19.7.09
16.7.09
The First Annual Great Write-Off '09
Starting at midnight 1 August, the first (hopefully) annual Great Write-Off shall commence. This is a contest of sorts between myself and the wonderful, capable, talented Charlie J. Russell, from whom I stole everything you see here*. By midnight 1 September, she and I will have endeavoured to publish as many finished pieces as we can.
Da Rules:
1) Finished pieces may be of any length, as long as they are to the author's satisfaction. Few things are sadder than a beautiful poem stuffed with extra lines or whittled down to fit.
2) Non-contest pieces may still be published; Write-Off pieces will be published with the "write-off" tag. These pieces are to be counted at the end of the month.
3) One may publish old, previously unpublished work but the opponent reserves the right to scowl disappprovingly.
4) Tumblr entries are not official entries, as Tumblr hasn't any tags.
5) The contest ends at 12:00:00 a.m., 1 September.
6) The loser will buy the winner lunch at the establishment of the winner's choosing, or the winner may request a home-cooked delight (this must fall within the loser's skill range and the loser is not responsible for mad-difficult dishes.)
One of us is going down, and it won't be me.
*By "everything you see here," I refer only to this particular post. Just putting that out there.
Da Rules:
1) Finished pieces may be of any length, as long as they are to the author's satisfaction. Few things are sadder than a beautiful poem stuffed with extra lines or whittled down to fit.
2) Non-contest pieces may still be published; Write-Off pieces will be published with the "write-off" tag. These pieces are to be counted at the end of the month.
3) One may publish old, previously unpublished work but the opponent reserves the right to scowl disappprovingly.
4) Tumblr entries are not official entries, as Tumblr hasn't any tags.
5) The contest ends at 12:00:00 a.m., 1 September.
6) The loser will buy the winner lunch at the establishment of the winner's choosing, or the winner may request a home-cooked delight (this must fall within the loser's skill range and the loser is not responsible for mad-difficult dishes.)
One of us is going down, and it won't be me.
*By "everything you see here," I refer only to this particular post. Just putting that out there.
12.7.09
I won't spare you
I think I've got a disease and
it's killing killing me,
from the top of my lungs to the bottom of my feet.
screaming screaming nonsense to nonentities.
I think I'm a parasite,
taking until you just won't give anymore;
too close for comfort but too heavily dependent to go.
I don't know how I will survive
without
the moon in my window,
just out of reach.
Tide's going out,
moon's waxing, waning, full and then empty again.
My blood's pulled around,
moved by the phases of you.
When the moon moves too far,
shifts away,
stops controlling the heat of my body,
how will I breathe?
How can I laugh,
without my blood stretched too thin?
it's killing killing me,
from the top of my lungs to the bottom of my feet.
screaming screaming nonsense to nonentities.
I think I'm a parasite,
taking until you just won't give anymore;
too close for comfort but too heavily dependent to go.
I don't know how I will survive
without
the moon in my window,
just out of reach.
Tide's going out,
moon's waxing, waning, full and then empty again.
My blood's pulled around,
moved by the phases of you.
When the moon moves too far,
shifts away,
stops controlling the heat of my body,
how will I breathe?
How can I laugh,
without my blood stretched too thin?
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