I thought I saw you in a strangers face.
I saw a look alike the other day, not your sister not you. But I saw her smile and it brought me to tears because your smile lights up my soul in a instance, makes me swoon in what feels consistent. I saw another look alike the day before and she had your eyes, the way the little bits of green peirced my soul, down to my toes. I was shocked. because I know there are no eyes like yours, nothing could compare to the gaze that took my breath away like yours did. Once I dreamt of a memory and I saw you, only it wasn’t you. It broke me to my core and my soul hit the floor. I woke up screaming and crying knowing I’ll probably never get a chance to see what once brought light into my life, nothing compares. the original, 1 of 1 not 1 of 2 not 1 of a few billion. You. I can’t lie to myself because I miss you. I still yearn for you. My soul thirsts to be intertwined with the original. To breath the same air, to hold onto that piercing glare, to soak in that smile that could have me run endless miles. But all I see is an after image. and the longer I sit and wait and wait in hopes to se my original you fade.
Blood and Barcelona
Hello, Writers and Dear Readers.
Hope your week has started off metal as possible, or classical as possible, or new wave as possible, or... Look, I couldn't think of a way to start off this post to introduce a 41-second poem on the channel. But we thought it would be cool to change it up once in awhile. Plus, I got this badass new webcam I wanted to test drive. Anyway, here's the link.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYvN5aQGHWw
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
A Drip of Psychosis in My Morning Coffee
It’s all so surreal today –
it just makes me want to scream!
Lost in a limbo between your reality
and wherever the hell I am in my mind.
These are the moments,
these paralyzing panic attacks ooze their poisons –
like little parasites
with their thousands of little parasite feet,
invading every pore of my flesh.
I cannot move
though I tremble.
I can squint my eyes
but I am still blinded by this daze.
I am confused, stranger.
Will this be the day?
Will this awareness of a pure insanity
be the final curtain to my existence?
Dawn has arrived now,
and I have barely finished my first cup of coffee yet.
Sigh.
A Lot to Take In
I know it's a lot to take in
My omnipotence to crush you
You're correct to feel safe with me
While our rapport remains intact
My omniscience allows whole truth
I know it's a lot to take in
I can follow your thoughts and whims
Vigilant for errant desires
My omnipresence--thousand eyes
To see you and watch over you
I know it's a lot to take in
But I'll be there when you falter
Omnifarious, I am all
These things to overpower you
To outthink and see you always
I know it's a lot to take in
A QUATERN is a sixteen-line French form composed of four quatrains. It is similar to the kyrielle and the retourne poetic forms, in that it has a refrain (repeated line). The refrain line is in a different place in each quatrain. The first line of stanza one is also the second line of stanza two, the third line of stanza three, and the fourth line of stanza four. A classic quatern has eight syllables per line, and it does not have to have any set meter or rhyme scheme. You can however adapt either of these, as long as the refrain cascades down through the four quatrains (stanzas). — Example here: https://theprose.com/post/739999/not-quite-sleeping — (Please tag me in the comments of your entry)
Battle of Mind and Soul
Click, clack.
Click, clack.
Back and forth balls of steel swinging on a string, one stops and the other starts, impossible to escape from the laws of motion. I watch the sway of the dancers endlessly trapped in their line, predictable, knowable, understood. Light reflects off of the representation of the laws of nature, and I swing back and forth unsure if what I am doing is what should be done.
I slowly pull myself away from my workstation white lab coat swirling around me as I walk down the hallway to clock out for the day. My locker looms, this is the devil’s last chance to pull me away from my decision. I hang up my coat with decisive movements and exchange it for a torn leather jacket to match my faded blue jeans. I take a deep breath and slide my glasses case out of one coat and into the other. The decision is made, I turn away letting the door slam shut, the final clash of rolling thunder of a raging storm all that remains now is calm.
It is laughably easy to walk out the front door, the security guard barely even glancing at me. I peel out of the driveway, the best impression of a bat out of Hell that I have ever given, the implications of what I have just done still pressed down deep within my mind. I spare only a brief wish that I could turn around and follow the ’57 Chevy I pass going the opposite direction.
I blur past the city, and the fields out into the forest where only trees stand to bear witness to what I am about to do. The clouds reach far above me, pillars of Heaven stained red by the setting sun. I slowly open the case in my hand, a flash of light blinds my eyes for a moment. She is awake. Buzzing fills my ears before I can convince my eyes to open. Golden dust and lacy wings.
Dried-up tears stain the tiny face of the one fluttering in front of me, a heartbeat, a wingbeat, and then she is gone, leaving only her memory behind. The battle of fire and ice has come to an end within my heart, the ice of my fact loving mind melted by the fire burning in my soul for all living things. Slowly tears slip down my face as I sink to my knees in the grass. I have destroyed my entire life for this, to leave no trace of something Other. Knowledge sacrificed on the altar of morality in exchange for life. Now there is only one question, was it worth it?
What He Taught Me
True love exists.
Do everything with pride and dignity.
Always plan your car trip ahead of time.
Read the instructions and manuals before you begin to work.
Keep your cooler stocked with Mountain Dew for lunch breaks and beers for clocking out.
Picking crabs is an art form.
The job isn’t done right if you’re not proud of your work.
Steak is best enjoyed medium rare.
Asparagus is the best vegetable.
Never quit…okay, it’s alright to quit sometimes, but just don’t give up too soon.
Love is more important than money and material things.
The best way to spend extra money is by making memories with your loved ones.
Say “I love you” all the time, and freely give hugs and kisses.
It’s okay for men and women to show their tenderness and express their feelings.
Whistle and sing often.
You probably won’t get pulled over if you’re driving 8 MPH over the speed limit.
Mustaches are cool.
Change elements of your life when you need to, even if it’s hard.
Don’t let the dog beg for food in the kitchen.
Don’t prejudge people, and give them second chances.
Most people are good hearted. We are all born kind.
Diligently compare prices and customer reviews before you buy something.
Have nicknames and inside jokes with the people you love. It’s something special you can always share with them.
A little dark humor is good, but corny jokes are the best.
You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose.
Genuinely ask people about themselves, and show you care by listening to them and remembering the little details.
Mom deserves the best of everything, and so do you. Don’t settle for less.
Righty tighty, lefty loosey. Unless it’s upside down, then it might be lefty tighty.
Play in the ocean, but never turn your back on the waves.
The waves come in sets of three, and the third one is usually the best for boogie boarding.
Red sky at night is a sailor’s delight. Red sky in the morning is a sailor’s warning.
Only flip hamburgers once.
Stand up to bullies.
Let loose on the dance floor.
Help anyone who needs it.
If something breaks, try to fix it, but know when to move on.
Double check ratchet straps and trailer hitches.
Packing up the car for road tips is a geometry puzzle and you can definitely make it all fit. Just don’t block your mirrors and windows.
Check your breaks in the ice and snow.
Kids need sports and hobbies to keep them out of trouble and cultivate the best traits and values.
Courage and bravery isn’t a lack of fear, it’s overcoming the things that scare you.
Trust your instincts.
Work hard.
Eat breakfast for dinner.
Love your family.
Enjoy your friends.
Laugh lots.
Get lost in the moment.
Wholeheartedly soak up life.
Never forget how loved you are.
Buddha and Bikers and Coffee: In a Bathtub of Gin.
Hello, Writers and Dear Readers.
Happy Saturday, fam. In today's video, we lazily cast a net into the the waters of Prose., and reel in a haul refulgent with beautiful brains of madness and gorgeousness. Just a mellow morning of reading these greats with coffee and the hum of possiblity.
There is nothing finer.
Featured and flounced before you, and waiting at the end of this sentence, is the link to the channel.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=horH5hzrBmI
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
‘Dad’
something in the way Nina says his name shifts; the word becomes a title, an endearment, a longing. His name becomes something paternal, reverently leaving her mouth instead of the spitting hiss of her usual sarcasm.
Somewhere between “of course I give a shit about you” and “Around you I’m the man I once was” ‘Davie’ starts to sound a hell of a lot like ‘Dad’.
But despite all of her being his daughter, she can’t bring herself to call him dad. The word sits wrong in her mouth, speaks of this untouchable concept she longed for just out of reach, warped by abandonment. He isn’t Dad. She resents the word ‘Dad’; a title unfit for Davie. For her Davie. He is every bit her father, and everything ‘Dad’ could never be.
“Do you think Lane and Ania are watching us?”
Nina’s tucked up under Davie’s chin, cradled back to chest on the couch. the silence that follows makes her fidget with his fingers, twined with her own on her stomach.
“Davie?”
Nina’s not good with silences.
His responding “Hm?” reminds her of the absent minded sleepy conversations on the living room floor. Reminds her of broken glass and quiet reassurances. Reminds her of Star Wars and black coffee.
“do you think Lane and Ania are watching us?”
“I think they’re sitting up there taking care of each other like you and me. They’re up there conspiring, I betcha.”
a stutter of breath marks his hesitation, they’ve never been good at the mushy shit.
“i reckon Lane sent me you, and if I can guess anything about your momma I’d say she sent you me.”
Truth be told neither Davie nor Nina really believe in a higher power but the thought is nice. A final resting place with your lost and loved. Arms to receive you after lonely cold nights.
“I’m glad they did”
“Me too, baby”
But who needs receiving arms in death when she has these ones wrapped around her right now?
Davie knows Nina can’t fill the gaping hole Lane left. But Nina, despite his best efforts, carved her own place in his chest. Yeah, He could love two daughters.