Beyond the Profile Post

Lakeside said:
I actually have been posting snippets, on the 'what are you doing now' thread.
I'll sneak something in here when I have something completed I consider 'post-worthy'.

Ls x
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I'm loving how in a few spots more note worthy posts are sneaking in.

So much more fun than one word answers.
 
Lakeside said:
I agree. My contribution levels are way down due to the number of threads that require minimalist input.

If the scope isn't there to post at least a paragraph, I don't wanna play. :D

Ls x
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Well that's why posts like this are good. Even the A-Z of turn on's is okay. But if I want to do anything super clever I almost need to write 26 pieces just in case :rolleyes:
 
Bdj1992 said:
You were the one that pushed me away when i needed you the most.
Lost in time and space, couldnt find the meaning of life anymore.
Took my love and tossed it into a box.
Locked it and threw it away.
One day i will release my inner flame, melt the box to ashes.
From the ashes i will arise and let my love spread into the world.
Click to expand...
Beautiful - thank you
 
I buy a vintage Les Paul and a pack of Marlboro cigarettes.

I go high up on the cliff with the guitar, a cowboy hat, and Ray Ban aviators.

I start playing my guitar...


There's no amplifier, but the guitar sounds fine.
Somewhere down in my heart, I knew I would write this line.

The guitar starts kicking ass.
...and so do I.
I can hear the evening birds cry.

All of a sudden , it starts to rain .
The sound of my guitar drowns and drowns in vain.
I look up in pain.
I look down again.

...and the guitar's gone.
Guess what ? after days of vacation... work is on!



I realize I'd been dreaming.
The guitar's gone , and I wake up to my neighbours screaming.



Its a mid-career fest
so yeah....fuck the rest.



now guys, enough of this lame-ass poetry!

how'd you think my imagination's fueled up for a language test ? :D
 
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randoms

blowing seeds into the sky
from the cupped palm of a boy
light taking them from the eye
in so gently cupped a moment

the boy the blue sky the
dandelion and breath all to all
like golden air bearing bliss
of an airborne kiss
elemental as the wind
- - - - -
she was just a golden pigtailed girl
leaning on weathered and splintered
fence rails I was just too many miles
away praying poorly, wanting to share
her sunshine

a surprise was in her eyes
I was feeling elemental as the wind as
she wound herself around me once then
turned away thoughtless and perfect,
into the other things of my mind
- - - - - -
humor is slipping on a
banana cream pie and falling
on your face, but only if you
slowly look up into the camera,
chagrined. And you must not smile.
 
Sometimes it's just the way she smiles. The look she can give me from the other end of the room. How she absently pushes a hair out of her eyes. The way she holds the piece of chocolate, just a nibble taken and I watch on in awe waiting for her to take the rest into her mouth. The way she can absent-mindedly just lick food from her fingers.

And at times she is my rock, my safe harbor. She keeps the worst of my dreams at bay and holds me through my tears and tells me it will be okay and I believe her because I know it will be.

Yet people don't understand why I call her my other half, they feel I demean her with such a stupid comment. And I just smile and let them think what they will. But my reason is simple, without her I am incomplete..
 
Inside the mirror he was sort of like Montgomery Cliff
with carefully plotted uneven designs on the evening.

But once he got there he wasn’t anywhere anybody
he felt he should be, dressed slim and cool

and it was Saturday night, and his guns
were loaded for action, only he
didn’t have any guns.

But he thought his hair looked good,
and there he was now (somewhere
around there, among all of them

who were there, around him
just like he wasn’t there).

He got a draft, assumed a casual rigidity, leaning,
balanced on the back legs of a chair, sipping,

always leaning, standing against a beam,
watching for glances. He got a few.
What would Cliff do?

Somewhere in there the band started playing.
People were having a good time.
It was Saturday night,.

Sex hung drooling in the air
entwined in laughter, loneliness,
genuine affection, candy-coated isolation.

It was all pretty good, and he felt
pretty good about all of them.
But he couldn’t touch it.

He knew he couldn’t touch it.
That was okay, a little sad
but funny tickling his
social insecurity.

And he returned a smile with a smile
sipping right combinations
of pure and unsure and
going and staying
and being.
 
Please - More writing posted here? C'mon. It's just fooling with words. Be a writer.
 
“Fingers gently running through my hair, the warmth spreading from her thigh, skin soft, smooth, delicate. My neck and ear, warming my mind . . .”

Nice. Then? More please. Writer.
 
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