Literature's Next Frontier



Happy New Year

by Tyler Garrison Quill-red

Happy New Year 2010


I’m everybody and so I’m nobody

I’m the unentitled with entitlement issues

The unworthy overly and undeservedly tastefully decorated and least deserving

The ever discontent consumer

Consuming my fill of all that is fine till it induces nausea and is no longer fine, temporary

I’m the pursuit of the unretainable

What human can retain is all a human ought to live for

In our brief presence of life in time there are things we can do to improve our soul

We are not a product of it, instead we impose and instill upon it

Our soul, the one thing that will survive all else that is us

Love will nourish your soul and is retainable

It will enrich your soul, priming it for another life

Your soul will nourish hate, if you let it, at the expense of an eroded, traumatized, brittle soul

This new year,  pursue the retainable

I’m everybody and I’m nobody

I have chosen the path of the fall line

The path of impromptu paving

Through all life styles

As the path unfolds I become me

A product of all

I’m all and you

I’m nobody


Posted on: December 13 2011


3.0 / 5


Learning Experience

by Leona Carver Quill-red


Mr and Mrs Harris took their family out for a picnic on a warm May day, when the breeze was cool and the sun hot. The children were eager to shake out their winter stiffness and enjoy the young green grass. They romped about on the hillside and ran in and out of the nearby trees.


Mrs Harris lay out the blanket and sprawled, basking in the sun. “This was a great idea,” she told her husband.


“I thought so.” He carried the picnic basket, the chairs and toys, and everything else a picnic could need. He sat by his wife for a moment and, while their children weren't looking, caressed her affectionately.


When the children returned to the blanket, breathless and excited, their father indicated that they could put out all the food for lunch. There were succulent fruits, soft bread, pungent meats and cheeses, crisp vegetables and sweet drinks. They lay it out with a nibble here and there. Then, as a family, they sat together, lowered their heads and prayed.


Mr Harris was just finishing grace when the youngest and smallest child, Mila, screamed.


It took a moment to discover the cause. When they did, the entire family jumped up and away from the picnic food. A long trail of insects had appeared and was industriously disassembling and carrying off their meal.


“Don't worry,” said Mr Harris. “I brought insecticide.” He dug it out of the bundle of other supplies and held it over the marching insects. Then he paused. “You know, I think this could be a good learning experience.”


“Oh, darling,” Mrs Harris sighed with exasperation. Everything was a learning experience when it came to her husband. “Is this really the time?”


“It's always time to learn,” he assured her. “Cover the food and I'll show the kids where these complex and fascinating creatures come from.” He waved at Mila. “I think it would be good for them not to be afraid.”


Mrs Harris knew better than to argue. She began closing up the food while Mr Harris, armed with a shovel and the insecticide, led their children away.


They followed the line of insects back to the source; a robust tower at the base of a tree. The tiny black and white creatures carried armfuls of fruit, cheese and meat down into the central hole at the top of the tower.


“This is a human colony,” Mr Harris explained wisely. “There can be thousands of workers in there and many queens.” He thrust his shovel deeply into the soft earth and pulled up a chunk of sod. Hundreds of scrambling humans writhed in the sudden gaping hole and fell off of the shovel as Mr Harris threw the dirt away. He dug a few more times and scraped the loose dirt away to reveal many perfectly square chambers full of workers, eggs, food stores and files.


“Wow,” breathed some of the children.


“Amazing, isn't it?” said Mr Harris. “I used to have a human colony. It was a different species, though. Mine were blue-collar, more industrial and trade workers. These look like office workers. Look at the cubicles and all that paper work.” He used a stick to prod a file room. Loose papers went everywhere.


“What's that?” asked one boy child, pointing to a cubicle with long, messy tables and unwanted sweets.


“The coffee room. Coffee is what the humans eat and drink to keep them working. The queens make it from the food that they bring. Let's see if we can find one.” He dug through another several inches of cubicle. Finally, he found a large chamber. In it, a gigantic human in a nice suit sat behind a desk. It waved its tiny arms, but was too big to move quickly. Mr Harris got his stick under her and brought her up for the children to all get a good look. “The queen, or CEO, will requisition new workers, the coffee, and everything else the cubicle colony needs. The workers obey her without question.”


One of his children, a boy with some issues concerning authority, as Mr Harris was constantly informed by the school system, asked, “What happens to them if they don't obey?”


Mr Harris looked very seriously at his son. “They're eaten.” The boy went quiet, his expression disconcerted. Mr Harris smiled at the rest of his children and said, “We can learn a lot from the humans. They work very hard for the sake of their colony. For this reason, humans are one of the most prolific and successful species on earth.”


A girl child shook her head. “Not as successful as ants.”


“Of course not,” Mr Harris replied jovially.


Little Mila, apparently experiencing a change in opinion, pushed through her many siblings and tapped her father's thorax. “Daddy,” she said. “Can I have some?”


Mr Harris' feelers waved happily. “Of course, sweetie. I still have my human farm. How about when we get home, we'll order some yuppie humans for you? They're the best looking.” He looked down at the cubicle colony they had found. “Of course, if we're going to finish our picnic, I'll have to get rid of these ones.” He brought up his can of insecticide and sprayed the exposed colony.


The hundred Harris children watched the humans die, then went back to their lunch, now free of pests.



Posted on: November 03 2011


3.0 / 5



by Moonfairy Quill-red

Who is that I see?  She looks at me as if she knows me

but I don't recognize her.

She is round-faced with crows feet around

her eyes.  Her dark hair is beginning

to gray here and there.  She has laugh lines and

jowls and her smile is sad but kind.

How does she know me?

Maybe she has seen me with my friends at the

playground, or passed my house and heard me singing

to my dolls.  Perhaps she has even seen me at the grocery store

with my mother.

Wait! She is calling my name.  How does she know it?

I didn't tell her.  I've never seen her before just now.

She wants me to come with her.  No.  I can't.

I'm too busy now.  I still have many years to play with

my dolls.  I still have to share secrets with my friends

and have pillow fights and stay up past my bedtime.

I have to make cookies with my Mom and snuggle under

the covers with my teddy bear when there is a bad storm.

Listen. She is telling me I can't do that anymore.  I have to

give all that up now.  I have to grow up and be responsible

for others.  I can't be silly and carefree.  I have to have dinner

parties instead of slumber parties.  I have to be brave during storms.

She says I don't have a Mom anymore, except in my heart.

I don't like this.  I'm afraid.

But she says I can't be afraid anymore, either.  Maybe she's

not so bad.  Maybe I should go to her.  She seems kind enough.

I don't think she'll hurt me.  I know that, if I go, I can never come

back but I take a step toward her anyway.  It will be allright. 

I can do this.  I'll be brave and I'll be a big girl.

I'm beginning to see something in her eyes that I recognize and I find

it sort of comforting.

With a deep sigh, I wipe away a tear....

and turn away from the mirror.

Posted on: October 26 2011


3.0 / 5


Forever and Never

by Joshua Design Quill-yellow

Doctor: Josh, I'm sorry but if you leave the hospital you will most likely die from the stress.

Josh: I can't stay in here dying like this!  Let me go!  I'm leaving and u…

(Josh vomits in the trashcan.)

(The boy speaks in a weak voice.)

Josh: I have to see her.  I have to go to school one last time. Please let me go.  I'll tell people I snuck out.  Just turn away and we never had this conversation.

Doctor: Why would you want to…

Josh: I'm going to die anyway.  You said yourself I might not make it through the week.
Please let me go. Before my parents get back.

(Long pause)

Doctor: You're in no shape to drive. I'll take you. Can you walk?

(Eyes closed. Completely overcome with exhaustion.)

Josh: Thank you.

(The doctor drives josh to his school and drops him off at the back door.  Josh finds his girlfriend of 5 years in her senior P.E. class.  They sit down alone in the hall.  She is worried and crying.)

Girl: Why are you always so stubborn?

Josh: I'm sorry just please stop crying.  

Girl: How can I stop crying!? You've been in the hospital for months with some freakish disease and now you're going to die!

(Trying to be lighthearted)

Josh: We're all going to die. I just have the privilege of knowing when.

(Josh lays his head on the girl's shoulder while she strokes his head.)

Josh: You know how I said I would love you forever?

(Girl calms down)

Girl: Save your words, baby. You don't have to be sweet right now. I remember ever sweet thing you've ever told me.

(Josh laughs a weak, small laugh.)

Josh: Really baby? Everything? I love you. With all my heart. Promise you won't forget me.

(The girl smiles. A small tear roles off her cheek onto the boy's lips.)

Girl: How could I forget my future husband?


Girl: You're heartbeat is so weak Josh. Are you ok?

(Josh sinks his head lower until he is resting in her lap. He smiles.)

Josh:  You're such a silly girl.

(The girl lifts up josh's head and kisses him. He barely has the energy to kiss back.)

Josh: I love you.

Girl: As I love you.

(Josh falls asleep in the girl's lap. She closes her eyes and sings to him while stroking her fingers through his blond wild, hair.)

Girl:  Hey Josh? I have a question.


Girl: Josh? Wake up baby I need to tell you something.

Girl: Josh!

(The girl shakes Josh and cries in a panic. She feels his heartbeat. She screams in lamentation and the doctor runs through the door.)

Girl: Please help him!


Doctor: He should've died on the car ride up here. This boy really did love you.

Posted on: October 17 2011


3.0 / 5


Best time to kill me.

by vishal Quill-red

The lung is bursting,
And the smoke is out there,
And also this is giving a pain,
I hope which I can always bear.

The wind blowing is taking it,
Away from my lung,
To give me the best feeling of
"A mind without fear".

Kill me if you can,
This is the best time you can have.
Not in the future,
Coz i'll never be so unplanned.

The wind passed away,
is having the toxin of time worth dying for.
Don't know in future,
If my thoughts would be so clear.

The silent wind shouting,
Which used to be cool clear calm,
Give me one another chance.
Well I'll see in future, if i can take your wish as grant.

Posted on: October 02 2011


3.0 / 5



by 7845300224 Quill-red

I felt the cold wind on my back,

As i sat there looking at the sky.

How could my colorful world turn black?

And the love in my heart just die?

Love was suppose to be like Spring,

Now why does it feel like winter?

You claimed I was your everything!

I accepted you with your every flaw.

We were suppose to be like the stars,

And shine together side by side.

Why do I feel like I'm behind bars?

I need somewhere to run and hide!

Tears? I never knew them until today,

No reason did I have to cry.

You promised You would keep them away

So love where is my smile?

The warmness in my heart turned cold;

Excuse me, I'm new to this feeling 

It's like I just suddenly grew old,

Why did this happen without warning?

Love you trained me to be selfless,

Was it hard to return the favour?

I guess this was the ultimate test, 

And I must accept my failure.

Everything to me, is new

May I please go back in time?

LOVE! How could you not stay true?

I want everything you said would be mine!

The night is almost over;

Love would you be in my dreams?

Would you be back tomorrow?

Or are things just as they seem?

I cant believe you, this is not right!

But love I hope to see you again.

Until then Goodnight and

Love, you'd always be my friend .

Posted on: November 27 2012


2.0 / 5



by Charlotte Storm Quill-blue

They've become nothing,


Those squiggly, curved, straight lines

That are the way we can tell without our voices.

Some people,

Some children,

Are fed with love and truth.

But I am fed with words and lies.

Life, Love, Live

Some of the 4-lettered words that are

Lost value,

A sinking ship,

That once sailed fearlessly, worthily,

Flag whipping high.

But words are to me an empty present,

A blank sheet,

A confederate dollar,

A truthful lie,

A ghost and a broken heart.

Worth less than the ink written with

And the paper written on.

Speak the truth,

If you care for me not at all

Write me a note,

With 3 simple words

"I love you."


Posted on: August 10 2012


2.0 / 5


Death Chart 19: Gold Dove Trip

by StormCatch02 Quill-yellow

The blast of light and amazing screech came from something nobody expected. A pheonix made purely of raging fire that curled when the creature flapped its wings wooshed above their machine in a second.

But it wasn’t alone, a stone eagle that seemed heavier than an elephant soared through the wind in the same direction as the pheonix.

Last, a flock of little golden doves cooed as they danced in the air. But they didn’t follow the others, they seemed to be hovering right over Jesse, Melissa, and Malcome. It was amazing, how they shone magnificently. It was almost like they didn’t even know!

“Wow,” Muttered Malcome. “that is SO cool.”

Melissa laughed. “That is!”

Their necks were strained from bending up and marveling at the birds. Jesse asked, “Do you think they’re waiting for something?”

It was werid, but Jesse had a point. When the biggest one come down, touch it, Melissa suddenly thought out of the blue.

Another message, Melissa thought, this time actually thinking for herself. She couldn’t stop herself, it just seemed like the correct thing to do. So do it.

When the largest dove swooped down, almost commanded to Melissa’s thought, Melissa sprang up and merely touched one of its feathers. A burst of yellow light and Melissa was upon its back.

She opened her previously closed eyes to see the dove had grown what felt like times twenty!! Jesse and Malcome gasped as Melissa laughed. “Touch one!” She yelled at them between grabbing her stomach and hugging the dove.

Malcome did it without hesitation and was soon mimicing Melissa in joy. Jesse followed suit. As they all looked back, the vending machine swirled uncontrollably through the sky in every direction leving a smoke stack in its trail. Soon it was headed straight for the three of them!

“GO!” They all shouted in unison, and the doves took off. Like a rollwercoaster, same speed and thrill, the whole flock was majestically swinging to and fro. It was amazing!

As scary as it could have been, being up high and being chased by a vending machine, it couldn’t have been more exciting! The doves’ wings made a woosh sound every flap. It was one big sound they all made at once.

Looking around, Melissa was surprised all the doves grew. She also saw that they all left a stream of sparkles behind them. The doves acted almost completely normal, with what seemed like a slight little grin on their faces, happy to see the three of them happy.

As Melissa was playing detective and looking around, Jesse gestured her to look forward by pointing with very believable persistence. Melissa looked over and saw something shocking.

“What. . . IS that!?” She exclaimed.

A golden dome glittered like the doves, but less glamorous, more like a shield would shine, but isn’t really meant to. But the dome looked like it was four stories tall and the diameter (length from one side to the other) was about two miles.

Around it in what looked like an organized line of cottages and scattered people walking around. It was a buzz of a little community.

They flew for a few more minutes until the doves landed them right in the middle of the first line of cottages. People swarmed them.

The doves cooed and left toward the golden dome, but before they could see what happened to the birds, a soothing voice asked, “Excuse me, but what are you doing here?”

Dang, if they had a dime for each time they heard that.

Posted on: July 04 2012


2.0 / 5


Haunted House

by Charlotte Storm Quill-blue

That heart-shaped core inside me

Is nothing short of haunted house

With smashed windows and broken dreams

A door swinging crazily, crookedly in the midst of a storm

On its rusted hinges

If the outside has not frightened thee,

Some have dared to enter

And fall only through the weak floor boards

Or pale at the shadows

The ghosts

Who haunt, wisp, and glide the lonely rooms

Hunting, haunted, for something

That they'll never find,

Innocence, in their haunted minds

In my haunted house.


This doesn't feel too great of a poem and if any of you have a great idea or are in the perfect mood to perfect this poem or expand on it, you are certainly welcome to re-write it yourself and post it, and I hope you'll show it to me!

Posted on: July 01 2012


2.0 / 5



by Frederick Bridger Quill-yellow

In a stark room they crawl to each other,

Collapse in early morning from passions

That are ready to begin anew, Dress

Each other in demanding imagination,

He in desire’s sway, she

In lipstick and high heels; in spent

Flesh a suggestion of a dance in cool

Dawn.  They collide in sweet agonizing

Tempos, violate damp air

Like hot Latin music. They

Forget nothing about it:  a champagne

Chalice, the sound of leather hot

Across spent and satisfied skin,

Sweet chained pressure across

Breasts fresh and available,

Imploring sobs, wails whose voices

They did not recognize


Sometimes they may be stalling: coffee,

Dinner, Amsterdam; he measures

Her but will never know her.  She

Has earned the right to know things

About him.  They collide in a film

That makes crazy lives seem sedate.

Posted on: November 29 2011


2.0 / 5


A 'One More Chance' Text

by Joshua Design Quill-yellow

I wish I could have just one more memory:  To dance with you to my radio in the middle of a backroad with the trees stretching across trying to meet each other;  under the moon and the stars and the dim light of my headlights.  May our hearts beat as one.  And may our song be love.  Forever and ever babe.  Just one last memory together...

Posted on: October 17 2011


2.0 / 5


Masters 14: The Other Girl

by StormCatch02 Quill-yellow

She was right. The sounds HAD stopped. But that’s what scared me.

Now I knew that this thing outside knew that we knew it was there so it stopped. So it wasn’t expecting us to be there. So since it stopped because it knew we were there, but wasn’t expecting us to be there, he probably had this giant chainsaw and wanted to rip us apart!

Or she! Or it! Or all three! Or just two, but that still has a variety different outcomes and I wasn’t in any mood to try and firgure them out.

At that minute I wished I was upstairs when I remembered Jaliet was still there. That colled me off a bit. ONLY one bit!

A long silence grew, telling me we all knew the two things that were going to happen:

A.) We were going to run upstairs and hide or they were going to run and hide.

B.) Somebody would have too much idiot-level-brave brain cells to open the back door and find the other one there.

For some reason I honestly will never find out, Jaliet decided she was going to go with choice ‘B’ and open the door.

Goosebumps trapped me in my skin and spot as she slowly crept with caution towards the door. I was still shocked as she dared to turn the doorknop creating, if possible, even more terror throughout everybody. Inside and outside the door.

I saw her knuckles turn white as she swung open the door to see the bitter darkness tha was outback in the middle of the night. But of course, things aren’t just what you see when there’s a noise outside of a dojo where teenagers, a man, and an old man train to fight with water and rocks.

Never. Ever.

Now that everybody knew a fight was about to occur, the phantom reavealed himself. Well. . .HER self.

Out from the bushes twirled a teenage girl, Jaliet’s age, in all black except for a few accessories. Her black denim jeans were tucked into her calf-high bright red socks. Her dark shirt was the same. At the wrists it was tucked in to wierd red fabric wrapped tightly around her wrists. Her waist had anothers tightly wrapped piece of fabric impeding view of the separation of her pants and shirt. Her brown hair was set in a ponytail using a red scrunchie.

She was one of the red ninja guys, I thought. Except. . .she was a girl!

She snapped her head up, scaring Jaliet, and let us see her beautiful face. Her hazel eyes weren’t like a single pair I’ve seen. Almost orange. Her face was smooth, sharp, and stunning.

Her voice wrapped it all up like a bow. “I thought I was the only hirl who could fight with the Earth.”

For some reason I spoke up, without quivering. “You’re darn right! She. . .she’s awesome!”

And I didn’t need Jaliet to spell out her next move. She stabbed me with her dagger eyes, telling me never to say something like that again.

When Jaliet faced the other girl, the other girl smirked. I kinda got mad that she was so arrogant. I stood up, sending her into a little surprise.

She tried to hide it with her confident voice, but we began to see through it. “You’re insolent. But I’m out numbered.” she looked straight into me, and I began to sink in. “I’m still going to win.”

I clenched my fist and whipped my hair around for a second to get out of the funk. “You shut it.”

I swear, looking back at that, I really should’ve taken that back and not let myself get back-fisted into the gut. By Jaliet.

I chocked a bit and held my stomach. But Jaliet was finished with me, but still wanted to steam off a little. So, as we all knew, she eyed the other girl and slapped her with all her cat-fight power. That send the other girl into a frenzy.

I recovered slowly as the other girl levitated a rocked and threw it at Jaliet with a full surprise to her. Jaliet took the shot in her shoulder and held it, holding back tears.

Seeing Jaliet mad made me want to smack this girl, so I decide to. While she was busy laughing at Jaliet, I took the stone from the ground at threw it at her knee.

She seemed a little confused, and mad, so I took off while she was looking down. I took off outside, speffically to the calender. Out of rage she followed me into the black light.

I knew I couldn’t make it to the calender before the took a swing at me with another rock, so I froze in my place. She ran past me for a second, then she realized I had stopped. But all too late. I already had a ten-pound stone infront of my in the air. And she saw it.

I took a step forward, and she fumbled a bit backwards. Forward, backwards, forward, backwards. She got the hint soon. Her wide eyes told me so.

Suddenly, she got an idea. I could tell because her eyes changed, and were pointed down evilly. She lifted her hands and acted like she was gripping a rock.

I thought she had a big rock behind me, so I looked quickly only to see nothing. She laughed and snatched the rock from me.

“What!?” I yelled. She just tricked me! Is that what they learn from the red guy?

So she ran, and I mean FAST RAN, to the calender. I tried to make roots randomly appear in front of her feet, maybe tripping her, but she always saw them coming.

I thought she would get away when out of nowhere, a vine of water engulfed her ankle, and down she went. Right into the hard ground.

Posted on: July 04 2012


1.0 / 5


Social Media Breakdown.

by B. W. Leigh Quill-red

Rotting in the undertones of hidden insecurity,

Rebellion takes place in the crevices and confines of my mind.

Disrespect is reflected

In the hectic connections

It wrecks my composure.

But I've already got closure

For the energy I spend

Trying to mend the rips and tears

A dead end relationship has left

In the confidence

I continue to wear,

Will now be spared for the sole purpose

Of reversing the curses

Diving headfirst

And finding someone truly worth this.

Posted on: June 10 2015


Not yet rated / 5


By The Side of the Road

by B. W. Leigh Quill-red

You say I'll eat my words but I think I can resist.

Even my toenails would be more appetizing than this.

Your arms are covered in scars that mark what you truly are.

Your lies have bought me time with my guitar

But so far these words are the closest I can come

To following the north star.

You are a black hole

Twisting the truth

Into damage you can't undo.

Ruthless half-truths split my mind

As I try to find the line

Between which is your pride

And which is mine.

I'll be just fine if I can ever realize

That the soul I thought was my other half

Was meant to feel the wrath of a wasted life,

So much potential with no credentials

And a complete lack of motivation.

Keep lying with your useless excuses,

I'm not used to this.

I've found that your beautiful lies

Mark the the place in my heart

Where my confidence used to shine.

You'll find your reward

In the dust

By the side of the road.

Posted on: June 10 2015


Not yet rated / 5



by William Wakefield Quill-blue










Posted on: April 27 2015


Not yet rated / 5


Reverse Rapunzel (Rachel stared blankly)‏

by William Wakefield Quill-blue

Reverse Rapunzel
Climbing down the drain
Through the pipes
through the city we lurk

Supporting retro

We collaborate on projects
That take place in faraway places
You're so welcome to be
among the deserters
Laborers who work on treaties
Sing out the differences
Pick up the insulation
How can they write with claws
Installing camera

In Laboratories of the strange
Plus minus plus equals
A place to go

So here we are with
all these weirdos
Surrounded by the strange imaginations
Speaking out wasting time
Hold your breath for the last one

We can'T sympathize
That is why we will not intervene
Don't hold your horses
The Writer called in sick

For betwixt these two
A lilac grew
That bloomed
way farther than possible

You think this is weird
And you probably heard
Something that was
speaking to you
from long ago
If you got that far
Swear you were
Lost on a
broken continent

She's moving in
Hold the phone
She's got a price
For all the collectors
They gouge the sales
What does it all mean
Who knows

Let's reveal the lack of content
The throwing of bricks
Instead of mortar

Jockeying for position
Rachel stared blankly
at the camera

Posted on: April 10 2015


Not yet rated / 5


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 24 2015


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claustrophobic suitcase

by William Wakefield Quill-blue

We're in the sticks

A motor struggles
In the distance

Out here
Not much

A ghost country
Fed by wolves

We take turns
Dousing each other
In beer

Slanted trunks
Of vampiric hosts

We're in space
Forever clarifying

A sad rotor
Drifts on the Breeze

Take heed
still in your
weaselly ways

Make junk
Not craven plates

The motor stitches harder

"Let's ca Sri a ate the"

Let's concentrate on the collapsing

Put it in the trail around us

Photographic evidence
Blatant imagery around us

Can't you see the geometry
The harsh slant of the valley

Accidents so again they say so
again accidents

The balance of the
claustrophobic suitcase

Baggage carts
filled to the brim
space they proceed to unpack

Motor idles as
another control is pushed

Logic rearrange sentence
Logic reiterates soliloquies
of separatists that
bring loaded spectacles

Grinning face with smiling eyesHernandez photo photo

Dishes photo garment
Msoft impressive the
harsh collapse of the
signaling of sector five
of this slingshot
Saturnalia step down
to see Tony stupor do
#Proper sequence branches
of these lakes rivers

From about it spells
a big giant picture
Run to put the flame
Washer hands and ashes

Slurring of the secrets
that thing that sends some love
along with smells
that smell out small
small oh small
token doctor
if you can win
if you can
Did they really want this

What's a lot of footage
Doing in a place like this

All mixed up and
celebrity next contestant
By the way and

By the wind

Posted on: March 22 2015


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Let's pretend she's home again

by William Wakefield Quill-blue

Let's pretend

It didn't end

Befriend a lost soul

Haunting each other's sky

No way to make it right

Wait for day lights end

Haunting a blustery sky

She's home again

Posted on: March 15 2015


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swim on to the frozen heart of space

by William Wakefield Quill-blue

Swim on to the
Frozen heart of space

Taking Time
In reverse
With no remorse

Parting the black waves
The undulating curtains
Of all memories
Rising up like sun flares
Snatched by an ethereal hand

That plucks the giant strings in the center
Our entire world
Throbs along with the note
That only planets hear

Rush to dissolve
your throwaway dreams

Swim on through blackness
full time awareness
sending a signal by
Songs in the dark
To these triumphant acrobats
Make no mistake
This is our time
Of swimming to the dawn

Rush to dissolve
your throwaway dreams

Swim on to the
Frozen heart of space

You and your ripe
Vera-melt creamer
Balanced on your
Diagonal lip juncture

Strafing blatant
In their
hush puppies

Folding chairs
laid out with

CDs of
Long forgotten

Memory Lane
Invaded by Strangers

Sellout to the
Great Compromise
Forgiven and Forgotten

Never forsaken
Some kind of angle
In a
hot pursuit

Folding chairs
Out at all angles

Songs of the world
Forgotten on
Memory Lane

Arrogant drive
Full Moon

Sellout to
the Omipetence

Chairs all splayed
In songs of
forgotten Angels

Sellout to
the high hopes
The unfolding
doodles of dreamers

Part man made.
One part home sliced

Posted on: March 12 2015


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Wilting Flower

by Madsidy Quill-red

I could feel his eyes on me the first time my father had introduced us. It was early Saturday morning and i had gone down to my fathers study to ask if he'd fancy some coffee. I stood in the doorway of his study watching him and a man I had not seen before, he had on glasses with a thin frame, with dark brown hair that fell just before his eyebrows. They were both sharing a laugh when father noticed my presence.

"Ah, Mary Ann!" Father gestured me to come in. Both men stood up to greet me.

"This is my lovely daughter Mary Ann Bishop." Father spoke proudly of me, it had put a faint smile on my face to hear him refer to me as 'lovely'. "And Mary, This is Jeremy Markus, He owns the property next door to ours as of this Monday."

Jeremy Markus kept his eyes on me as he reached my hand, his hand was warm and much larger than mine "Pleasure to meet you Ms. Bishop." His voice was raspy and it sent chills down my spine.

"And you, Sir." I slightly bowed my head, he let go of my hand. He appeared quite younger than my father, whom is currently 47 years. But Jeremy Markus still had a vibrant look in his being. He looked to my father who spoke,

"What can I help you with, Mary Ann?" He seated himself back into the large leather beige colored chair.

"Lisa was wondering whether you'd like your coffee now." I explained, Lisa being one of our house keepers.

"Ah, Mr. Markus would you like some coffee?" Father first asked the man who seated across from him.

"I wish I could stay longer but I have already delayed many important manners I must deal with as regards to my new home." Mr. Markus stood back up.

"Then another time," Father smiled and said his goodbye to Mr. Markus.

"It was nice meeting you, Ms. Bishop." Mr. Markus appeared to have a small smirk upon his face but I couldn't quite tell, he brushed by me, looking down at me with roaming eyes, I felt my face heat in realizing just now that I was in but a nightgown. I could smell his musky but intriguing after shave. I retreated up to my room to change my appearance.

 After Sunday, Came Monday.. I woke up to the sound of moving trucks and men chatting amongst themselves. It was early 8am on a breezy summer day in June. I stood up still awaking, I went to my rather big closet as my family did quite well, my father being a talented Non-fiction author and professor at a university several miles away. Not to mention my mother who received a large sum of money inherited down to her by my grandfather who passed last May.

I dressed in white stockings, a white hat, and a leaf green floral patterned dress that stopped just before my kneecaps. I hurried downstairs then out the door before Lisa could tell me to eat breakfast. I seated on the porch swing, the breeze felt good, I wanted to take off my hat but knew mother would scold me if I did, she says that I have fair and sensitive skin which she was right about, a few minutes in the clear sun would turn me red as an apple, is what she alway's said. I watched as the moving truck men unloaded furniture from the back, A large four seat-er couch in bright red colour. What man would have that taste in furniture? I pondered, unless of course, he is wed.

"Are you gon' sit out there all mornin' child?" Lisa called out the screen door, "Come in and eat your breakfast."

I sighed and stood up, turning my head to the house next door where the moving men still hauled things into the house. I saw a glimpse of a woman wearing an all white suite, with a large hat. I heard her shout "Careful with that now! It cost more than you make in a year!"

Later that day I stood in my thoughts, thinking of Mr. Markus and that woman I had seen. Mother entered the sitting room and spoke, "Mary Ann, your birthday is to arrive soon, we must send out invitations immediately." She said, without looking at me, rather looking at Lisa who poured her tea.

I stood up fast and clapped my hands together in excitement, "Oh, mother! You mean to say we can host a party here?"

"Now settle down, you will give me a migraine with all that excitement. Your father and I have already made a guest list. We will have finished the invitations by tonight."

"Thank you mother, thank you!" I rushed over and gave her a kiss on each cheek. Though she did not smile I knew she was glad that I was happy.


The next morning I came across the invitations to my birthday party on the dining room table, I looked through them and stopped at the invitation that had Mr. and Mrs. Markus written on it in neat cursive, obviously my fathers hand writing.

"I was 'bout to take those to the post office, would you like to accompany me, dear?" Lisa asked picking up the invitations, but not the one in my hand.

"No thank you, But.. Could I take this one myself? They live right next door, It seems inconvenient to mail it." I pointed out.

"I suppose.. Just make sure ya not bothering those people." Lisa left for her errands.

I walked up the driveway of a big tan coloured house, it was maybe even bigger than ours. I knocked twice on the door. A young boy who appeared 6 or 7 years opened the door widely. He stood there blinking for a moment before running away into another room. A house keeper came to the door,

"Sorry about that, he's a bit shy around strangers," She paused, "But you're no stranger, you must be the young lady next door. Come in." She smiled and stepped aside. I walked into the house that had boxes here and there, I followed the woman into the dining room where she said I could have a seat in, sense the sitting room was still being situated. The house keeper was shorter than me, I stood at 5'5. She had to be barely 5 feet tall and in her late 40's.

After waiting a few moments I heard a familiar raspy voice behind me, "We meet again, Ms. Mary Ann Bishop." He chuckled slightly to himself. I stood up and greeted him.

"What brings you here on this pretty day?" He asked, but he did not sound curious, he sounded more.. sure of himself? "I.. I brought an invitation for a party my family is hosting f-for my 15th." I stuttered feeling nervous for some reason, I tried to steady myself by standing up as straight as I could manage.

"Ah, 15th? Of course a young woman would want a party." He smiled, opening the invitation. "My wife loves these events, so I'm sure she'd accompany me to your special day."

"Thank you, I'd be pleased if you both could attend. I'm sure my father would be, too." There was a silence, not an awkward one, but an intimidating silence that filled the room.. Mr. Markus stood there observing me closely. I felt my cheeks flare up and started towards the door. I turned around for a moment to speak,

"I hope I didn't burden you with my visit, I'll be going now." I bowed slightly.

"You did not burden me at all, you're welcome anytime, Ms. Mary Ann." He stared into my eyes with a seriousness that made my chest feel heavy. I left in a hurry feeling his eyes still on me, my face still flared red.

When I returned home I disappeared into my room and started on my summer studies.. Trying to get my mind off of this man who filled my thoughts.. Jeremy Markus



Wednesday afternoon father called me down to his study,

"Yes, father?" I asked.

"Come here for a moment please, there's something I have for you." He said.

Suddenly I became excited, I rushed over to see what it was. Father handed me a baby blue journal with my name 'Mary' engraved into the cover.

"I absolutely love it!" I shrieked, Flipping through the blank pages.

"I thought because your mother was so heartfelt about writing poetry you could start on it." Father smiled and lifted a pencil from his desk then handed it over to me.

"I cannot wait to start, Thank you again." I smiled and jolted out of the study and into the study.

Several day's after father gave me my journal, I still sit there taunted by the blank pages, I throw it onto my bed and go downstairs for lunch before Lisa called me.

"Hello Mary" Lisa greeted me as I sat down in the dining room. Father at the university as he was everyday, Sometimes he'd have classes at night instead of the afternoon, like yesterday. Father was a respected literature teacher and my mother ran several charities that took up most of her time. I'm proud to have such accomplished people as my parents but, I must admit I miss their company. I don't have many friend besides the ones I only see in school.

After I had eaten lunch I went out to sit on the porch swing with my little blue journal. I watched the child next door play with a red rubber ball. He noticed me looking and stood there blinking, again. What a strange kid I thought to myself. Mr. Markus came out and walked over to the boy.. "Okay now we can play" He put his hand on the shoulder of the boy and followed his eyes, before Mr. Markus could find mine I stuck my head inside my journal, not daring to look up.

"Mary Ann!" I looked up from my journal to see Mr. Markus waving me over to his yard. I walked over hesitantly with journal in hand.

"Good afternoon, Sir" I bowed slightly.

He chuckled and said "Stop with the 'Sir' and 'Mr', we're neighbors." His smile was so welcoming, it was practically pulling me towards the man.

""Yes, em, Markus." I said quietly. He chuckled softly again.

"Jack say Hi so Mary Ann." He spoke to the little boy.

"....." he stayed silent.

"My apoligies Mary Ann, He's very shy, it must be he likes you a lot." Markus ruffled Jack's hair. "You can go play, I'll be there in a moment." He dismissed little Jack.

"Is he your son?" I asked bluntly.

"He's from my wives first marriage but, I've known him sense he was but a few months old.

"I see.." I said looking down.

"What do you have there?" Markus gestured to my journal.

"My journal, it was a gift from my father I received shortly ago." I held it with both hands in front of me.

"It's very pretty, as are you." His sentence faded out, I froze but my face burned red. Did I just imagine that being said? It had to be! "..Have you written anything in it yet?"

"N-No, my father wants me to write poetry, yet my mind seems to be coming up with nothing.."

"I'm sure you'll find something to write about, you seem to have a keen perception." He said.

"Thank you, Sir." He looked at me troubling, "I mean, Markus." his scowl turns into a smile in a split second. I said good day and started towards the front door of my home.

When father arrived home he called me into the sitting room, "I ran into Jeremy Markus outside just now, they seem to be settled in their new home.." Father started taking off his tie. "He said that had run into you earlier with your journal, said you were having writers block, is that true?"

"Well, yes father.. It is true." I looked down, hoping he would not be disappointed.

"Mr. Markus offered to lend you some poetic books he has in his study, he said you may borrow them as long as you bring them back. I told him you would kindly accept, so you're due over there at 12 o'clock tomorrow afternoon."

"Yes, father."

"Now go rest, it's late." He dismissed me.

I ran upstairs to my room, Tomorrow I'd be going over to Markus's house, I felt a twirl of butterflies in my stomach.. I'm so happy. But, this is wrong.. To feel this way about a man so much older than me, and married! Surely this isn't right.. I dressed into my nightgown and fell asleep with these thoughts running through my head.

The next day I headed over to Markus's house with journal in hand, I knocked twice. Markus opened the door with a smile, I noticed he didn't have his spectacles on, he was dressed casually. He gestured me in and led me down a narrow hallway into his study, his study was much larger than my fathers.

He told me to have a seat anywhere, I sat down across from an empty chair. He went to his desk and came back with two books. He handed them to me,

"This is all I've found so far," I looked at the two books, one being Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman and the other The Sonnets, by William Shakespeare. He took the empty seat across from me. "Shakespeare is one of my favorites.. I suggest you read into that one first, of course I value the book very much so please, be careful."

"I'm not reckless.." I looked into his eyes. He smiled.

"You're right, it's not you who is reckless, I must admit it is me who's reckless.." His smile faded as he placed his head in his hands. I took a deep breath and stood up, setting the books on the small table next to me. Slowly I walked towards him, as if he'd run if I was too subtle. He lifted his head slightly, I cupped his head in my hands, he looked up to me with his eyes wide and watery, his lips parted. I looked down at his lips and leaned down to press them against my own. It was a warm kiss that left me drowsy when I pulled away. His eyes still looked at me stunned.

"Perhaps I too, am reckless." I said softly. I gathered the books and stopped at the doorway where he followed me closely behind, I turn around and say "I'll bring these back to you on Sunday, if that's alright."

He nodded looking at my lips. I reached to open the front door but he forced it shut with his hand leaning harshly against it. He looked from my face to my lips for what felt like hours but was  only minutes. He leaned down pushing his lips against mine, gentle but firm. Without moving his eyes from mine he moved his hand to the doorknob and opened it and backed away.

As soon as I arrived home I went to my room, face-planting onto my bed. My heart was still pounding rapidly... What have I started?

Posted on: March 10 2015


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Human calliope

by William Wakefield Quill-blue

projected selections sold to the

highest bettering of myself
In the Milky Way
Spectrum of things

the clouds
They drop from the sky
like ice cubes

enter when
I say entertainment

there's a Dirty people alert

That and a few batten
down the hatches

The doctrine of the turncoat
is the plethora of religiously
gigantic ergonomic solutions that
Groove on the gravy train
Space lyrics all around you

I'm fine
With the all
of the spacesuits
of the
Herky-jerky man

a Human calliope

Let's reflect on the projected selections
sold to the highest bettering of myself
In the Milky Way's dark
Spectrum of things
They drop from the sky like ice cubes

They enter whenever I say entertainment

Posted on: March 05 2015


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Pushed the wrong button's (Remote)

by William Wakefield Quill-blue

Changing religions on channels
different channels they project
dogmatic lifestyle arrangements

In this determined to solve
all the unsolvable there is
a collection of history and
a mythology that will surround
you and keep you in the night

from the day comes
the end of another century
but it's all history just conspiring
to surround the looping energy
that projects out of bodies

and they power the main core
that is stored deep within
and it is holy and it runs everything

Posted on: March 05 2015


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Chocolate cake for breakfast

by LillySkyWorks Quill-yellow

Chocolate cake for breakfast

is what i've come to find

an emotional delicasy 

in the world of my mind.

Chocolate cake for breakfast,

was perhaps not the best choice

but with some vailla ice cream

soon even i wont notice

Chocolate cake for breakfast

sits in my full stomach,

cravings satiated for 

a whole five minutes

Posted on: January 24 2015


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