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AGE:
100
LOC: NY, NY
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: September 15
LOC: NY, NY
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: September 15
I’ve been writing since I was a child: stories, poetry, much of it personal as I’ve been an avid journal writer for many years. I write mainly for the cathartic release. My love of words is a passion quite possibly influenced by my father who had written many poems and a few screen plays. This is all experimental for me right now; a place to store and receive constructive feedback/criticism on the stories I’m working on and things that I write on a whim. I do not really know what makes a poem ‘good’ and I just write what I feel and enjoy reading whatever moves me. My greatest dream is to publish a novel someday, though I suffer from indecision and lack of organization. I have many ideas for stories, however I am working mostly on my memo…
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Version 1
5 Reviews
1 Comment
These words roll off the tongue, but our true thoughts are stuck warm inside our mouths like the gum we pretend not to chew. Didn't they ever tell you it will eventually make holes into your pretty pearls and everyone will see how you lie through your teeth. Close your mouth shut like a good little clam, and shhh!, don't say another word. How many lies did you tell yesterday and how many will you tell tomorrow? Little white ones. Sometimes when they ask us a question we give them a learnt res...
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0 Reviews
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I want to be a child for you I want to go to your school And look away when I catch you staring at me - in a short skirt my legs long and fuzzed Like the skin of a ripe peach
Version 1
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There is nothing sadder than the song Of a desperate man As he makes his way through the aisles If he can sing they might give him praise & a dollar or two His hat nearly full; jingling enough To carry his tune But if he can't sing they shuffle their hands & eyes, awkwardly His hat has become too big for the dollar bill He put there himself To make you think it was you
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My love cannot stay. It's going to slip out the backdoor of my heart & make a clean getaway. After it kneaded your flesh once more. After its fingers felt their way up to your neck In the middle of the night I thought about strangling you To kill these sins: The Wrath The Pride The Lust I sat on my hands just to make sure love didn't commit murder. My fingers once pulled streams of love from my chest, as if I were a cassette; Wound up with the past tattooed on my guts I tied them around...
Version 1
4 Reviews
0 Comments
It gets worse every day. Technology drives people further and further apart from one another. Connect to your Iphone and disconnect from humanity. We're social creatures turning into robots. Morning hellos and nodding heads have been replaced by finger stampedes on keys and touch screens. Our ears are plugged and pockets stuffed with toys that ring to urge us to communicate yet ignore the world. The subway roars with passing trains and the rustling bodies of strangers who enter and flee, but ...
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This poem was a little exercise for my eyes and a lyrical voice sounded in my head as I read it. I stumbled slightly over 'Temerarious suitor' I suppose, because the adjective has a couple more syllables than the others. I liked it.
Journal, Diary, & Blogging
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How It Came to Be that I Watched an Episode of Some Lame Reality TV Show
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