Did you do it?

Did you travel over the ocean

to backpack across Europe

and visit ancient landmarks

that you could never find

on this side?

Did you finish the seven wonders

carved by time and humankind

Northern lights dancing skyward

and pyramids vying

just as high?

Did you buy yourself a home

just a tiny fixer upper

did you mend it with your hands

and paint inside in any way

your imagination

drove you?

Did you get yourself a job

where each morning you woke up

and you felt glad to get ready

because you had a love

for where you’d go?

Did you adopt a kid

a bounced-around teenager

did you peel back past his walls

to show him despite it all

someone cared?

Did you knit your words together

did you conquer all the voices

and send it to a set of eyes

who’d help you put it out

to be read by others?

Did you remain voracious

for more knowledge you could add

to the library you kept stocking

locked securely within

your head?

Let me tell you something

when it’s all said and done

don’t think in terms of hereafter

you’ve only got one here and now

one time around the sun

and when the end is coming

and you face the great beyond

there’s just one question left remaining.

Did you do it?

Why not?

The difference between Coke and Coca Cola is marketing and perception.

Coke is cool, refreshing, invigorating and in vogue.

Cola is absolutely the same.

Marketing and perception.

I stood there, staring at her; trying to figure her out. How could a girl so confident and obdurate from afar be so vulnerable and uneasy up close? The sudden roar of the crowd woke me from my trance and I quickly stepped back, reminding myself we were practically strangers. The stadium dimmed but she was still somewhat radiant in my eyes, the same way she glowed when we occasionally walked past each other at school. She stepped up, resuming her position; her body just inches from mine. She reached out her arm, resting her hand on my shoulder. She was cold.

"How...how do you do it?" She asked in almost a whisper.

When the words won't come-

read.

Open the classics.

Doyle. Poe. Hemingway.

Let the voices of dead kindred souls

breathe inspiration into yours.

Crack the contemporary.

Let Rowling feed you magic.

Let King show you macabre.

Revisit favorite novels from your childhood

or from crazy college days

or from recent years when child's laughter-

or roommate's chatter-

or husband's banter-

has silenced for the night.

Put tea on the stove-

mint, peach, chamomile-

or stir up some hot cocoa

for the stormy, winter nights-

or if you're of the inclination

pop the cork on a liquor of choice.

Fire up a candle-

pull out the incense-

light up a favorite brand of cigar.

Aromatics are prepared, stimulate the senses.

The purpose is not to mimic their words

but to go back and be taught.

For who could a greater teacher be

than those who've wielded the pen

before we?

"I- I'm not worried about you biting me." I looked away a little embarrassed, not knowing how to respond to her social prompt. She was so close to me now, I could see the pain behind her eyes. All those years of being misread, communicated to me with one look. I suddenly felt bad for her, and the urge to reach out and comfort her was building. To let her know there was some hope out there, however bad her situation might or might not be.

"I see you looking at me." Her eyes were like those of vultures, and I could practically feel her piercing my soul. I then looked away from her. I didn't want her to pay me much attention. She noticed my quick turn of my head, and she said, "It's okay. I don't bite." I stepped in closer to her. I smelled the aroma of cheap perfume on her with a hint of alcohol in her breath. Then she stepped closer to me, setting us only inches apart from each other.

Perfection is a guise, that she wore far too well. A porcelain doll that upon closer inspection, was full of cracks and imperfections. We were all there as a group but she had come alone. I sensed her before I saw her. I saw the bruise before she had time to pull down her sleeves. She saw my heavy stare and with easing eyes she said, "......"

I used to get by with the greatest of joy, with just a few bob and a phonebox to toy,

I'd dial my number and wait for the tone, then struggle to press home my penny alone,

You needed strong thumbs just to click in that penny, there's never a time when I didn't have any,

But over the years it was common to see, that in every phonebox someone used to pee,

What once was a joy became not such a smash,

when calling your number meant standing in slash,

And things do progress as these things tend to do, as there in the corner someone had to poo!

So all those old phoneboxes once painted red, were replaced with new ones all see through instead,

Alas though the novelty didn't last long, as once again there was that God awful pong,

And there in the corner sat winking at me, a turd did rejoice in its ocean of pee,

Nostalgia for phoneboxes soon took a flip, when mobiles meant phoneboxes binned in the skip,

And so look at me with my mobile so sweet, back then when an apple was something to eat,

Consigned to the bin was the foulness of old, I pulled out my mobile and tapped in my code,

With battery life that was measured in minutes, I needed a rucksack to carry it in it,

But now we are graced with our smartphones and phabs, our iPhones and Sony's and Galaxy Tabs,

And striding along with my iPhone Six Plus, with all the world in it I wait for my bus,

I'm loaded with apps and the flashiest widgets, that clamour for banknotes as awkward I fidget,

This demon I grasp cost me half a months pay, and when it will end I regret I can't say,

As I labour onwards I work for my phone, and when we're at home we all sit on our own,

Enraptured and trapped in a vacuum of tech, I've just had enough and I'm up to my neck,

I'm constantly charging and recharging it, and wasting away as sun starts to dip,

A slave I've become and there ain't a way out, if you've found an exit, please give me a shout.

We went to a concert together with a mutual group of friends. Up until this point, I have never had a chance to interact with her as a normal human being. I have always been watching her from afar, making assumptions, planting those seeds of hate, just because she seems too perfect to be true. There, I discovered something about her that would completely change everything I though I knew about her.