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Påłpëbŕå Mar 2021
Take me to bed

but don't let me sleep,

embrace me please

and hear me weep;

then hug me so tight

let me bury my head

in the crook of your neck

making you hear the unsaid,

after that wipe my tears

then kiss my eyes;

for loving you isn't always easy

but I'm willing to pay the price.
Caleb Notte Mar 2021
You say you want to know me ...

Lift my sleeve, a tattoo
Brush my face, some stubble
Sit in my car, hear grunge music
Listen carefully, I'm cursing
Smell my shirt, it's cigarettes
Read my journal, sadness

Be forewarned I'm Rough Around the Edges!
leonard zinovyev Mar 2021
Doing cushiony cushy jobs. Sharing best practices. Dreaming of finding a decent travel agency. Having dreams of mushroom clouds rising above dumpsters. Showing the V sign with both legs upwards. Leaving office feet first. Staying in office feet first. Letting things slide to hell, while remaining unseen through the thin veneer of incompetence.
Trickle in like the sunrise and
Be my muse.
Destructive fiction in this mind of mine,
I play to lose.

After all,
Love is love
And I will succumb every time.
No matter how far or in between,
I will be here in body and mind.
Veritia Venandi Jan 2021
Sunrays peep in through imaginary windows...
The heart of the canopied forest
beats a deep throb of chlorophyllic pulse,
Invisible organisms wait in hiding,to smell my odour
The wet ground tries to take me in...dragging me deep into it.
This place always makes me blurry eyed,
Even today as tears run down my cheeks,
The sunlight refracts against them weaving for me a rainbow of psychedelic hues!
Amber memories hanging by the barks makes me weary of my thoughts...
But just then when I take a step to touch them, I hear footsteps coming behind me...
A quick run and a hide...I see him moving upto the exact spot where I had left behind my candid footmarks,
I feel a tingle when he touches them calling out to me with a cracking voice...
And yet I choose to remain in hiding, feigning oblivion much like the way the oceanic storms do in order to take down the will of the mighty ships.
If only I had sunk deep into the centre of the earth,
I would never had to be the mistress of this strangest potion of a feeling, one that just blends longing and feigning perfectly into one!
Some kind of pains are like the fires of hell
You never want to be burnt alive...
I strain my ears trying to hear him out, the farest sounds return to me amplifying a hundredfold, yet all that lingered in the air was a human silence.

Maybe he had understood my dilemma,
My resolve of not wanting to see his tender face again
The fear that once again my petrified heart would be cast away from the spell... That it would set me free...
All I wanted now was a locked space for myself and my heart.

Once out of my hiding place, I ran, stumbling, up to the place where his footsteps had frozen in a previous time.
Touching the place, I could not contain myself
It was my turn to call out to him, only but in a voiceless language!
A fictional write. Some feelings are so complex that it tries to tear apart our simple souls.
Peace💜✨
Randy Johnson Jan 2021
I want to share a story of mine.
It's about how to never have to wait in lines.
If you listen to me, you will no longer have to wait in line at stores.
If you take my advice, you won't have to wait in lines anymore.
A few call me smart but most call me a punk.
Every time I go in a store, I always carry a skunk.
When people see my skunk, they always run.
When it comes to being in lines, I'm the only one.
The salesclerks get nervous as my items are being scanned.
Sadly, when I go in a store just once, I'm always banned.
A lady still stinks because when she screamed, it caused my skunk to attack.
The store owners put on gas masks and always tell me not to come back.
You should listen to my advice even though people call me a dunce.
But if you carry a skunk in each store, you'll only be able to do it once.
CC Jan 2021
Bombs, bombs away!
The crowned prince of Gotham has come to play.
Will you stand by his side?
Or whimper, run and hide?
With nowhere to turn to
And no one to plead to,
Habits die hard.
Though you are scarred,
With the familiar sting of bruises and cuts that still ache,
Nothing hurts more than heartache.
That is why you’ll look at his face and accept his hand,
Because no one will ever understand,
Just how much his sinister grin and laugh
Makes you feel like he’s your better half.
This is your finale, hold your breath,
And accept how he pushes you towards your death.
their love isn't exactly healthy, but she keeps going back to him... is the reason as clear as day or is it shrouded in mystery?
Randy Johnson Dec 2020
It was the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Santa stole all of my stuff and he ran off with my spouse.
That fatso stole everything that I had.
I was shocked because Santa went bad.
All that he gave me for Christmas was the finger and some coal.
I decided to get even this morning when I went to the North Pole.
I gave his reindeers liquor and got them drunk.
When Santa started flying, his ship was sunk.
His reindeers crashed and Santa has a lot of broken bones.
And to add insult to injury, I pelted the punk with stones.
Now Santa is in the hospital in a body cast.
I got even for what he did one year in the past.
Christina Dec 2020
There you were on 658 North Skyline drive, visiting the place where you once called home
With those innocent, helpless girls on your restless, manic mind.
At the age of twenty-five, a hopeless law-student drop out
Sitting in the blistering hot Summer Tacoma heat in your battered beige Volkswagen windows down,
wind blowing on your ruddy face.
Wishing you had a flashy Maserati
Thousands of beads of sweat trickle down your head like a waterfall.
Frustrated and exhausted
Knowing the fate what's going to become of the pretty, carefree girls laughing, walking ahead on the street by your car, but they're completely unaware.
The reminisce of cheap beer and stale cigarettes on your breath
As you quickly glance at your velvet crowbar, that resides on your chair-less passenger side, so desperately wanting another hit.

Jittering with panic inside, that familiar feeling surges with an adrenaline rush in your body, going from zero to eighty in 0.01 seconds
You start to get in a trance with self-destruction, panicking with chaotic anger beginning to emerge again, in waves like the ocean.
The entity begins to set in
Yet something abruptly stops you.
Holding a crumbled picture of dear Elizabeth and Molly, you keep your wallet in your right blue jean back pocket.
Yet you don't give in to your double life.No. Not this time.
Letting the devastating, destructive behavior from the entity consume your entire being.
As you begin to have sudden regret ignoring the powerful, impatient fidgety urge.


Ten girls have now suddenly evaporated into thin air, caused by your harmful doing.
Police and newspaper sightings of a certain man named "Ted" have appeared out of the woodwork,
But you keep that identity hidden under lock and key.
Newsflashes pop up at the five o'clock hour, but nothing seems to phase you into utter shock.

Now sitting in an unclean, rat-infested jail cell in Colorado
The walls only seem to know the REAL you
The light fixture is almost sawed off entirely to your liking, for your excitingly filled escape, set for tonight.
Going through the small labyrinth of the ceiling of the jail,
New, fresh, clean clothes on, and annoying coveralls off
You open the front door, as a blast of the bone-chilling cold goes through your body,
Fast, snow falling on the ground, and luckily a car with its doors  unlocked
You now fade away into the blackness.

After you've completed the horrendous event in Lake City that you so desired to do on a whim
There's now no recollection of your recent event, even though you were there.
The trees with the wind are whispering and gossip your horrific acts.
Only they truly know your lawless stories


A couple of years has rolled by,
Trial after trial, day in and day out
Hoping and confident that you'll win, but each time, you've disappointingly lost.
Judge Cowart sits on his throne, tentatively listens
The buzz from the ***** and pills that your beloved Carole snuck in for you is finally beginning to wear off.
Irritation sets
As you razzle-dazzle each individual with your stealthy charm
The time has finally come that the jury decides your ultimate, timely fate


Flash forward to eight years on death row, with that heavy metal that you wear
Living in a concrete castle, in a desolate foreign land
Indeed not Buckingham Palace.
Rowdy, loud, *****, unclean, unshaven men surround you.
Something that your not used to doing.
Not the place you wish to be at the moment.
Body odor and sweat with no air conditioning in a stagnant, minuscule cell might also be Hell on Earth.
While just an old malfunctioning fan tries to keep you cool from Florida's oppressive heat.
You talk to the four walls, that listen when the detectives get fed up and bored. With your perpetual beating around the bush rhetoric.
You wasted  your life on behalf of your destructive behavior and wrong choices
Time is ticking faster and faster when you only have a few days left till death day arrives
Rose is officially gone and is now a long distant faded memory of your failed career of a deadbeat father and husband.
It's been a few years since you last saw her and Carole as they vanished from your life.
Vanished and stolen.
Like the girl's lives, you had vanished and stolen from happy families only to destroy when you willingly obeyed and fulfilled the entity's destructive wish.
Your tears become your lullaby, for your last night on Earth.

January 24th, 1989.
Your expiration date has arrived.
Rowdy, drunk onlookers are at your last hurrah
The warden swiftly comes to your death watch cell and wakes you up from the unrestful, anxiety-filled sleep you had gotten
Are you ready? He asks you.
No longer now is a handsome forty-two-year-old, but a shaven bald gangly, ailing man, with the appearance of looking like a sixty-year-old who's unrecognizable to one's eye.
"Deadman walking," the warden shouts.
Emotionless expression looks of people that you've once known in your past are now seated in small white chairs
As officers restrain you in the infamous wooden chair, of the many in-humane men who've gone, years before your time.
Adjust your electric crown
Nerves begin to quake internally like a rattlesnake
And in less than a flash, with two- thousand volts, you'll be gone from this world forever.
At approximately 7:16 am, you're pronounced dead.




Alone & Forgotten.
Victor D López Dec 2020
A baker's dozen
Of speculative fiction
Varied short stories

Could humanity
Survive extinction event
With two years warning?

A plane will soon fly
A cargo of hate that ends
Our Earth and much more

What would dolphins learn
About humankind if we
Could speak in their tongue?

Would the attainment
Of absolute truth result
In joy or despair?

Can the least of us
Be a god in his own right
To species unknown?

Should we take the word
Of professional critics
As to what is art?

Can a long-dead witch
Give a chance for redemption
To one who is lost?

Secret of the Sphinx
To be revealed in prime time
Sure you want to watch?

If you find true love
In a most unlikely source
Don't turn it away

Alien bearing gift
Of life-long health and foresight
Accept it or pass?

What can a man do
When dreams want to live through him
And cost him his life?

Come take a journey
Of inner and outer space
On these themes and more
My newest book of short stories, Echoes of the Mind's Eye: 13 Speculative Fiction Short Stories, has just been published (eBook and paperback versions). You can preview it at all major book retailers, including Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Apple Books. The book contains ten short stories from my previous collections (Mindscapes and Book of Dreams) newly edited and updated, as well as three new short stories.
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