Defenestrationism Contest Entry by Ikeepboothin, literature
Literature
Defenestrationism Contest Entry
Stanley Williams had worked hard for his whole life. He was very boring and quite content to be so while outside of his work, but his positive attitude and simple disposition had left him well liked for most of his life. Everyone at his job had known him as a hard worker and a man of great strength to boot, until the day some new hire ran over his foot with the forklift.
The drug tests came back negative, so workers compensation kicked in. The employer, a crappy little warehouse by the river, had the wherewithal to pay for mediocre health insurance. The insurance covered most of his reconstructive surgery, but Stanley would be on crutches fo
Look at me
when I'm desperate
for your attention.
Look at me
when I'm sobbing
out your name.
Look at me
when no one
else will listen.
Look at me
because I'm
crying
begging
s c r e a m i n g
for help
Look at me
won't you look at me?
Please someone look at me
and save me from myself.
Look at me
because if you don't
I might just
d i s a p p e a r
8/30
(a nursery Sonnet)
An earthbound sentiment to what I’ve seen,
With eyes & lips that paint me in a trance.
Cerebral balance floating in between,
This face that’s made of plaster, as I dance.
You twist the key so up on toes I spin,
My graceful arms raised high to catch the sun.
The silence tells of broken heart within,
That never shows the pain to anyone.
To turn in place on endlessly ad hoc,
I tell a secret only known to me.
In finding naught to envy would you mock
That I could never hear the melody.
For once be what an honest girl is like,
A plastic Cinder’s wish at stroke of night.
On slope of Appalachian clime
A widow swept her porch of grime,
The bristle whisk of parchment sweep
Would start to slow as she would weep.
When suddenly a ghost appeared,
Egyptian dress and braided beard.
The woman held her broomstick tight
As if preparing for a fight:
"It's you again, Old Pharaoh, dark
Why do you, widow maker, stalk.
Is it to brand me with your mark
So angels know me by my walk?"
Old Pharaoh nodded thoughtfully
And raised a hand as if to speak.
The widow waited patiently
But all she heard was branches creak.
"Be gone from here, Old Pharaoh, haunt
Why do you never say a word?
You come and go as if to taunt,
It's no
The Best Cafe on Wallstreet by Ikeepboothin, literature
Literature
The Best Cafe on Wallstreet
In the back of the little café, a man in a suit and tie sat in a comfortable chair with his laptop open and muttered obscenities. Seemingly at random times, all those around him would hear him say things like, “fuck me in the ass,” or, “stupid fucking cock gobblers.” It was quite distracting.
For a while the customers had assumed the man just had tourettes, but as he sat there in his flawless Armani suit on that laptop it was becoming more and more obvious that he was in fact quite free from such deficiencies. He was older than most with pale wrinkled skin and white hair so long that it nearly reached his shoulde
NaPoWriMo 2017, Week 2: April 8 - April 14 by Jade-Pandora, literature
Literature
NaPoWriMo 2017, Week 2: April 8 - April 14
April 14
Endless Rain
There's either too much
or not enough in my world
of second guessing
In other worlds
sharing this planet
you perish either way
The rain comes
without one's permission
but stays when invited
As a child
I collected rain at the beach
as if in a game
When it hid from me
in its taunting
pretending to be the sea
The heart of knowing rain
shows where our faith belongs
without question
I always hear the rain & wind
Both, with sun & moon
Since the drought was quelled
Rain lives within myself
a part of me since birth
But peace?
I wonder
when next it will fall
always in doubt
I pray for eternal rain
that I've never seen
Each day my illness' brings me pain,
On ev'ry nerve it seems to rain.
The coping of my riddled brain
Has learned to help me not complain.
I don't say 'woe is me' to self.
I turn my nose up at the wealth
That others want more than their health,
To leave their kindness on a shelf.
But me, I'm writing poetry,
Embracing thrills' discovery.
I dream to be a fantasy
From out of shell, yes!, to be free.
I think myself as light as air,
A gentle sprite that's hardly there
With sprigs of honeycomb to wear,
And flower blossoms in my hair.
From forest top is where I see
Winged things above the canop