The emotional clarity in her soul brightens the cloudy world of my intellect. I wanted to taste it all. To feel something besides artificial restlessness go down my throat, and out my pen for once.

Ode to Alcohol

Soft bubbly courage, had me pooling in my seat, and I could not tell if it was the liquor warming my face or the sound of her laugh. Cheeks reddened with heat, was a detail that became less important as I continued to drink.

Combined with the unbashful moon, performing her monthly dance, rising, rising, rising. And the cool sips on my hot tongue, I turned into the lunatic mothers warn their daughters of. When I pressed lips against lips to the mouth of the bottle, I pretended it was not glass but flesh. My eyes wanted her to see that I wanted the hard stained ridges to turned into soft sensual creases.

Dizziness would of toppled me over if not for the grip around slender neck. Laying me slowly down to rest. As I loose myself, myself, myself. Doubts like inhibition lowers until I am just as exposed and on display as our midnight performer in the sky. Now falling, falling, falling below the horizon.

Lust, once too afraid to show its face comes pouring out like a drink in a lush`s cup. And is just as bottomless and continuous I continued to let it fill me up.

Because before I was just there to get a light buzz but now I am here to get love drunk. And never return to sobriety ever again. Forever love drunk, as the moon takes her bow and says goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.

Vex. To cause someone to feel annoyed, frustrated, or worried.

Example: You take delight in vexing me by deliberately using bad grammar.

Portmanteau. A large suitcase or trunk that opens into two equal parts.

Example: That portmanteau will not fit in the overhead bin and must be checked.

Naught. Means zero or nothing. It can also mean to ruin, disregard, or despise.

Example: Her behavior tends to set propriety at naught.

Foible. A weakness or eccentricity in someone's character.

Example: She loved him in spite of his foibles.

Parvenu. A person who has suddenly risen to a higher social or economic class, but who has not gained social acceptance in that class.

Example: He was treated like a parvenu at the country club dinner.

Sentinel. A soldier or guard who keeps watch; to keep guard or watch.

Example: Bennett heard a strange noise and asked the sentinel to stay close.

Moribund. At the point of death; dying.

Example: Kathryn was unsure how to save her moribund career.

Beslobber. To smear with spittle or anything running from the mouth.

Example: In this drunken and beslobbered state, the lieutenant returned to the ship.

Nonplussed. Bewildered or unsure how to respond.

Example: Anna's hot and cold behavior has left me completely nonplussed.

Loquacious. Means talkative or continually chattering.

Example: Jane was pleased that her new assistant was not particularly loquacious.

Forbear. To refrain or resist; to be tolerant or patient if provoked.

Example: My approach this year has been to forbear and maintain a professional demeanor at all times.

Erudite. An educated or learned person; scholarly with an emphasis on knowledge gained from books.

Example: "Not everything is in your books," Steve told his erudite friend.

Mellifluous. Means smooth or sweet and is generally used to describe a person's voice, tone, or writing style.

Example: Patrick O'Brian's style is best described as mellifluous, sweeping the reader along from the first words.

Redolent. Fragrant or sweet smelling; strongly reminiscent or suggestive of something.

Example: These words are redolent of earlier times, when language was more formal.

Denouement. The final resolution of a story or a complex series of events.

Example: Will the denouement be explosive or serene?

my humility

I was journaling today about my beliefs and how I am staring to practice them, what I ended up saying about prayer is that “I do not want to pray unless it is giving thanks to the earth for all the gifts she allows me to have; like food, water, shelter, and even my body. I give thanks to the sun for light & heat, the moon for her gentle light in the night & for the gravity to keep us here, & to the universe for everything else. Since I know that I create my own reality threw my thoughts, words, and actions there is no reason to ask a “higher power” for any kind of change in my life.

Nature is the body of my God.

I see Nature is neither inherently “good” nor inherently “evil”. I see her as amoral and impartial. Judgments like “good” or “evil” are context-dependent and arise from an observer who has a certain perspective of the scene.

Nature does some pretty “awful” things like giving terminal bone cancer to babies, having a mother gazelle watch as a lion eats the intestines of her still crying baby, etc.
So while we can point to Nature’s beauty, harmony, and love and call that “good” — we can just as easily point to her decay, pain, and suffering and call that “bad”.
But I see Nature as neither [or both at once] — because she must be taken in the totality of all things.

You couldn’t highlight the good bits and call her “benevolent Mother” — and you couldn’t highlight the nasty bits and call her “scorned Witch”. There’s an impartial balance and a refusal to “take sides” in Nature.

Survival

 

The first time

you took off your clothes
in front of me, you slid
the white fabric of your blouse
off your arms and revealed
the pale ladders
of scars.
You never referenced them
directly. You said you were
lost, once. You said you
did things, once, and you
did them because they
helped you survive yourself.
I didn’t say anything,
but you took my hand
and pressed it to the
ridged rows of your flesh
and for every line you left
upon yourself and healed,
I found another reason
to call you beautiful.

This poem © Gabriel Gadfly. Published Oct 7, 2012

The night before my bestfriend's wedding

I am not a gentle breeze on a sun-kissed face, 

I am not a white sun-dress fluttering in the wind, 

nor perfect pined back hair. But a more slim

than curvy body in a baggy hoody and a short skirt.
I am grey’s favorite color. That is why you keep
calling me and not your soon-to-be to come get you.

I refuse to play pretend like your new bride.
Because I will never be surprised by the rush of
darkness that creeps upon the corner of your eyes after
you've drank too much. Nor that shocked that you are so

lost in sadness that you have no idea how visible it is.
Or, maybe you do. Which is why it is okay for a broken

window in December & tattered shoes wearing Imperfect
like me to push you into the truck and drive us away

It is okay for me to see your Ugly because I am the naked

tree limb that passes us by & the squawking black birds

that hang on them. I am neither a water-color sunsets

nor autumn's harvest moon. I am your favorite crooked

smile even when I am weary of people who want to make

me normal. But never make me normal

“We should have sex.” you are laughing, still conscience.
Third stop light from your house I reply
“No” I will always be your painful rejection.

But, just for you because I am not a white sun-dress,

& pined back hair. Perfect paradoxes & poignant

moments are profound & I apologize for my awkward silence

but not for the storm  that beats in my ribcage. Your hand

fits hot and heavy against my inner thigh just as I pull in to the drive.
The house is lit up and people moving around. 

You lean further into the moment between our time continuum-

that would take us back to our 16 year old moment.

Even without the tire-swing your nest is a painting I can never

get lost in. I look through the too narrow & stationary frame

& become the invisible ants crawling under your skin every time

you stumble fire whiskey through. I am not a gentle breeze

on a sun-kissed face I am not a white sun-dress fluttering in the wind,

nor perfect pined back hair. I am grey’s favorite color.

I refuse to play the pretend scared virgin.

I am not your soon to be bride. Because you will never be

surprised by the rush of  darkness that creeps upon the

corner of my eyes after I've drunk too much.
Nor will you ever be shocked that I get so lost in

sadness that at times I have no idea how visible it is.
Or, maybe I do. Which is why it is okay for me to drive this
truck in December even with the passenger window broken

I am another woman’s wear tattered shoes. I am swallowed in her

hoody. It may be imperfect for me to remove your hand, kiss you

on the cheek all the while pushing you out the door & on to your

good intentions. I get away from your perfect built Hell 

nonetheless with a smile that makes knowing a single

phone call is all it takes to bring me back worth it.

Mindescape

I don't like to sleep

where the water stretches its arms along our shores.

But it is where you will find me, nonetheless

it being the only place my chest stops hurting

when drowning everyday, in their slums. 

I chose to the sky as a

blanket even though it is at the best of times,

a little holy with its starry nights. Is not my

preferred place for napping. 

But it is where you will find me, nontheless.

I lie indignantly still and curled preciously

between the ocean and sky. I have to

wear goggles for when I lay my weary head on

a passing cloud. I wake up every night

with water falling from my eyes, and cotton

silenced in my ear. 

Welcome to 3:59 am

Vagabonding

It wasnt like taking a breath, a single moment interval, the release of air, and then...Epiphany. No, the universe decided that my journey, to that moment I realized the urgency had disappeared; had to be done with a lot of walking. Before my epiphany comes, I must sleep many places away from my homeland. Until then my wanderlust will comfort me in my be tonight. - Last dying words.

Ernest Hemingway: The writer

The anointed drowns and

shivers of disappointment, deliciously
caresses down my spine and ripples like a pebble
dropped in the middle of the ocean.
I craved them, it seems almost as desperately as I
am trembling insatiably at the mercy of
yet another heart shaped stone.
Attached to my feet as I lethargically sink slowly.

Today I am a Kite

Its better to think the worst and apologize for being wrong than to blindly but blissfully trust and be made to feel like a fool for trusting so easily?

Today I am a kite

It is said that Fate, are three Spinsters sister who control human
life using strings that connect the moments
our lives together.

I believe,

among those millions of strings
exists a single thread of trust just long enough to wrap
around a pink. The perfect promise to never to let the wind
carry me away.

For,

I am that kite with too many keys and not enough
locks. A bit too long a tail but motely in color. Too high
to distinguish faces, even on the brightest of sunny day.

Ascension Pioneers

"Purification, cleansing and purging on all levels of our Being is essential on this journey of Self ascension. This includes physical detox through drinking pure water, getting lots of sunshine, spending time in Nature, rising our vibration through sound and Light patterns, eating healthy and raw organic Light foods, etc.

Mental purging consists of speaking, writing and acting only through love, not the ego, choosing to respond instead of react, observing our thoughts through conscious observation and non judgment.

Emotional purification includes practicing forgiveness and compassion until there is no more need to forgive, for the Heart is open at all times, and we become pure embodiment of Divine Love. Spiritual purging consists of always seeing things from a higher perspective, reaching towards our Angelic Self and connecting to I AM Presence, with the assistance of invoking the sacred Violet Flame of purification and transmutation, as well as any other rays and energies within the highest Light of One!

When we purify on all the levels, we become a pure vessel for Spirit! Welcome in your New Self … your only true Self!"

"Hurt people hurt people. That’s how pain patterns gets passed on, generation after generation after generation. Break the chain today. Meet anger with sympathy, contempt with compassion, cruelty with kindness. Greet grimaces with smiles. Forgive and forget about finding fault. Love is the weapon of the future."


Yehuda Berg

A Scanner Darkly

What does a scanner see? he asked himself. I mean, really see? Into the head? Down into the heart? Does a passive infrared scanner like they used to use or a cube-type holo-scanner like they use these days, the latest thing, see into me—into us—clearly or darkly? I hope it does, he thought, see clearly, because I can’t any longer these days see into myself. I see only murk.

Murk outside; murk inside. I hope, for everyone’s sake, the scanners do better. Because, he thought, if the scanner sees only darkly, the way I myself do, then we are cursed, cursed again and like we have been continually, and we’ll wind up dead this way, knowing very little and getting that little fragment wrong too. - Philip K Dick

Osho

“Remember one thing always - that there is no cause to be anxious in life, and all causes are just excuses. If you decide not to be anxious, then nothing will make you anxious; there is nothing worth it. Life is such a fleeting phenomenon that is going to disappear one day. Why be bothered too much about it? We are only here for so few days. Just play the game and remain aloof. If one can remain a witness, aloof, distant from things, then anxiety is not possible. Anxiety comes into existence only when we become identified with small things. And they all pass.

Variation of Yohji Yamamoto

I think perfection is ugly. I rather like the scars, distortions, failures, and disorders that reminds me of beauty in the human journey. –Variation of Yohji Yamamoto

Forget-me-nots are my favorite

Pablo Neruda said,

if suddenly you forget me, I want you to

know one thing:

Do not look for me,

for I shall already have forgotten you.

Now Pablo was a hard man,

             because,

when I wake up from a dream

made of sub-conscience memories

of you & I,

which are like looking at snippets,

little by little of the times,

you forgot how to love me.

I am reminded of how I can never 

leave those precious times behind.

      And,

while Pablo would have probably 

already forgotten you by now,

I still struggle through sleep sometimes.

Because,

I'd rather dream of sub-conscience 
memories of you &I. 

So I can cherish and always

appreciate waking up 
      next to her.

8 Writing Techniques to Win You a Pulitzer

Posted on December 12, 2011 by Joe Bunting

43

Today’s guest post is from writer Joe Bunting, who blogs at The Write Practice.

---

We all know there are novels and then there are “literary” novels. When you read Margaret Atwood, it just feels different than when you read Tom Clancy. And for some reason, these literary novels are the ones that win all the most prestigious awards like the Pulitzer Prize, the Man Booker Prize, and the Nobel Prize for Literature.
Literary authors are known for their unique voices and experimental styles. You might have learned not to write run-on sentences in school or to avoid beginning a sentence with “and,” but literary writers often seem to flaunt their rule-breaking ways.
This is both good and bad. Literary novels can be difficult to understand, but they can also be beautiful to read, like poetry.
So if you’re salivating to win a Nobel Prize, and just don’t think your diplomacy skills are good enough to win the Peace Prize, here are eight techniques you can use to make your writing more “literary.”

1. Write long sentences.

Long sentences can make for beautiful, complex prose that you want to read again and again to fully appreciate.
Hemingway, Faulkner (both Nobel winners), James Joyce, and all those 1920s modernist authors were known for their long, run-on sentences, full of conjunctions and lacking “correct” punctuation. Contemporary writers, like Cormac McCarthy and Tim O’Brien, do the same. Here’s a quote from O’Brien’s The Things They Carried which illustrates it clearly:

Now and then, however, there were times of panic, when they squealed or wanted to squeal but couldn’t, when they twitched and made moaning sounds and covered their heads and said Dear Jesus and flopped around on the earth and fired their weapons blindly and cringed and sobbed and begged for the noise to stop and went wild and made stupid promises to themselves and to God and to their mothers and fathers, hoping not to die.

Isn’t that beautiful?

2. Write short sentences.

Writing long sentences can get old. If you follow up an extremely long sentence with a short snappy one, you can whip your reader to attention. Notice how Cormac McCarthy does it in Suttree:

One thing. I spoke with bitterness about my life and I said that I would take my own part against the slander of oblivion and against the monstrous facelessness of it and that I would stand a stone in the very void where all would read my name. Of that vanity I recant all.

Try reading it aloud. Notice how that last sentence feels like a gavel, cracking in a loud courtroom?

3. Be lyrical.

Literary writers are interested not just in what their words mean, but in how they sound. The technical term for this is phonoaesthetics, the study of the sound of words and sentences. Like poets, literary writers want their words to melt on their reader’s tongue like rich, dark chocolate. They want their readers to stop and say, “Mmm,” and stare off into the distance contemplating all that is beautiful.
There are a few techniques writers use to make their writing more euphonic, including alliteration, assonance, and consonance, but the best way to develop your “ear” for lyrical writing is to read other lyrical writers very slow. You might pick up some Annie Dillard, William Faulkner, or Virginia Woolf.

4. Make an allusion to the Bible or Moby Dick or Milton.

Literary writers are well read. They realize their writing doesn’t exist in a vacuum, and so they subtly pay homage to the classic writers who have gone before them, which also deepens the meaning of their own work.
To make an allusion, you use an image, character, or even a direct quote from another work of literature. These act as portals, coloring your story with the meanings wrapped up in the work you’re referencing.
Also, it makes those who “get it” feel special.

5. Use an eponym to name your characters.

Another way to use allusion is to name one of your characters after a character in another work. This technique works as a kind of literary pun, and creates an implicit association, a shared relationship, with the character in the other work.

6. Be specific.

Literary writers often study the vocabulary of the subject they’re writing about. They want their writing to be precise. For example, if they’re writing about nature, rather than just talking about the trees, they might describe the tulip poplar, the white oak, the eastern red cedar.
If they’re writing about birds, they might avoid describing them as the red bird or the blue bird, but rather the kingfisher, the painted bunting, or the yellow-bellied sapsucker.

7. Write a story within a story (or a story within a story within a story).

The story-within-a-story is one of the oldest literary techniques, and it’s a simple way to create rich, multi-layered stories.
It works simply by having one of your characters tell another character a story, and this second story becomes the main story of the novel. Think Arabian Nights, where Scheherazade tells the Sultan story after story and eventually manages to make him fall in love with her.
Or Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew, where the story of Petruchio “wedding and bedding” Katherina is set within another play about a drunk tricked into thinking he’s rich.
Or Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children, where the protagonist writes his memoirs as he narrates them to his mistress.

8. Have a wide scope.

Literary novels tend to have a wide, national or international scope, even if they portray local events. Hemingway, for example, often set his novels within the context of great wars, like World War I or the Spanish Civil War. Fitzgerald’s Great Gatsby is considered a portrait of the “Lost Generation” and the Roaring 20s because of its memorable characters who were caught up in the decade’s debauchery. Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children is about the rise and “fall” of India, from Independence to Indira Gandhi’s injustices.
You may not want to win a Pulitzer, but if you do want to give your writing a touch of literary flair, these techniques are a good place to start. By far, the best way to learn more about these techniques, though, is to read more literary fiction. Here are a few good titles by authors I’ve mentioned:

• For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway
• The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood
• Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
• Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie
• A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
• Absalom! Absalom! by William Faulkner