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HJV Mar 2019
Everybody thinks Bobby stays in bed all day and that he does absolutely nothing. “Indolence in human form” is what they call him. In reality Bobby ponders one of life’s greatest mysteries day and night, he’s a student of being. “I Don’t fear A.I. rebellion” Bobby tells himself as he reflects on the futile and expedient nature of subjectivity. After many months of wrestling the behemoth that is Nihilism Bobby concluded that there was no intrinsic value to anything and that there was no reason to do anything. “You can’t derive an is from an ought” Bobby thought to himself. In that moment Bobby reached a new epiphany. There is no way of valuing anything in an objective manner, so therefore he couldn’t construct a dominance hierarchy of personal values, and thus he couldn’t justify getting out of bed or do anything for that matter. Bobby had justified his laziness.

Bobby never stopped thinking, Bobby wondered whether or not he should keep on existing. Since there was no objective value to anything, that, in turn meant that he had no value either. Bobby, human as he was, he was a rational man first. He wasn’t bothered by his own otiose nature. With this is mind he started to entertain a new thought. “Does a rational man choose to not exist?” Bobby thought to himself after pondering on subjective value. “Subjective value is our only hope for justifying existence!” Bobby exclaimed to his ceiling in his dim-lit basement room.

Rational as he was, Bobby still liked existing, it was something he never managed to explain. Apathetic in nature, he still felt a desire to be. The dichotomy he had become felt annoyingly quintessential. How could he, a rational man, not shake such irrational thoughts. After staring at his feet for some minutes he bequeathed himself to his human nature. “I’m but a talking monkey” he sighed.

Now a wiser man, Bobby shifted his philosophical gaze. He reasoned subjectivity, how could he maximize his experience, the only thing with potential for true, albeit subjective, value. “What stands atop the dominance hierarchy of subjective value?” Bobby wondered. After many journeys to the depths of his Being Bobby realized that love was the highest value. “What else is a better antidote to the chaos of consciousness?” Bobby asked aloud as if he wasn’t alone in his basement.

Other humans, Bobby knew they existed, but he never really spoke much with them. There was this one man he once knew though, Will was his name. Will was an odd fellow. Even though he didn’t owe someone a single thing, he would still always help everyone. “There’s a natural law of karma” is what he would always say. As Bobby recounts the memories of Will he starts to question the irrational nature of karma. “Is karma measurable by science?” Bobby blurts out as he stretches himself out in his dusty bed. “All human processes can be calculated, granted we posses a powerful enough calculator.” Bobby said as he muffled his mouth with a pillow. Bobby considered his own proposition and after some minutes he yelled “If all can be calculated, then so can emotional in- and outputs!” as if he was standing in front of an audience. Bobby came to the conclusion that if those values could be measured then karma would be a mathematically substantiated concept. This thought made Bobby’s heart beat just a bit faster, but only just a bit.

Sleep was something not even Bobby could be too lazy to do. Bobby had passed out for some minutes or hours, he couldn’t tell. When he woke his mind wandered back to his unfinished mental quest. “How to maximize the amount of love in my subjective experience?” Bobby groggily said. He widened his eyes, “eureka!” he screamed. Will, he himself, and all of humanity were all connected, socially. When Bobby realized this he quickly reached his next conclusion. If he wanted to maximize his own subjective experience then he needed to maximize his output of the highest subjective value, love. Karma was a natural law after all, a mathematical one. Being yet wiser again Bobby started to ponder the ways of love.

“The more I love, the more subjectively pleased I become.” Bobby thought to himself as he adored his human nature. Now that he had found a rational way for value, albeit still subjective in nature, Bobby smiled. He knew that, although there was no intrinsic objective value in anything, there was still value in subjecting himself to his consciousness. “It makes me feel good, so why not.” he said victoriously.  Armed with karma Bobby ventured out from underneath his house. The sunlight on his skin made his sense tingle, for the first time in decades Bobby felt alive. People were shocked when they saw the once indolent man indolent no more.

Over the coming years Bobby had changed and the people with him. Bobby had become a pillar of support for his community, spreading his years of indolently bred wisdom. The people had started to call him Wise Bob. Now with Wise Bob’s stultifying lethargic behavior gone the people followed his lead by example. Wise Bob was no leader though, he was still but a student of being, but with a slightly larger Being. “Not wise enough.” he told one of his many friends. Wise Bob still felt his objective insignificance in his heart, but no longer as a nihilistic threat. His futility gave him meaning. Bringing order to the chaos of consciousness gave him responsibility and thus meaning. This meaning made his life worth living. “The collective human condition will fight off our dragons.” Bobby professed.

Bobby was a rational man, but a man still.
Not a poem, but poetic
Em Mar 2019
I was home alone
Sitting in my room
When ringing invited itself into my home
A package has been delivered

I jumped  up
My feet barely touching the ground
And made my way to the door
It was another summer day
Soft wind blowing
Trees rustling in the distance
Birds singing joyful songs of freedom

As I open the door
The smell of summer morning slaps me in the face
Telling me it’s time to wake up

I grab the package
My fingers swiftly graze the tape
My eyes wonder
And fear holds me tight
An invader
I realize I’m in grave danger

A scream leaves my lips
Dropping the package
I run inside
I close the door and look through the sparkling glass window
There he sits
On the side of my fence
Chirping knowing that he’s in power

Behind me walks my knight in shining armor
Calmly making her way towards me
Minding her own business
Fear takes the lead
And I reach for help

Quickly opening the door
I swing her short furry legs
Once
Twice
And on the third time
Boom
Target is down

Tears find themselves in my eyes
And camp in for a while
I thank my cat
For saving my life
And we go back home to eat
Never to speak of what happened again
a silly poem i quickly wrote
Interrorbang Feb 2019
The roads are quite & empty
If these roads could speak they'll paint your walls from white to  
Blue
What serendipity

Almost falling asleep to these whispering roads
A smooth seductive vibe it brings
Looking at the seat next to me where you sat with your **** red lips &  
Diamond earrings
But those days are gone now, old memories implodes

Focusing back on the road ahead of me
Passing exits like going down a mountain with skis
Seeing 101, I-22 and soon coming up 103
After that, I think its Tennessee...
But don't quote me for this something I cannot guarantee

Not really knowing which exit to take
Not sure if I could take anymore heartaches
I have to fight off the song of the roads, I have to stay awake
Next exit “World’s greatest ribs & steaks come in & join the crew
Enjoy our home cook meals & yes we are talking to you!"
Should I just drive on or drive in & take in the view?
Wait!!! Stay focused! Common you’re still on highway 102

Hunger cannot be a factor
But as I keep driving the hunger grows & the gas goes faster & faster
Great! A car wreck ahead 2 cars & a semi-tractor
I turn on the radio to pass the time & to get my head off of this  
Disaster
They just announced a man lost his life, a one way trip to meet his  
Master
To even think if this guy just left a min later he wouldn't of died,  
That poor *******.

Finally, the road has cleared and has claimed another soul
Suddenly my body feels a little dull
But this car cannot stop for I must reach my goal, to find that  
Something of which they stole

Now driving 85, I notice that I have taken up speed
Not realizing that, I slowed down to the speed limit here in old "keyed"?
Where am I, should I proceed?
Did I succeed? Did I fulfill my need?

This little town doesn't even ring a bell
Wait! This well-lit house so bright says, "Welcome to Bach’s hotel"
This is it! This is the place where I kept my secret about our secret  
Shell
For I kept your promise as I will never tell
Where we said our Vows and our farewells

As I pull into this run down but well-lit place
These old memories filled in the empty space
For I will never forget that day
As I woke the air had never felt so Rich & fresh I must say
I turn to meet your beautiful eyes that followed up with your kiss  
That melts my heart away
As I walk in I'm greeted with a smile and a warm “Welcome”
As I waited my turn as I stood behind this attractive blonde
I take step forward after she takes a step out I see her step into a 1968 Le Mans
"Hi, do you need a room?” The older lady said standing there at the front desk.
“uhh, yea”,...
As it took me a couple seconds to respond

What rooms do you have available?
(Well, we only have a smoking with bunk beds)
You mean like, double beds?
(Yes doubles, the lovely lady took the last single room.)
What about the one at the end?
(That's unavailable)
Is it at least negotiable?
(No it's inoperable,) inoperable? This is a room not automobile...
(Sir, please stop! Do you want a room or not? Would you prefer your  
Warm four wheels?)
I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound forceful I just had a very long day. Man, I'm getting the chills...
(Well at least you will be provided with breakfast in the morning or a complimentary meal)
That sounds nice. I'll take the smoking...
(Okay, well here are the keys to room AJ-67, oh by the way
It’s going to be 10 dollars extra because it's like staying in heaven)
What???...
(I'm joking, have a good night and call in if you need anything)
Don't worry I'll make sure to give you a ring...

Finally that I stepped out and made my way to my awaiting bed...
I noticed that AJ-67 was next door to our old room
Nothing has changed so I assumed...
As I walk to the entrance to my room, I can't help myself but be  
Taken back with shock, do I smell your perfume?
So as I make my way; I pause, should I resume?
And bring back these emotions I seek?
Or hide my emotions with this fake costume?
This is so too much to consume...
I stand here frozen; no turning back now I've come from a long distance
I always believed we lived for our coexistence

So I continue and knock on our door.......
I hear nothing and all the lights are out
The feelings are rushing in of doubt, I thought you'll be hear even  
After that fateful day
I've come every year in May and sit out here feeling betrayed
Why god!!! Why confuse our names?!!
Why take my Sade? Why not me Rene!!!
And make me suffer this life of dismay!!!

For this time I'll leave this letter with this clue
If it's my time now you will have to find me every year in May and now  
You will feel betrayed as I did & now you do
It’s okay, I see now that you’re so much smaller than you portray
What am I left to say?
Thank you...
Because my name is Rene & what we had is through
Now you will have to find my soul on highway 102
Sorry for any grammar mistakes lol
Mason Feb 2019
I am, I think, the last survivor of my kind. The arc ship had chosen the wrong sun for our new world. Or maybe it was the right one. Either way. A solar flair had destroyed us. By some fluke I was in my space suit on the far side of the ship doing a final exterior check of all system on what was supposed to be the eve of our landing day. Or maybe is wasn't supposed to be. Either way. I had seen everything around me engulfed in flames as I was accelerated away from everything I had ever known at impossible speeds smashed against the renforced rib of the hull that somehow protected me from the all consuming fire. I say it was a solar flare but I don't really know. It's just the best conclusion I can draw from the evidence given. And I have had lots of time to conteplate it. My space suit contains its own air scrubbing ecosystem that will provide me with a breathable atmosphere indefinitely and whos little bacteria happily march their dead into my stomach keeping me never full, but never malnourished nor starving. My species had only developed such overbuilt bioengineering after it was too late to save our drained and polluted home world, but we had it on the ship.

We were supposed to do better on the new world. Or maybe we weren't supposed to. Either way. I would lie against this chunk of wreckage and watch the hideously slow procession of the stars. As I hurtled through the universe, away from the nothing that remained from the nothing that I had know and towards new nothings that I had never seen before.

Either way, empty space is all the same and doing nothing is a drag even without the time dilation from the ungoddly speed one can attain when propelled by an angry star. It truely is a miracle that I am even alive. If you can call such a thing a miracle. Like I said, when taking to the heavens for our long journy, my people did it with sturdy stuff, but still, whatever force that hit us destroyed everything else. If anyone else did survive, their fate would be similar to my own and we would be getting further from one another by the moment, so it didn't really matter anyhow.

Before you ask, no, I couldn't just take off my helment. My people had instaled suicide prevention measures well before the launch. People tend to get depressed when confined to a ship, much less a spacesuit. My people knew this.

I prefered to lie with my face on the rib looking to my right. That way the left half of my vision was consummed by the dark mass of the rib as my right half, while mostly darkness contained a particularly bright star as well. By watching it inch toward the rib I was able to maintain some semblance of a sense of time passing. Then, one day, I saw a second light. I saw it wizzing pass and I could barely believe what my eyes told me it was. A shoulder mounted light on another space suit. And in it, I assumed, another person.  I hadn't moved since I had made it out of sight of the explosion. After what felt like days, it faded into the black that surrounded me, and I , resigned to my fate had laid down on the chunk of wreckadge and not moved since. But now, my body started up with a fire before my mind could even think to do next. I scrambled to the edge of the rib and I could see their light floating away from me. I hesitated for a moment. I have always been the type to hesitate even if my previous movement would suggest otherwise.

Then, I did it. I swung myself onto what had once been the interior side of the last souvenir from my ship. I planted my feet on it and I pushed with all my might. I demanded that my atrophied legs explode with all their remaining strength and then some. I pushed away from the last piece of everything i had ever known and pushed myself into the vast emptiness. The light seemed to slow in its escape, but it wouldn't be enough to catch it I knew. If I didn't do something immediatly I would spend the rest of my days watching it move further away from me.

I didn't have to do anything. A rocket propelled teather launched past me and again, with out though my body reached out and grabbed it. My mind realized that as soon as the teather ran out of slack, the tension would rip it from my grip, so I clamped it to my utility belt using the built in vice grip. It wouldn't let go for any force less than an exploding star. When the teather did run out of slack, the deceleration was so jarring that I thought it would break me.

The other creature and I fell into orbit with one another. The centripetal force created an artificial gravity. While the reintroduction of force upon my body pained me, feeling the grip of gravity against me was bliss, even if it was just an illusion.

And this is where you find me, spiraling in tandem through the universe with my companion. We are different species and share no means of communication. It is likely that we were born millenia apart, but time means little in our vacuous relm. We tried to pull ourselves closer together, but the increased rate of orbit made the endeavor sickening as well as exhausting. Though we had no language between us, we agreed that it was best we maintain our distance.

When you're alone in space, there is no point of refrence for movement and acceleration except ones self. As such, from my partners perspective it would have appeared that they stood still while I hurtled pass. But the truth is that they hurtled toward me and saved me from the broken prison of the rib. I don't mind them seeing it as such, but I smile in my knowing of the truth.

And so we tumble through the universe as close together as we can manage. Which is all one can really ask for anyhow.
Mona Feb 2019
It was may
We met
It was june-july-august
We match
It was september-october
Great longing and craving
For sure got closer
It was november
At the airport we met
New city
Adventure we‘ve had
It was december
You left
Homunculus Jan 2019
The temperature has been in the low single digits since the early morning hours. As I venture outside, everything is gray and lifeless. The brightest and most vibrant objects in this glum portrait of a day are the snowflakes. They dance; they flicker; they undulate, glistening midair in balletic flourishes, descending hesitantly to the ground, and then scattering back into the winds as they land. One of nature's cryptic metaphors? Perhaps, but who's to say? As my eyes take stock of the world around me, I find that I am surrounded on all sides by death and decay. Time has stripped the deciduous trees of their once vibrant autumn leaves, which have long since abandoned the branches to be raked up and wither into mulch. Juxtaposed against these, every block or so, are the evergreens, which seem at once to mock proudly their barren counterparts, and also to weep quietly in sullen isolation. The sod has become a hazy yellow which resembles straw, brittle in texture, and browning toward the roots. Within this morbid scenery, I understand that in only a few hours, I could just as easily succumb to the forces of nature which brought it about and become but another mere instance of it. A true illustration of the philosophical doctrine of sublimity. As soon as the sting of the cold makes contact with the skin, the brain kicks into survival mode. “I must escape this.” Nothing could possibly be more important. The leisure with which the homeward journey is usually pursued is completely abandoned. Only urgency remains:

        GET IN CAR
MAKE ROUNDS
STOP AT SIGN
“YOU'RE STOPPING, TOO?
        “TOO BAD; TOO SLOW;
        “TOO. *******. COLD.
        “I. GO. FIRST.

“HEATER'S NOT WORKING??!?!?!”
BANG ON DASHBOARD LIKE CHILD MID-TANTRUM
“HEATER IS WORKING?!?!?!?!”
HANDS IN FRONT OF WARM VENTS
“WINTER'S FORBIDDEN FRUIT!!!!!!!!”
“****, NOW IT'S COLD AGAIN?!?!?!
        “TURN. THE VENTS. OFF.”
“WHY EVEN HAVE A HEATER
        “IF IT ONLY WORKS FOR 30 SEC-”
WHY ARE YOU STOPPING?!?!?!
             THE ******* LIGHT IS
             GREEEEEENNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LOOK OVER LEFT SHOULDER
“NOPE, I'LL DIE:
“NOPE, I'LL DIE:
“NOPE, I'LL DIE:
“NOPE... WAIT, THERE'S MY IN!!!!!!
“FINALLY, A STRAIGHTAWAY!!!!!!”

“THE SNOW'S NOT STICKING,
I CAN GO FASTER THAN THIS. NO COP WOULD DARE PULL ME OVER IN THIS ****...

Well, maybe a sadomasochist on some “sir, please step out of the car” type ****, but I don't see one, anyhow.”

Okay, getting closer now. Can almost feel the loving protection of the stately brick walls, the roaring furnace, the tenacious water heater. Just another mile...
Up the hill- left turn- right turn- pull up- park. “Oh boy, here we go again”
*Rigorously examine pockets and center console to be sure nothing is accidentally left behind

Car door opens
“RUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

­       I reach the door, shivering like a frightened Chihuahua, hands palsied with cold as I fumble desperately for my key and struggle in the darkness to find the lock. “Click” GOT IT!!!!!!! I turn the key and push the door, but experience resistance due to the towel placed underneath to prevent the draft from coming in. I heave with all my weight and the door budges as I violently stagger into my humble domicile. I make my way into my room to find my cats sleeping intently on my bed. One of them looks up at me like “What's your deal?” Oh, Dante, if only you knew.
I've been reading a lot of Pynchon lately. I like the sort of stream of consciousness prose he launches into sometimes, and decided to tinker with it in my daily writing practice.
Also...
I imported this from my word processor, and the HP algo ****** the entire original formatting up; so I hope you'll forgive some of the aesthetic deficiencies.
Hannah once again with tears streaming from hazel eyes silently praying, "Oh Lord I need you desperately to show me how to make the best of this situation." Using her delicate hands to cover her face and trying to reason with her own heart. "Josh deserves a wife who can return his love, a wife that can be madly in love with him. I want to be that kind of wife. I want those feelings. I would hate to spend a life time in marriage where there is no love."
Hannah looked down at her hand and remembered his words when he'd given her the wedding rings. "I will wait a life time for you to love me if that's what it takes. I love you. There's no need for you to force feelings for me Hannah."
Regret hit her hard at how easily it seemed when she foolishly gave herself to Jake.
He showed her a different kind of attention that she needed. It dawned upon her right then that Jake didn't love her nor him. She confused it for love. She'd found a stand-in for the attention she craved from her father.
She was more naive but Jake was more crafty. There had been a great hole in her that she thought Jake could feel... an emptiness that only God could fill. Perhaps now she could love Josh as God intended. Now that she set her selfishness aside and forgiven her earthly father and would be right with her Heavenly Father again. She understood love and all of it's honesty now. Maybe it wasn't too late.
A tinge of fear seized a moment making her wonder how she could ever forgive herself. Then questions filled her mind as if to tell this wonderful, loving husband of hers of her betrayal and sin. And if she did would she lose him forever. Wondering if she could keep it hidden from him but if she did how could she feel good about it?
"Oh dear Heavenly Father," she tried once again to pray but only heart breaking sobs came out.
~Author Ven J. Arnold (rough draft).
~(SacredInkedBlood)
This is an excerpt from 1 of my short stories. Just a rough draft. I'm having problems with figuring out how to go about getting published. This is a fiction piece.
Georgi Naydenov Dec 2018
For if it were someone else,
Or something else,
Something unavoidable,
I would let it slide.

As we grew older,
our dreams and ambitions,
our sprinkle and sparkle,
thoughts and decisions,
would slowly alter.

For if my own body and mind would deny it,
I still crave you, crave you, with each fibre of my being.
You may have hurt me, hurt me beyond repair.

Hurt me so that I had to put on a mask and play out my role.
My role, of forever having my memories engraved in my skull, but with a cheerful smile and carry on.

Sometimes loving you was hard, sometimes it was almost impossible.
But never had I regretted or had my love for you fade.
Despite that, hearing what I did, gave me a shiver down my spine.

As I finally realized, that I was only a tool, made to love unconditionally.
Love someone that had me replaced with a flick of a finger, with no regrets and sorrow.
Without caring if I were to survive exiled as if it was all for nought.

In truth, I survived, I got reborn.
I had my wounds all patched up, my memories erased and replaced.
Although, there is something, something deep inside me, a piece which would remain to be void.

That, this is a part, which I am forever cursed to carry in me, my final long and everlasting, piece of art.

For when my last moments come, I am sure that my last beat, would be for you.
This poem was one of my very first creations, that might as well be two separate ones.
Marsha Nov 2018
to me,
you are
an art

                              to you,
                              I was
                              a tragedy
you still remain, and will always be
a fine piece of art
to me.
// edit: thank you for having this in the daily. ♡
Emmanuella Nov 2018
The scientist moved from table to table, beaker to beaker. She adjusted her goggles on her nose and sniffed, turning a vial on its head, tipping its content into another.
She stood back and with frantic, excited gleams playing in her eyes observed the mixture fizz, fizzle, pop, sizzle and flow over.
She hmmed and this is where I stepped in, asking her, what it is she was doing. What experiment was she carrying out? What question she was attempting to answer.

She, beginning an attempt anew, picked up a vial containing a sweet-scented liquid and stepped up to her table again.
“I’m trying to see...dear. I’m trying to see...”
“See what?”
“The balance. What is the right amount...” She breathed this last sentence under her breath like it was a question more to herself than an answer to me.
“The right amount of what?”
At this, she turned to me.

“Of Love.” She said.
“For you either love too much or too little.
Or you either receive too much love or too little love. And in each case, it leaves a dreadful feeling in one's stomach.
This cannot be healthy. It isn’t. So I must find out this equation, solve this puzzle for it is so perplexing.”
She turned back to her vials and beakers, murmuring under her breath all the while. “It is so perplexing...it is so perplexing...”
"And what amount of love will you give, and what amount of love will you receive that does not amount to a dreadful feeling?"
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