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03-07-2015, 10:45 AM | #21 (permalink) |
SOPHIE FOREVER
Join Date: Aug 2011
Location: East of the Southern North American West
Posts: 35,541
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Why don't you tune your guitar
Body hums and split second reviews. Back bends and cart wheel stands Hell bent in an epoxy facemask. Water trickles down a slender wrinkling cheek ...Murmurs heard just above Rafters and wood screws. The guitar entuned echoes, Rolling across overtonic fields the pitches warble. Pitch's warble rattles a chain And spinning ceiling fans Weren't listened from but understood. A chirp saddles a brazen glaze A haze covered spotlights A cross eyed glassy gaze Crossword puzzling grave answers Words splatter the page Ink lines whither, fade.
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Studies show that when a given norm is changed in the face of the unchanging, the remaining contradictions will parallel the truth. |
03-23-2015, 11:30 PM | #22 (permalink) |
SOPHIE FOREVER
Join Date: Aug 2011
Location: East of the Southern North American West
Posts: 35,541
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So I found a notebook that I bought when I was really drunk on Saturday. I wrote a nice little story. Hope you enjoy.
Plums struck the thin veneer of the watershed roof tiles. Hissing as they splash and trickle; feeling the radiator as it fusses and hisses. The rooftop erodes in the omnipresent drizzle. Under, above, and in from the sides they flew, harsh droplets that would kiss the shingling tile. Flaking away piece by piece. Hard sands struck wood panels lay inside indoors once before, but sands were unionized into puddles of mud in the late Winter storm. Struck by the dilemma of fall's plum drizzle, rotting away and oozing down the gutter. Flooded with water, streams sputter from the deposit below. Sands before leapt from the roads. Left milky hazes as wind dashed, making housesides wind tunnels. A water floods the eye, wheeled outside for a moment's time. Usually sunlight radiates, warms his bones but the evil mistress of the clouds bore upon him. Clouds, rumbling, bear waste to shake loose. The water runs down his cheek. Reeled back inside, trails from his chair behind him stained the floor. Clear, cold trails. Missing the last series of mainstay artistry in the winter's reflection below the mirror glass windows.Drying streams lines his cheeks. Immobilized. Eyes distorted from the watered lens, he glimpses forward. Finds behind counters of medicine parlors, birthed in age, licking its lips, pangs of hunger throttle the hourglass figure frame. Finds behind the eyes a more acceptable brand of insanity. Finding which direction to gaze, lost again through the misty haze. Armchair leaning across the coffee table. Tongue and lip dictate letters and shape of a sense, but senseless ramblings take the floor. Numbing prick in arm, gazing double sighted as holes spreckle the ceiling. Freckles flock around the nose, hiding reverberations of shouts, moans. Groaning once before the final bell rings. Alone in silence, radiator sings. Darkness hiding him away from the cold. Streams on cheeks, hard lines.
__________________
Studies show that when a given norm is changed in the face of the unchanging, the remaining contradictions will parallel the truth. |
03-24-2015, 07:52 AM | #23 (permalink) |
SOPHIE FOREVER
Join Date: Aug 2011
Location: East of the Southern North American West
Posts: 35,541
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I wrote that story in outer space.
__________________
Studies show that when a given norm is changed in the face of the unchanging, the remaining contradictions will parallel the truth. |
03-30-2015, 01:09 PM | #24 (permalink) |
Ask me how!
Join Date: Oct 2014
Location: The States
Posts: 5,354
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Do you like William Gibson? Your story kind of reminded me of his style of writing.
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---------------------- |---Mic's Albums---| ---------------------- ----------------------------- |---Deafbox Industries---| ----------------------------- |
04-14-2015, 10:46 AM | #25 (permalink) |
SOPHIE FOREVER
Join Date: Aug 2011
Location: East of the Southern North American West
Posts: 35,541
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Do you guys like esoteric vignettes?
Easing into his chair, he leaned in towards the window and exhaled gradually. The fan blew his breath into the outdoors. “It's cold outside,” he thinks to himself, leaning in ever so slightly. He gazes deeply into the screen that gave him a sense of safety from the world outside of him—a separation from his dominion and that of the world's. “The people outside, I can hear them talking. I can hear them muttering to each other about me. All with differing motives.” Can they hear me? He rescinds to his inner speaking abilities to voice his thoughts from then on. We oblige the reader to do the same and please stop reading aloud, as our character still does not want his thoughts to be heard. Thinking aloud is a great way to give yourself out in a situation like this. Is that them, in the car? He returns to his chair on the other side of his room, hoping that it would make his thoughts personal. He could mutter to himself at length over here. Screens may be one shield but distance feels a far more comforting one to him. He understood why they would be out there, but he's not sure if it concerns him. He weakly rises to sit in his chair by the screen. The distance may not be necessary. He faces outward into the street through the screen and exhales gradually.
__________________
Studies show that when a given norm is changed in the face of the unchanging, the remaining contradictions will parallel the truth. |
06-20-2015, 01:42 AM | #26 (permalink) |
SOPHIE FOREVER
Join Date: Aug 2011
Location: East of the Southern North American West
Posts: 35,541
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Hid Polish Riot
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Studies show that when a given norm is changed in the face of the unchanging, the remaining contradictions will parallel the truth. |
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