Rage
I feel an emptiness deep inside
Which is dense and black
So very wide
I have felt this darkness once before
It has four walls but never any door
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© M.Withers/M.Strudwick . All rights reserved.
Both the name The EriduSerpent/EriduSerpent
and any written material is owned solely by the above named.
Permission granted for all written material to be shared but not for profit.
Printing or publishing is prohibited without seeking permission first from said owner.
Throwback Thursday: Behind the Screens
Good Morning, Prosers,
It’s another week and another Throwback Thursday. You may have noticed we have ditched the edition number and we’ll level with you, it’s because we often forget which edition number it is and don’t want to look like idiots. But for those of you who were wondering, it’s meant to be week twenty-seven. Sniggers
This week we have decided to let you know about all of the content we curate and create week on week for your eyes to gorge upon. This includes all of the social media statuses that link to cool content, and the design content we place on Instagram and YouTube.
Before we do so, it has been a while since we have mentioned Collections and the Prose Bookstore so we will touch upon that. It has taken us longer than we expected to get the iOS app and Bookstore ship-shape and with a lick of paint, but we can assure you that we are almost ready to roll it out! Please bear with the small, yet humble tech team who are busting lines of code like a gaggle of Nintendo R&D geeks! We are super excited to show you the bookstore and further the freedom and flexibility we have provided thus far with this super cool platform.
Now, onto the content curation and creation bit.
We spend a lot of time as a team finding cool content online (the curation bit of our job) to share with you all. We also spend time scouring Prose for content you share to, in turn, share with our social followers. But this part is the tip of the iceberg.
We are found over all major social media platforms and share content daily on those channels.
Facebook Page – One post per day. Seven days per week.
G+ - One post per day. Seven days per week.
LinkedIn - One post per day. Seven days per week.
Letters from Prison Facebook Page - One post per day. Seven days per week.
Instagram - One post per day. Seven days per week.
YouTube – 1 video per month
Pinterest – constant pinning
Twitter – 8 tweets per day. 7 days per week. 224 Tweets per month
Blog – 4 pieces per week
In-app – 4 pieces per week separate to the aforementioned blog pieces.
Between all platforms that’s a whopping 294 updates across all platforms, and this doesn’t include the ad-hoc updates we post, which by our calculations would take the updates up to nearly 400 per month.
Whilst doing all of this, we have an inbox that often explodes with lovely communications from you, in-app messages, phone calls, meetings, 5 hours per week in prison followed by up to 12 hours of typing, posting and commenting on that content, networking with agents, publishers, authors, and public figures, growth, financial projections and board level work. Suffice to say for a small team we kick ass on the work productivity front.
You might ask yourself why we are sharing this information with you all. Well, firstly we have taken a vow of transparency and like to keep you in the loop from behind the screens, and secondly, we want to assure you that we are invested in making this the best damn social media app for writers the world has ever seen.
We’re going to leave that there for this week and continue doing what we do best… Prose.
Until next time, Prosers,
Prose.
Wool
We’re not living in a democratic administration
The public are being fooled by the rulers of this nation
Do you think we get a choice in the affairs of the day?
That we have any control in what they decide and say?
We're bombarded by spin doctors and fabricated ideals
They really couldn't give a shit about how poverty feels
The statistics are fixed to project that everything is grand
People unemployed? homeless? Sick? No, not on our land
Read the papers as they ooze pages of biased ink
Black and white letters that tell you what to think
Not what they know to be the truth, the proof
The rich can't sell that to you so you’re aloof
Alone in the world wondering how to beat the system
Telling people to make a change but they won’t listen
They think you’re crazy, lazy, lost or broken
Perhaps he’s on the scale because he’s so outspoken!
Frustration spreads while you tie yourself in knots
The greedy and destructive are taking all the shots
At the cures, the fixes the people now contradicted
By gagging orders and their research now redacted and restricted
By the pharmaceutical companies and their money making plans
and the companies and politicians who prosper from these scams
Ripe with corruption and mass murderous schemes
They want to own our souls and censor our dreams
With consumerism for the numb but I fear I can’t relate
When depression sets in they say spending helps abate
So you increase your debts with more possessions to your name
Another form of control that anchors you to their reign
And when we’re in the maelstrom and realise the con
They buy up all the proof and pay off all their wrongs
Time goes by and no-one seems to remember or care
So it starts again because apathy and ignorance is what the masses share
They say, “You can’t make a difference, you're just one person!”
And that’s the mentality that determines the recursion…
Revolt
© Richard Withey. All rights reserved.
My Accomplice
These walls were once pure
and white as snow
But frankly,
that was a lifetime ago
I stole their innocence
in the darkest hours of the night
I forced myself upon them
and stained them
to match the color of my heart
Like a sponge,
they absorb everything
They're cracking and crumbling
under the weight of keeping
all my secrets safe
Blood Poppies
A collaboration with the very accomplished and talented @RichWithey and myself. I hope you enjoy this write as much as I did working with him in this collaboration.
I let my vision blur
As I drift, white car lights cascade towards me
Their lights explode into digital dandelions
Gasoline flowers on the road to origins
Blood poppies
Surreal ancestors of life before death
Ghostlike form arises from the pavement
Leaving outline behind
A trail of lilies, harbinger of death…
Fathomless
A collaboration with the very talented @sandflea68 and myself, I hope you enjoy the read as much as I did in partaking in the collaboration.
I stare at the stars
Pinholes through a tinted veil
In a place where my thoughts set sail
I let them go
Rolling on the white cusp of my waves
Destination churning just beyond
Compassed by cerulean seas
Foaming destiny seethes
In the solitude and hush of the ocean
Where many thoughts lie broken
But not mine
The water is divine
Serene and calming
Beckoning froth fingers begging
Dive into my aqua depths
Bask in my briny peace forever
Sea succour for my soul
Neptune of my dreams
Aquamarine and deeper
Lost in depths of divinity and asylum
Where siren song ruins man
I find myself
Contained and more concentrated
Celebrated by distant sands...
© Richard Withey. All rights reserved.
Far Away
The feel of your hands
The taste of your kiss
The smell of your skin
I crave it all...
Never have I felt it
Indulged in the flavor
Or
Inhaled your
Euphoric aroma
Yet, its undeniably
Something that
I yearn for
I want it all...
These feelings you
Evoke are all I know
Are you near or far away
We may be strangers
Till we die
Fate decides
As we look up at
The same moon
Under the same sky
Near or far away
Your who I
Think about
Day after day
S.W.~
