You buy your first stilettos, four inches high and fire engine red. You can’t quite strut in them yet, but you will.
The world breaks everyone, and many are strong at the broken places. / Ernest Hemingway I hid this for a long time. Mostly because I sent it off to a publisher, but also because it’s without a doubt my most personal piece on RB. It was accepted by the publisher and recently I read it aloud at the book launch. Yasemin Sumner (who also had a story published in the same book) and Luckyvegetable said my voice didn’t tremble at all. I think they were being kind. After all, when you read your diary out to a room full of strangers, you’re allowed to shake a bit.
he could see the eyes growing wider and wider, the whites showing like sharks teeth
I don’t know about this one. It’s a bit sticky on the fingertips. Constantly there but the words won’t come out…
did I really live there in such quiet grace / in that cold and lonely place / with my art gifts and youthful beauty / like some mystery fa…
A dangerous season. A time to forgive and forget.
One lick of the darkness / Eyes closed, mouth open
This is for the Melbourne Writers’ Meeting in April – the theme is feast, and all that entails.
two prickles / either will hurt / neither gives / any alert
the very talented Mr Paul Rees-Jones posted a very true picture of nature vs man made Nettles on Barbs / these words was my warning in my head I thought you’d like to hear them too! / Simply “DON’T TOUCH EITHER” / Chookas! ♥
I am a wound. I am my pen that bleeds.
Once upon a time I took a pretty intense writing class. One of the exercises was to write about a powerful childhood memory. The thinking being, that once you began to write about the memory, adhering to the class code of applying vivid imagery, that eventually you’d move down into a deeper voice of writing, and the story would open up and morph into some kind of poetry written in a more authentic voice. Feeling as if I was going to crawl out of my skin today, I assigned myself this very same exercise. The piece of rambling turpentine to your left is what came out. I feel as if I’ve lost my voice, my muse, even my sense of humor. I await only for the the thing to come knocking at my door that will set forth the pirate in me. And on a beautiful treasure hunt I will go.
Teeth and claws, nails and razors, fangs and beady glowing eyes.
Fear of the Dark / Warmonger62 Chapter 1
opening as I am / as I do, as I must / with every thrust / my hard hearted ways to your black autumn lust
This is third installment of my Storm series. The first can be found here and second can be found here I almost always remember my dreams. Sometimes they are bizarre, sometimes full of horror, or sometimes crazy erotic. But always, almost always they are so vivid it can take awhile upon wakening to shake them off. This was one such dream…so lucid and visceral and real. I woke up with such an ache in my groin I cannot tell you. Sucks to be single sometimes. Anyhow…I hope you enjoy.
Toxic-Tony I called him.The zingers he flung at me on a regular basis cut, tore and ground like broken grass into my fragility. Another d…
For Star Twister 49 – Door Ajar 345 Words
then she took the loaded gun / she tried to forget / and fired at the past shot the centre of it’s heart
When memory isn’t held accountable / when memory forgets to buy bullets
Dearest, _I wanted to write to and tell you of how I long for the moment when we will be together again. The cold winds pace, howlin…
arsenic works quickly, and is delicate—So delicate that I could paint my lips with it, and kiss you as is our wont, and you would die in my arms, as I would live…
yet so alive and for a while dancing on my toungue / analogy of fire as i consume the entirety of your embers / rest now and let it be the …
Generaly i was aiming for a multi-descriptive thirst promoting artform / overlayed by a dash of temptation one might say i could eat the words and become the taster of the art.
Was that a smile on my face? / Nope, just a grin
Who freakin knows? Caroline Wood and Heather got me thinking and this is what came out…
Why?
Who Fuck You!
“Genetically Modified Food – Panacea or poison” SOME RELAY EDUCATIONAL INFORMATION.
Genetically Modified Food – Panacea or poison# SOME RELAY EDUCATIONAL INFORMATION.
tossing its head in anger and jealous rage
feelings for a jealous rant
A little grey mouse, contorted with pain. / Trying to flee, trying in vain.
Who cares about a mouse?
Every year he’d dreamt of doing it; Every year he’d planned to do it; But he never had. Never. Until now. He’d checked his appearanc…
Trick or Treat can work both ways. / And Death can be Sweet. PROMPT: Halloween Sweets / WORD COUNT : 675
Your Poison…Bitter / Taste,Broken Is Love / Yes,Broken Again…
Bitter Is Taste Of Loves Resentment
Die with me… in my arms / Can you hear that deathly calm? / Place your hand upon my chest / As I lay us down to rest
This is a poem about two lovers killing themselves to be together eternally.
And ink, my blood, calls back the void
I’ll say this much for writer’s block; it produces some scary poetry.
i know the dance you do / for i’ve danced it with you / the heavy pulse of desire / that hangs on the heart like stone…
I am a prisoner with no key / you cannot see the bars / but they are there all the time / you cannot see the scars / the scars are painful / ...
Poison and cages… “POISON AND CAGES” was featured in the group Bits and Pieces July 2008
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