Author: vintageblack

Fears

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Poetry

He stands awake. A foxlike figure ventures into the woods. Voluptuous fears. His only chance To speak half-truths. He steps away, The river dries out. He does not know How to swim. He falls asleep, dreaming of broken windows, blue-tinted grass And old-fashioned toys. A tiny merry-go-round running out of battery. Voluptuous fears. His only chance To speak half-truths.

Black Magic

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Poetry

Stepping aside, And mending steps, And working two jobs, And renewing her magic.   Like the black magic That comes and goes. Like the black magic That comes and goes.    Silent wishes, Dreading fun, Founding fathers Of fear and dust.   Feeling lonely,  Stomping feet, Crafting stitches, and black crows. Like black magic That comes and goes.    Dream and hide Her feet deep In the sand.  Her troubles diluted With sips of bitter […]

Bells

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Random / Poetry

Stepping stone, Wonderful ears They hear the music While I swing along. Back and forth, Like a little child That sleeps And does not want To get woken. Like a song That does not end In innuendo. Wonderful years They go away Like a sad song, Like the slipping rain. Stupid fears, Those hectic lives, The bells go wild.

Silent Song

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Random

Singing silently Solving riddles Welcoming the intense pleasure Of dipping my toes in the sea. The water is warm And all I want Is to spend my future Trying to decipher where to swim. Strepitously silent song, It breaks my voice And produces Luminous And distilled sediments Of fear. I am helpless, Like a river That heads Towards the unknown immensity. Only to die in the sea. Intense pleasure That invokes fear And truly starts […]

Days Rained

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Random

Toss a coin. What will be, will be. Forever unknown. If I ever wanted to go and flyI'd give it a chanceTo my dying habitsOf swelling wet rainSpeaking half-truthsAnd venturing into the abyss. All I wantIs to give away the fearsPrecious as they are,And to welcomeThe uncertainty of days gone,Days rainedAnd far apart,Like a tiny figmentOf my imagination.The one that dries outEvery time I thinkAbout saluting the new world.

Birdsong

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Fiction

He entered the pale wooden café on the far corner of the shopping mall, the one facing the cylindric office tower. It was a pale day in November, and all he wanted was to sniff away his fears, which at that very moment were taking shape as the extra weight he’d need to lose before his upcoming race. Slowly but surely, he approached the waitress, who was chewing gum and inspecting her gel nails before […]

Tightrope

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Poetry

I wish I'd told you earlierHow much I likeWalking over thin ice. I feel the thrill to open up pandora’s box, the one holding the key to your desires.  I just want to carry on walking,Feeling the sun on my back,Stepping over the edge. Just.  I wish I’d put on better shoes,Since the edge is long and slipperyAnd I keep looking down the abyss.  And while I stay still,A fly sits on the tightrope.Suddenly I start sneezingAnd lose my balance. I […]

Storymaster Leaves

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Poetry

Hop on, story master, The one that would not let Her fears run awayThrough the back door. Unrelenting strideGets nearAnd gets catapultedTowards the crying treeThe willowThat my dad pruned.It had to dieAnd with one last cryIt got swallowed up by the earth. Rest in peace majestic willowThe one beautiful backdrop Of my endless summer holidays.When I was a childAnd then you dieWith your unrelenting stride.Story master leaves.

Acerbic Love

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Poetry

Apocalyptic fearsThat come and go,Marvelous weatherThat gives me solace.I feel slightly thirsty.The housecleaner is goneAnd the floors are wet,Ready for my indoor skating.Dying habitsAnd freckled skin,The dog approachesAnd wets my kneeWith his muzzle. Acerbic love. I take a sip Of my wine.I call a truce,She leaves an open door.The wooden panel creaks,I get flusteredAnd my cheeks reddenWhen I imagine myselfWriting this.

The White Seahorse

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Random / Stories

The swimming costume sticks to her ribs and rubs her skin the wrong way, as she advances on her chlorinated walk to hell. Mum has sewn a plastic white seahorse on the lower right, close to the suit’s seams. She keeps feeling its rough surface as she slowly takes the stairs up to the pool. Do you want to get back to the white seahorse? Not really, says the child. Stupid kid. Off you go […]