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by =salshep
The World, UnknownWhen the desert raiders stormed the city's church they did not burn the Bibles, theological texts, or illuminated manuscripts. Instead they burned the maps.The World, Unknown
Your maps, they said, are the feeble representations of shadows. They are veils behind which nothing lies, for the physical world, like the metaphysical, is ever-shifting and torrential.
For the priests, witnesses reported, it could not have been worse. They fell and moaned.
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Throughout that year strange earthquakes troubled the deserts of New Mexico. A traveler passing through the region noted, "It seemed that every morning the Earth w
by ~lpowell
The Thing About ClichesI. If this were a cliché,The Thing About Cliches
A poem, or both It would be about sparkling midnight skies and heartbeats and flowers and sex.
There would be oceanic eyes and rain that tastes like tears. We’ll throw in anxiety-riddled murmurs and metaphorical bullets and allusions to sharp objects for pity.
This is not a cliché anymore.
So instead I wrote about the flavor of emerald and the fragrance of April hope. I painted pictures of a perfect pencil, poised over a blank page.
II. If this were a romance, A message in a bottle, or both It would still be clich&
by ~summernightangel
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yeah!
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ROW
(Ruler Of the World)
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-Nothing's measured by what it needs-Beck
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Rhythms that you go through..
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Be inspired: *simplyprose and *simplypoetry.
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