100 Words

[RhymeFairy]

I am a free agent, only
this neighbor calls, asking to visit.
but I want
desire
pray,
a visit with you.
I see you there, I know

you read
my words and visions of free writes.
our passion, unleashed. it waits
knowing you have taken a vacation
from two as one, vertical bodies
spread, as tenacious
tentaciles trip
and go back to the stating line.
another woman you say, I say not !

kick ass urges step in. I know,
I feel you there, on the edge.
descions ebbed for another day,
another person
sliding into my orb. I shall
stand tall. I shall not
back down. I love.
Lord, how I love

... one ~



...


~~ Signging off

 

[christabelll]

okay

It just steams up the page. Pages and pages stream through my brain as I sit in helpless reverie.
I dreamed.
Hands here. Lips there. Cock seeking this.
Steam cascades over senses already wroth. Feel that hardness pulse. Mine? Yours? Skittering under skin gone febrile, it leaps the chasm from imagination to a curious haunting realness. Feel this tenderness slicking. Understand this bated breath. Coalesce inside, dynamite waiting for the fuse. Will you brave me? Will you set the fire that could consume you to nothing but ash? Oh but such sweet burning, phoenix feathers explode. Pele has nothing on this.

 

[LasciviousSanity]

Sitting in a Motel off the exit of Highway 10.
Wondering what visions the evening held as the invisible clock
Ticks in my mind like Poe’s telltale heart behind drywall covered in tacky flowered paper.

Headlights filter into the room through dingy curtains once held in gentle hands of housewives for inspection. The light remains for minutes that seemed hours casting spotlights on particles of earth and atmosphere dancing in front. I move to the window, parting the curtain slightly attempting to go unnoticed. A silouette with lowered head sits in the front seat. I squint as I press my face against the glass.

The Headlights go out, I quickly settle back onto the edge of the squeaky bed. Silence a agony all too familiar nowadays as I wait for the click.

The door swings wide as my heart sinks.

MLB

 

[vampiredust]

I may be in love. This may or may not be a good thing. Consider: mood swings, panting, the endless sweating and emptying of bowels. Need I say more?
I think of her all the time. That smile, that something inside of her that I have not felt in a while. And somehow, it acts as a keel, keeping me stable. Perhaps I am in love.

 

[christabelll]

morning

Sun bursts free of the fog. Wish my mind would clear so easily. Leaden limbs drag me up from the not so soft comfort of my empty bed. He stood me up again. Again. Why do I let him? There I go, censoring my self to please a man. Have to stop. I am so hungry for more. My belly growls its discontent as I slug back yesterdays cold coffee. My breasts ache. Sans period: must be they are as unsatisfied as the rest of me. Why do I let my self be confined to a definition I outgrew when I was 12?

 

[MsBug]

Chopping onions makes me cry, every time. I have tried all the so called tricks, and still the tears come. Standing at the counter, hair clipped up out of the way, tears stream down my face. I try not to add my fingers to the growing pile of neatly chopped onion bits.

He is a sick man, or so I often tell him. He cannot resist the opportunity to pounce; warm neck kisses, insistent teeth find vulnerable skin, strong hands all too soon roam to their aim. Seriously, who gets revved up watching women cry while chopping onions? Only him.

 

[RhymeFairy]

my writing has encountered too many
dead ends lately. darkness fell
leaving nothing but verbs
and adjectives to play my games.
sentences may be long, carry
and terry.

I hop scotch foot into mystic meadows
and sneak a peak. the earth still moves,
sun shines and darkness descends.
I am aware, all is not paved in gold.
one must walk the walk in order to talk
the talk. cliche, overused and abused
but simply, true.

head on a limb, eyes to the sky.
I try to live, breathe and feel.
feel, the earth orbit, in each second
and the blinking of an eye. I know
I was here. I was loved, once
and I stand. I still stand. good or bad,
I am.


..

 

[darkerdreamer]

“But I have come a hundred miles…” Sadness echoed in his tone, his voice quavered. Soaked cotton and leather clung to him like an aura, mirroring the look of rejection in his eyes. His half-spoken thought was futile, as was the journey, for the destination held no bounty that he desired. She uttered what might have been a sweet, apologetic nothing, but it was lost in the steady thump of rain hitting the mud. The heavy oak door closed before him. Perhaps the sun had just burrowed deeper into the overcast, but the world suddenly seemed a whole lot grayer.

 

[RhymeFairy]

“But I have come a hundred miles…” Sadness echoed in his tone, his voice quavered. Soaked cotton and leather clung to him like an aura, mirroring the look of rejection in his eyes. His half-spoken thought was futile, as was the journey, for the destination held no bounty that he desired. She uttered what might have been a sweet, apologetic nothing, but it was lost in the steady thump of rain hitting the mud. The heavy oak door closed before him. Perhaps the sun had just burrowed deeper into the overcast, but the world suddenly seemed a whole lot grayer.

Grey eyes glistened, two tears, dropped. Divulging her feeling of helplessness, at this untimely situation. One where, frozen in shock she could only stare at this dream before her. This legendary man whom she had spent years wanting and waiting for. Here he was, before her and all she had to offer, was more time. More, of the same thing they had waved through these past years. For to have to wait, with him before her, was just too much. Just too much to bare, knowing she must have him but could not await another wait.


~~just a thought

 

[Tzara]

Logic

Darryl sat on the sidewalk holding his knife, wondering whom he should kill. There were several appealing possibilities, but most had problems.

He could slit his mother's throat—she was always yelling at him, after all—but police always start the investigation with next of kin, so that was just a ticket to the big house. That fucking Juan Carlos was a bastard who deserved to die, maybe after first cutting off his balls. The guy had friends, though, and Darryl knew they would retaliate.

I can't get close enough to the mayor, he thought.

Suicide, though, seemed safe enough.

 

[darkerdreamer]

Grey eyes glistened, two tears, dropped. Divulging her feeling of helplessness, at this untimely situation. One where, frozen in shock she could only stare at this dream before her. This legendary man whom she had spent years wanting and waiting for. Here he was, before her and all she had to offer, was more time. More, of the same thing they had waved through these past years. For to have to wait, with him before her, was just too much. Just too much to bare, knowing she must have him but could not await another wait.


~~just a thought

Love it!

With faltering sight he looked for her through the aged glass. The window warped everything like a watercolor caught in a storm. Was that her, watching me fade away? How he ached to reach through that ancient glass, to beat that oak door into a memory of a barrier. But, as far as he was concerned, that window and that door were the Berlin Wall, the Great Wall, and a mouth to his every uncertainty. With joints aching from journey, he replaced the wide-brimmed cap on his head, and began the hundred mile walk once again, a hundred mile retreat.

 

[RhymeFairy]

Love it!

With faltering sight he looked for her through the aged glass. The window warped everything like a watercolor caught in a storm. Was that her, watching me fade away? How he ached to reach through that ancient glass, to beat that oak door into a memory of a barrier. But, as far as he was concerned, that window and that door were the Berlin Wall, the Great Wall, and a mouth to his every uncertainty. With joints aching from journey, he replaced the wide-brimmed cap on his head, and began the hundred mile walk once again, a hundred mile retreat.

Welcome to Lit ...

I sent this in a pm, hoping not to blog down the threads.
Putting it here, just in case you didn't get it. Have a great one ~~

Nighty night to all ~~~


..


~~~


She watched as he slowly walked and stopped to look back. She knew she could not withstand another confessional. He knew her, body and soul. Knew, what to say to break her resolve. Lost in memories of scandalous conversations, letters written and her hearts tell-tell pitter patter, she did not see the rain start. Her soul mate stopped, replaced his cap and begin his journey back.

~~~

..

I have been told I should stick to poetry, lol.
I could not resist and Thank You for letting me play along ~~




Nighty night to all ~~~

 

[Tzara]

The Twin Paradox

When Don was climbing into the capsule, he thought about that whole Einstein twin paradox: how when he finally got back, Dave would be so much older. It didn't stop him, of course. It was way too late for that and he really wanted to see Mars, but it did give him pause.

Dave hadn't thought about it at all, being in stir five to ten for embezzlement. He and Don were fraternal twins; their parents were both dead.

When the rocket blew up on the launchpad, they commuted Dave's sentence, but he could no longer work for a bank.

 

[christabelll]

she was banking on the edge of the knife to be sharp. Sharp enough to cut through the bullshit that buried her. Sharp enough to pierce the darkness that surrounded her. Sharp enough that it wouldn't hurt when it plunged its keen edge against tender flesh.
Toying with the possibilities of different endings made her twist the antlered handle sharply left... then right... a reverse Zorro... a tiny bead of crimson upwelling on her thigh. Plastic surgeons called it a Z-plasty... She called it...bizarre.
What the hell was so wrong she would bring her own blood to the surface? Surfacing from the midnight dull funkiness she felt the sting and stared at her skin in wonder. Okay the fucker was sharp!

 

[darkerdreamer]

Sirus enjoyed being a penguin. He was generally free from the pressures and concerns of global politics and lower class strife. Not that he disliked being informed, but Sirus was more the type of penguin who changed the channel when the news came on. Like most penguins, he generally concerned himself with fish, and swimming. He was also a fan of Kafka novels, primarily The Metamorphosis. As a penguin, Sirus couldn’t resist the existential, surreal work of Franz Kafka. Sirus took the novel to heart, he loathed Gregor Samsa for turning into a hideous bug rather than a beautiful butterfly.

 

[RhymeFairy]

she was banking on the edge of the knife to be sharp. Sharp enough to cut through the bullshit that buried her. Sharp enough to pierce the darkness that surrounded her. Sharp enough that it wouldn't hurt when it plunged its keen edge against tender flesh.
Toying with the possibilities of different endings made her twist the antlered handle sharply left... then right... a reverse Zorro... a tiny bead of crimson upwelling on her thigh. Plastic surgeons called it a Z-plasty... She called it...bizarre.
What the hell was so wrong she would bring her own blood to the surface? Surfacing from the midnight dull funkiness she felt the sting and stared at her skin in wonder. Okay the fucker was sharp!

Sharp enough to bite, sink deep. Take a life and scornfully scare, with jaws in fright. Taste blood, by the scrape fingernails to wrist and know, all is not lost. The beginning is here, just breathe deep and feel the passion of pen points, pressure igniting infiltrating a lost love. Departed, destroyed, she knew the moment was now. To take her life, or live in this dungeon of forsaken dreams adrift on 'morrows memories. Take a life, end it. Knowing she tried to make it happen. She tried, to make it work. He was silent, as if a ghost, never present in the here and now. Yes, now was the time. Make a stand, a statement to all concerned. To cut, or be cut. Away from his life, family and friends. It really did not matter. For a ghost is rarely seen, if ever heard.





~~ just athought

 

[christabelll]

and she was never heard. Even wailing with all her souls might, silence was her middle name. Her only name. Silent for so long she might as well have been a ghost. More confident she slid another zee into her knee. Where was her Zorro? The Gleaming knight in blackened armor. No hint of that false promise invaded the darkness that rocked its heavy keel inside her. This ship was sinking and she didn't know why she hesitated. No one had ever hesitated in putting her in her place. Why couldn't she just finish it? THey would probably dance on her grave. But she would be the one dancing. Free. at. last.

 

[darkerdreamer]

Never cry, ever. His father’s only lesson raced through his mind over and over like his own private mantra. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he’d never let them spill. The halogen-quartz lights overhead danced across his windshield, their halos blurring together from his tears until he couldn’t even see the street in front of him, just a fantastic display of light.

He blinked several times, holding back the waterfall that was stirring at the inner corners of his eyes. He then folded his hands delicately in his lap, and watched the light show take an interesting turn.

 

[clutching_calliope]

.....

 

[darkerdreamer]

Seems you are on fire here. Welcome!

Thanks so much! Don't encourage me though... I might just keep it up

 

[wildsweetone]

Thanks so much! Don't encourage me though... I might just keep it up

i sure hope you do, that 100 worder got me almost considering writing one myself.

glad you made it to the forum. welcome.

 

[Tzara]

Dare

It sounded fishy when she asked for it—a poem about "buckets of cum."

I mean, really. Buckets? I suppose maybe in the Barbie Universe™ but otherwise? Chick's got no sense of reality, to where I wanna go you ever had sex, honey? We're talking one to five milliliters, tops. That don't fill no bucket that ain't HO scale.

But, hell, you know women and their demands. So, shit. Here it is:

Cum Bucket

I do not come in buckets, darling.
My deposit's much more fun.
And my volume, unsurprising-
ly, is smaller than a tonne.​

Fine. Now we square?

 

[darkerdreamer]

Digital green numbers scream three twenty seven from across a dark room. I roll over for the millionth time; flip my pillow so it’s cool against my cheek again. This bed feels enormous, a mile wide but not quite long enough, my feet still hang off the end. But that infinite width is consuming, like someone tore a hole in reality right next to me, and I can’t help but constantly stare at the burning abyss exposed beyond. I have tried to patch it before—to fill the void—but the replacements just don’t fit correctly into the you-shaped hole.

 

[RhymeFairy]

It sounded fishy when she asked for it—a poem about "buckets of cum."

I mean, really. Buckets? I suppose maybe in the Barbie Universe™ but otherwise? Chick's got no sense of reality, to where I wanna go you ever had sex, honey? We're talking one to five milliliters, tops. That don't fill no bucket that ain't HO scale.

But, hell, you know women and their demands. So, shit. Here it is:

Cum Bucket

I do not come in buckets, darling.
My deposit's much more fun.
And my volume, unsurprising-
ly, is smaller than a tonne.​

Fine. Now we square?

Ohhh, I love this.

Great wording with tongue-in-cheek hilarity. !!!
Dare we ask for more?

 

[Tzara]

Ohhh, I love this.

Great wording with tongue-in-cheek hilarity. !!!
Dare we ask for more?

Well, thanks, RF, but my tongue can only go so far into cheek.

It hurts after a while.