Literature's Next Frontier


Flamingo

POETRY:

End of Soliphisis, the Merge

by Anonymous

Soliphering, ever unnoticed,

Through a cut in the crack on the wall of your life

Tunneling through chasmic gorges, rifflets in time,

Coming upon a sandbar, where water is warm,

Here I am.

Many moons ago, I was only myself, a head-dweller.

But now, I have come to answer the charmoring of a romarious individual,

My second half.

 

Here you are.

A steadstrong beacon in hurrisoon weather,

The wind-whittled sides of a rocky upcropping,

The tranquil sherbet hues of a horizonic sunset,

The whipples in a waterfall's rapids,

And...heck no, the waterfall itself.

You are gloriousness and finesse embodied,

A sharpness of the mind as it exists beyond my own.

Ond'far myself, I take you to exist.

 

Caught up in the magnitude of your spellbinding magnificism,

My tightstruck coils begin to mersuciously unravel,

Slothening at first, emfortuning beyond,

The electricism of our souls spizz as they spark,

Two souls, now one, no longer unrelones in the dark,

Hear me cry, for this is the end of soliphisis,

Hear me weep, sojoy.

 


Posted on: October 30 2014

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POETRY:

Takeaway

by William Wakefield Quill-blue

It's raining
Everything is
finally fine

It's raining
 sunny
And fine
It's sunny
and fine
but raining
all the time

Sunny
with
armies of cameras

No chance of clearing
All the mistakes
written in
the Sun's operating system

Sunny with
a chance of
Takeaway
Cloudy with a 
chance of hail

Snowballs choice
Yesterday's mirror

Silence in the opera house

Skewed horizon
Bent on shame
Laughing at your folly
Of dancing alone

Girl you've gotta listen
To Tuesday's
 transmissions

the lunatic
cold in his self
righteous behavior

Covered us in separate 
tissue like memories

Hey they coil 
around you
Girl you've 
got to listen
This last time

Draw the line in
the sand
With a red marker

Who could tell
the distance from
yesterday's window
Sent from my 
Memory
Who could take
The Takeaway

Since the last time
Yesterday's old
Oh that's the
Takeaway

You could tell
the distance
from a mirror

Sunny with
a chance of 
static snow

Don't you know

All that is a
Take away

It's sunny
And raining
With lots of
televisions

Everything is
finally fine

Who could
Take
That All that
Take away

Sent from my
Memory

 


Posted on: October 29 2014

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POETRY:

The disassociated

by William Wakefield Quill-blue

The disassociated

They lose their power


Phantoms in broad daylight

A walking reminder

Of the skeletal past


Memories taking form

The spirit's image

Overlapped across her face


What's left to forget

Stalling the inevitable regret

The disassociated

Memories taking form
What's left to forget
About her face?

Skeletal remembrance
Of a touch
On the shoulder

What's left to forget
Overlaps across her face

The disassociated
Memory
About a face

Staring across the way

The walking reminder

In broad daylight

They lose their features

Disassociated in the wake

 


Posted on: October 29 2014

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FICTION:

The Japanese Kid

by The Child Quill-orange

The salt air blew swiftly, and the once stagnant sent of the sea coupled with the smell of sea life was now replaced by the unmistakable odor of death. A dilapidated warehouse that sat on the edge of the long pier was the source of the stench. Muffled screams, and gunshots could be heard from outside it's unusually thick doors, but no one was around at this time of night to investigate. Not that anyone would, the locals knew what this place was and avoided it at all costs. The scene on the inside was one of true terror, dismembered body parts littered the floor, corpses scattered about, and blood....So much blood. The once gray concrete of the warehouse floor, was now awash in crimson. The taste of copper could be felt on the tongue even from a great distance. A battle was taking place inside this old warehouse, one of which the world had never before seen. A single man stood among the bodies, gasping, bleeding, still fighting a battle he could never hope to win. His sword, once a magnificent silver was now covered in dried blood, and sinew from a resent encounter with a human hand that had been tougher to go through now that his once razor sharp blade was beginning to dull from too much use. His own blood gushed from an open wound on his chest, and the hilt of a knife could still be seen buried deep within his abdomen. He left it there to stem the flow of his blood, so that he may remain conscience until this fight was concluded. Of the hundreds of men that stood to challenge him, only one remains standing. This was the opponent he had been waiting for. A man he had once called friend now stood blade in hand ready to cut him down. Shear willpower and animal like instinct kept him alive at this point, as his conscience mind had long since been silenced by exhaustion, and turmoil. His training, and sword were all that stood between him and certain death. Attack, defend, back away, repeat. This was what his mind was telling him, over and over like the mantra of a mad man. Attack, defend, back away, repeat. Again and again, neither man was gaining much ground in this fight to the death, but neither yielded an inch to the other. They had trained together as children, shared the same master and were therefore very familiar with one an others movements. But Rei had experience on his side, this fight, this wound, they were among many that plagues his life and made him the fearsome warrior he is today. Yamamoto's movement where that of a man who had sparred before, but he had not yet been in a life or death fight where his very life hung in the balance of his actions. Yet neither him nor Rei would yield, both guided by goals that they felt were just. Rei fighting for his bound family members that lie behind Yamamoto, wide eyed and terrified. They were normal people, everyday blue collar types. They had maybe seen death on a Television, but it had not likely ever unfolded in front of their very eyes as it did this day. Yamamoto fighting for revenge of his master that had been like a father to him, tragically killed before his very eyes. Attack, defend, back away, repeat, the phrase repeated itself over and over in Rei's mind. His thoughts scatters and shatters and torn to shreds by the prolonged fighting, and his deteriorating physical state. Blades clash, blood and sweat cloud Rei's vision. Yamamoto see's his opening and takes it, as any good soldier would do. He moves his blade to the left and smashes his forehead into Rei's. This sends Rei stumbling backwards, the blood stained floor makes it hard for him to keep his footing. He slips, and is send tumbling backwards. Desperately he clammers his mind, he forces himself to regain his footing, but it's far too late now. Yamamoto has moved in for the kill, blade in hand, he rushes the temporarily vulnerable Rei and slams his right shoulder into Rei's chest. The impact causes the blade that's jammed into Rei's lower intestines to descend further into his chest cavity. The pain coupled with his exhaustion is too much for Rei. He falls to the ground, his blade slides across the blood ridden floor before coming to a stop not six feet from Rei in a pile of corpses. Yamamoto not being one to pass on this opportunity plants his foot directly in the center of Rei's chest. Rei spews blood from his mouth, it might be from the few sucker punches he received to the jaw, or the undoubtedly collapsed lung he now had, but blood was now filling his mouth. Yamamoto's face erupted into a sinister smile as he knew he had won. Yamamoto raised his blade triumphantly above his head, and spoke.

 

I've bested you Rei, you were no match for me or my army!” Yamamoto was boasting his impending victory. As he had always done in the past.

 

Well then I suppose you should get on with it then, I haven't got all day.” A cocky attitude was the last weapon he had against Yamamoto, one he knew would cut almost as deep as any sword.

 

Yamamoto was un-phased though, he chuckled softly. “You've got all eternity to relish in your victories, let me enjoy mine for a moment.”

 

It is not often you actually achieve a victory after all, aye Yamamoto?” Rei's scarred and blood covered face managed to crack a smile. Which could barely hide the immense pain he was feeling.

 

This got Yamamoto's attention, his smile quickly faded, and anger found it's way into his level head.

 

SMILE ALL YOU WANT IN HELL!” Yamamoto screamed as he raised his blade to deliver the finishing blow.

 

It was as if time stopped for a moment and let Rei take stock of his situation. His eyes were not fixed to the instrument of his demise, they were looking at his family. The ones he had come here to save, the ones he left behind all those years ago. He looked upon their terror stricken faces in disbelief, they all looked so old. Had it been so long that he couldn't even remember their faces, he though? He felt the pressure of Yamamoto's sword tip finding it's mark right in the center of his chest. Some of his family looked away, most of their eyes filled with tears, some screamed and yelled and struggled against their bonds, but there was no escape. He could not free them as he had promised, they would all probably meet a similar fate as his. Rei kept looking at his family as the light began to fade from his eyes. He saw the darkness closing in on him, it was finally going to take him this time. Drag him down into the depths of Hell where no less than a thousand men were eagerly awaiting his arrival with open arms, and daggers at the ready. Rei's muscles relaxed and an unnatural coldness took over his body, the icy grip of death no doubt. Rei's lost bit of consciousness was fading, the fight was leaving his body, the drive that had help keep him alive was now shutting down with the rest of him. Rei was almost assuredly dead.


Posted on: October 26 2014

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POETRY:

Consciousness

by Simple Tune Quill-red

I see things clearly now as if its been infront me this whole time. The most fundamental...basic...explination. The very essence of what it means to be alive, to live, to dream, to hope for... It's as if this knowlege derived itself from the most basic idea of induction; concockting itself through sheer self-realization and imagination as if it knew where it was going before it knew it was going anywhere. Leaping by bounds and strides, the simplest concept evolved, yet it never moved from where it began. 


Posted on: October 16 2014

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