The Girl with No Name
I once knew this girl who believed the world didn’t need her. She thought she’d be better off, far away in her own, made up one. She hated the smell of coffee but loved the smell of gin. She admired the word Venice but swore she’d never go. She hated cigarette smoke and perfectly rolled blunts but I’d always catch her slipping on my smoke break outside. I never truly understood what she meant when she said she wasn’t needed by the world. I always thought that meant she was sad inside but really, it meant she was happier than any of us down here on the other side of the sky could ever be.
I met her on one of those rainy days when the clouds are bigger than the sun. I was just finishing my shift down at the store, cleaning shoes, and I decided I’d walk home that day. Even though the puddles were bigger than the sidewalks, I walked. And I sure am glad I did because just before I crossed the busy street around the corner, I saw her. She was a funny looking thing with long, skinny legs and frizzy red hair but she was the most beautiful funny looking thing I had ever seen. Her eyes were made of the prettiest green and she had below, about a million freckles. She was sat on a bench with her face buried in a book and I pretended not to notice her when I strolled past but how could you not? She followed close behind me and I tried my best to act surprised when she tapped me on the shoulder and asked my name. When I asked her’s, she claimed it was anything. I never protested this although looking back, it does seem more than peculiar.
From that day on, we were inseparable. I watched her catch her first fish down at the quarry and she cried when I told her I would later cook it for supper. She made me throw it back, of course, but it made me love her even more because while I saw the fish as nothing but a tasty meal, she saw a life. We were together all throughout high school and I would have never even thought of another girl when I was with her. I watched her make the moon laugh and the sun cry. Her ability to move anything and everything around her was something I would always envy, but never understand.
The last time I saw her was the day of our high school graduation. We were all set off to our waiting lives as mechanics or school teachers or perhaps newspaper boys but not her. She had big plans, we just never knew what they were. The night before she left, I took her to the train station and she told me she’d see me again one day but I didn’t hold my breath because after that night I never did see her again.
Last I heard she was down in Portland, working in a cafe, with a baby boy and no husband. I always wondered if she would become the something that I always knew she could be but then I received a note to her funeral eleven years later and all the memories of my first love came to mind. By that time, I was already married with two beautiful children and had mostly forgotten about the girl with no name. I wondered what life would be like if she had never left though. If she had stayed here and loved me and we had grown old together like she said we would. I never did find out quite how she died. I imagine it couldn’t have been anything less than tragic considering the imprint she was just so determined to leave behind on this planet of ours. I wouldn’t say this planet of her’s because she did not consider this planet to be her’s. She consciously lived elsewhere, without a worry for identity or money or mistakes. Everything there was simply perfect. I do wish she had taken me there with her. I imagine ‘there’ would be something extraordinary, just like the girl with no name was to me.
Quantum Leap
It was worth remembering,
How he overcame the thoughts of suicide,
He started reminiscing;
going back on a memory lane to those tough times:
The rippling of the waves was rough and harsh,
Nearly taking with it her new red hat.
It rushed against the rocks and boulders
And the wind that followed was no way less fierce.
The wind blew her scarf off her shoulders,
But he caught it and used it to wipe her tears.
‘It’s for the best’, he said,
‘You’ll thank me later for it’
She looked exasperated,
Feeling like she was out of her wits.
How could he say such a thing
After many years together?
Was their relationship a sin
That he’s leaving forever?
She couldn’t take it anymore,
She burst into tears.
His words made her sore,
So she left with her fears.
He had his reasons though,
Reasons he couldn’t share.
How on earth would he cope
When his mother was dead?
Looking at it from a point of view,
He was protecting her.
I mean society questioned her values
As she was still an amateur.
She was really gregarious,
Vivacious, outgoing and all.
She never took serious
What society thought of her flaws.
But he loved his mom,
More than anything in this world,
Even more than his ex love.
She was more than he deserved.
***********************
She sat alone,
Alone at home,
Where her screams were silent,
Her mind was violent.
Her insecurities hid deep inside
And they ate her alive.
A tear rolled down her face,
As her heart began to race,
She took a blade and tore her skin,
Where her depressions lay deep within.
She felt like he was unfair,
Until she cried her last tears.
She decided it was enough,
That what he had done made her world tough.
She took a gun to her head,
‘Congratulations Brian! She’s dead’
News spread like wild fire.
In a twinkle of an eye, he heard.
He burst into tears, he was tired
Of the way the world never cared.
He stayed away,
Away from the wicked world’s face.
Locking himself in his imagination,
Becoming a subject to depression.
Depression, a recession of smiles.
There was no one to tell him this
As he was born out of wedlock.
No siblings, no relatives.
No one with whom he could talk.
He decided life’s not worth living.
He put the gun to his head about to pull the trigger,
When he heard the scream of a little offspring
Then he dropped the gun: He was almost a suicide sinner.
He dawdled to the louvers,
To see what was going on down there.
A young lass was on cloud nine for Jasper,
Her new doll, so that Barbie and him could be a pair.
She rushed to her mom and gave her a tight bear hug.
Her mum picked her up and spun her round and round.
Maybe she aced her tests or cleaned the rug,
But what mattered most was what he had found.
Something he had lost
At the sight of the lifeless body of his mom.
What that hit-and-run accident cost
Was his happiness all in a sum.
Since then he had been in low spirits
Not even Samantha could hug out the sadness
And she decided to become a spirit
Making him more and more hopeless.
But the scene he just saw did something to him
As he could really not help but beam.
He realized something very sacrosanct
He found that hope that he was still intact.
A gust of happiness surged through him.
A smile was plastered on his face.
As he turned around, his countenance turned dim.
‘What was I thinking in the first place?’
It dawned on him that it wasn’t worth it.
Taking his life wasn’t the solution.
This sadness was neither the summit
Nor his life coming to a conclusion.
’What would mom say if she were alive?
That all her suffering and shame was for nothing!’
Suicide is not a solution to anything.
He just needed to do one thing: thrive.
He walked out of his apartment,
Out to get a job at King Burger.
He decided he won’t be bummer.
And from that day on, he’ll be ardent.
Today, he’s taking over the world.
Brian Jackson, the CEO of multi-trillion dollar store.
He lives in a big white mansion,
Settled with his wife, kids and passion.
He made sure his story didn’t go like this:
‘My mom died at 23 so how could I be a masterpiece?’
Instead he added a little twist:
’Yes, she died but I persevered like a beast.
This is a lesson to everyone out there
Everyone will face one or two defeats.
It’s left to you if you’ll persevere
And take that Quantum leap.
Black & Blue
He walks with his head held high,
Smile on his face, when his soul wants to cry.
Piercing eyes of an emerald shade,
A battered Man his past has made.
Torn, broken, battered, brused,
Once gave his heart only to be used.
Now a mask, a strong, confident... being
A drone on autopilot, that is until seeing,
Those eyes, a shimmer of gold in the spring light,
Emeralds with gold what a beautiful sight.
You light a spark inside him he’s never felt before,
Like a raging fire it keeps him wanting more.
You look at him, he melts, words don’t make sense. Colors are bright, too bright, black and then you!
Your smile, your eyes, your face, your hair
That Sass, your grin, your laugh, your stare...
You make his stomach flutter and his heart ache,
He wants you, He needs you, cant happen? Fate
His mask slips, confidence fades, He simply must go,
Not a word uttered but surely you know.
Juice Me Up.
Morning, Prosers,
We interrupt your usual Prosing schedule to bring you news of our latest feature update.
As of right now, we have implemented a feature in which ALL Prosers can earn coins.
All posts now have a new button. Juice. This Juice button allows fellow Prosers to tip your words. Have you ever read a piece and thought, “Damn, that’s good?” Well now, when you do, you can show your appreciation above and beyond a like or a comment, and send them some Juice.
Prosers can donate between 10 and 10,000 coins per post to the author. Authors receive 80% royalties which will be deposited straight into the wallet of said author.
Received donations can be viewed in the “Sales History” tab on the website.
This feature is currently only available on the website. However, we are working on bringing this to iOS as we speak. Remember, you can spend your coins on both platforms, but you can only buy coins on the web.
Once we have updated the iOS version to reflect the Juice button, push notifications to alert you of kind donations will be active.
We will also be adding a Juice button to profiles in the not-so-distant future.
Not only this, but we have also banished a number of pesky bugs too. Be gone, and good riddance!
We are working on a number of new things to keep us busy, but as always, if something isn’t working how it should be or if you have any questions, get in touch with us. We are always happy to help!
Until next time, Prosers,
Get Juicing.
Prose.
I call this “Eh”
Eh is the color of Zoe's hair,
Eh is her opinion when we ask if she'll care,
Eh is what she think broccoli tastes like,
Eh is her opinion on Season 1 on "Psych",
Everything is Eh when it comes to her,
Eh can even be a cat that starts to pur,
You think that's it's great but she just says it's eh,
Not super duper, cool, or even boring meh,
Eh, eh, eh, eh,eh,
Screw this poem, it's eh.
White Rabbit: my theme
"One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you, don't do anything at all"
Yes, my theme song was this
1970's
The pills my mother gave me did nothing
So I went in her draws to find the little pills
Valium for the euphoria, Codeine for pain & more euphoria
The high school years start..more pills, "Black Beauties" for the rush, Cocaine "feel I can do anything" Pot to mellow down..
Yup that was my theme...it's not now but I have to stay "green" and remember because I don't want... "Go ask Donna when she's ten feet tall"...
anymore....