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Literature Text
Wooden platforms housing the collective words
Of authors past and present tense,
From which I drew shelter in pubescent days,
Back when escaping life was just a turn of the page,
I would pass the time in naïve haze,
Filling my mind with the white lies
That writers call device.
I drank deep from this well of thoughts,
Getting drunk on the heavy draughts
Taking in the pathos notions
From those that would describe a puddle
When it's an ocean
And, yet,
They stuck in me,
Those written hollow truths.
Ideas like,
Duty, Honor, Glory,
Consumed my mind
And in search of these,
I left home to find—
Leaving behind those paper portals
To gather dust in an empty room,
Where there are none to exhume
Such dangerous ideals.
War taught me uncertainty,
Where chaos moves too fast to see
And life is but a privilege
Bestowed by a corpse's eyes,
Oh, how I long for those comforting lies!
Of authors past and present tense,
From which I drew shelter in pubescent days,
Back when escaping life was just a turn of the page,
I would pass the time in naïve haze,
Filling my mind with the white lies
That writers call device.
I drank deep from this well of thoughts,
Getting drunk on the heavy draughts
Taking in the pathos notions
From those that would describe a puddle
When it's an ocean
And, yet,
They stuck in me,
Those written hollow truths.
Ideas like,
Duty, Honor, Glory,
Consumed my mind
And in search of these,
I left home to find—
Leaving behind those paper portals
To gather dust in an empty room,
Where there are none to exhume
Such dangerous ideals.
War taught me uncertainty,
Where chaos moves too fast to see
And life is but a privilege
Bestowed by a corpse's eyes,
Oh, how I long for those comforting lies!
Literature
i only asked for the end of the world
"i found shadows in the sun again,"
i looked at her
with a gleam of sarcasm in my eyes,
as she looked down with wind in her hair.
the night looked lovely on her.
the purple of post-nebula progression
it made her eyes look electric blue
though they were a soft green.
"i said, i found shadows on the sun again."
she'd never look up unless
she couldn't breathe and needed
to pull a sigh out of her butterfly winged lungs.
and that bothered me;
- she'd refuse to breathe
only because the air seemed
un-enough.
she'd give up so easily sometimes.
i run out of pretty things to say
Literature
Bravery
On Saturday the twenty-first of January, Elliot took a gun, pressed it to the strip of bone between his eyes, and shot himself. The bullet shattered the frontal bone of his skull, warping his features past recognition, and burrowed through his pre-frontal cortex into the midbrain. He died before the sound stopped echoing through his empty apartment.
This story isn't about that.
I worked with Elliot for only a little while—less than six months. Most of what I knew about him came from his desk. Unlike the smaller ones the secretaries and other reporters had, it was a stately, imposing thing. It would've been terrifying, especially to a
Literature
Ugly
Ugly
The girl was graced with angelic beauty,
A halo of gold silk and wide blue eyes.
But it made her snide, it made her snooty;
Life was a contest and she was the prize.
Young travelers came from across the land,
Offering gifts of most divine nature.
She truly had them under her command,
Yet she still was as cold as a glacier.
One spring day, a man appeared at her door.
He was tired, he was visibly weak.
To that girl, the weary man was a bore,
And moved on to a man with fine physique.
He refused to relent, and the next day,
He gave her a package, tied up with string.
She laughed in his face, for that was her way,
Saying "I ca
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Overall Vision
Originality Technique ImpactI really enjoyed this piece firstly. The main reason was its ability to convey the effect of a good book on one's feelings, sensibilities, and for some even moralities - the effect only a masterful storyteller can evoke.
Secondly, the piece did an amazing job of tying in the ideals those universes create to the constant clash that comes when those ideals don't assimilate with reality as intended/imagined.
Finally the piece concludes by perfectly conveying a reality/ideals clash. With a scenario that teaches the subject his reality in an unbridled awakening - with profound effect - as life teaches us all at some point in our own lives.
~GR~