Lit of the Week Winners:
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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
A Prayer-bead PrayershiA Prayer-bead Prayer by Sammur-amat
grenadined lips and kohl-rimmed eyes,
come now, come; drown down this caribbean sun with me.
disquieted rainfall worries
-they pitter patter
face with your feather
-weight touch, i become fresh tinder.
i sync our zealous breathing with your zinc penny pulse;
oh how i have fallen tender!
peeled raw, i now burn
Re-EntryGliding down from the stratosphereRe-Entry by Blacksand459
All the pretty lights sparkle for me
It's the New Year
And I'm celebrating in grand circus style
Coming in over the mighty Pacific
Watching it rise and fall
From 85,000 feet
That ancient jade dragon
Pierced through with blades of icy blue
A cotillion of clouds linger majestically over the expanse
Light fans encircle me
Radiance completing an arc
Mastery of the tangent that is my body
A blackened silhouette against the burning
Chasing me as I plummet faster and faster
I see the lights of Tokyo
The geishas are bowing
The dragons are dancing
As the old men smoke Dorothy's poppies
While the Tin Woodman drinks sake
And the Lion greets the Monkey
The Emperor is laughing
As the parrots sing
I see the geishas waving at me
And I smile
Ice crowned spires of black rock
Soar into the aether
Riding the gemini
As Circulon revolves around the Sun
The eagles rest on his flanks
Eating light to pour life into their young
Far above the
Just Desserts#100408Just Desserts by SilverInkblot
Meal: Six (6) Maine red lobster tails
One (1) bowl of black caviar
One (1) glass of Chardonnay
One (1) scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, topped with dark chocolate ganache and a Maraschino cherry.
Comments: Garbage. I always knew rich people were full of shit.
Meal: One (1) pepperoni pizza from Little Caesar’s.
One (1) waffle cone, chocolate
Meal: One (1) bottle of Clear American, Fuji Apple flavor
Two (2) Payday candy bars.
Meal: Two (2) fried chicken legs
One (1) bowl of mashed potatoes, brown gravy
One (1) bowl of creamed corn
One (1) glass of milk
One (1) slice of peach pie
Comments: Just like Mom used to make.
Meal: One (1) bowl of tomato soup
One (1) grilled cheese
One (1) serving of spaghetti squash
One (1) Jello vanilla pudding
Meal: One (1) bowl of spaghetti
Two (2) Olive Garden breadsticks
One (1) bag of buttered popcorn, dusted with
Stay With Me (Dancing In The Moonlight) ‘Tonight you’re saving my life’Stay With Me (Dancing In The Moonlight) by CupofCharlie
-The Gaslight Anthem.
I open my curtains and look at the world outside my window. White cloud dominates the sky leaving no suggestion of the blue behind it, no hint of the sun struggling to break through. As I stare at the beginning of a new day, my thoughts inevitably turn to him, as they always do. I wonder if he’s awake. I wonder if he’s thinking about me too. My heart beats just a little bit faster at the simple thought of him.
It’s strange to think how one person has grown to mean so much to me. Someone who, a year ago, I didn’t even know. But just as the white cloud has overwhelmed the sky above me, his love has encased my heart. So perfectly. So completely. A love that is so strong, that whenever we are apart, a veil of melancholy inescapably rests upon me. The hardest moments of my life are when we have to say goodbye to each other. The happiest are when we say hello.
In the last few months,
SmallMy father was there, and then he wasn't.Small by saartha
I still dream about it, sometimes, when the nights grow warm in the late spring. My mother's hand is white, clenched hard around my own. She went later, in a different way. Not better, but different. Who knows, maybe she thought it was worse.
I don't remember his face. I was too small. I remember his legs, the texture of his pants, the crook of his neck when he would lift me in his arms. He was a quiet man, and strong. It's hard to speak of the time before. When you tell a true story well, you become your old self for awhile. Bad enough to be that person once. I prefer happier stories, most days. Stories where vanished things may yet be found, and mud is made only by rain.
But it's not the truth. He would have raised me into an honest woman. That's what my mother said, once, deep in drink. She rarely spoke of him. She felt the same way about stories; too much pain, don't look back. But also, that things change with the telling. Anything s
I Need You So Much Closer...‘With just one look you cause an avalanche in me’I Need You So Much Closer... by CupofCharlie
- Midnight Lion.
‘I’m never gonna love again.’
- Lykke Li.
She drops the bombshell.
My body goes numb; the following silence a cacophony of sound to my ears.
“I’m leaving. My dad got a job in London - in England - and so we all have to move over there with him. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
She speaks in an emotionless tone. As though she can’t allow herself to think about what she is saying or she will break down and fall apart. I see her fighting back the tears; her eyes never quite meeting mine, knowing that if they did then she would lose the battle.
‘But...when are you coming back?”
I search her face for an answer. Her skin is pale, her eyes look red and swollen, her dark hair is t
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
five.Five is the number of times you worry he’s stopped breathing, as the surgeons carve around his heart, twisting away the plaque ridden arteries, and pulling a vein out of his leg. Five is the number of heart wrenching hours you and your family were waiting in the hospital room, worried that your lives would crumble, that there would be five members of the family instead of six, that five days out of the week he would not come home for dinner, that five kisses from him would no longer be given to his wife and four children. Five was the amount of fingernails you bit off while watching people enter and exit the waiting room, and the amount of minutes your mother spent on the phone, explaining that something was wrong. Five is the critical difference between holding a father’s hand as your mother cries into his heart shaped pillow. The difference between rejoicing and smiling weakly because he’s okay or carrying your father’s American-flag-covered-casket and watchinfive. by saevuswinds
Heat AdvisoryWe are an air-mass thunderstorm at the heightHeat Advisory by DrippingWords
of an Indian summer -- a cloudburst colliding
into a cyclone, raising the temperature of any
who wander through our sweaty inversion.
I soar above the earth buoyed on your thermals,
straight into a clap of thunder conceived by
lightning fever. A roiling heatwave travels
across our connection, evaporating the atmosphere
surrounding the eye of our storm. Your humid
breath wisps over the thermodynamics of my skin,
pushing cumulonimbus up the drought in my spine.
Muggy kisses trail down my body like volcanic ash,
a haze blurring the lines between our hurricanes.
And as the barometer spikes, my heartbeat quickens;
I am sucked into the vortex of your tropical storm.
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BirdmenFor John Berryman and Hart Crane
drumming in rhythmic stupor.
thunderous confessions unheard.
a fearless approach of the precipice.
murmurs of vagrant words.
two worlds falling prematurely to ruin.
impatiently awaiting the dark.
staring briefly from menacing heights.
standing beleaguered by lifelong assessments
incorrectly wrapped in costume.
as you flew the air, gripping fate firmly.
fire upon the water in perfect discord.
finding acceptance in crushing depths.
did you possess,
exiting before dessert
with pristine napkins?
avoid true old age—
a violent scooping of gourds,
embarrassments to who we were before.
an inner bedlam better explains
into the nude silence.
of bridges and ships
teetering at the edge
of a world that slips
into the great whirlpool of infinity.
the daring never look back
as they make for the great adventure;
Blood Regent: FaithfulThe rosary beads were cold on his fingertips. The old bricks of the church smelled of mold, corroded by the decades of winds breezing up from the Loch.
“Oh, my God, I am heartfully sorry for having offended Thee," he began reciting. He rolled the bead along the edge of his finger. The words spilled from his lips, memorized but still genuine. He lifted the stick until the votive candle finally breathed flame.
“- and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishment, but most of all because I have offended Thee, my God…”
“Garrett,” a voice called from behind him.
“- Who is all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve…”
“Garrett, haven’t you asked enough?”
Garrett felt a hand brush his shoulder. His scar rubbed against the cloth and the feeling was unpleasant. Distant memories clouded his mind much like the skies the day he received the mark. He trembled as if lightning were coursing through him again.
AmbivalenceMy love for you is like a river:
it flows and flows, but I can
never manage to get away from you;
you follow me up- and down-stream,
and I can only hope for the day
that I lead you to a hook.
I cannot get to the end
of counting my love for you
when I use the stars as
my abacus, yet still you won't
get lost among their numbers.
I have as much thought for you
as a dandelion-clock has fur –
yet no matter how much I blow you off,
still you’re seen again all over the place.
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