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Joined: Tue January 01, 2013 2:22 pm Posts: 4377 Location: faked by jorge
This isn't actually a creation of mine, but it's pretty cool and I thought I'd share it in case any of the aspiring writers here found it interesting. I also happen to have a pretty neat story about it as well - so any opportunity to brag, I guess...
I have a goodreads.com account, but haven't been active on it at all since 2008 or so. even so, I have a bunch of books in my library and a number of shortish reviews/comments. last week, I got an email notification that someone had contacted me there - i checked it and found, rather surprisingly, an email from one of the editors of The Rag, asking me to take a look at their publication and put up a review on goodreads and amazon. apparently, he'd read my comments on goodreads and liked them so wanted me to look at the magazine - which I am - it's a little dark at times (ok, more than a little dark - the first story is about a woman that works in a funeral parlor and has sex with the corpses... I haven't been able to make it to the end of that piece yet... it's pretty compelling writing but the subject is horrid.) anyway - it has some lighter stuff in it which I'm enjoying a lot, and some poetry that I really liked, as well as some decent artwork. not being much of a writer, I find I'm stuck between envy and bemused appreciation of this kind of work - seems like something at least some of the RMers here would appreciate as well - if you think so too, check it out on Amazon.
Here's one of the poems I thought was good
NO SLEEP SINCE 1903
by Nick Mecikalski
I sat in four cities with yellowing yellows and reddening reds and purpling purples falling off the trees and back on again and the skies losing color each year.
I witnessed the contrail with reddening blues and whitening blacks and violeting whites— the first plane ever flown above masses, the last peck on their cobblestone cheeks.
I watched cities cheering with gladdening faces and proudening smiles and clappening hands: their glorious, triumphant pollutant; pilots grin at the scar on the globe.
I lay back beneath clouds with saddening postures and loosening minds and wispening beards; they’ve been here even longer than I have, and they cry acid tears just to speak.
I sat in four fences from darkening stars and deafening masses and blackening brains, worshipping scars but forgetting their names, and my eyesight gets weaker each year.
I hid under ceilings in dampening rooms and shadowing corners and buckling walls, from roars in the cities, dust in the skies; sewage runs from my baths and my sinks.
I listened to newscasts from wrinkling sounds and deadening voices and rustening words, their contrail has brainwashed the skyline— they haven’t kissed asphalt in years.
I scorned from my hilltop with threatening fists and bloodening curses and silencing cries; they hear only the sound of their engines, they glance not at the man dying alone.
I sat in one building with shakening hands and loudening dirges and rottening minds, the trees have been withered for decades; cities swim in their own wasted thoughts.
I know these four cities their dustening streets and downwarding gazes and trappening walls their sleepening planes and fadening contrails and greyening skies. They clap just to hear themselves clapping; I clap and hear nothing at all.
AUTHOR BIO: Nick Mecikalski was created nearly 14 billion years ago with the rest of the known universe as a gravitational singularity. After several thousand years, the energy that would one day be his consciousness cooled to a sufficient temperature to allow for the formation of his atomic and subatomic particles, which then spent the vast majority of the next 13.7 billion years rearranging themselves into his conscious being. Since its inception, this complex arrangement of molecules has developed a strong affinity for acting, writing, and the unexplainable, and seeks to invent answers to life’s most unanswerable questions.
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Dev wrote:
you're delusional. you are a sad sad person. fuck off. you're mentally ill beyond repair. i don't need your shit. dissapear.
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