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#editing
1 Ring 5 Rings 10 Rings 20 Rings… I was just sleeping— walking down the stairs with heavy feet. The window cracks shining light to my face— tempting me back to bed. Opposite of a charming kiss given unto a princess in slumber. … But I cant go to sleep as she doubled the rings on the door. So I opened the door and like a dead corpse, I faded by the light. “Ahhh.” At that moment I remembered what I dreamt of… “Lying and Semaniusly” Blurted out as I realized I was already blocked? “That makes no sense!” I thought to myself. Why would they do that? What was the reason for it? Was it necessary? All of these questions and my mind was tied to the self-deprecating rings that stopped me from searching in this dream. ———————————- To acknowledge that I left the dream confused was frustrating. But cleanly I came out of the dream— and had to check if it really was a dream… Contumely so— I left with a new word. “Semaniusly”?
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Jul 28, 2025
Jul 28, 2025 at 9:26 AM UTC
Lying and Semaniusly
we filmed things the audience would never forgive us for then we edited them out it was the right thing to do the darkness remained behind the camera but could still be felt by the viewer
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Jul 8, 2025
Jul 8, 2025 at 5:25 PM UTC
edit
My stomach churns And my fingers ache My brain screams My heart shakes I am deeply sick In anxious anticipation Of all the worlds I will write
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May 14, 2025
May 14, 2025 at 3:50 AM UTC
True Calling
I’m always watching myself watch the world. Even in love, I’m already narrating the ending. I turn silence into stanzas. Affection into evidence. Every kiss, a metaphor. Every absence, a motif. People think I’m honest. But really, I just edit well. Half of what I write never happened. The other half happened too hard. I’ve written the same heartbreak fourteen different ways. Gave it a new name. Gave it better dialogue. Made him softer so the betrayal feels worse. I say I’m writing for me, but I’m always picturing the line someone might underline and send to their ex at 2:03 a.m. I’ve performed pain like a dress rehearsal— highlighted the devastation, downplayed the shame, cut the part where I begged and called it pacing. There are poems that made people cry and replies I never opened. Because if I read them, it might mean I was never alone in it. And I don’t know if that would feel better or worse. Some nights I write like I’m searching for proof that it happened at all. That he said it. That I felt it. That I was the kind of girl someone could ruin on purpose. And if the writing is good enough, maybe I don’t have to go back. Maybe I don’t have to forgive him. Maybe I just have to survive it beautifully. So I sharpen the line. I fix the form. I leave the ending open. I publish the ache. And I tell myself that counts as closure. The betrayal was real. The good lines were mine. And maybe closure doesn’t come in paragraphs— maybe it’s just a quiet night I don’t turn into a poem.
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Apr 4, 2025
Apr 4, 2025 at 2:06 AM UTC
Editorial Notes
I’m always watching myself watch the world. Even in love, I’m already narrating the ending. I turn silence into stanzas. Affection into evidence. Every kiss, a metaphor. Every absence, a motif. People think I’m honest. But really, I just edit well. Half of what I write never happened. The other half happened too hard. I’ve written the same heartbreak fourteen different ways. Gave it a new name. Gave it better dialogue. Made him softer so the betrayal feels worse. I say I’m writing for me, but I’m always picturing the line someone might underline and send to their ex at 2:03 a.m. I’ve performed pain like a dress rehearsal— highlighted the devastation, downplayed the shame, cut the part where I begged and called it pacing. There are poems that made people cry and replies I never opened. Because if I read them, it might mean I was never alone in it. And I don’t know if that would feel better or worse. Some nights I write like I’m searching for proof that it happened at all. That he said it. That I felt it. That I was the kind of girl someone could ruin on purpose. And if the writing is good enough, maybe I don’t have to go back. Maybe I don’t have to forgive him. Maybe I just have to survive it beautifully. So I sharpen the line. I fix the form. I leave the ending open. I publish the ache. And I tell myself that counts as closure. The betrayal was real. The good lines were mine. And maybe closure doesn’t come in paragraphs— maybe it’s just a quiet night I don’t turn into a poem.
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67
Oops, I edit As I go, I take a step Then erase it. It’s counterproductive, Don’t I know, But I see the flaw Then I chase it. It won’t go away ‘Til the mirror is shattered, Whether or not It actually matters. So I’ll cut and I’ll add I’ll rewrite, double back Only hoping that you’ll Love what’s left In the end.
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Mar 12, 2024
Mar 12, 2024 at 11:26 AM UTC
edit as you go
I liked it I really did you write beautifully it reminded me of that book but different of course it was a bestseller because do you know what I liked when he came in and she and then he says haha I had to laugh out loud not because it was bad but because you once said no of course, that it really happened doesn't matter and what do you say that I now put you down as a Sunday writer if that's how you feel it's your problem besides, I haven't read it yet.
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Sep 5, 2022
Sep 5, 2022 at 3:54 AM UTC
To my editor
Our love. Two armies combined. The universe and the stars integrated, whose mission is to place us together.   All we both want is to be, at last, next to each other and feel our own comfort. Share our constant hearbeat. How much time should we wait until our fondness tangles us. You becoming part of me and me becoming part of you. The indestructible bond.
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Sep 23, 2021
Sep 23, 2021 at 7:12 PM UTC
The Love Poem
Some days It's hard throwing away All the things I want to say Other days It's super ******* easy
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Feb 16, 2021
Feb 16, 2021 at 3:58 PM UTC
They Who Have Ears, Let Them Hear
For instance If one is silent That life needs some editing If one is out of time That life needs some editing If one is within 4 walls That life needs some editing If one is in pain That life needs some editing If one is in dark mode That life needs some editing If one is out of a dream That life needs some editing Time up There is so much more Outside the box Breathe easy way
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Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 7:06 PM UTC
Tuning
******* Just what science required, Enticed by bioengineering, Nucleotides it concerned, Nucleosides it can fix, Increasing the methods, For editing genome, Errors in the genes it fixes, Righting some wrongs of mother nature. Decoded by a wonderful lady, On a day of helplessness, Utilizing this tool we are now, Debted by science and technology, Neat-handed through practice we become, Always we shall utilize CRISPR-Cas9 for good. Few people notice that DNA is the suffix of her name.
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Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 1:19 PM UTC
Mother Genius
Everything I say You whisper condolences On my soul On my spirit On the very essence of who I am Where I have been You wait Like pigeons For that moment I feed you the scraps Tiny morsels Of my being Sit on the window sill of your life Waiting For patience Promises unkept That swept Up and up From cranberry filled faucets of life Where we sat in Now you Pull the drain And Swish swish Where one you were my voiceless Power strip Now you are editing the very frequency of my being I must now turn up the volume Shout it loud Leave this room of our lives Leave the stereo at 10 Listen to my voice On the headset And walk the **** out
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Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 11:38 PM UTC
Editing
Monday, March 19, 2018 1:04 AM I once loved to laugh, and though I still do, hidden beneath the ripple of joy An echoing scar, A teardrop of pain. Once So loud and so free, things hilarious to me, Were projected for all to hear, But now I've reflected on my laughter of past. Of how many times that laugh was a tool, to cover the pain caused by all of the fools, The cruel words that were spoken, and jokes left me broken, As they all fell so close to home. Leaving me weary and wary, And oh so alone, I comprised a charm to protect me from harm: "Fools cant hurt me if I laugh along", I'll steal their power with one of my own, I'll laugh the loudest, and i will laugh last. While all of the while leaving a piece of it there. Until one day none was left, An empty and broken and hollowed out laugh, A cruel joke of it's glorious past.
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Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 12:09 PM UTC
Hollow Laughter
I recently had the great privilege of editing Mike Essig's latest poetry collection, THE BIOLOGY OF STRANGENESS, and I'm honoured to have been entrusted with such fantastic material. Putting together a book like this is every poetry geek's dream. It's a beautifully textured assortment of poems, earthy yet lyrical, narrated by a voice that's uniquely grained with experience. There are pieces that will make you smile, think, wince; there are pieces that hit you in the gut out of nowhere; there are pieces that welcome you into them like old, worn-in shoes; there are pieces you will remember late some night when you're by yourself, and remembering them will make you feel less alone. This collection of poetry makes you look at the banal and the everyday afresh; it finds magic and mystery in the mundane, and even Hawaiian shirts are poem-worthy when Mike Essig's writing about them. The Kindle version is already available through Amazon. A paperback edition is due out next month, and I can't wait to have a copy of this book on my shelf as well as on my e-reader. Mike's previous poetry books, Never Forgotten and Huck Finn Is Dead are also available through Amazon and are excellent.   From his author profile on B Star Kitty Press: "Mike Essig is a veteran of Vietnam and a retired English teacher. He’s also been recruited by the muse as a poet, like he hadn’t already been through enough." Sample poems, links to sales pages and more info can be found at the B Star Kitty Press website.  www(dot)bstarkittypress(dot)com. Please do support this very talented indie author.
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Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
Poets Supporting Poets
I recently had the great privilege of editing Mike Essig's latest poetry collection, THE BIOLOGY OF STRANGENESS, and I'm honoured to have been entrusted with such fantastic material. Putting together a book like this is every poetry geek's dream. It's a beautifully textured assortment of poems, earthy yet lyrical, narrated by a voice that's uniquely grained with experience. There are pieces that will make you smile, think, wince; there are pieces that hit you in the gut out of nowhere; there are pieces that welcome you into them like old, worn-in shoes; there are pieces you will remember late some night when you're by yourself, and remembering them will make you feel less alone. This collection of poetry makes you look at the banal and the everyday afresh; it finds magic and mystery in the mundane, and even Hawaiian shirts are poem-worthy when Mike Essig's writing about them. The Kindle version is already available through Amazon. A paperback edition is due out next month, and I can't wait to have a copy of this book on my shelf as well as on my e-reader. Mike's previous poetry books, Never Forgotten and Huck Finn Is Dead are also available through Amazon and are excellent.   From his author profile on B Star Kitty Press: "Mike Essig is a veteran of Vietnam and a retired English teacher. He’s also been recruited by the muse as a poet, like he hadn’t already been through enough." Sample poems, links to sales pages and more info can be found at the B Star Kitty Press website.  www(dot)bstarkittypress(dot)com. Please do support this very talented indie author.
Continue reading...
10
I merge clips. I merge audio and video, sound and pictures. That's all I merge; For fear of disrupting this natural order I have constructed. But tonight I merged two separate lives I owned And to my surprise, things turned out okay.
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Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
Merge
Perched perfectly on tumblr and facebook For everyone to get a good look At how I felt a month ago But why wait so long Because words need trimming Stanzas need perfecting Lines need to find their proper place And that takes time And in my mind A thirty day cycle will suffice
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Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
Editing
I love editing. Have I said that yet? I love practically hearing The scenes And the words That zip Through my mind Like arrows From the bow Of an Indian. I love feeling like I am doing something. I love editing, have I said that yet? Well, I'm saying it again. Stories, novels, poems... I love it all.
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Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 9:12 AM UTC
Editing
When the wind blows the heart goes wild, though you're now known for resolution Waving, you wave to meet me planted feet, we work on and never will the will divide, subside or enervate knowing all the drive of future forward blast the past and liberate the little pieces to combine to gain one whole life once shattered we come to meeting stand to celebrate When will this wind stop beating at the windows? When they ask, tell them straight and lively, it won't.
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Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 6:24 PM UTC
Beating At the Windows
Writing is an Art so many people say Selection of the words arranged in such a way. These words are there for all not just for the select few and we all have a choice to arrange them as we do. It's not a thing to rush but don't take to much time, to start just write them down before they leave your mind. Then we can take some time now they are down on paper To edit as we wish which can also be a caper. So many words we chose as we move our words our way but we find to smooth it out that we're throwing most away. We want our characters to have unique temperaments. so that when the story is read out the audience cements. If we can't get that bond with our writing it may taper but we can play around at will as long as it's put down on paper.
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 8:45 AM UTC
The Art of Writing
Mnimalists uproot everything, Aiding natural entropy. Poets can do likewise. Omit redundancy; Scorn verbosity, Make words work Hard. Articles shunned, Prepositions abhorred; Conjunctions - need none. Edit, For our sake. Snip, Fit words together. Make words work Harder.
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Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Words Working Hard