Hope
Horde the hope
In a horoscope
Stars don’t glimmer
They gloat
A reservoir shimmers
So you’re soaked
No
Dry in a boat
Deny that you float
Lies begin to bloat
Hide within your coat
No
A straight jacket
Your brain
The pain has it
The stain
Sustained habits
You’ve had this
The madness
Sick
Sordid
Sadness
Wits waver
The hapless
The hopeful
A tad bit
Unsocial
Yes
No soul
No sail
No boat
To bail
The water was real
You founded for hope
Never a reservoir
You drowned in your moat
kind of girl
she wanted to be the kind of girl
who got second glances.....
not because of how she looked,
but because of how she looked at others
she wanted to be the kind of girl
you could tell knew things....
not because of how she spoke,
but because of how she listened to others
she wanted to be the kind of girl
whose presence was wanted....
not because of who she was,
but because of how she made others feel
she wanted to be the kind of girl
who changed the world....
not just because of what she did,
but because of what she encouraged others to do
What I Know
Somebody once told me their least favorite feeling was waking up and not knowing where they were. At the time, I agreed with her. I could see her face clearly, too: she had graying blonde hair and deep brown eyes, but she did not have a name.
But now I’d have to say that it might be worse to wake up and not know who you are.
I don’t really know what woke me up and I don’t really know what knocked me out. The room was dark and the only sounds came from the street below. I couldn’t see it—I was too high up, I think—and the curtains were drawn halfway, just blocking the view. The room was lit only by the shine of the moon, a kind of faint shimmer that muffled the room and wrapped around every corner. It was a delicate kind of light, nothing like the sun at high noon with its hard-thrown shadows and harsh sting. I wanted to fall into the soft light, but I was cuffed to the bed.
The cuffs were grounding, in a way. The bite of cold metal and irritated skin cleared my head, which was throbbing. I was definitely in a hospital. The smell of bleach and cleaners only covered so much of the soupy sickness in the air. My eyes felt sticky and the roof of my mouth was dry and tasted vaguely of pistachios.
The only sound I could make out was the scuffling of shoes down a near-empty tiled hallway, the nightly news on a TV down the hall, and exasperated whispering right outside.
My own coughing cracked the silence like lightning on a quiet summer night and a man came running into the room.
“Oh my god, you’re awake.” He reached for me and I flinched violently before I could register my own emotions. A strangled “No,” escaped me.
I knew very little right now.
I knew I was in a hospital, at night. I knew my head hurt. I knew my mouth tasted like pistachios. I knew I was cuffed to a stiff bed. I knew that there was a man by my side. I knew that I didn’t want him to touch me.
Broken
It’s always been
my earnest opinion
that people don’t change.
But sometimes
you see someone,
And they’re just
Different.
Your son comes
home from war,
and he’s different.
Your mother walks out
of the funeral home,
and she’s different.
Not how they used to be.
They didn’t change.
I already told you.
People don’t change.
the poor bastards
didn’t change.
They broke.
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Writing is Like Shouting
Writing is like shouting
Into the void
The void is dark
The void is scary
But shout loud
And shout clear
And soon enough
Someone will hear
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Crash.
It was a relatively big bird this time, about pigeon sized. Smaller birds, such as sparrows would just leave a tiny splat mark. You know, kind of like when you throw an egg. The bigger ones, though, they can be quite problematic.
Jerry sighed as he heard the crash, slowly folding his newspaper. The more time he took to put the paper away bought time until he had to go assess the damage. He looked the window over, sure there was steam coming out of his ears. With a frustrated sigh, he called down the hall, "Damn it! We need to replace the window again."
“We now pass you over to our nature correspondent, Richard Smith.”
“Thank you, John.
The reason for the explosions has now been discovered and confirmed. CCTV footage of the event which devastated the Swansea PC World last month revealed the most worrying development in recent history. Prior to this incident it was believed to be a series of terrorist attacks.”
The scene changed, CCTV footage, a large black bird flying into a window immediately followed by a huge explosion, the camera died leaving static and the scene returned to the studio.
“With me in the studio is Paul Graves, professor of avian biology at Oxford university. Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Now… What the hell is going on? How can a bird explode like that?”
The professor sighed. “We’re only just getting to grips with it ourselves. You know the first few events, I.S. claimed responsibility?”
“What are they doing? Force feeding them explosives?”
“Much, much worse. It took a lot of time and we lost several respected scientists in the initial attempts to capture one… We finally managed to lure one into a trap, gas it and get it into the lab without too much disturbance.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“After a dissection, we have discovered the cause.”
“And that is?”
“The birds have… changed… Their livers have now developed a… I’m sorry, this is very difficult. They’re synthesising nitroglycerin in their livers and not only that but to such a high concentration… Well, you’ve seen the results.”
“Nitroglycerin? How? That can’t be an evolutionary”
“No. No, it isn’t. After a further round of study, we have discovered a virus. A new, previously unknown strain of avian influenza.”
“BIRD FLU? How the hell can”
“Please, let me finish. This is not a naturally occurring virus. It’s been modified. Designed to infect any species of bird it can, designed to insert new genes into their cells and cause those cells in the liver to metabolise carbohydrates and produce, as I said, high explosive.”
“So, it is a terrorist attack?”
“It would appear so, yes. We have sequenced the virus and there was an unusual structure close to the beginning of the strand of DNA. Further study indicates who is responsible.”
“How?”
“We decoded it. It was in arabic. It said Allah Akhbar. Translated it means Allah is Greater. We have no idea how they did it, but it seems I.S. has weaponised our native avian population.”
“What can you suggest? To protect ourselves from this threat?”
“The only reason birds fly into windows is because they can’t see them. The best advice at this stage is to make them visible. Either tint your windows, put a semi-reflective film over them or tape them in a cross-hatch pattern. A bird will not fly into a window protected in this way because clearly it is visible to them then.”
“But doesn’t this mean any time a bird strikes anything…”
“Yes, yes it does. We are working on a counter to this virus, either a vaccine or perhaps a counter agent to reverse what has been done but it’ll take a long time to find out how they did it in the first place.”
“Thank you professor. So, there you have it. Tape your windows. It could save your life. John.”
“Thank you, Richard. And now, the weather.”