Long Non-Fiction Prose
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Non-poetic writing including diary extracts, journal entries, letters, essays and art
Long poems (300 words or more), most recently posted poems first.
My Thoughts
How is it that we can mourn the death of an actor but not the deaths of hundreds of men, women, and children getting murdered by a country that will not tolerate diversity or different ideology? How is it that we can sit back and watch the news pouring in while others battle for their freedom against an unjust fascist government that will do anything to eradicate freedom? How is it that we can all have an opinion as long as its the same but if someone else comes by to offer a different viewpoint we slaughter and destroy that which we believe to be wrong? Now I am not a saint and will never be...
47 reads
5 Comments
August 14th 2014
So yesterday, and today are both teary days. It's been a while since I've seen one of my friends. They have a tough life. It was amazing to just hang out with them. We kinda just walked, talked and goofed around. It was like I was back in high school. That kinda made me a little sad. I'm now done savoring the sweet moment and drowning in the despair. Anyways, the main reason I'm writing this is because I've made a mistake. So, right when I saw him, my heart raced. At first, I didn't know if it was because of my social anxiety or what. I had a blast with him. We caught up with each other. We...
37 reads
2 Comments
ophelia?
AN: This is very old. really old feelings that i found in an old google doc. they are no longer relevant or true. i just liked the words and expression.
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oh my god
oh my god im so in love with her
oh my god
her hands
the feel of her hands
the cold skin of her hands
the skinny fingers that SO LUSTFULLY AND LONGINGLY ENCASE MINE, YET ONLY TEMPORARILY AS IF ITS FORBIDDEN OR SOMETHING, AND IN MY MIND, I DON’T WANT TO BE, BUT MY SOCIAL BOUNDARIES LOCK ME INTO HORRIBLE CONFINEMENTS.
THEY REACH OUT TO FIND MINE AND ITS NOT LIKE WE FUNCTION TOGETHER...
----
oh my god
oh my god im so in love with her
oh my god
her hands
the feel of her hands
the cold skin of her hands
the skinny fingers that SO LUSTFULLY AND LONGINGLY ENCASE MINE, YET ONLY TEMPORARILY AS IF ITS FORBIDDEN OR SOMETHING, AND IN MY MIND, I DON’T WANT TO BE, BUT MY SOCIAL BOUNDARIES LOCK ME INTO HORRIBLE CONFINEMENTS.
THEY REACH OUT TO FIND MINE AND ITS NOT LIKE WE FUNCTION TOGETHER...
36 reads
0 Comments
August 12th 2014
Some people think poets are these really edgy, daddy hating, suicidal people that are either women or pussy men. Are we? Not all of us. Was I edgy at one point? Kinda, but now I'm experimental and angry. Everyone is angry at something. I'm mad at people, hence why I believe the world should be covered in a radioactive blanket. Maybe you're mad at capitalism or liberals or conservatives or communism or men or women or culture. Am I a pussy? Yes, you are what you eat. However, also that makes me a tofu. My point is, a poet can be anyone. All they have to do is put their thoughts, feeling,...
38 reads
2 Comments
My first husband, early 1991
If he couldn't have me nobody would. He said he should kill me, as the knife dug harder and harder against my neck. And that was just for speaking. I didn't breathe for four hours as the proverbial mockery ensued. We stood, we sat, we stood some more; there was a lot of hair pulling. Lots of calling me pretty. Lots of wishing for blood. Lots of seconds of silence. We stood there like that, him having had his own neck gashed open just a few years before in some Georgia bar; more than a hundred stitches with last rights read – more than once I might add. The man that cut his gullet –...
76 reads
15 Comments
Grey Area
I’ve been living in this mist. This achromatic atmosphere. An environment with no darkness and no light. I am unaware of what these feelings are that I possess. The dread of sunlight, the comfort of rain and night. Love is this thing I don’t understand. It seems as though it is merely an object, an object that kind of just floats around my mind. It seems as though it can never become a part of me, but rather just surround outside of me. I can observe it, I can see it happening, but I’m not sure I can feel it. It’s this idea that exists like the idea of God. I revel in this monotone lifestyle....
31 reads
0 Comments
Unsent love letter
I sit here and think about you as I often do and I love the way I feel inspired every time I am with you.
How is it that you managed to accomplish in a few months what I have failed to do in years?
You have no idea what my true feelings are, yet sometimes it feels like you know me better than I know myself.
It is so unbelievably frustrating to want someone so badly, but having no idea if you feel the same.
You sometimes hint at the things I dream about, but I have no idea if you are serious or if you are just thinking out loud like you do sometimes, without knowing what you...
How is it that you managed to accomplish in a few months what I have failed to do in years?
You have no idea what my true feelings are, yet sometimes it feels like you know me better than I know myself.
It is so unbelievably frustrating to want someone so badly, but having no idea if you feel the same.
You sometimes hint at the things I dream about, but I have no idea if you are serious or if you are just thinking out loud like you do sometimes, without knowing what you...
55 reads
1 Comment
A Writer's Journal: Entry VII
I missed these all night writing sessions, and am finally glad to mention that I am finally out of my writer's block. It took me a few months and I guess every writer has to go through that yearly writer's block. Hopefully it doesn't become a trend however. It's been an entire year since I first started working on The Secret House since I broke up with Her. And I've just realized now that the story is my story, meaning I can do what I want with it. And if that means I don't want a character to be a certain way anymore I can make that happen, I don't need a million bad people, or a million...
38 reads
Unsent Letter to Maeve
It hurts me to see you so broken over someone who left you mangled, with your heart barely intact. I let you pour yourself over me, you stumbled through your words. They were sharp and jagged against my ears and caused me much inquietude. To hear about the feelings you had for someone other than I was insufferable. I guess I was just being selfish though. Like usual.
Our circumstances are, as we both know, quite odd. My feelings for you grew more rapid and thick than the weeds from my neighbors yard that spill through the cracks of my fence. I'm looking at them now as I recall the...
Our circumstances are, as we both know, quite odd. My feelings for you grew more rapid and thick than the weeds from my neighbors yard that spill through the cracks of my fence. I'm looking at them now as I recall the...
35 reads
Unsent Letter to Andrew
I often find myself attempting to steady my heartbeat to the slow, constant ticks of the defective clock on my wall. I never did bother to fix that damn thing. I imagine each beat of the clock as a drum roll preparing me for an event that could change the fate of my life. Continuously I am let down. Why do I feel like my life is building up to nothing? Every day I drudge by as if the hands on that damned clock move slower and slower with each passing minute I begin to question... Why? Why must I find it necessary to question every moment's authenticity? How is it possible to look into my eyes...
30 reads
July 26th 2014
Let's see, it's 21 right now. At the end of this it should be 2 the next day. Yeah, that's a large time gap. Well, I get distracted easily. At the time of this sentence is being written, I am trying to watch/listen to an anime (yes in the original Japanese with English subtitles because that's how you do it and I'm trying to work on my Japanese). And I'm also trying to finish a poem, which was lost due to problems, and working on the story about my version of hell, which links to another story that I tried to write a while back. Have to start over, but that's a good thing. I guess. Gives me...
40 reads
4 Comments
No Disguise
It’s a dream at dusk with a pebbled trail that split North and South; maybe where the battle of a hemp bale was fought, precisely, a lost battlefield where noble and well things are written on markers, and a tomb where the unknown soldiers still lay. The trees were scattered in a perfect setting of their age and color of summer’s grace. The field is a mound that breaks through in a dome shape, all upon a rolling walk downward, then a cliff, finally overlooking the river cape....
I look to the right and there is a flowing canopy of foliage that covers all the levels...
I look to the right and there is a flowing canopy of foliage that covers all the levels...
51 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Long Non-Fiction Prose: Short Stories, Diary Entries and Letters (Page 2)