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Literature Text
Sorry I’m late,
I tried to be on time.
You can’t rush Mother Nature,
or defy her, apparently.
One foolish night spent in ecstasy,
has turned into eighteen years
of headaches and heartaches.
I guess that’s what happens
when two souls meet,
but forget to bring condoms
as a welcoming gift.
I tried to be on time.
You can’t rush Mother Nature,
or defy her, apparently.
One foolish night spent in ecstasy,
has turned into eighteen years
of headaches and heartaches.
I guess that’s what happens
when two souls meet,
but forget to bring condoms
as a welcoming gift.
Literature
my name.
my name is
alyssa, and maybe it means
hold your breath or
chase the stars. maybe it is
that awkward shyness
of saying hello to someone
for the first time
or the warm feeling
from hugs and held hands.
maybe it means
maybe my wishes will come true,
someday or maybe
it is the sound of the wind
caressing leaves and the lullabies
of wind chimes, or maybe
it is the voice inside your head;
the shade of moonlight and
comets.
maybe 'alyssa' is a synonym
for hopeful and dreaming and
'full of life'. maybe it is the rush
in your ears while running,
the challenge of catching your breath again;
the music of wishing and the thrill
o
Literature
you're the coffee
paint by numbers and my writers block
are having sex again. i can't do anything
creative on my own anymore. we are
scattered snapshots, disorganized,
not in order, and i'm my own "out of order"
sign on a bathroom stall door in a public
washroom. my clavicles won't let go of my ankles.
i sleep in diagonals and wake up with
"i-slept-all-wrong" and "i-have-a-stiffness-
in-my-neck-and-a-crick-in-my-back."
i had intercourse with purity,
i used dirt as laundry detergent,
i slept with insomnia as my pillow,
and this morning i ate my hygiene
in the shower. tan lines were typewritten
on my cheeks when i wore your ugly
fingers. you
Literature
The Grammar Gangsters
Beware the grammar gangsters!
The mafia of the literary underworld.
They saunter into stanzas,
Weapons concealed
Under their trench coats
Or in violin cases.
They can make you talk,
"With just a few well-placed speech marks,"
Leave you shouting! Where you should have whispered!
And pulp your bold statements into quavering questions?
They can, pepper, your, phrases with, commas,
Or bring your piece to a dead.
Full.
Stop.
They'll trap you (between brackets)
As you - dash - to the exit.
Then: punch a blunted colon
Into the gut of your text
Or worse;
Force-feed you a poisonous semicolon,
Then hack/slash your work to shreds.
T
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Comments9
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Quite amusing and wonderfully written