Lit of the Week Winners:
Aconitum-Napellus adalaine almcdermid andrewpom angeljunkie Avallynh AzizrianDaoXrak backbones vellusz beeinthebottle BeyondJen Blacksand459 bowie-loon123 brassteeth colbalt-rain CrumpetsHarvey CupofCharlie DearPoetry disrhythmic doughboycafe Drunken-Splice emilyericson EternalSunday Fleeting-Epiphany FuzzyHoser glossolalias gogocherryrose GothKoala439 gummyrabbit ingle-nook intricately-ordinary iPawed IyraEMM jade-pandora jswebb Judah-Leonardo QuiEstInLiteris KaitForest KeanuWantRoomService LaBruyere LiliWrites lizilicious lluviosa MattVoscinar momo-madness mystichuntress nawkaman neuroticmnemonic Nichrysalis Obsidian-Nightfall ohmistermagazine oracle-of-nonsense orphicfiddler Nichrysalis Phu-Phu-Hugs-Me pomohippie7 pseudometry Psyghostis QuiEstInLiteris Raaawrli RainyhawaiiV2 reflectionsinwater RestlessSands riparii RiseandBe rlkirkland RosaryOfSighsx RussianTim ryante devsaartha: saevuswinds Sammur-amat Scarlettletters SilverInkblot ssensory starell That-Writer-Kid TheGlassIris TheGreatSpyExperim LeftUnfinished tonepainter toxic-nebulae travelgirlxx trembling-knees TristanCody Venry VicariouSoul Vigilo WetKakashi whatpumpkins winterkate witwitch your-methamphetamine ingle-nook zebrazebrazebra
Let's Never Meet Featured Writers:
never mindI guess it’s kind of funny, if you think about it. You always see in the movies – in the TV shows – people running and screaming and praying and stuff. That’s what Hollywood always thought it would be like. Some sort of ‘death cloud’ or something – or like an asteroid or something like that – that just happened: that just totally hit everybody by surprise.never mind by andrewpom
People have known about it for months. It’s not like in the movies. The word ‘inevitability’ comes to mind: and hey, guess what? Nobody cares to run from the inevitable. It’s pretty stupid – isn’t it, if you think about it – how people, in the movies, try to run from inevitable death. Everybody has decided what they were gonna do today weeks ago, maybe even months ago. Say goodbye to family, spend time with girlfriend, et cetera et cetera. As with the Kubler-Ross effect – or whatever it's called – p
Creepy-Crawl.When it rains, the snail comes.Creepy-Crawl. by Kurt-Jarram
And he tells unto me
all his gastropedal tales
from moss and rotted leaves.
He speaks of insect friendships
and also enemies.
“Beware,” he says “the centipede
and other vicious bugs
Beware” he says “Our cousins
Beware the shell-less slugs.”
“Be kind.” he says “And please leave
no salt on the kitchen floor
and, oh, would you please remove
those pellets from near the door.”
“My helix friend,” I say to him “Your words are truly wise.
A way for us to live in peace
I'm sure we can devise.
You, the noblest of bugs, who can neither bite nor sting.
I do declare your shell to be
the palace of a crawling king.”
When it's dark, the spider comes
and whispers in my ear.
How she, the arachnid garden queen
is hardly a thing to fear.
“Let me live,” she says “within your house's darkened halls
and silver tapestries I'll spin
to hang on every wall.”
She says “
Hey, Jealousyeyes cloud overHey, Jealousy by Cionie
and alcohol makes
what isn't "fair"
and a location shift
all is forgotten
the next morning
for fear of embarrassment
just a loosely titled "friendship"
swept under the rug
Spider on pianoLimbs like stringsSpider on piano by AyeAye12
chattering across the concert page,
mistaking notes for flies:
did you make webs between
the jazz, the chords,
the black prisms?
When your body blushes
the same oak colour
as this piano,
a mahogany chromatic scale
going back to the web,
I wonder if you mistake
every vibration from this
for food. Like the composers did.
The Jake I Chose to RememberI want to humanize you,The Jake I Chose to Remember by Nichrysalis
but you were
never very good
at letting people see
past the poet.
You were too busy
setting your legs on fire,
masturbation works for a while,
the realization that you’re in
the same sheets
And you know, Jake,
they’re legalizing marijuana now.
Turns out it’s not
just the people
who did it were.
or maybe it’s accurate;
you did always teach me to go
for the better word.
It’s accurate that
my first and only tattoo
I ever wanted will have been
written by me, revised by you
I am not what I've worn;
I am who I have worn down.
EternalThis is how you loved me. . .Eternal by jade-pandora
seeing you in profile,
a crescent moon
with hills and valleys
of your landscape,
eternal night, and the sight,
tableau of eruptions
that covered me,
the whisperings of silence
from silhouetted ice trails. . .
but I can't say how,
one day, you did
never seeing the dark side,
and plunder from the Ort cloud;
changed beyond mem'ry,
this is the way you left me. . .
but I can't say how,
one day, you did
seeing you in profile,
a crescent moon
with hills and valleys
of your landscape,
this is how you loved me.
x factor was one long illuminati advertThey found her standing naked in the playground, hair ripped down to the roots. This time moths had poured through, she said, thousands of them - a swarm of starving children scrambling towards the light of her bedroom window.x factor was one long illuminati advert by straygod
Seth didn't recognise her. She looked exactly the same as his mother, but he had never met this woman.
Last time, she'd crawled under the bed and refused to come out for days, convinced there were rats chewing holes in the ceiling... but these rats, she said, they weren't normal - these rats, they walked on their hind legs and wore waistcoats and their skin was translucent, and like baby birds you could see all their guts blue and yellow swollen up against their stomachs, and they had chubby hands. Like toddlers.
Even then she was still his mother; she still looked at him the same way she had every night since he was a baby. Seth didn't know this woman, but standing next to her, gazing at her until his throat ached wit
AnythingI am an overwhelming urge to flow into something. To become something bigger, something more, something exalted, something eternal. I need to flow into something. Unspoken truths burning my throat I am flowing into my own abyss. My abyss is flowing into me. All the walls have been broken. I have broken all the walls. I don't know where to land my fist.Anything by Vainamoinenian
Still, I will not battle against my abyss. I shall let it in. Like an immense wave in a raging sea my void is, again, coming out of my depths to crush me against the rocks I've raised behind me. There's no turning back, there's no avoidance. The choice was made long ago. I now stand tall and face the familiar waters.
Through the ocean I shall swim, through the rocks I shall break.
Anything. I can handle.
We all will perish. I long to perish. What is worth being perished by?
I see the waves.
I can handle this. I can handle this. I can handle this. I can handle this. I can handle this. I can handle thi
i wanti don’t know what to write here. that i miss you? that it’s not okay and i want your arms around me? i want the smell of you and your hands on my ears, tangled up in my hair. i want you sleeping and peaceful, fingers like butterfly wings on my spine.i want by bangingonkeyboards
i want your car, you and me and highways. i want the night pressed against us and the air thick with sufjan stevens and your voice.
i want your grandmother’s house and bumping hips in that tiny kitchen, your queen size bed and cool sheets, sprawling on the carpet in bare legs and baggy t-shirts, rug burn on the backs of my knees.
i want kissing in your parent’s half-finished basement, your mother asking my opinion of her hair and you shuffling awkwardly in the hallway. i want curling up with you on a tiny couch, half-listening to movies with dust on my feet.
i forgot how you smelled and it’s killing me.
The Fall of a TitanOnce upon a time, in a large and gracious land in the continent of Asia, there lived a king. His name was Kim Jong Un and he was the supreme leader of North Korea. Following his late father, Kim Jong Il, to the throne, he has attained his mighty role at a rather young age. Being the son of royalty, the young man was pampered from birth and unlike the Buddha, never stepped outside the palace. And so he lived his sheltered and rich existence within the walls of gold his family had kept for generations, eating, sleeping and ordering around servants.The Fall of a Titan by dude-im-alive
One of the things Kim Jong Un had found a love for during his time in the palace, was food. Not cooking it of course, just eating it, for he was a lazy king who knew no bounds of relaxing. He had tried everything! All of the world’s finest cuisines had passed through his chunky gullet countless times, and surely would countless more. The most dangerous job in the kingdom was in fact the post of “The Palace Chef”. Since the st
Afterlife Astronaut“There is no God.”Afterlife Astronaut by AyeAye12
“Well, you don’t know that for sure-“
“Bernard, as an AI connected to every philo-science document, every parabyte of knowledge in the Human Empire, every logic string going back to the days of the Past Colonists... I can assure you, there is no God. It has been proven.”
Bernard sighed. His helmet visor fogged up then disappeared.
“I’m not going to bother arguing with you. Soon that golden gate is going to open, and I will walk into the Kingdom of Heaven. That should be enough proof.”
The gate in question was a smooth sphere of gold, slowly rotating on an equally dull pedestal. Crystal red spires pointed at specific points on the globe.
“You just don’t want to argue with me because you are in fear of how wrong you are. And how right a computer can be.”
Jude deserved to be muted, but sass like that always kept her voice a ubiquitous presence in Bernard’s helmet. A blue flash in the top
The TimesI was printed on the evening of November 27th, 2008, just as the weather was turning from chilly to cold. I was tomorrow's news. At the moment I came off the press, I told the future. I knew things before the rest of the world; it was wonderful. I knew what my purpose was: to inform as many people as possible about the world's happenings.The Times by CDing93
As I was put to bed, bound against my brothers and sisters, I dreamt of being passed around a construction site, making sure all the workers were aware of which sports team triumphed, and which celebrity was getting a divorce. I dreamt that corporate peons debated over politics, and the state of the economy and which policies would be most effective in fixing the existing problems. I slept contently, snuggled warm in the middle of a stack, ready to be shipped out the next day and sold to whoever wanted me.
The next morning was cold and blustery. I was so excited about being sold that I allowed the wind to ruffle my pages, since I couldn't move on my o
ViolinI remember the dayViolin by Scarlettletters
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
eugenics in bulkBy the time she was twelve they had already decided she would marry a man who could run a five minute mile and speak seven languages. They chose her a husband the same way they had chosen her eyes and her legs and the pale freckles that interrupted her nose - the same way their parents had designed their children and arranged their marriages, strategic.eugenics in bulk by straygod
Her father called her petite reine. He owned an antique chess board carved from ebony wood and maple. Some days she'd sneak into the library, pry open the old chequered box and pick out one of the queens, and she'd turn it round and round, searching for imperfections. It was a plain, ugly thing, huge and fat in her tiny grasp. She had wondered if he thought of her this way.
She wondered the same now.
Her hands were not her own. A businessman in a white coat had grown them slender and strong, built her carbon fiber bones and nails like arrowheads. Her mother reminded her of this when the
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PoetessNo quaint bottletop knick-knack wisdom
scratching at thick cotton candy scent
stuck to tongue and throat,
she burns words for fuel and breathes
through vessels she collected on the way
because it keeps her alive.
Ode To A ScholarCadieux was a scholar
In a small, Northeastern town
Groomed in an Adirondack holler
Far from city folk
Despite his narrow circle
Of relatives and friends
He grew to be a master
Of the civilized tongue
Strong hands cradled a text
Now bound for two hundred years
It's words and rhythms still as piquant
As though they were freshly penned
"The class will come to order;
Please be seated
I'll begin with
Augustin, will you read?"
Cadieux loved the flow of words
Like the notes of a stirring toccata
Privately interpreted in the minds' eye
From his schoolroom he commanded the oceans
To crash on a hundred wild shores or,
Lead his intrepid band of warriors
Into the fray with Roosevelte's dashing
"Lionel, tend the fire, will you?"
Harsh words were not required
To affect a loyal response
Strict discipline was garnered
With mutual respect
His peers found his style archaic at times
Notwithstanding they approved;
To be sure, his budding students
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