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 Jan 2014 Asch Veal
Harold Pinter
No, you're wrong.

Everyone is as beautiful
as they can possibly be

Particularly at lunch
in a laughing restaurant

Everyone is as beautiful
as they can possibly be

And they are moved
by their own beauty

And they shed tears for it
in the back of the taxi home
 Jan 2014 Asch Veal
James Ellis
I have no other way to say how I feel
Emotions I showed, I now conceal
The bottle is filled, about to overflow
The volcano will erupt and soon explode
Anger, rage, and pain burn more flames
I have no blood,  just molten lava in my veins
At any moment, I'll spontaneously combust
I only have myself, and even that I don't trust
 Jan 2014 Asch Veal
James Ellis
The knowledge we have
and the courage we contain
is an illusion-
a more accurate title
would be counterfeit wisdom.
 Jan 2014 Asch Veal
Haley Rome
“Hey Mark. It’s Hope. Um, hey. So I know that I’ve left you quite a lot of voicemails in the past few days. I just couldn’t stop worrying about where you were and…and you know how I get. So, finally, I called Rita. And she told me where you were. And now I get it! I understand why you aren’t calling me back. It’s not because you don’t like me anymore or that you’ve grown bored of me, no! It’s not that at all. It’s because…well, it’s because you’re dead. And I know that you’ll never get this and I’m talking into an empty void right now. I can almost hear you laughing at me, saying that I’m just a tree falling in a forest with no one around to hear. But that’s comforting, in a weird way. Especially because of the previous voicemails I left, before I knew where you were. I mean, Jesus, those were so embarrassing just thinking about them makes me want to die! But I’m not dead. You are. Um. Well, I just called because I wanted you to know that you…you were different. You are different. Just because you’ve died doesn’t mean you’re suddenly not   sweet or intelligent or courageous or loving. Now that you’re gone my world is a blur full of colors and light but lacking all definition. I went to your work yesterday. All of your coworkers were swarming around me and I just stared and couldn’t recognize anyone. Not even Rita. I had to ask her name, I was so humiliated. And she…she did something that you used to do to comfort me. I doubt she even knew she was doing it. She must’ve picked it up from you or something. Um. She started to massage my hands, you know, like you would do when I would get too scared to breathe. And I closed my eyes. I swear, I swear that in that moment it was you. I know it was you. You were there calming me down, helping me breathe. And I finally could. For the first time in years, I could. But then she asked how I was feeling and I had to open my eyes. I said I didn’t know. I don’t know. I do know that I miss you. I think it’s funny that when I talk about you to others, and I talk about missing you, I can say it in the present tense but when I say that I love you, it sounds wrong. Like they expect me to say that I loved you, as if my devotion stopped the second your heart did. I still love you. I did and I do and I will. I just don’t know if I can ever-" *Message deleted. Press 1 to record again.
 Jan 2014 Asch Veal
Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
 Jan 2014 Asch Veal
T. S. Eliot
Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

      A penny for the Old Guy

      I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

      II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer—

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

      III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

      IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We ***** together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

      V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
                                For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
                                Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
                                For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
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