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Written by A

        Call me A.

        I’m about to tell you several stories within a story.

        It’s March 10, 2014, Austin, Texas, SXSW, and I’m Airbnbing for the first time with a guy I barely know. His name is Jeff Stewart and he’s a professional writer. Arms entirely inked, avid dog-and-metal aficionado, amazingly talented author, the guy’s aura radiates pure passionate artistry, archetypally. He’s attending SXSW to promote a new book, I’m there to promote a new app. We drive to the convention center and make our way into throngs of technothusiasts. I’m somewhat sufficiently prepared, with a technology to demo and some cards to share. Jeff, meanwhile (wherein virtually everyone around us clings fiendishly to some supposedly state-of-the-art apparatus), is hauling a sack of book copies. We start networking with people. I get lost in the crowd. Then, a few minutes later, he finds me.

        “Let’s have a drink. Stop what you’re doing. I just had an idea I know you’ll love.”

        I’m down. “All right. Let’s do this.” We exit the building. “So what’s the idea?”

        “The entire social media experience – but the media content isn’t focused on updates, or on messages, or on images, or on videos, or on songs…”

        “…then on what?”

        “Writing. The entire spectrum of writing. All kinds, all sizes, all skills.”

        Suddenly my mind is taken back to the fourth grade, when I became obsessively passionate about, or passionately obsessed with, writing, and started writing poems and stories and novels nonstop for several years. Then puberty hit and, for me, made writing uncool and thus undesirable, so I fell out of touch with it until graduating from high school. Early in college, this rekindling led to founding a publishing company. My first taste of business and entrepreneurship then led me away, yet again, from my own deep, immense passion for writing and words. It had led me away for six long years. And now the spirit of writing was tickling my soul again.

        Next thing I know we are sitting in the Omni, sipping whiskey coke and eating chicken wings, talking about what Jeff is now calling “Prose.” We lose track of time. The conversation continues for hours and hours, until we realize that it’s 2am, we’re being loud despite trying to contain the excitricity, and our Airbnb host is probably disgruntled for that precise reason.

        I get back to Seattle from Austin and share Jeff’s idea of Prose with the board of my company, Arc Reactor, which specializes in growing technology ideas. We decide to build Prose and add it to our portfolio. We also decide to make Prose look and feel like a game, in subtle ways, through writing challenges and author leaderboards and the like.

        We launch our iOS app in September of 2014, and then our web app (theprose.com) in January. Several months later, our community is divided and frustrated, as an influx of middle schoolers have discovered Prose and spread the word(s) across campus. So we introduce Partners, Spotlight, and Portals to ensure better, more personalized and relevant content.

        Then, in December of 2015, we decide to experiment with a “$100 Challenge of the Week.” The experiment proves to be a success, informing us that we need to make Prose even more gamelike and rewarding. So we introduce Books, Coins, and Juice to let writers make money from their craft via purchases and donations for any kind or size of writing, from a haiku to a chapter to a saga.

        Now it’s February of 2017. We keep eliminating bugs in our code and polishing the Prose experience. We are focused on leveraging all this code that Z has written so we can share Prose with existing, relevant communities – such as writing sites, publishing houses, literary agencies, college classrooms, prison inmates, writers clubs, book clubs.

        Our mission is to help humanity live its intellectual and creative potential by constantly making the written word experience more social, fun, and rewarding.

Thank you for reading and sharing this story. I hope to read and share yours.

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Written by A
        Call me A.
        I’m about to tell you several stories within a story.
        It’s March 10, 2014, Austin, Texas, SXSW, and I’m Airbnbing for the first time with a guy I barely know. His name is Jeff Stewart and he’s a professional writer. Arms entirely inked, avid dog-and-metal aficionado, amazingly talented author, the guy’s aura radiates pure passionate artistry, archetypally. He’s attending SXSW to promote a new book, I’m there to promote a new app. We drive to the convention center and make our way into throngs of technothusiasts. I’m somewhat sufficiently prepared, with a technology to demo and some cards to share. Jeff, meanwhile (wherein virtually everyone around us clings fiendishly to some supposedly state-of-the-art apparatus), is hauling a sack of book copies. We start networking with people. I get lost in the crowd. Then, a few minutes later, he finds me.
        “Let’s have a drink. Stop what you’re doing. I just had an idea I know you’ll love.”
        I’m down. “All right. Let’s do this.” We exit the building. “So what’s the idea?”
        “The entire social media experience – but the media content isn’t focused on updates, or on messages, or on images, or on videos, or on songs…”
        “…then on what?”
        “Writing. The entire spectrum of writing. All kinds, all sizes, all skills.”
        Suddenly my mind is taken back to the fourth grade, when I became obsessively passionate about, or passionately obsessed with, writing, and started writing poems and stories and novels nonstop for several years. Then puberty hit and, for me, made writing uncool and thus undesirable, so I fell out of touch with it until graduating from high school. Early in college, this rekindling led to founding a publishing company. My first taste of business and entrepreneurship then led me away, yet again, from my own deep, immense passion for writing and words. It had led me away for six long years. And now the spirit of writing was tickling my soul again.
        Next thing I know we are sitting in the Omni, sipping whiskey coke and eating chicken wings, talking about what Jeff is now calling “Prose.” We lose track of time. The conversation continues for hours and hours, until we realize that it’s 2am, we’re being loud despite trying to contain the excitricity, and our Airbnb host is probably disgruntled for that precise reason.
        I get back to Seattle from Austin and share Jeff’s idea of Prose with the board of my company, Arc Reactor, which specializes in growing technology ideas. We decide to build Prose and add it to our portfolio. We also decide to make Prose look and feel like a game, in subtle ways, through writing challenges and author leaderboards and the like.
        We launch our iOS app in September of 2014, and then our web app (theprose.com) in January. Several months later, our community is divided and frustrated, as an influx of middle schoolers have discovered Prose and spread the word(s) across campus. So we introduce Partners, Spotlight, and Portals to ensure better, more personalized and relevant content.
        Then, in December of 2015, we decide to experiment with a “$100 Challenge of the Week.” The experiment proves to be a success, informing us that we need to make Prose even more gamelike and rewarding. So we introduce Books, Coins, and Juice to let writers make money from their craft via purchases and donations for any kind or size of writing, from a haiku to a chapter to a saga.
        Now it’s February of 2017. We keep eliminating bugs in our code and polishing the Prose experience. We are focused on leveraging all this code that Z has written so we can share Prose with existing, relevant communities – such as writing sites, publishing houses, literary agencies, college classrooms, prison inmates, writers clubs, book clubs.
        Our mission is to help humanity live its intellectual and creative potential by constantly making the written word experience more social, fun, and rewarding.

Thank you for reading and sharing this story. I hope to read and share yours.
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Written by Shells in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Warty Cunt

It's hard to say what it was now...

that made me love you. 

Was it the candy drop eyes?  Or the innocence lost. The nostalgia in your lips, the quiet brewing storm beneath the beautiful calm. 

 The sensual sea of chaos just beneath your scales and skin. 

God I loved the fierceness 

the settled jaw and tortured mind.  

Honetsuckle hair and a

 fiery tongue. 

The Devil's dance with his number one Dame.

perhaps it was the maggot soul and

The manipulation of the 

game

Of

Life

And sex

And love

It's hard for me to say why I loved you then

As I love you now

From the ground

at 

your 

feet. 

Forever pleading 

for 

forgiveness. 

13
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Written by Shells in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Warty Cunt
It's hard to say what it was now...
that made me love you. 
Was it the candy drop eyes?  Or the innocence lost. The nostalgia in your lips, the quiet brewing storm beneath the beautiful calm. 
 The sensual sea of chaos just beneath your scales and skin. 

God I loved the fierceness 


the settled jaw and tortured mind.  
Honetsuckle hair and a
 fiery tongue. 

The Devil's dance with his number one Dame.

perhaps it was the maggot soul and
The manipulation of the 
game
Of
Life
And sex
And love

It's hard for me to say why I loved you then
As I love you now
From the ground
at 
your 
feet. 

Forever pleading 
for 
forgiveness. 
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Written by poeticasymptote in portal Stream of Consciousness

Silent Sanctuary

may the flowers blossom

spreading fragrance

exuding elegance

ever young

may the trees prosper

growing, flourishing

fruits yield in season

ever long

may the ground thrive

tending, nourishing

every seed planted

every new life born

live in days of drought

weather every storm

rest in calmer seasons

even now

when concrete surrounds

and the door is locked

this singing little wing

with a restless flutter

may be despised

may have caused anger

may be forgotten

or ignored

but the woods

now an orchard

the place of wonder

that loved each feather

shall be remembered

evermore

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Written by poeticasymptote in portal Stream of Consciousness
Silent Sanctuary
may the flowers blossom
spreading fragrance
exuding elegance
ever young

may the trees prosper
growing, flourishing
fruits yield in season
ever long

may the ground thrive
tending, nourishing
every seed planted
every new life born

live in days of drought
weather every storm
rest in calmer seasons

even now
when concrete surrounds
and the door is locked

this singing little wing
with a restless flutter
may be despised
may have caused anger
may be forgotten
or ignored

but the woods
now an orchard
the place of wonder
that loved each feather
shall be remembered
evermore
#fantasy  #poetry  #memories  #nature 
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I got this idea from a poetry workshop I went to yesterday: Write a poem about what your words do. "My words change" or "My words never lie" for example. Make it as creative as you want! And tag me @LiberalPoet.
Written by Cross in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Insignificance

My words ring

Hollow

And meaningless

Vain attempts

Eternally

Destined to fail

These walls are closing in

Gasping

For escape

Upon your throne

Insignificance

Reigns supreme

9
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I got this idea from a poetry workshop I went to yesterday: Write a poem about what your words do. "My words change" or "My words never lie" for example. Make it as creative as you want! And tag me @LiberalPoet.
Written by Cross in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Insignificance
My words ring
Hollow
And meaningless

Vain attempts
Eternally
Destined to fail

These walls are closing in
Gasping
For escape

Upon your throne
Insignificance
Reigns supreme
#poetry  #words  #insignificance 
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Written by Tylasmith in portal Micropoetry

beautiful lies

something beautiful about lies 

there easier to listen to

so easy to listen to you about how you love me 

but I love to fall alseep to your lies 

because it easier to live in reality ,

you still love her 

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Written by Tylasmith in portal Micropoetry
beautiful lies
something beautiful about lies 
there easier to listen to
so easy to listen to you about how you love me 
but I love to fall alseep to your lies 
because it easier to live in reality ,
you still love her 
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Written by WistfulThinker in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Dying girl will always be seen

As beautiful;

Why else do you think they

Cut stems

And pluck petals

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Written by WistfulThinker in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Dying girl will always be seen
As beautiful;
Why else do you think they
Cut stems
And pluck petals
#poetry  #opinion 
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Written by Firdaus in portal Micropoetry

a dandelion exploded

by a single breath

floret still linger in wishes

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Written by Firdaus in portal Micropoetry
a dandelion exploded
by a single breath
floret still linger in wishes
#botaiku 
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Fun facts are always awesome, aren't they? Write about 5 different interesting facts that you know about any subject. Tag me too. I want to learn what you know.
Written by Vyxyn

Here's five not so fun facts

Horses have canine "wolf" teeth.

Snakes are more afraid of you and are trying to avoid you at all costs.

All nature is afraid of man, but will stand up against him when forced to.

Humanity seems Hellbent on destroying

Mother Earth all because of greed.

Humans are too stupid to communicate with the intelligent life forms on this planet, yet they seek out intelligence in the universe.

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Fun facts are always awesome, aren't they? Write about 5 different interesting facts that you know about any subject. Tag me too. I want to learn what you know.
Written by Vyxyn
Here's five not so fun facts
Horses have canine "wolf" teeth.
Snakes are more afraid of you and are trying to avoid you at all costs.
All nature is afraid of man, but will stand up against him when forced to.
Humanity seems Hellbent on destroying
Mother Earth all because of greed.
Humans are too stupid to communicate with the intelligent life forms on this planet, yet they seek out intelligence in the universe.

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Written by Lumilenore

Tuning fork

She was waiting

She had been waiting a long while

Ever since she heard that voice calling at a distance, somewhere amid the brilliant silence that happened after the last note struck her in tandem with her own existential thunder....

....and then the lightning happened without sound

It was brief and it was painful and it was the first time she experienced truth

Her bones now ache with the memory

So she waits...

Chasing the last of the echoes into the dark

Careful not to confuse it for the coffee or the powders or the pills.... or the many such permutations that can be mistaken for light in the deep places

Her sense of hope is fickle

And her feet drag a bit more every time she thinks of when the memory was enough

She's waited a long time and now she wonders if she's made the error that will define her

Did she misunderstand the words?

She might be crazy

She might be waiting for death

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Written by Lumilenore
Tuning fork
She was waiting
She had been waiting a long while
Ever since she heard that voice calling at a distance, somewhere amid the brilliant silence that happened after the last note struck her in tandem with her own existential thunder....
....and then the lightning happened without sound
It was brief and it was painful and it was the first time she experienced truth
Her bones now ache with the memory
So she waits...
Chasing the last of the echoes into the dark
Careful not to confuse it for the coffee or the powders or the pills.... or the many such permutations that can be mistaken for light in the deep places
Her sense of hope is fickle
And her feet drag a bit more every time she thinks of when the memory was enough
She's waited a long time and now she wonders if she's made the error that will define her
Did she misunderstand the words?
She might be crazy
She might be waiting for death
#drugs  #depression  #existential 
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Written by Sammee in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Describe

I can't even

Put thoughts

Into words.

My love is

Beyond them.

It is beyond

Light and life

And beauty.

It is beyond

Pain and ache

And burning.

It is just love.

Everything,

All at once.

And nothing

Can describe

It to you.

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Written by Sammee in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Describe
I can't even
Put thoughts
Into words.
My love is
Beyond them.
It is beyond
Light and life
And beauty.
It is beyond
Pain and ache
And burning.
It is just love.
Everything,
All at once.
And nothing
Can describe
It to you.
4
0
1
Juice
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