#alt lit Tumblr posts

  • His stride was a lot faster than
    mine; body of work,—
    still photo,
                            vintage nothing.

    Third molar sedation: humming
    her smile [blueberry gamut]

    We walk our daily habits,
    nearly human; equal

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  • *
    just how far
    can words really take us

    when mine eyes have seen the story;
    readers, too much a rarity

    & folk don’t listen closely if it’s not in song form.

    who’s wide-eyed sane enough
    to yet believe, trust in untethered téleios

    ( that’s ‘whole, complete truth’ for plain folk -
        which i ain’t, no mo…)

    at first take - unprompted - just for the sake
    of knowledge, a way to walk upright

    in a world trending toward night.

    what gains those of us
    who would save the land from falling

    thru logos -

    deep into the clutches
    of the tan man & the facist clan,

    clad in flag-like cloaking, but the clock’s ticking
    on their time span - no joking, jethro

    if we get with the voting, no modems choking
    the data flow…

    wait!   full stop.

    but i’m ol’ school, pre-to-the-hiphop,
    uninclined to let my mood swoop or head drop;

    no droop in my game, so i can’t rightly stop
    & let myself be tamed by some darkside lames

    cause there’s yet too much attaining - creatives
    knocking it outta da park, you could say;

    soothing the savage beastery befalling us natives
    under the cherry moon’d pied pipers fade,

    leading us to who knows where, should we weebles follow
    i say u-turn this hitch around, leave em in the sleepy hollow

    of empty rooms, alone with their woes & meglo’d smarts
    leading to time behind bars, washing clothes in push carts…

    let’s upshift & exalt, salute the artists & their role
    in keeping us on the sunny side of sanity’s square

    even with our pockets un-'swole’ & luxuries rare,
    good company rarer, though our soul’s savoir faire

    is grounded in sibilance, a sonic equivalence
    of serenity - hushed & whispered on the wind

    of infinity & its limning immensity to spark;
    igniting hearts & minds from immemorial times

    to right about now - brightening up all this dark…
    (  ness   -   you know how i literarily jest… )

    9/20 - lebuc - words & the infinite wind

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  • she’s drinking my wine

    sitting in my chair

    Christ on a bike! I think

    is this bitch goading me?

    she’s already dropped the line

    once a teacher always a teacher

    with a leery lopsided grin

    sucking on my good wine

    fat ass sprawled in my favourite chair

    telling me how she could be a therapist

    no training no philosophy ethics sense

    ranting on life issues

    like she has lived a thousand lives

    not the quiet one she leads

    watching tv the soaps quiz shows

    snapping answers to feel clever superior

    now she thinks the poetry is easy

    all ya gotta do she says loud

    is put rhymes end of lines

    make it sound da da da da Da!

    I feel violence in the air

    throbbing purple between my ears

    checking my watch thinking

    I can last for another half hour of this

    then she’ll leave go home to silence

    meantime I check out the kitchen

    the bathroom bedrooms hallways

    yep all still there as her voice drones on

    tongue thickened by my good wine

    & insensitivity

    neil benbow

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  • drawing on the newspaper making it worth more than it has been in years, thin as patience in the devil on slow days when above him on earth the living souls run rampant and the cemeteries aren’t quite as polluted as they ought to be

    this season rolls around and we are called crazy due to us not being tricked into thinking the sun will stay out on consecutive days warming the skin of the otherwise worried

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  • you can’t skip forward
    and there ain’t no rewind
    stuck in the now
    by design

    we was throwing up
    Instead of growing up
    cultural bulimia,
    gang signs;
    I’m Older now
    my dreadlocks got hang time
    and I no longer mistake fangs for smiles
    baggie green like Guile
    the violence defiles

    they don’t want us to know peace
    high on hope
    drunk on what we consider love;
    we only pray we don’t get robbed

    stony facade
    how is the master and the slave
    going pray to the same god?
    don’t you lie–
    the snub nose Pinocchio;
    I told him I changed
    but the judge looking at me l
    like I’m loco though–

    if she doesn’t believe I can change
    why does the justice system exist?

    some white dude in a suit
    I’ll never meet
    made enslaving my people legal
    “I smell marijuana can you step out of the car?”
    hand on his gun
    ancestors in my soul
    telling me: “RUN”

    the alt left telling me
    to “just” comply,
    to vote or die,
    that remaining silent is
    not only a right and a privilege
    but my duty;
    its my duty to get shot so that no one else has to.
    a diet racist is still racist.

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  • I knew it was time to leave

    one night when she was out

    I felt I needed

    to put a key logger

    on our computer

    to find

    she’d already put one on

    to get evidence on me

    the biter got bit

    I knew it was time to leave

    cleared my crap off’f the hard drive

    called a friend to help

    moved my shit out

    surfed a sofa or two

    for a week two

    until I could begin

    rebuild again

    neil benbow

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  • my first ansaphone

    hard brown plastic

    with a micro cassette

    recording my message

    with music in the background

    to be somehow clever

    sophisticated even

    looking forward

    each night to the red flashing light

    just to delete delete delete

    from an irate husband

    leave my wife alone

    angry girlfriend

    I know you’re there hiding

    riding some slut

    the bank

    we’d like you to come in please

    to discuss your recent transactions

    to wonder over & over

    why did I buy this piece of crap

    just to torture myself?

    neil benbow

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  • at times:
    when i am talking with someone
    i often drift into thinking
    about the sea, and how
    the waves lap at the shoreline.
    that is what i am seeing when
    i look onto the persons face,
    see their mouth moving.  the
    incessant sound of seagulls
    exiting in place of words,

    and i am so taken with sea
    spray i wander away there at
    the ocean’s edge.

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  • you and all that lolita braid better better
    leave that far far behind. shift shift miss
    it is all about being being a woman now.
    KA whoosh how does that freaking feel
    wings wings blasting out your back(side.
    on second thought thought bring all that
    along we will mix it mix it in somehow.
    come on, let’s go

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  • created a religion just for the beautiful buildings that will fall when the rest of the sagging souls realize we are frauds for following the clouds until they disappear behind the mausoleums housing dead prophets who did little more than win a game of checkers or two

    the insist we never believed in the clouds in the first place

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  • Soft jelly lips with a porcelain heart

    Jellyfish skin, paper thin and my mind

    Is just an electric thunder storm

    Stuck in a box with sharp corners

    And I keep floating into them

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  • in this first session i would like you to explain in your own words what developed when you went to repair their computer system:

    sure thing doc. so these corporate boys are bad talking about women. degrading talk. minimizing them to a piece of meat. i always recoil when i hear such language. i want to go shower from just being close. they are not paying me, or my dirty rabbit, any mind because we are just there to fix something they do not know how to use properly. these corporate boys are important boys. they figure they can degrade women like this. so i speak up, say what they are talking about is so wrong, that they should stop. how i am ashamed to be there hearing these themes. well, the boys did not think i was a gnat. so, this one very important corporate boy comes over to me and puts his finger to my chest and says it is a private conversation and i should shut up and do what i was brought here to do and leave. so, i ask him, what about my dirty rabbit. does it have to shut up also? he stepped back removing his finger from my chest and said what? i repeated my dirty rabbit. it have to shut up also? then the other important corporate boys mosey over. the most important corporate boy starts telling them what i was asking. i pointed toward my dirty rabbit who has now made itself known. say boys, it is all a misunderstanding i offer. how  about my dirty rabbit perform a magic trick, just so you know there are no hard feelings, and maybe i should not have spoke up. the most important corporate boy said how right i was, and they comment on how large the rabbit is and they all decide to see a magic trick. well…

    my dirty rabbit comes close. it kinda reeked a little from some vomit it had not cleaned off its matted fur yet. smelled like stale whiskey. the boys all together step back some as the rabbit approaches, shows three round cat’s eye shooters. it motions for the most important corporate boy to come close. he slowly walks toward rabbit. the rabbit gives all three small round glass balls, cat’s eye shooters to him, and the boy takes them. immediately they burst into a flame burning the boys hand and he drops them.

    my rabbits eyes twinkled. when the first one hit the floor it shattered and half those corporate boys turned into tiny little piglets. the second hit, shattered and the most important corporate boy turned into a giant sow running and squealing over to the tiny piglets, and lying down on its side. all those tiny piglets started suckling on the sow.

    the third one shattered and the remaining corporate boys turned into wolves that immediately attacked and devoured all the piglets and sow. when they had finished, they exploded from eating so much. all their flying pieces did this little sparkler fizzy thing and just then poof. quite magical. by now my dirty rabbit and i were in the elevator going down to the level floor. i glanced over at my dirty rabbit, its matted fur, dry cracked blood almost gone from its ear. the rabbit caught my eye and we just grinned for a second, then exited the elevator and left the building.

    that do it for ya, doc?

    #alt lit #writers on tumblr #spilledink#rejectscorner#writing dialogue#dialogue#writerscreed #very short stories/long dreams
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  • *
    my appetite
    has remained the same,

    but i consume at two-thirds
    my usual rate

    & the palette of available food
    is ever expanding.

    a positive trend
    amidst this negative news

    if you don’t think too much
    about the labor used to provide such

    so i can fulfill culinary whims
    while the planet’s political pallet ‘value’

    (as an artistic term) meanwhile dims.

    a good plate, trumps a bad slate
    no pun intended, (nor an improper noun…)

    just rendering that which fate 
    deems i display, with a semblance

    of some resounding grace & style,
    gratitude in the placement

    of scribed steps by the mile
    on this page’s pavement

    by my walk in & through
    the meanwhile.
    9/20 - lebuc - meanwhile

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  • There is a vast void left
    by all my desire seeping into sky,
    yet it is not a dreadful experience;
    I feel lighter, somehow.

    The beggar, locked up;
    fed bread and water, so kept alive,
    walks to the lone unburned bridge,
    jumps and finally drowns.

    Freedom is the airily experience of flight,
    perhaps I feel the wind and

    I do not fear the cold and dark of the river.
    I do not feel the cold and dark of the river.

    We all have parts we need to drown,
    mine was the part that wants to love.

    I cannot mourn the beggar.

    21-9-2020, M.A. Tempels ©

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  • I. As fact negates fiction, friction ensues. Imbued by superstition, existence explodes into harsh reality. Tears everywhere. We burn. We yearn. We, alone.

    II. Sanctity seethes in the presence of sin. Unceremonious rejections of saccharine letters, lavisciously inscribed into the cake layers awaiting a taste, elicit furor and irate lachrymose eruption. Don’t you understand? She wants not the frilly cream, but buttermilk, raw and pure.

    III. How to fly, when there are no wings? Undeveloped appendages withering ere birth, traces of feather purged in molecular composition. Archaeopteryx was magical. One day, they may recover a fossil at last, where the human anatomy still bears the marks upon the back. Vestiges of long ago.

    IV. Alone is such a sad word. Maybe its meaning should be reassigned. Made to beckon to a lone realm of an existential fold that differs, an alternate chemical composition effectively converting lead into gold. Alchemy of a word.

    V. Reformed into the pure original, we convert from being alone to being reunited with the part of ourselves long lost, unearthed.

    VI. We fly. We love. Wholesome.

    © Anna S., 2020

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  • never scared to admit

    there were years


    I took what I could get

    hanging together in our shame

    struggling a way through

    taking what was on offer

    giving back much the same

    & I’m sure

    what they had was all they got

    we were nothing but poor

    in ideas loving spirit money

    less is never more

    no matter what they tell you

    all we had was some kind of love

    & we wore that out

    as best we could

    until one of us

    found something better

    neil benbow

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  • my friends pen paper

    slowly dissolving through the days


    writing trying attempting

    to say what I was thinking

    feeling even

    lost on the street

    wanting to reach out

    feel something other another

    excuse me can I touch you for a while?

    knowing how that would be

    exclaimed as a pervert

    some street molester

    to protest no not in that way

    just you

    just me

    in a hug a soft embrace of hold

    the cops

    you wanted to be held?

    try these bracelets

    & we’ll hold you for a while downtown

    so I didn’t

    just me

    my friends pen paper

    dissolving through the days


    neil benbow

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  • i am in a black box. once there were rabbits in here, other
    animals also at different times. one of the other animals in
    this black box, was a crow. although, inside this black box
    the crow is almost invisible, hardly accessible, so i was
    happy when the crow left. i am positive it did because
    there have not been any loud sudden caws that echo
    inside my mind in this black box for some time, so i figure
    that crow left. can not really tell though. got faith. 

    i stabbed a hole in the side of the black box with a pencil
    and now there is a sharp brilliant laser beam of light cuts
    across the corners that fades away throughout the hours. 
    if you would like to be inside this black box it is easy to do.
    come over here, i will show you then, we will be together in
    the black box watching the laser beam of light rise then set.
    in between those hours waiting we touch, and kiss. might you
    imagine yourself in the black box, too? touch. kiss.


    why there is a universe in the black box, nice.

    #alt lit #writers on tumblr #spilledink#creative writing #very short stories/long dreams
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  • Chloë and Emily

    Chloë: i never have seen a house as large as this. does it end somewhere?

    Emily: over this way down the hallway, come follow me. in this back room, mostly for storing vegetables, behind this divider, the farthest corner is where it ends. so, stay away from there. i had to show you, now it is your decision what we will be doing. back out, and down the hallway to this room, as you see is a piano. this is the library too, all the books you’ve read before, except this area are the books you have not read yet. currently, these books are all blank. unless Grace is playing the piano, and you can see the ghosts, do not pick up these books here. now, this room, opens to the backyard with the garden, that leads to the meadow. this room is our special of the day. i highly recommend this room. the quality crafted tapestry hanging above the doors to the garden, are of the original owners of this house.

    Chloë: and, is that the dining room? that is a lot of table for so few chairs. who sits down there at the end of the table?

    Emily: that is for you.

    Chloë: the next closet chair is two tables away.

    Emily: there will be though at least five ghosts at the table between that chair and you. now, i am pleased to present this tray of fresh cut fruit, would you like to see more of the house? take some fruit with you.

    Chloë: that tapestry hanging above the doors that open to the garden, are the original owners of this house? they live here, lived here? they owned, own, this house?

    Emily: they all still own this house. most of them are normally out in the meadow or, sometimes there is a carnival. they retired from magic tricks though. the last magic trick they performed for an audience was this house appearing, then just walking inside and staying. it is not uncommon on a tuesday night with a crescent moon, a magic trick may be performed. it has happened.

    Chloë: there is a rabbit, a crow, a lizard on that tapestry.

    Emily: is this house not the finest?

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