Abstract

Wow, I loved how visual this was! Like a work of art 🙂

Style and a Half

They rained down furiously, splashing, streaking, smearing. They left trails, thick, slowly began to blend together in attempts to dominate, their shrieks immortalized in red and black. They wailed with harsh strokes, edges sharp and biting. And they sang with long breaths of yellows and greens.

Louder they surged upwards, outwards, so keen, so eager to express what even words cannot say. Look at us, they cried with glistening tears of the softest blues. Their arms swept wide, flashing wildly for all to see, to take notice.

They beamed as eyes fell upon them, as eyes listened to their voices, seeing what was not there, hearing what was not said. When eyes gleamed with emotion, they soothed with soft pinks and smiles of white.

And when the brush ceased and left them forever, they stood strong upon the canvas that they had forever claimed. They launched themselves forward into the…

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Don’t Worry? Be Happy?

Since my childhood my Dad has always repeated this phrase to me in hope I would just abandon all my negativity and smile. Yes, it appears to be a good motto…I mean wouldn’t life be better if one just lived without that wretched thing called worry? Unfortunately, at least I found, it really is impossible to not worry about things. You have to worry about your future, if your income is steady, if you’re being reasonable spending a whole day in bed watching documentaries about serial killers, if you’re keeping up with all your friends, if you chose the right education path, if you’re healthy enough, if the world is going to shit, if you would survive a zombie apocalypse…you know, important stuff.

So, I wrote a piece using word association and phrase manipulation that picked apart that cute little saying ‘Don’t Worry Be Happy.’ It’s sort of like ‘Ignorance Is Bliss,’ isn’t it? If you just forget or turn a blind eye to the things that upset you, you’ll be alright, yeah?

(I would also like to note that even though the phrase bugs me, I still like Bobby McFerrin’s song.)

Happy Don’t Worry Be

Don’t worry, be happy. Worry not and happy you will be. Walk lot’s by the sea.
Short locks sway in the breeze. Cheese blocks and chocolate cake. Ink blots and total escape. Immersion costs but worry not, laughs are cheap and set us free. You won’t be sorry, you will be happy. The phone is ringing, your hair is thinning. The paper tower is getting higher but the kettle is on and your tongue’s on fire. You just got shat on, the car won’t start. The kids are crying and music the sucks. Despite the fact you’re slowly dying, dinner is ready and your dreams flying. Smack into the windshield, knuckles white, sunset swooning and muscles tight. Lovers moaning and sweat is pouring, doctors delivering and fathers snoring. The shorts are short and so is life, but not the queue or the bills or your strife. Don’t be sad when you can be stupid. The world is flat and god is forgiving, so lets see a play, play a board game, board a cruise ship and be happy.

Soliloquies From The Heartland #1

because who doesn’t like goats 🙂

Eli Hopkins

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I was over at the bodega when I ran into Hank and Wallace. They’re crazy shiny-haired suit types during the day but they’re also a couple of real chill dongers so we all ended up over at Marie’s place. Marie is this older but still pretty smoking lady that’s married to the guy that makes the goat-cheese pizzas for the little league games, and this was in June—real serious little league time, we’re talking major consumption of goat-cheese—so Jerry, the pizza guy, is seriously busy making pizzas and meanwhile his poor wife Marie is stuck at home taking care of the guy’s goats.

That’s right, this guy Jerry keeps goats in his apartment—for the cheese, I guess—and he expects the wife to sit home on the hot summer days seeing after all these goddamn goats, trying to stop them from eating up the furniture and everything. I don’t even know…

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Autopsy (Sonnet with Iambic Pentameter)

They gathered with a wicked air and tools,
A duty which defiles the man of form.
The imprecation cast from metal stools,
They felt through gloves on skin no longer warm.
The man was just a man, of twenty-five.
His hair was light, his eyes were dark and glazed.
A man who lived when he was once alive
Now faced intrusion, like a patient fazed.
Could death destroy the beauty that is life?
She wondered as the scalpel pierced through.
A dozen men had been under her knife.
Not one had gasped in horror, that she knew.
A monologue she had prepared in thought
Romanticised the fantasy she sought:

‘My eyes had never seen such pulchritude
As which beheld your angelic figure.
At hands of gods were you sculptured in nude
And glowing with fortuitous lustre.
Just like a king commanding jesters’ dance,
I waited on your soul, your mind, your breath.
The cataclysmic build up to the chance,
A disconcertment leaving me bereft.
Earths gravity asphyxiating us,
Though you were far from the sterility.
Your smooth surreal skin remained lifeless,
Fluorescence had disturbed tranquility.
Absconded life early and not complete,
As I bequeathed the cloak-like ghostly sheet.’

Five Very Short Stories

Funky flash fiction. Yay for alliteration.

Stealing All the Sevens

Richmond Bridge

37, day twenty nine

I only sort of did a post yesterday. I did my lunch break thing, but not a regular post. It still counts!

Since it only sort of counts, I wrote five short stories for today. When did I turn into the kind of writer who can sit down and write five stories? I don’t know. I didn’t notice it happen, but now that it has I am going to make sure to keep doing it.

Enjoy!

The Dragon Shop

As usual for Tuesday morning, Gerald Pickering went to the market. When he got there, he found that the market was not only closed, it was missing entirely. Instead of a shop there was a great purple and green dragon. It appeared to be asleep. Hanging from its snout was a sign.

Green Street Shop Transfigured Due to New Management

“Well this is just brilliant,”…

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Base Camp (A poem using the structure of the song “Reckless” written by James Reyne, and inspired by.)

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Meet me back at the base camp
Where we held back uncertainties
Gagging on the cloves of garlic
The shadow of the summit
Creeping with the breeze

See our footprints getting shallow
So fast we fade away
Rations small and tensions rising
Not what I wanted
Especially not that way

The fog ahead is thick and daunting
I clamber for your hand
I fall and take your glove with me
That’s all I have now
I hope you understand

Feel like this can’t be the end of us
Too far from where we came
A Polar Bear in Central Park Zoo
Some things aren’t meant to happen
It’s tragic all the same

Meet me back at the base camp
Before I got reckless
We’ll find heat in the freezing weather
I will be watching for
Your call of distress