They always say

Till death do us part

I’ve always said till life do us part

And it did

I’ve been dead since then

What you see of me now

is just a formality

I breathe in your name

and exhale the memories

The silence tastes like metal

It‘s a harder pill to swallow

than the iron supplements that

make me choke up

Now I just choke up at the thought

of what we could have been

of what I need you to be

of what I could no longer be

I wonder if you hear the moon

screaming your name at night

begging you to hold me tight

A small town in Idaho, on the outskirts, lives an...artist...of sorts, and meets a reporter who gets more than he bargained for, and the end might come, or will it? MUAH HAHAHAHAHA!!!! From the mind of one of our talents, comes this irresistible Halloween romp. Here's the link to the narration of said romp on Prose. Radio, narrated by Jeff Stewart, who is whereabouts unkown in the States, in a room where he was able to send in the audio of this story by our own WilkinsonRiling.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TqIX7_Ddllg

Also, he asked us to mention this: Another talent here on the site, has a book set for release on 11/22, so go here and pre-order your copy, and give this Appalachian poet some love. He's fantastic!

https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/in-the-throes-of-beauty-by-kevin-d-lemaster/

Piece feaured in the video:

https://www.theprose.com/post/780635/the-halloween-legend-of-jack-mccarver

To keep the tradition in closing traditional:

And.

As always...

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose, team

I. Today I Learned

I bury all I am in my sins,

Faith in liquored-love.

Fairy bottles replay static memories.

Plenty of bruises, red rift scars,

Blood spurts

And limbs locked;

Punch drunk tempting her fate

Corroding cherry wraith

Goblet crush

Top her off!

Sure today I tell you how I feel.

Daisy fangs swirl a trillion;

At midnight we sat in the back seat of the

Silver mustang

Butterflies fluttering in circadian allure

Fresh foaming crystal brew wrestling my mangled tongue.

With You playing, windows open,

Honeycomb night air veiling

Tingling liquored-liver,

I stare at your phone

and

silver skylines end.

II. No names left to trust

So I develop my alter ego,

gold chain hanging

To my mosaic heart,

I stumble among extinct stars,

Trap cold character:

Ice Age.

Soon the round world fades,

Faces blur, gold lenses curve all

l o v e.

Jump my h o p e.

Tan cap like Yin

and

Yang.

Polo emblem my ensemble;

Her tan skin like drops of honey

Sky resembles my F e a r.

III. Sin Miedo Me Voy….

Heaven only knows what awaits

Sore shoulders and unfurling gates

Trade stress for two thousand hops

Crack calve muscles:

Tectonic shift.

Cortisol huffs cool in serotonin rush

Far off I see liquified azul twilight

Orange creamsicle dreams,

Splashes of tangerine

flutters.

Infectious spirals smile before

collapsing.

I felt nothing but

Crushing breathes,

Heart echoing in my cavernous chest

droplets forming

Calcified

d

e

p

t

h

s.

IV. It Began With the Sun

Laser rays and isolation

Just how I would spend

the end of

My sunflower youth

Before I set off to my adventure,

A life that could not be claimed by

My mother’s past

Only my feet marching to newfound

Fear.

I wore a silky white T-Shirt,

Daisy wore overalls and a gray long sleeve

Late summer sun blazed black leather seats,

Metal belt stung with magma jaws;

A day at the mall with friends,

That's all It was.

I was just coming back from Houston

Something about the city ate away at me,

My family felt like a parasitic reflection:

A dystopian image I could not rattle- so I

Marched off.

Nothing but plains blessed my surroundings,

Farmland said to be gold

Dead grass like evergreen forests

Orchards sprayed with white paint

Tar roads with chalk drawings leading

Up to

Twists and turns

Here I faded away from

The front seat conversations

Let my shy tendencies take hold

Gold lenses flaring with curiosity,

H o p e.

V. Tonight You Belong To Me

I saw a maniac on the car roof in

The mall garage parking lot slowly slipping,

Screaming, not afraid but excited,

Clenching stupidity and death with flailing arms.

I awoke from my silent stupor, shot

Joy from my anchored mind

Strolled shop after shop realizing what this could all be,

Freedom from laser rays and isolation:

A new happiness.

Four writers were approaching, and the wind began to howl...except replace wind with bloodletting of words, and ink into veins from these authors blessed and crazed with no other way to let it out, than to put it across a screen, and into our hearts with only pure aim.

Here's the link to the show:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1s3J_TYQqaM

And here are the pieces featured.

https://www.theprose.com/post/828745/king-of-california https://www.theprose.com/post/828053/the-drug-in-me-is-you https://www.theprose.com/post/828235/mile-run https://www.theprose.com/post/828263/the-only-shore

And.

As always.

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team

Flakes of creation pranced Infinite bound

Cosmic darkness, clashing gray puffed clouds and

Rustic fields fortuned by dandelion wisps

Wailing against ocean deep canvas clouds

Simulations clamored red eyes of stardust

Novae laughter locked light kevlar hatred,

Platelets scurried to sparred rifts, en garde new

Hell ten year holocaust, sauna mist drowns

Arctic iced whiskey cup; talk and talk 00-4

Burn every nuclear home- just as you did

Before. Aims wished sanctuary ashes

Away, Cowells at bay staring into

Fiery magma fins, sweet tangerine walls

Lashing tepid shed roof, wooden spine squeals

Sundered focal synapse: revolution

Revved as bumbling coupe engine, medals granted

Devil’s tongue spiraling in ears of young agents,

Hard fought! Clouded Cowells picked up Book of Dreams

Ripped page of Love, evolving revolver

Squandered, point, aim, shoo. Entity Aims access

To Oceanside granted. Prepare for War.

00-4 said in a gravelly commanding voice,

Legion gravitas dissipating, next

Awaits. Cowells gait slow and militant.

Neon mist crisp emerald blades, residue like

Faint oasis dreams, crystalline waterfalls

Splash weary leafy seams, above seas collapse;

Foggy fingers clasp to new day's sanguine glove.

Crisp autumn air reveals trails of clotted char

Streaks, livid vinyl crackles popped coffin den,

Devils suited, cloaked, petrified by plasma

Cotton candy haze- Hellfires spin to HQ.

Colt clipped, one round chambered, boulevards

Freshly lit, Coupe consumes tar roads, Gaul Heights

Prowling, sirens scatter pedestrian

Wards, youth inhale rotten flesh stench, plasma

Churns, gurgling cotton candy vents, cherry

Swirls unwind tonight's chapter. Petrified

Breath batters Book of Dreams, fresh yellow pages

Glow elliptical, Eden returns to mind

Drink the witches brew, swirling raspberry

Chamber drools cold exhaust, nights cost sanity

Coupe swerves with turbo thrust, escape the plains;

Pink city bound, cruel bars claw tinted glass,

Aims inhales midnight smog, tar fuses flesh

Late teens talk tactics, plain fashion, laughs

Echo sidewalks, alleys, veins of the city

Report to HQ command- dropoff- engage…

Cowells brushes onyx curls, ladies lurk drunk;

Quick punch paces livened liver, quiver

Unleashes snake chain gun ballistics, strange

Dame lights red and blue skyline- minds eye trails…

Dips, scrolls; Doom is imminent, intimate

Encounters flower Aims tequila shots:

Call me love, late in my premonition;

Navy blue tears confide in war torn lands

I know where you lurk:

Devil's Den

New Disciples.

I claim Heaven as my Hell

Paradise supplied in layers

Digital players spike

Cherry peace.

Flee

Mavia sends in another great narration from the author, Todd Beller, who just happens to be among the pantheon of talent here in the halls of Prose. Grab some coffee, lean back, or put it in drive and listen to the words while Sunday moves around you like water around a stone.

Here's the link to her beautiful read.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdM3-ig6jBQ

And here's the featured piece.

https://www.theprose.com/post/827672/breadcrumbs-of-consciousness

And.

As always...

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. Team

Seven writers come down with fire to make this one of our favorite episodes in the channel's history. Ranging from new blood to legends, these pieces put our 60th episode out into the world with a grip of steel and blue-lava beauty, mixes of orange, and a touch of evil to keep the thread floating upon the wind, seeable, but unreachable to remove.

Here's the link to the show.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKWoKWK7nXY

And here are the pieces featured.

https://www.theprose.com/post/826733/i-know-why-bukowski-smiled https://www.theprose.com/post/826842/the-double-headed-scepter-of-doubt https://www.theprose.com/post/826569/tot

https://www.theprose.com/post/826584/the-art-of-love https://www.theprose.com/post/826617 https://www.theprose.com/post/826436/and-i-am-vapor

https://www.theprose.com/post/826316/black-sky https://www.theprose.com/post/827138/swallows https://www.theprose.com/post/827447/in-due-time

https://www.theprose.com/post/827090/people-ruin-everything

And.

As always.

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team

A Challenge created by putski brings home the first glance on today's feature on Prose. Radio, where Hot Chocolate bass-lines the morning into the world created by four talents and their heavy lifting of our minds into - then onto, a plateau of a dimension defined by coping, four seasons in heavenly bodies warming by the fire, a madman's babbling, and into the lemonaide air with a flash.

Here's a link to the show.

https://youtu.be/W0u4DfJbSx8

And here are the pieces featured.

https://www.theprose.com/post/814391/the-cheshire-cat-with-a-side-of-pork-and-beans https://www.theprose.com/post/814503/togetherness-for-the-whole https://www.theprose.com/post/814610/i-found-these-things https://www.theprose.com/post/814243

And.

As always.

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose team.

In case anyone has a case of the Mondays, on the show today, in number 26, Curtis Mayfield sings us into three reads by three vastly different talents with one vast thing in common: Each one is their own creator with a style like no others. Top off your coffee, and sail away with us.

Here's the link.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMz90tLIE5s

And here are the pieces featured within.

https://www.theprose.com/post/812076/memories https://www.theprose.com/post/811802/the-women-in-the-trees https://www.theprose.com/post/812519/the-line

And.

As always.

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team