable swoon, constantly chasing the prizes of the lives we marry. Little whisper breathe, and pepper my tired ear, while frozen I stand in place, I take my hand and erase a wet capsulated tear into its endless sea. My yesterdays beckon,…

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Why Ask Why?

My second born son – where do I begin? He was delivered to us some time ago, a forever that was only yesterday, by cesarian section. The day before his arrival, I remember the phone call I received from my wife while I was at work. She went for a weekly check up because the…

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nOn-cOmmOn sEnsE

I went to the grocery store today. They did not have any strawberries. Or cherries. Or green bananas. Or fresh oranges. I immediately thought, figures, considering. I tried looking for other items, all unavailable because, hell if I know! I left because it was too exhausting. And depressing. And I think I heard a girl…

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I Reflect Me

(I looking at looking me) I pull at me's skin with a blunt edge called life, leaving a scrape on the surface of us, and wonder, while looking at me, why I would do that to we. *the mark on my soul slowly disappears* Me looks at I standing outside our reflective shell and shakes…

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But, Still!

The first person to shave away all their pubic hair - what were they thinking? Did they just wake up one morning, sip a cup of coffee, turn on the tele, stare at the sunrise through their blinds, eat a bowl of cereal, and say to themselves, hey, I want to get rid of the…

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Miss. Behave Ing

Hearing the scratching (We are the floor we feel,) of finger nailing the backing, (our unfrozen terrain remains unfrayed) while smelling the necking (as we explore the sacred friction of now.) and rubbing the skinning. Listening to the whispering (We slay the nights unseen) of lipping the lobing, (into tiny slices of salty slumber,) while…

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The Second Hand

There was this boy. He grew up in the rural South. He drank Pepsi Cola from glass bottles. He ate Nabs. He worked in tobacco fields at the age of twelve. He dreamed. His imagination was his escape. It was his portal. At a young age, he knew other realms existed. You just had to…

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One Year Blog-iversary

Interviewer : Hello Vernon. It’s nice to have you with us today. Thank you for being here. Vernon : Glad to be here. Honored, honestly. Interviewer : So, you have neared your one year anniversary of blogging. Tell us how this journey began for you. Vernon : I can remember it like it was yesterday.…

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