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Creative Writing and Books This area is for members' stories and poetry. Also a forum for book reviews and discussion. |
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Guest
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Hands off my Brick!
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Senior Member
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It should definitely be in the Best Man's speech
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Lee.
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Very mildly...
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#5 | |||
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SIGH
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Omg that was amazing
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![]() Calling bigotry an opinion is like calling arsenic a flavour. ………….
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Senior Member
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#7 | |||
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Quand il pleut, il pleut
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..that's actually very good...
who would have thought Nathan would be the defender of dough bakin' and become so upset about le poor baguette... ..maybe I'm being dumb because I don't know anything about computer recording devices/noises they make... but were you clipping your nails through that..that just seems so random....
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#9 | |||
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Quand il pleut, il pleut
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#10 | |||
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Quand il pleut, il pleut
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..can I have a decaf please..?..
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#11 | |||
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Cyber Warrior
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Instant one flavour Real has many flavours I prefer real
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Cyber Devils Advocate (Retired) ![]() Fame, Riches, Adventure, Glory - A Cyber Warrior craves not these things In Memorium
Wendy (AKA Romantic Old Bird) 1951 - 2008 |
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#12 | |||
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Senior Member
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I like how you channelled the side effects of coffee in that poem what a great poem there well done
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Quand il pleut, il pleut
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..it's the simple/little things that are most inspirational...that coffee brought the poet out from inside you...
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#15 | |||
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Altar Ego
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'Scream Of Consciousness'
Now is all you have Cosmogyral, starlight through vanity A Selection For Societal Sanity Find what you love and let it kill you The fundamental craving of the human spirit A desire to transcend the survival biased filter of perception The bars of a cognitive prision And I'll burn my house down to make a loaf of bread Again and again Until it's time |
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Quand il pleut, il pleut
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..WOW... 'Find what you love and let it kill you'
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#17 | |||
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Altar Ego
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Stolen from Charles Bukowski, whom I have a mental obsession with.
I had the phrase in my head all weekend. I was reminded of it when I thought of how weird it is where you overcome all short term hurdles and find that you are in such a positive light that it can seem forbiddingly overwhelming in a "surely it can't be this good" slightly jagged, arrogant way. What you love could kill you etc. Not sure how to express it. And I really, really want to do ideas around a freelove proto expressionism society gone horribly wrong. The idea of freedom pushed so far that if you are not deemed free enough you're out. Some tragically ironic, totalitarian "you must make art or you're useless" society. I'm sure the idea has been put into books and stuff before but I've never heard it. That's where Selection For Societal Sanity comes from. I'd love to do something with that title. Last edited by Stu; 29-10-2013 at 04:20 AM. |
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Quand il pleut, il pleut
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..that poem/those words are kind of very cynical but also very insightful as well, so I don't really want them to be cynical...I want them to be uplifting/hopeful..?...yet somehow they leave you with a feeling of hope/belief as well just because you know that someone else kind of 'gets it'...has experienced all of the rubbish but still sees some hope and good..and yet doesn't..is realistic....hmmm, it's too early for thoughts but I know what I mean lol....
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Quand il pleut, il pleut
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..'the bars of the cognitive prison'....is just so true for most people..it's just realising it and that's the part that 'frees' you....
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Quand il pleut, il pleut
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When the sun is at its brightest but outside the skies are grey
When the words have choked inside you and there’s nothing left to say When fear is armed and at the front line preparing to advance When your chosen song is playing but your feet refuse to dance When the orchestra is playing but comes crushing through your ears When the world around is waltzing but you’re crippled in your fear When life’s beggar stretches out his hand, there’s nothing left to give When death grows more intriguing than the prison where you live When you’re looking for tomorrow but it’s nowhere to be found When you’re stuck within this moment and your arms and legs are bound When you bathe in pools of tears and they incinerate your skin When this game of life you’re playing is the one you’ll never win When you’re seeking words of promise in the solace of the song but the symphony won’t reach you on the tower you sit upon When the prisoner inside you pleads for mercy to be shown but the pleadings are unheeded as his flesh falls from the bone When the wilderness consumes you and you lay your head to rest And you sink into the wasteland as you terminate your quest When the hostess of depression hands an invite to her lair And your helpless desolation makes her certain to ensnare
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#22 | |||
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Quand il pleut, il pleut
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Fluttering on the ledge of solitude
Tormented abyss of desolation Dejection has spread warm enclosing wings Plummeting hope into desperation Within a tiptoe of self-awareness Blink of an eye from eradication Anguished depths embrace all hopelessness Intertwining with resignation Poised on the brink of mental misery Amid a faltering hesitation Suspended upon celestial charges In a tantalising levitation Floating on the verge of obscurity On fine clouds of nullification Hovering on the edge of wretchedness Abrupt plunge into eradication
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#23 | |||
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Quand il pleut, il pleut
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I don't want to boast
but I had a ghost through the post from the Ivory Coast and it was eating toast instead of a pot roast silly ghost
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#24 | |||
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Altar Ego
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Dustbunnies
I awoke today with blue vacant eyes Staring into heaven And a swirl inside told me That time was somehow different I knew my doldrums had come to a halt My conscious no longer a pillar of salt I want my spirit out of it's vault My soul control without a bitter fault I want someone to share life with me No coma soulmate for a poster child reality We'll find beauty outside of the screen Then write the adverts in the middle of your dreams No more background periphary Just god watching our ballet of beauty Seeing out hearts bleed in to each other Tinkering with the machinery of our new life Sex, money and free will Dreaming of worlds larger than our own With a smile for everyone Anesthetized in the joy of the setting sun A conscious attempt on my part to write something a little less gloomy. I recently finished reading Girlfriend In A Coma for like the millionth time - it's practically my Bible - so it's partly in the flavor of that. |
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#25 | |||
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Quand il pleut, il pleut
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No more background periphary Just god watching our ballet of beauty Seeing out hearts bleed in to each other Tinkering with the machinery of our new life Anesthetized in the joy of the setting sun ..it's really good writing/poetry, Stu...
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