Non-Fiction Prose Seeking Honest Critique
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Non-poetic writing including diary extracts, journal entries, letters, essays and art
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DIARY OF A FALLEN WRITER.
Though blood is still streaming in motion,boiling in my veins,urging this youthful body on,am afraid my spirit is under the attack of fatal infections;loss of vibrance,inspiration,zeal for life and severe lack of appetite for adventure!
Fall has engulfed,barely sipped my summer cocktail.Am clouded by fog,i see neither light nor an end to this tunnel.
The beats are loud and clear within my soul,but i have lost rhythm.Forgotten are the moves,i keep stepping on my toes.
My heart and mind are frozen in time,am a breathing shell,a faint soundtrack of once was a great...
Fall has engulfed,barely sipped my summer cocktail.Am clouded by fog,i see neither light nor an end to this tunnel.
The beats are loud and clear within my soul,but i have lost rhythm.Forgotten are the moves,i keep stepping on my toes.
My heart and mind are frozen in time,am a breathing shell,a faint soundtrack of once was a great...
61 reads
1 Comment
A List for Your Concideration
"boss"
"controller"
"captain"
"lord"
"king"
"queen"
"highness"
"master"
"consummate"
"pope"
"father"
"head of the flock"
"ruler"
"leader"
"god"
"protector"
"director"
"manager"
"overseer"
"chief"
"officer"
"commander"
"chief commanding officer" (which i find a bit redundant)...
"controller"
"captain"
"lord"
"king"
"queen"
"highness"
"master"
"consummate"
"pope"
"father"
"head of the flock"
"ruler"
"leader"
"god"
"protector"
"director"
"manager"
"overseer"
"chief"
"officer"
"commander"
"chief commanding officer" (which i find a bit redundant)...
47 reads
0 Comments
Never Wins, Never Loses
I've been battling with depression lately. I'm losing. I thought I was winning until someone told me, "Nothing bothers you"
That hurt. That hurt a lot. That's when I realized that there are four of me. The first two are defense mechanism and the other two are less defensive.
The first one is the public Spitz. The one that is never bothered. He is always joking, never to be fazed. He is always the first to make an inappropriate joke. One such joke is to walk up to a group of people, preferably one that has no recognizable faces, and claims he fucks sheep. When...
That hurt. That hurt a lot. That's when I realized that there are four of me. The first two are defense mechanism and the other two are less defensive.
The first one is the public Spitz. The one that is never bothered. He is always joking, never to be fazed. He is always the first to make an inappropriate joke. One such joke is to walk up to a group of people, preferably one that has no recognizable faces, and claims he fucks sheep. When...
31 reads
3 Comments
This is a book I've started..all comments welcome - editing grammar and spelling mistakes are still in.
this aint a story book and not even a book..its become a nice past time...a third and first person thing..to write sub and abjectively...or just do something..God ive not used my brain for ages..
any way...
the start i know ive knicked but i cant remember from whom..
The only advice I can give for what may be just a page or a book...this thing that you are reading, is to flick through to the pictures.
Life
Just typing this word has made my hands shake, my eyes have tears and I know if I don't control it I may just have my third...
any way...
the start i know ive knicked but i cant remember from whom..
The only advice I can give for what may be just a page or a book...this thing that you are reading, is to flick through to the pictures.
Life
Just typing this word has made my hands shake, my eyes have tears and I know if I don't control it I may just have my third...
41 reads
0 Comments
how I feel at this moment
Suicide goes through my mind, countless times a day. I always try and find one thing to make me stay. But it's getting harder to find something, anything worth the effort.
I honestly hope the day shows that I find nothing keeping me here. On that day, no one will shed a single tear. No one will even notice I've gone away.
Just me, alone as it should be. A waste of space, gone forever.
I honestly hope the day shows that I find nothing keeping me here. On that day, no one will shed a single tear. No one will even notice I've gone away.
Just me, alone as it should be. A waste of space, gone forever.
44 reads
1 Comment
an ill-gotten inventory
1 Thompson submachine gun,
without a stock, Model 1921,
No. 7387
fully loaded drum,
fully loaded magazine.
1 Colt .38 Super automatic,
fully loaded,
both secret numbers
and regular numbers
removed
without a stock, Model 1921,
No. 7387
fully loaded drum,
fully loaded magazine.
1 Colt .38 Super automatic,
fully loaded,
both secret numbers
and regular numbers
removed
47 reads
1 Comment
Excerpts from a Letter Pt. 2— Perspective vs. Perception
The perception of beauty! It is not a goal to acquire but rather a kind of excavation, is it not? Ah, but perspective is the key, isn’t it? Not perception alone. No. The proper perspective is the key to true perception of true beauty. How can we see fully and rightly if we do not see accurately, if our perspective is distorted? Additionally, how will we know whether we have perceived the greatest and most satisfying beauty unless we possess and perceive from the very highest, keenest, and most advantageous perspective? Of course, we cannot; it is impossible to know... unless... there is some...
67 reads
0 Comments
My friend
Did you forget me?
Where have you gone
my mind wonders through
the darkest pits
and I rage internal fits
but you left me cold
just walking by
with limited words
and I quietly beg you
to not leave me in the dark
you have no
idea how you
held me up
and I am so overwhelmed
with the loneliness
that comes back
slowly bleeding through
maybe I am selfish
for thinking of only myself
but I dig for help
and all I find
is a lonely grave.
Where have you gone
my mind wonders through
the darkest pits
and I rage internal fits
but you left me cold
just walking by
with limited words
and I quietly beg you
to not leave me in the dark
you have no
idea how you
held me up
and I am so overwhelmed
with the loneliness
that comes back
slowly bleeding through
maybe I am selfish
for thinking of only myself
but I dig for help
and all I find
is a lonely grave.
38 reads
0 Comments
Excerpts from a Letter Pt. 1— Distinguish
It’s kind of funny... we always assumed we’d die young. I think perhaps we just hoped it so that we’d not be forced to continually confront our lack of understanding concerning our purpose, this lack which seemed like such a hopeless impediment. We hoped to die somehow poetically premature so as to secure some meaning in accordance with what was then (I speak of my own personal experience) our own rather egocentrically conceived artistic expressions. But as it is and contrarily, we are needed; we are needed alive by so many similarly hopeless souls and jointly by the One who desires us all so...
62 reads
0 Comments
No point
Sometimes I Feel as If I Can't Breathe. Everytime I Think About How happy i use to Be I Start To Cry And It's Hard to Breathe.
do you know the feeling Of Being Empty.And Hating Yourself.
Giving Into The Voices In The Back Of My Head.
"Do It.." "They Don't Care.."
It Hurts.. To Think About the Memories.. How It Felt to be Loved..And to Be Happy...
It Hurts To Feel This Way..
I Can't Escape These Feelings..
Everytime I Think About the Memories...
I Feel So Empty...
I Never Knew That I Could Feel So Lost And Broken
do you know the feeling Of Being Empty.And Hating Yourself.
Giving Into The Voices In The Back Of My Head.
"Do It.." "They Don't Care.."
It Hurts.. To Think About the Memories.. How It Felt to be Loved..And to Be Happy...
It Hurts To Feel This Way..
I Can't Escape These Feelings..
Everytime I Think About the Memories...
I Feel So Empty...
I Never Knew That I Could Feel So Lost And Broken
39 reads
2 Comments
in most gentle memory of Marina Tsvetaeva*
carry love on the frail ice surface- up in skies
sang saucy songs for those incomplete lovies wallowing on fatigue of your bones
bleed plain dedications to imaginative lover who would be able to love you like you used to love-to the limits..
even if urge to love to the limits is urge to death, as wisely coined one of the most odious man of all times and folks
you little dancer on the tightrope, lunatic of two dark moon, yer bits were not the fruits of your imagination, but glowing pulse self., pulse of yer...
sang saucy songs for those incomplete lovies wallowing on fatigue of your bones
bleed plain dedications to imaginative lover who would be able to love you like you used to love-to the limits..
even if urge to love to the limits is urge to death, as wisely coined one of the most odious man of all times and folks
you little dancer on the tightrope, lunatic of two dark moon, yer bits were not the fruits of your imagination, but glowing pulse self., pulse of yer...
47 reads
4 Comments
Two strands of hairs
http://krishnashivkumaryadav.wordpress.com/2014/08/30/two-strands-of-hairs/?preview=true&preview_id=75&preview_nonce=46002a03be&post_format=standard
28 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Non-Fiction Prose Seeking Critique: Short Stories, Diary Entries and Letters