Literature's Next Frontier



vacuum of celebrity eyes

by William Wakefield Quill-blue

This is about the random postings
That leave their mark
On you

I never meant
Throw the gondola down

Take off the headphones
When Raffle with yourself

Sentence fragments
and her it's all intentional

The geese breaking through the atmosphere

Silver birds punctual

Honking of a vacuum
Showboat on the shore

Vacuum of celebrity eyes

See their random

It left a mark on you

Posted on: March 28 2015


Not yet rated / 5


(Working on it)

by Anonymous

Ever notice how the words in your head don't end up on the page or screen? Somewhere between the thought and action of writing it down your self conscience gets in the way. Always trying to muster in some real world addvice? "Don't put that there!" Or "This sounds much better use this!" Somewhere between the mind that thought up the idea and the mind that makes it happen something is lost. A good author knows how to silece this very loud and obnoxious voice and let the words flow freely onto the page. For some it comes naturally and nothing is lost in the translation, but in my case there is a disconnect with myself. Try as I might the creativity in my mind is slowly replaced by my waking conscience and it sileces the part of me that urns to create. It's my own fault really for letting it get so bad, in days past I would spend hours in my mind just thinking and relishing in the creation of a new idea. I had no need to write anything down because it was all in my mind safely filed away for me to grow upon and expand as I pleased. A few years ago I had this desperate need to start writing these thoughts down though, at the time I just thought of this as a new way to express myself, and I was happy to ablige. My first attempts were laughable, as bad as what I'm writing now might seem my previous attempts were worse. At the time I thought nothing of this new urge to write, I would sit down and type away for hours on end enjoying every minute. After I was done frantically writing it all down I'd go back and re-read my "Works" and be estatic that I had done so. I never did anything with them. I'd file and type and repeat until the day was gone. I never showed anyone these so called books I was writing for fear that they would not be as amazing as I had thought them to be. I was happy to just know that they were out of my head and stored somewhere tangible.....After all my stories where put to paper however my mind stopped creating new stories. My once safe haven of enjoyment was now a place of woe and heartbreat. It was at this point I knew why I was so desperate to write these stories down, my mind was telling me that these were the last it was ever to produce...I tried to write others, but to no avail. I took classes, read books, and tried to find my muse, but I did not succeed. The realization of this has only just now become apparent as this is the first time I have written anything in over a year, it shows. My mind is not filled with the wonder and joy that it once had, but only of what bills need to be paid, and of what needs to be done at my dead end job. I need to go to school, that will solve my problems....Or will it only create more? Where will I get the money to pay for this? Where will I find the time? I guess these things are what sepperate the dilleginet from the dreamers. Dreamers only wish for things to happen, the dilligent will make them happen. I come home at the end of a day and the very thought of these things drives me to drink. I never really care for alcohol until it provided me with a pleasent escape from the manotony of my mundane life. In a way I suppose it's a good thing I wrote all those stories down, At least now they're out of my head, and will no longer clutter my mind with delusions of grandure. Becoming a writer? I can barrely form a congnitive sentence, let alone an entire book....It still saddens me deep down I suppose that the dream I once had is only just that, and it will never come true. I lost all those stories I wrote about recently, I erased them willingly from an old hard drive I desperatly needed for my computer....I just gave them up....Like they never meant anything to me.....Like that was never my life......Like it was never my dream...The real world is a dark and fucked up place, and let this be a lesson to all of you out there whom come across my drunken ramblings. Never give up on yourself, never let something get in the way of your dream....Never be like me.

Posted on: March 25 2015


Not yet rated / 5

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