(May) THE GROOVIEST LIT IN TOWN: VOLUME FOURTEEN

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    Welcome to The Grooviest Lit in Town, where some of deviantART's very own writers are featured for their all radical, all gas, and all hangin' works and projects. From prose and poetry, to the depths of novels, soliloquies and articles - it's all here! So hang loose, get jazzed, and keep on being right outta sight. :love:

THE GROOVIEST LIT IN TOWN: VOLUME FOURTEEN



GROOVIN' LIT...


  lets jump off the Eiffel Towerif this is your first time reading this,
STOP!
Right here, right now
you–YES YOU, stop.
Make sure you know,
this is not a suggestion;
this is a fact, a command.
Try to remember:
This is NOT a formula for altruism.
This is NOT a masqueraded apology.
This is NOT a dysphoric cry for help.
This is robbing word banks for lines,
then cutting the front of the lexicon.
This is adding insult to libel,
injury to a broken mandible–
one that never spoke anyway.
if you've felt like this before,
stab me three times in the jaw.
Qu'est ce que l'amour?
if this is your second time reading this,
slam your head into an oven
like fucking Sylvia Plath;
maybe then you'd get noticed.
And by you, I mean me,
and by me, I mean you,
and by that I mean fuck
This is adding sodium to a battle scar
and incessantly cussing in a papercut.
This is a masochist wearing bandages
to cover the fingers of virgins-in-denial.
This is slander and flattery and murder,
first-degree charges for lingui   tea for the dyingbullets zip by the open doorway
as I lean back in a corner
there are cracks in the plaster molding
and the wallpaper is peeling
I don't care though
now the sound of bullets
is like so much popping corn in
a Saturday night dream that someone had
hm, something crashed just now
ah, well
polly put the kettle on
polly put the kettle on
polly put the kettle on
and we shall have some tea
an old picture is hanging askew in the dining room
from here it looks like a wedding picture
ascots, canes, pipes and cigars
all very dandy especially with brandy
a lamp is broken;
the shade is sitting around the base of it
it seems naked somehow
electrical propriety vol.1
remember: lamps are all naked under their shades!
and let's not discuss the vacuums...
this waiting-to-die bit is a joy-kill...
here, wait a second...got it
(pulls flask from coat pocket; takes a good pull)
ah! yeah.
well...
I take another couple long pulls of the brandy, then I stow it back in my coat
leaning
This Drive and Reactiondearest fireling and
   fuel of youth
     i often fear
     i've lost you
   in the coolings of responsibility,
      the slow, dull mindings
                   of middle age
      or the cruel downhills
      of time's acceleration
but, patience needs
this distance from ego
     to find a love
     beyond the
     adword candy and virus
           of consumption
to park in a wounded place
  where the throb
           of empathy's thorns
           can remind us
     that we're all victims
     of happenstance, luck
and the sweet convergence
 of blurred minutes
 gravel seconds, all
 leading up
         to each skid
        Experiment 93, Part 1: Midnight EscapeExperiment 93, Part 1: Midnight Escape
by RS-Burghardt
   Warning lights flashed, and sirens wailed in a pulsating rhythm, bringing life to the sleepy compound, and making shadows dance across the gray cement hallways.“What is it Private Card?” General Mugdaal asked with a yawn, straightening his cap on his gray flecked brown hair as he walked into the control room.
   The blonde haired, green eyed Private looked up from his control panel and replied “It's Experiment Ninety-Three Sir, it's escaped it's containment.”
   “What?!” the General exclaimed “How in the world did that happen? That thing had multiple safeguards to ensure that it couldn't escape.”
   “We don't know Sir.” the Private responded “They all disengaged simultaneously.”
   “How is that even possible?” General Mugdaal asked, half to himself, his light blue eyes becoming troubled, and his v  :thumb532341265:


THE GROOVIEST LIT CONTINUES...


Mag889

Who Needs a Creative Writing Course?I started writing my first stories when I was about... 7. It's been quite many years and I've been writing on and off, through the years. I'm not really published (yet) but I get praises here and there.
My style wasn't so "pretty" at the beginning; I even wonder... that something important clicked in me just last year and changed my narration style, to even better and more fluent. (I'm talking mainly about writing in my native language. My English stories are just a small, simplified sample of what I do.)
I'm still in a slight shock when I get compliments. Sometimes I'm not sure what I'm doing, I just want it to read good, to read fast and fluid. And I play with words... but not too much.
There are surely things to polish... The style evolution never ends. But all this time I've been avoiding all and any writing advices, except some carefully chosen ones by me. Once I made a big mistake to go for some free writing course and I want to forget about it quickly... Otherwise, I think that   Mission to MarsWe may have a long way to go... but why no one ever thinks if Mars wishes to be visited by us? As any planet, it has to be inquired whether it wishes to be intruded...
We don't conquer space... we live in it! So, as a self-respecting humans, we should pray and send questions to the Mars, to see if it agrees. I'm sure that with a right answer, it would give us some better space conditions and favorable times to enter it. Do it like Native Americans, ask and show your gratitude.
We should pray before space missions, and I don't mean any particular religion. I mean a few consicious moments of focus and gratitude towards the space and planets/asteroids we want to visit. And say it doesn't matter... it all matters what kind of attitude you're in!

Mature Content

  

shelleypalmer

My Nutty Old Aunt Norah!My nutty old Aunt Norah, once knitted me a hat,
It would have fitted perfectly, had my head been large and flat.
It should have hid my ‘outy’ ears, that Auntie did detest,
But they broke free, almost with glee, and travelled east and west
My nutty old Aunt Norah, once knitted me a jumper:
Three-sleeved and adorned with, a rather drop-stitched ‘Thumper’.
She knew I hated rabbits and thought it was a laugh,
To Disney-decorate this knit and make me look quite daft.
My nutty old Aunt Norah, once knitted me a coat,
Instead of using wool this time, she used hair from a goat.
And every time I wore it, people said I stank,
I felt the shame, but took the blame, tho' Auntie was to thank.
My nutty old Aunt Norah, once knitted me some pants,
And prior to presenting them, smeared them with jam and ants,
I wore them once to show her – did not want to offend,
And fixed a smile, but for a while, ants filed up my rear end!
My nutty old Aunt Norah, once knitted me a shroud!   Wrestling with Ketchup!‘Just squeeze it and twist’ tops a very long list
of demands on the side of the bottle.
I struggle, think ‘Strewth, I wish I had my youth
and the brains of that guy, Aristotle.’
Mid puffing and huffing and twisting and turning
and wrenching with all of my might,
a bottle-top flip gives me a fat lip.
It just seems that I’m losing the fight.
My breathing is laboured, my spittle is rabid,
as I issue the grunts of a pig.
My fingers are sore. I let out a roar
whilst prising this obstinate lid.
Then as I squeeze more, I slip on the floor,
still cursing the bottle, intact,
I hear a great Wham! Feel a full body slam.
This thing is alive.  It’s a fact!
I punch it and kick, until it feels sick.
Its contents are fizzing and foaming.
My constant onslaught, may be giving it thought
to surrender – I hear the thing moaning.
And then comes a spurt. I know it is hurt,
as a crack yields a drizzle of liquid.
Is it blood or a drink? I really can’t think
Tea Leaves and AurasLong, long ago, in the early mists of pre-teabag time, I had this psychic Auntie, who I used to visit with my mother. Abundant cuppas were a way of life then: a panacea for all ills, an excuse to sit around gossiping and - as in my case and mum's – a chance to have our fortunes told from wayward tea-leaves that escaped the tea strainer. As a five-year-old I was suitably impressed when Auntie read the tea leaves for us: she predicted all manner of events, mostly doom-laden ones it had to be said – and then there were months of trepidation to endure as the predictions came true. Also, she had the gift of seeing auras, which I found even more fascinating. It was a handy gift to have, to be sure, as not only could she see people’s state of well-being and able to predict illnesses, she could also tell when people were telling the truth.
Time passed, Auntie sadly died, but I thought of her often and wished that I had asked her how to develop the same gifts as she had. I bre   Grampa Aint Ready to Die!Grampa knew that he was dying yet he hadn’t got a clue!
His cheeks were nice n’ rosy and his lips were red not blue.
He was watching television and laughing out real loud
Said he wasn’t yet quite ready for a coffin and a shroud!
His pills to ‘ease his journey’ had been cast onto the floor
And the nurse who came to mop his brow, was swiftly shown the door.
He wouldn’t plan his funeral hymns, nor invite the vicar in,
Said he’d rather spend remaining days indulging in some sin.
He left his sick bed, got his coat, went out each night wild-clubbing,
Regardless of his poorly chest, which badly needed rubbing.
He gyrated in the early hours, shaking his old bones
Hoping that the disco music would cover up his groans.
His disco gear was baggy, concealing partly-detached drip
And his catheter would come loose and dance off on its own trip.
He drunk his weight in pints of beer, gasped umpteen dirty jokes,
And hid quite well his spluttering and gulping, br

QUOTE OF THE MONTH:


"Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular." - Aristotle

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I'm a prose admin for LitRecognition, so be sure to check out the rules of submission here if you know a piece of prose that needs some exposure!

Happy writing,

NAKTARRA



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RS-Burghardt's avatar
RS-Burghardt
Thank you so much for featuring part 1 of "Experiment 93" in here again this month! Hopefully someone will leave a comment on it this time, I'd really love to know what people think of it :)