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Literature Text
little worry
always wore a frown
a smile
but upside down
big hurry
liked to run around
never stopping
always tearing through town
one fateful day
they met on a bus
when little worry joined
big hurry to pitch a fuss
it seems the driver
was content to go slow
not about to speed
and let them both know
"this is my bus
and I know that this is shocking
but I am letting you both off
so you can start walking"
as they stepped off
and started down the street
it dawned on them both
that they were destined to meet
and something foreign
began to grow
on little worry
it first started to show
the corners of her mouth
twitched and curled
and soon a very large smile
unfurled
well big hurry
not to be outdone
let a giggle escape
but could not stop at one
and soon
they were rolling in tears
as laughter consumed
all their fears
always wore a frown
a smile
but upside down
big hurry
liked to run around
never stopping
always tearing through town
one fateful day
they met on a bus
when little worry joined
big hurry to pitch a fuss
it seems the driver
was content to go slow
not about to speed
and let them both know
"this is my bus
and I know that this is shocking
but I am letting you both off
so you can start walking"
as they stepped off
and started down the street
it dawned on them both
that they were destined to meet
and something foreign
began to grow
on little worry
it first started to show
the corners of her mouth
twitched and curled
and soon a very large smile
unfurled
well big hurry
not to be outdone
let a giggle escape
but could not stop at one
and soon
they were rolling in tears
as laughter consumed
all their fears
Literature
The point of it all
The city has streets that sink into the other side of the world.
Amidst their ruins, dead calluses are slowly petrified
in the ghosts of shoe soles and former tires.
Mediums claim the echoes of former pedestrians
weeping for their dislodged joints and lost groceries
still thunder in the depths
below the stapled smiles of the mayor
that shine on every wall above the lunar imitation.
Meandering, the life crashes with weary ears
and the map just jumps off a window
as the former arrow
rips off its point,
just like
this poem written
with a prehistoric leg
ten powerless knuckles
and a fruitless voice.
Literature
scattered
We leave pieces of ourselves in the corners
Of bookshelves, stuck between the pages
And in the hand painted wooden bowl
Collecting dust and spare change.
My fingers grazed a fragment
When I saw a photograph of you today
And my lungs caught on the memory
Of the first words you said to me
Lingering like a ghost breath
In the soft curve of my earlobe.
(“Hi, mind if I ask you
Some questions?”)
I hid inside the rain to drown out
The sound. The wet grass stuck to my toes
And the droplets rolled down
Over the shirt that my mom told me
Makes me look like I’ve got a chip on my shoulder.
(She thought her rebel was a princess
Bu
Literature
Escaping with style
There were no blaring sirens or flashing lights as I dashed down the corridors, but there might as well have been. Data streaming across one side of my goggles told me that I had successfully triggered the alarm when I took the hard drive stack. I knew I had four and a half minutes until the security forces arrived. When I reached the security door I was already sending signals to my devices connected into the system. A crude video relay looped images of the empty corridor into the security camera feeds. The data mining box cut the stream of keyword-laden signals with which it had been scattering the building system’s attention. Grinning at my own ingenuity, I hit the unlock button. How many other thieves would have got in by manipulating the mood of a building’s computer systems? But then, how many other thieves understood the emergent emotional states of high end electronics? This was why I'd been hired. The door failed to hiss open. Frowning, I slapped the button again. Still
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