(All right, I'll try to stay away from the emotionally charged poems. Had to try it. So here is another one I've written recently. Just give it to me straight. I hope this one is better, if not more entertaining. I broke this into seperate paragraphs to make it easier to read because it's a bit lengthy.)
Generic smell of must lingered in the room; adding a touch of vanilla. Cold linen heated; the twisted remains askew on the pillow top. Fluff flattened and broken. Multi colored bottles lay abandoned, toppled, their insides flowing into the cheap carpet; busted and broken. The walls bled purple, melting into an apple green. A naked lamp stood alone in the corner, shivering after its ordeal; too traumatized to speak to the police and was taken to the asylum.
Fleshly colored dolls lay motionless on the busted bed frame. Eyes closed, mouths closed, the secrets they held no one could access. Their computer chips shut down. Arms wrapped around the other; the criminals left a message. Sadistic and sick the dolls were forced to watch. Screams woke the residents. Blue and red lights swirled the room. The dolls were never more thankful. But the criminals got away. All traces of human removed from the room. Not even the dresser could tell them anything useful.
After hours of interrogation the police had to let the toilet go. She was clean. The sink and mirror had waited for her in the lobby. Dingy fluorescent lights bathed them in a sickly green. She cried. The police were clueless. The crime scene remained taped and tethered for the next week, before being released. It was thankful to get back to work.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Love You To Pieces by David Barkhimer
"I love you to pieces, I love you to death".
Those are the words that have turned my life into a roller-coaster of regret. Regret for those that i love, those that i loved, those that i care about, for myself, but mostly for her.
"I love you to pieces, I love you to death".
I met her within the first week she started at Kroger. It was another blistering hot day in the middle of spring when i walked outside to introduce myself to yet another new Deli Clerk. Fresh meat for the rampaging sharks that infest the work place. If only i knew then what i know now, i could have warned her, i could have prevented the whole ugly scene replaying like unwanted reruns in my head. She had a charm about her that drew people to her like metal to magnets, and i was one of those people. We were quickly engrossed in conversation amidst that sweltering heat, smoke rings from our cigarettes drifting to stain a white ceiling yellow, stuck outside for a dreaded fifteen minuet break clothed in what seemed like the worst possible combination for a uniform. The thick red fabric did nothing to deflect the suns rays for what seemed like an eternity. The giggling and the laughing only carried on as the days turned our semi-acquaintance into a budding friendship fueled by insecure curiosity and the pleasures of anthers flesh. That was our first night together outside of Kroger, sitting in a limo ten O'clock on a dark night, the starry ceiling lights resembling a precise universe above the crystal decanters of liquor and shot nerves. Between the two of us sat her friend, a hot mess of hunk that had me sweating in an 70 degree atmosphere. She liked to watch two guys go at it, indulging on her voyeuristic tendencies. she sat there on the furthest seat, eyes intently watching as she whispered things she wanted to see, and we indulged her wildest fantasy's. The meshing of two bodies hot with the coursing flow of hormones and blood through their veins drove her to an ecstasy unseen in my life. Then the phone rang, ruining the mood for both of us and her. We laughed, myself still caught up in the moment, in a state of shock at what i had done for someone still near enough a stranger and with a complete stranger. That was not like me.
"I love you to pieces, I love you to Death".
Those are the words that have turned my life into a roller-coaster of regret. Regret for those that i love, those that i loved, those that i care about, for myself, but mostly for her.
"I love you to pieces, I love you to death".
I met her within the first week she started at Kroger. It was another blistering hot day in the middle of spring when i walked outside to introduce myself to yet another new Deli Clerk. Fresh meat for the rampaging sharks that infest the work place. If only i knew then what i know now, i could have warned her, i could have prevented the whole ugly scene replaying like unwanted reruns in my head. She had a charm about her that drew people to her like metal to magnets, and i was one of those people. We were quickly engrossed in conversation amidst that sweltering heat, smoke rings from our cigarettes drifting to stain a white ceiling yellow, stuck outside for a dreaded fifteen minuet break clothed in what seemed like the worst possible combination for a uniform. The thick red fabric did nothing to deflect the suns rays for what seemed like an eternity. The giggling and the laughing only carried on as the days turned our semi-acquaintance into a budding friendship fueled by insecure curiosity and the pleasures of anthers flesh. That was our first night together outside of Kroger, sitting in a limo ten O'clock on a dark night, the starry ceiling lights resembling a precise universe above the crystal decanters of liquor and shot nerves. Between the two of us sat her friend, a hot mess of hunk that had me sweating in an 70 degree atmosphere. She liked to watch two guys go at it, indulging on her voyeuristic tendencies. she sat there on the furthest seat, eyes intently watching as she whispered things she wanted to see, and we indulged her wildest fantasy's. The meshing of two bodies hot with the coursing flow of hormones and blood through their veins drove her to an ecstasy unseen in my life. Then the phone rang, ruining the mood for both of us and her. We laughed, myself still caught up in the moment, in a state of shock at what i had done for someone still near enough a stranger and with a complete stranger. That was not like me.
"I love you to pieces, I love you to Death".
Friday, June 25, 2010
Agreement
I agree that the works I publish are my own and are not the work of others. I also agree that I will not use or take any works of other writers on this blog for my or any other purpose. By agreeing to this, if I break this agreement I understand that I will be removed immediately from the group and denied access completely
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Rendering Honors by Jen Garrett
The night the Old Albatross died
I remember the infantile give
of my muscles when I heard
the news, the way I slumped
into our chipped and faded driftwood
beach chair we’d made by hand.
I remember every detail etched
into the sodden wood by hands
both much older and much younger
than the ones that held my face
and tried to push back the tears.
At night, when the scrapes and splinters
our chair had given us were mended,
the tired waves would lap against
the shore and disappear like the ghosts
in the static of the old radio he used
to let me fall asleep to, gently crooning
along with the weary rhythm of the ocean.
I remember our favorite crooners
had every bit of the grit in their voices
as the beach where we found our treasures,
starfish and shiny broken bottles, old metals.
One summer, when the thought crossed
my mind that I was an adult, I remember
my old bird, more of a Loon by then,
sat me down and showed me His treasures.
His stars, his metals, old photos that looked
more like my sister than my grandmother,
things he’d earned when he was barely
older than I was.
I remember the infantile give
of my muscles when I heard
the news, the way I slumped
into our chipped and faded driftwood
beach chair we’d made by hand.
I remember every detail etched
into the sodden wood by hands
both much older and much younger
than the ones that held my face
and tried to push back the tears.
At night, when the scrapes and splinters
our chair had given us were mended,
the tired waves would lap against
the shore and disappear like the ghosts
in the static of the old radio he used
to let me fall asleep to, gently crooning
along with the weary rhythm of the ocean.
I remember our favorite crooners
had every bit of the grit in their voices
as the beach where we found our treasures,
starfish and shiny broken bottles, old metals.
One summer, when the thought crossed
my mind that I was an adult, I remember
my old bird, more of a Loon by then,
sat me down and showed me His treasures.
His stars, his metals, old photos that looked
more like my sister than my grandmother,
things he’d earned when he was barely
older than I was.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Welcome!
Welcome to the LiterattiGa Writers Group! We welcome all writers 18 yrs of age and older who are looking for a place to get feedback and a way to hone their skills. If you are interested in joining the group, please email mprickett29@gmail.com. Email any submissions. Our weekly deadline will be on Mondays. So, the first set of stories, chapters, poems, etc will be posted as of next Monday. Please make sure it's in the body of the email, not an attachment and you include the name you would like it to be under if you want it to, otherwise it can be annoymous. Limit to 3000 words. Thank you and look forward to the submissions.
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