Stream of Consciousness
The long road to vegetarianism. Top Story - July 2026.
Sometimes you get a feeling in the pit of your stomach that meat is murder, and you can't face another morsel of another once-living, breathing animal between your teeth, sliding down your throat to be digested in your intricate system of tubes and acids. Sometimes. But not for me. It's taken me a long time, on various roadsย To reach that startling conclusionย I am on the long road to vegetarianismโ a road with many milestones of meats I shall say goodbye to. I believe it is right for me. I love animals and hate the poor, harsh treatment they endure, hate the chemicals and hormones pumped into them for commerce. But I will miss steaks and chicken and ribs and burgers and bacon. Sometimes the road to vegetarianism is paved with longing of a forlorn variety. Sometimes the best decisions are the hardest to make. So here I find myself edging closer to my destination On the long road to vegetarianism.
By Paul Stewart2 months ago in Poets
The Ferryman
I am trying to get my feet underneath me Where I can tie them into a knot, Rubber ankles bending like Jell-o In between my fingers coated in sand. Sand from the beaches of lakes shouldn't Fall into the soup of my bones, should they? I think it's supposed to stay under the Cold, clear glacier waters where it can kill All but the stones and the shorebirds. . You could drown out in those waters. Ripped out past the sandbars into the purple Waves slamming against the side of some No-name, bad luck boat that has too many Holes in it to be considered anything but A near tragedy, an eager little disaster. Everyone I ever loved swayed on deck, Wondering with thought-bubble ideas If it was okay to just let me drown. . I wasn't sure what kind of answer I wanted To hear pour out of their mouth on the wind So I let waters, crisp and fresh and cool, Suck me to the depths of their stomachs, Let them gnaw on my candied cartilage. If there was more to me, I must've left it on the Glittering glass surface of the lakes as a token To the Ferryman and the hunting birds So that I can tuck into the sand and go to sleep.
By Silver Daux2 months ago in Poets
