The Guardian
Now loud, now frenzied, little crickets! Sing of
ash debris flurries with reckless intent,
engulfed in smoke and flame.
I saw the future that afternoon.
Today, though, I was happy just pretending,
really; finding the red endings
entirely too predictable and seldom worth
the wait.
We climbed the stairs and stood, now, on the track
and blotted out in the cold romance
and bow under the weight of the song
and, as the
beryl fluxed,
a slight lullaby emanated from a corner cafe.
Thought now much memory of it is lost,
trapped eyes watch as volatile insects scour
a satisfied rouge, each in separate bark and leaf.
And so I am afraid to say,
all are children of the suffering,
of imperceptible earthquakes and pianissimo chords
that bay with anguish,
carried off to the other lands with
cell-phones, guns and tanks;
what a cheap, plastic death you’ve gone to!
Mosaic of points converge
with time, all the points scattered across the
broke recollections of
American Pride.
Thanks!
Title says it all! Thanks for sending me to find some ordinarywonder.
What happened to one of my favorite writers…?!
What happened to amoralfictionalism? I was gone for a while from Tumblr and I see someone else is running BurningMuse and all of her messages in my inbox say “amoralfictionalism-deactived2.” Of course her page is gone. I’m just wondering if she started a new account and I missed the big reveal, or if she is not longer a Tumblr patron?
“Stop the hate, taste the rainbow.”
Rick Santorum, the ridiculously homophobic and hateful hopeful for the Republican nomination, claims that glitter bombs are OWS protesters? Total bullshit, he knows exactly what a glitter bomb is, it has happened to him more than once, and “g-bombs” were going off well before Occupy was even a solitary tent in Zuccotti park. He claims it is the “radical left” trying to shut down free speech, which is why good old Rick Santorum fights to “make sure all voices [who pay him] are heard.”
Glitter bomb Rick Santorum! I don’t care who does it, but someone has to be where he is or where he will be soon! Re-post this until it reaches someone who can do it! Add your names or e-mail to the list at the bottom of the post, and if anyone actually does it and says “Glitter bomb! With regards, the People of the United States,” (not the Atheists, or Gay, or Straight, or Christian, or Jewish, just the People of) I’ll re-post the link here and across multiple other domains.
I actually would love to see a reign of terror like no other upon Rick Santorum, if he got glitter bombed every day for the next year I think that a point would be driven home pretty damn effectively. However, I am a man of modest goals, and getting one person to glitter bomb him, film it, and live in immortality on the internet is enough for me!
Benjamin Baker - Benjaminbaker85@gmail.com
Made me chuckle a bit.
REPOST: To those few readers
[To those few readers…]
…who frequent my work, any constructive criticism is not only welcome, it is encouraged and begged for, hat in hand. I need help getting my creative juices flowing, and discussing how I can work on my pieces helps the most! So if anyone has comments, or questions, or even suggestions please message me!
To those few readers
…who frequent my work, any constructive criticism is not only welcome, it is encouraged and begged for, hat in hand. I need help getting my creative juices flowing, and discussing how I can work on my pieces helps the most! So if anyone has comments, or questions, or even suggestions please message me!
“A Swallow Madness”
From behind a blurred veil
pale, bloodshot eyes shine;
they sheen while
the chair beside them melts
into ponds of unrest.
From below a fluorescent glow,
wide pupils dart about
a wormwood room,
cast over panels sliding,
sliding from boiling wall streets.
From above a sordid carpet,
worn eyelids blink back
visages of rolling whitecaps
throwing sawdust in air while
hair clogs trembling aerators.
From below a down comforter,
frightened eyes dart black;
back and forth, probing:
for a chair, solid walls, a carpet,
that solid sense of mutual vitality.
From underneath a sickness,
a boiling fever breaks and
the nightmare dissolved
to a quiet living room;
heavy, laden with breathing.
“Brownie, You’re doing a heck of a job” - Sept, 2005
Disaster,
a train crash speeding along
the prostrate coast of a prostrate nation.
Tragedy,
to be sure, marred with the
inconsistencies, the brutality, of ignorance.
Who will ride the fence this time
when all footing has been lost
and we must decide where to fall?
More importantly:
who will return to the
deserted city?
One-hundred and sixty-one strikes
and you’re out, but:
“Brownie, you’re doin’ a heck of a job.”
I could,
in all seriousness, not give a fuck what you think.
truth and trust in the human experience..
