Stream of Consciousness
Hundred-seventeenth Find in the meaning of life Scavenger Hunt.
(Proof of the Bio Statement;) IT’S LIKE A TWING… singes the sleeves, also the master plan, gone now I suppose. Think bigger, you slicker, Mr. Kovach, Snow King on the failed sun gas giant’s heat wave. Quick save in the tunnel on the rails infinitum—oh, it’s a loading screen. Hold, Please. Lactose, never cheese in the party photo, what bro?! Shit, let the duel commence. Not playing the fool, not introducing myself again. (What? Whe--) Creating the element that fits the villain ride, blanketed in a peacoat, lesser Boondock Saint or the assassin mistaken for the Hitman nerd, choose your color. 3…2… Warnings stop fitting the outcomes. No clear direction anymore, not even to run. Both keep you warm before the buttons meet. Take a seat…A different kind of meeting, under grandiosed therapeutic style of retreating, bleeding into this tattoo for a certain 'kind--' of feeling. No use seething, I’m rereading that cosmic pamphlet (thanks) that everyone received at the gate, and while as we gaze now it’s a four-part novel now, most others forgot they memorized it in their waiting room.
By Willem Indigoabout a month ago in Poets
The Daily Struggle
I wander into the kitchen Timid appetite regained I flinch as I reach Feeling the charge, prepare to release A lightning bolt leaps From finger to stainless steel facade Opening the fridge I find a box full of the nothing I've already seen I stand, to a solid thunk Freezer handle absorbs A fresh blow from my head Stumbling back in stunned agony Skinned, my shin On cardboard and destiny A box that once held groceries Lies on the kitchen floor Like an unmatched sock Cabinets gape, as they silently taunt I slam door after door in my frenzy of shock The static of pain Radiates From crooked toes To the throbbing goose egg lump Defeated, I retreat To the soft reclining chair A slog across the clear ten feet of Laminate squares
By K.B. Silver about a month ago in Poets
I resign
To Whom It May Concern: I resign. Respectfully yours, The Author
By Mack D. Amesabout a month ago in Poets
What is a Man?
The same hands that destroy Can care and build Careful how you raise your boy Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook , Twitter , and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here .
By Atomic Historianabout a month ago in Poets
BONES DON'T LIE
BONES DON’T LIE A Pathway Worker’s Song Intro Yesterday I wrote something that came from a deep place, a place shaped by the world I grew up in, and the world I chose instead. This piece is about extremism, autonomy, migration, ancestry, and the human road. It’s about refusing to go backward, even when the culture around us tries to drag us there. The photos included are the quiet moments that inspired it, pauses, breaths, shifts.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a month ago in Poets
