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Cecil Miller Mar 2015
Cream-colored cadavors cascade down the currents in the creases  and crevices that are the carnival of Creation crying their crusades.
everybody has a cause. which is priority?
D I A Mar 2015
Spinning
Twirling
blur.

Frozen teardrops
The world is still.
Heavy Metal Poet Mar 2015
I am the Narrator. I Narrate. You read what I have narrated. I often wonder how my words will be digested by you the reader, will my words spark an intense desire to burn in the Fire of What Is ? I am the Narrator, I am not Jesus ******* Christ - OK, or O ******* K ! There never was a Jesus ******* Christ dear readers. Oops I have digressed, alas I digress an awful lot; my mother told me I distracted the delivery doctor and nurses at my own birth, something I cannot recall myself. Wonder if he had a beard. You see my mother had an intense dislike of bearded men, and if this be true then my birth must have been deeply traumatic for her. Such a brave woman to carry on and remain as my mother. She was perfect for the residency. Mother, wherever you are please do take a bow.

Just a reminder - I am the Narrator. I Narrate. And you read what I have written - this is not spoken word(unless you want to read it aloud)it is the written word of the Narrator - nor is it the word of god, and I have already mention Jesus ******* Christ, so I will swiftly and smoothly move onwards to the goal; I will rise to the challenge, I will seek the final word. Mother did not have a sense of humor. She never laughed - never. Smiles did occasionally appear. Mother, oh desperate and perfect mother of mine. You never lost your shine.

This is the introduction dear patient reader. Be brief I said to myself. Yes ! I can be brief, but they all laughed and cried so much they ended up in a river of oral, nasal and tear ducts; what messy contents. Be brief ! Brief ! Be ******* brief ! So here I am, but who am I ? What am I ? Yes, yes, I know I am the Narrator for the duration of these words I write. It is a role, one of many roles I will play during the day and occasionally the night. Who is it that drives this wreck of a physical vehicle, which has changed beyond recognition since my face appeared from my mother's womb. STOP ! OH PLEASE STOP ! Is what I imagine you are screaming out loud at me - the Narrator.

So here is brief in the style and pomp of your Narrator. I am sitting upon my throne which is not made of gold. Oh but please I must refrain from letting loose and going on another rampaging digression. Do tell me dear reader when you next see me. You will wont you dear reader ? I am here writing these words and you are there reading these words, which is kind of cute without wearing any dazzling suit. I can't avoid the occasional rhyme, its such an effortless joy. Here endeth the introduction. Yes ! I, the Narrator have completed the unimaginable. I wonder where the words will take us ? I'm quite excited - are you dear reader ? Life is a freshly created golden wave head butting its invisible opposite. Everything is already known. But by whom, or should that be Whom ? Or am I going down another digressive hole ? And so dear reader I do give to you the final full stop.


Lenny Gazbowski(c)2015
This is an ongoing experimental piece of writing, which is kind of like prose.
JP Goss Mar 2015
I was annihilation in that moment.
The very element of fire became my being,
I was pure destruction
And the fertile soil that comes from it,
The very act of begetting
Is the very act of rending
I stood between both in furious vigor.
Excerpt from a short story; found-piece
JP Goss Mar 2015
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I'm a degenerate who hasn't posted in a while.
Jeffrey Pua Feb 2015
Will you let me
Read your scars
     And revise them?*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Draft. Making sense out of palindromes.
Jeffrey Pua Feb 2015
Train Time
Like it's a young elephant,
     Beast of burden!*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Draft. Making sense out of palindromes.
Jeffrey Pua Feb 2015
Poetry's for all,
So may it come, too,
     From all.*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Draft. Making sense out of palindromes.
Jeffrey Pua Feb 2015
We may have forgotten
Some memories,
     But we cannot
          Unlove.*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Draft. Making sense out of palindromes.
Jeffrey Pua Feb 2015
Looking at her eyes,
Her eyelids must be
     New galaxies.*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Draft. Making sense out of palindromes.
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