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Written by Prose in portal Prose

Let's Talk Prose

Good morning, Prosers.

It’s been quite the week, hasn’t it?

The last seven (ish) days has been a hive of activity here behind the Prose screens. We overhauled the Challenge Stream and we weren’t prepared for some of the concerns you guys laid across our digital desks.

We tried to answer each one of your concerns, but thought it best, now the dust has settled, to write something to each and every one of you.

Over a year ago, we took a vow of transparency and this is one of those times where we feel full transparency is needed.

There are only 4 of us on the team, and two of us have spent a long time in the past 7 days responding to each and every concern of yours, whilst working part-time on all of our Prose duties, and part-time on the PoetsIN duties.

Some of the complaints we received were misconceptions of the team and the company ethos that we have worked so hard at. So, this is us, setting the record straight. We are going to outline the concerns and comments, and put this to bed so we can continue improving Prose.

1) Default minimum word count.

This is set by default at 15. We will not be changing this any time soon. Why? Because when we allowed full flexibility, with no restriction there, our feeds were full with one word challenges. “Sorrow in one word.” “Death in one word.” Not only was this clogging the streams; we were also getting complaints about it. So we found a happy medium. With tens of thousands of users here, we had a couple of complaints about this. Not enough complaints that would make us re-think our stance.

2) Why did we charge for last week’s challenge of the week?

The first week’s charge for the challenge was to test the feature. We can test on our beta server, but know from experience that the second we unleash it on you guys, if there is a bug that we have missed, you will find it within seconds and we can fix it just as quickly.

3) Will we charge for future challenges?

Short answer, yes. Why? We’ll come back to this shortly.

4) What about those that do not have coins?

Those who do not have coins can either, a) head to the website and buy a coin package, b) become a partner and sell books/shorts/chapters, or c) write exceptional pieces that your Proser peers will juice you for. If neither a, b, or c apply to you, sit out the challenge and find one that doesn’t cost to enter.

5) Are we falling foul of “corruption to profit?” 

No. We are most certainly not. We are four people, managing a community tens of thousands larger than our foursome. We work tirelessly on this platform because we love it. This change wasn’t about profit, whatsoever. We’re humble, realistic, and realise that without charging for challenges, and taking a small cut from book sales etc, Prose won’t continue this way.

The above were the main concerns, and comments from people, said in a multitude of ways. All handled in a professional way, sometimes to-the-point, but never abrasive or rude. We are human after all and we’re damn proud of what we have achieved with such a small team and an equally small budget.

Think of how you discovered us. Was that through a large ad campaign? Nope, because we do not do that. We have grown this community organically, by spending time reaching out to people via social media and getting listed on some cool websites, that’s really it in a nutshell. Millions of man-hours go into this and we get paid less than most for the hours we put in.

We have made a tough decision. For the foreseeable, we will be charging for the Challenge of the Week. 50 cents. That’s all. There are challenges out there on the interwebs that charge a shed-load more for entering a challenge. We aren’t charging 50c to make a profit, we are charging 50c to put food on the table.

Over the past 67 weeks, we have given away $6700 in Challenge of the Week funds and have used our funding to pay for it. We haven’t asked you for a cent. The second we do, we have people asking why this “forum” can’t be free. Up until now, we have run Prose from a pool of money from generous investors who believe in what we do as much as we do. We haven’t yet made enough from Prose as a business to be able to pay our bills and such like. 

Prose is still free to use. But, if you want $100, you’ll have to pay 50 cents for the chance. We do not make enough currently to be able to keep giving free money, as much as we’d love to. There are plenty of free-to-enter challenges set by your peers that you can enter.

The more you guys buy coins, spend coins on each other, supporting the words of this amazing community, the more likely we’ll be able to offer a free-to-enter Challenge of the Week again. If we do not make enough to pay ourselves and pay the server charges, there will be no paid or free challenges. Dramatic, maybe, but that is the truth.

This does not mean Prose is failing, it does not mean we are going to ‘shut up shop,’ far from it. It’s us making you aware that these changes, along with your cooperation, will ensure our longevity.

Not all of the comments were comments of concern, and we thank each and every one of you for your continued support and for choosing Prose as your home for words.

We are working hard to tip the scales to benefit the author, and we’ve done this so far by providing numerous ways for each of you to make money with your words, with your royalties far outweighing ours.

Tomorrow we have another exciting opportunity for all of you, too, which has been months in the making. But, in the meantime, let’s recap how you can make a living on Prose.

1) Become a Prose Partner. Head here: theprose.com/p/partner. If you are accepted, you can sell your words on Prose. These can be sold as a single poem or short story, or as a book. Books can be sold per chapter, or as a whole.

2) Get involved in the Prose community, like, comment, share, and write. Write like it’s the last thing you’ll ever write; if Prosers like it, they’ll juice you.

3) Create awesome paid challenges. Prosers can actually make money from doing this.

If you would like some marketing tips from the team here, let us know, we’ll create a book in the bookstore that can help serve as a guide with some very useful tips and tricks in there. As a side-note, due to limitations with our time, we will have to charge for this book. Every little helps us, help you.

We think that’s all for now; if you have any further questions or concerns, please message or email us privately, and bear with us while we respond.

Let’s all get back to being creative, shall we?

Until next time, long live Prose!

Prose.

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Written by Prose in portal Prose
Let's Talk Prose
Good morning, Prosers.

It’s been quite the week, hasn’t it?

The last seven (ish) days has been a hive of activity here behind the Prose screens. We overhauled the Challenge Stream and we weren’t prepared for some of the concerns you guys laid across our digital desks.

We tried to answer each one of your concerns, but thought it best, now the dust has settled, to write something to each and every one of you.

Over a year ago, we took a vow of transparency and this is one of those times where we feel full transparency is needed.

There are only 4 of us on the team, and two of us have spent a long time in the past 7 days responding to each and every concern of yours, whilst working part-time on all of our Prose duties, and part-time on the PoetsIN duties.

Some of the complaints we received were misconceptions of the team and the company ethos that we have worked so hard at. So, this is us, setting the record straight. We are going to outline the concerns and comments, and put this to bed so we can continue improving Prose.

1) Default minimum word count.
This is set by default at 15. We will not be changing this any time soon. Why? Because when we allowed full flexibility, with no restriction there, our feeds were full with one word challenges. “Sorrow in one word.” “Death in one word.” Not only was this clogging the streams; we were also getting complaints about it. So we found a happy medium. With tens of thousands of users here, we had a couple of complaints about this. Not enough complaints that would make us re-think our stance.

2) Why did we charge for last week’s challenge of the week?
The first week’s charge for the challenge was to test the feature. We can test on our beta server, but know from experience that the second we unleash it on you guys, if there is a bug that we have missed, you will find it within seconds and we can fix it just as quickly.

3) Will we charge for future challenges?
Short answer, yes. Why? We’ll come back to this shortly.

4) What about those that do not have coins?
Those who do not have coins can either, a) head to the website and buy a coin package, b) become a partner and sell books/shorts/chapters, or c) write exceptional pieces that your Proser peers will juice you for. If neither a, b, or c apply to you, sit out the challenge and find one that doesn’t cost to enter.

5) Are we falling foul of “corruption to profit?” 
No. We are most certainly not. We are four people, managing a community tens of thousands larger than our foursome. We work tirelessly on this platform because we love it. This change wasn’t about profit, whatsoever. We’re humble, realistic, and realise that without charging for challenges, and taking a small cut from book sales etc, Prose won’t continue this way.

The above were the main concerns, and comments from people, said in a multitude of ways. All handled in a professional way, sometimes to-the-point, but never abrasive or rude. We are human after all and we’re damn proud of what we have achieved with such a small team and an equally small budget.

Think of how you discovered us. Was that through a large ad campaign? Nope, because we do not do that. We have grown this community organically, by spending time reaching out to people via social media and getting listed on some cool websites, that’s really it in a nutshell. Millions of man-hours go into this and we get paid less than most for the hours we put in.

We have made a tough decision. For the foreseeable, we will be charging for the Challenge of the Week. 50 cents. That’s all. There are challenges out there on the interwebs that charge a shed-load more for entering a challenge. We aren’t charging 50c to make a profit, we are charging 50c to put food on the table.

Over the past 67 weeks, we have given away $6700 in Challenge of the Week funds and have used our funding to pay for it. We haven’t asked you for a cent. The second we do, we have people asking why this “forum” can’t be free. Up until now, we have run Prose from a pool of money from generous investors who believe in what we do as much as we do. We haven’t yet made enough from Prose as a business to be able to pay our bills and such like. 

Prose is still free to use. But, if you want $100, you’ll have to pay 50 cents for the chance. We do not make enough currently to be able to keep giving free money, as much as we’d love to. There are plenty of free-to-enter challenges set by your peers that you can enter.

The more you guys buy coins, spend coins on each other, supporting the words of this amazing community, the more likely we’ll be able to offer a free-to-enter Challenge of the Week again. If we do not make enough to pay ourselves and pay the server charges, there will be no paid or free challenges. Dramatic, maybe, but that is the truth.

This does not mean Prose is failing, it does not mean we are going to ‘shut up shop,’ far from it. It’s us making you aware that these changes, along with your cooperation, will ensure our longevity.

Not all of the comments were comments of concern, and we thank each and every one of you for your continued support and for choosing Prose as your home for words.

We are working hard to tip the scales to benefit the author, and we’ve done this so far by providing numerous ways for each of you to make money with your words, with your royalties far outweighing ours.

Tomorrow we have another exciting opportunity for all of you, too, which has been months in the making. But, in the meantime, let’s recap how you can make a living on Prose.

1) Become a Prose Partner. Head here: theprose.com/p/partner. If you are accepted, you can sell your words on Prose. These can be sold as a single poem or short story, or as a book. Books can be sold per chapter, or as a whole.

2) Get involved in the Prose community, like, comment, share, and write. Write like it’s the last thing you’ll ever write; if Prosers like it, they’ll juice you.

3) Create awesome paid challenges. Prosers can actually make money from doing this.

If you would like some marketing tips from the team here, let us know, we’ll create a book in the bookstore that can help serve as a guide with some very useful tips and tricks in there. As a side-note, due to limitations with our time, we will have to charge for this book. Every little helps us, help you.

We think that’s all for now; if you have any further questions or concerns, please message or email us privately, and bear with us while we respond.

Let’s all get back to being creative, shall we?

Until next time, long live Prose!

Prose.

#prose  #transparency  #Itslit  #getlit  #AdminPost 
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CotW #66: Write about the biggest lesson life has taught you.
Written by dustygrein

Swept Away!

When I was very young, long before the days of the internet, cell phones or video games, we were forced to find ways to entertain ourselves. Color TV was only for those who could afford it, and there were only 3 network channels on our little black and white set. Besides, that little video window on the world only truly held appeal on Saturday mornings (cartoons), right after school (Sesame Street), or at midnight on Friday (monster movies).

This means that when it wasn't raining, and I didn't have a good book to take me away, I spent a lot of time playing outside. We moved around quite a bit when I was young, but having a father with 8 brothers and sisters meant that whenever we lived close enough to one of them, there were always a lot of cousins to hang out with.

In the fall of 1969, I was five, and still looked about three. I was always small for my age, but that didn't mean I was going to be left out. During one of our visits, two of my older cousins decided that they were going for a hike through the woods and fields near my aunt's house, in a little town called East Prairie. Rickey was 8, and he was my buddy that autumn. His older brother Robby was 14, which meant that he was one of those mysterious BIG kids known as teenagers.

As we went exploring through the trees, we came upon a roaring river. (Okay, it was actually just the East Prairie Creek). It had been raining for days previously and this normally quiet little creek was swollen and the churning water was racing, carrying twigs and debris along as it bullied its way to the Puyallup River, some 10 miles further downstream. In my little-guy's eyes, it could have been the Missisippi.

Robby and a teenage friend of his who had joined us, both headed right into the turbulence and waded—with a little effort—through the water which came about halfway up their thighs. They kept on going, leaving Rickey and I to get across somehow. Rickey looked at the fast moving water, and then at how little I was, and told me he had an idea. He would just give me a shoulder ride, and we would wade across together. The water was no deeper than his waist after all, and I was light.

I remember being nervous, but since I couldn't swim, there was no way I was going to be able to get across the river, which was about 10 yards wide, but looked to me like it was a mile or more across. So in one of those moments of childish faith and adventure, I climbed up on his shoulders, and we set off.

We actually made it about eight steps across—almost to the halfway point—when Rickey's foot slipped on a smooth rock, and we both went sprawling into the rushing, frothy water.

To this day, I can feel the icy water enveloping me, tossing me this way and that, and tumbling me over and over. I remember trying to get my face out of the water, and gasping a huge lungful of dirty tasting air each time I was able to break the surface.

The swirling river carried me downstream for almost a half mile, scrambling for something to hold on to, before I finally saw a low hanging tree branch, brushing the surface of the water. I grabbed it with one hand, then wrapped my arms around it in a death hold... and I waited. I prayed for someone, anyone, to come find me, but I wasn't really terrified. With the total faith of the very young, I knew that I would eventually get home, but it was a long, cold vigil, as the river flowed past me and through my clothes.

After minutes that seemed like days, I heard Rickey's voice, full of terror and worry, screaming my name. I was shivering so hard that I could only croak "Over Here!" in a voice that sounded way too quiet in my own ears. He emerged from the trees, dripping wet, with eyes as big as dinner plates, and ran to the branch where I clung, With a little work, he was able to climb out on the branch and haul me out of the water.

As we lay together in the grass, shivering and letting the adrenaline fade, I still remember him looking at me and saying "You're a lot heavier than you look." This of course made is both start laughing, and we got up and slogged our way out of the woods, about 2 miles from the house. We trudged along the road, and cut through a neighbor's field, wondering if they had started a search party for us.

When we finally got to the house, fearing a scolding or worse, we found Robby and his buddy on the porch, eating lunch. "Oh, there you guys are." No one even knew we were missing!

After a change of clothes and some laughter about our adventure, Rickey and I got our lunch, and decided that next time we would just climb trees instead.

As a parent and grandparent, I'm glad that we never told our parents. I'm sure my mom and dad would have been frantic, had they known the truth. I had an angel on my shoulder that day, and amazingly I never developed a fear of the water, nor even had bad dreams afterward (though I do remember that day very clearly).

The lesson I learned that day was simple: When you can't make it on your own, don't be afraid to climb on the shoulders of a friend or loved one. If they should slip and fall into the rapids, and you find yourself in deep fast-moving water—keep breathing, look around for a branch, and hang on until things get better.

(c) 2017 - dustygrein

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CotW #66: Write about the biggest lesson life has taught you.
Written by dustygrein
Swept Away!
When I was very young, long before the days of the internet, cell phones or video games, we were forced to find ways to entertain ourselves. Color TV was only for those who could afford it, and there were only 3 network channels on our little black and white set. Besides, that little video window on the world only truly held appeal on Saturday mornings (cartoons), right after school (Sesame Street), or at midnight on Friday (monster movies).

This means that when it wasn't raining, and I didn't have a good book to take me away, I spent a lot of time playing outside. We moved around quite a bit when I was young, but having a father with 8 brothers and sisters meant that whenever we lived close enough to one of them, there were always a lot of cousins to hang out with.

In the fall of 1969, I was five, and still looked about three. I was always small for my age, but that didn't mean I was going to be left out. During one of our visits, two of my older cousins decided that they were going for a hike through the woods and fields near my aunt's house, in a little town called East Prairie. Rickey was 8, and he was my buddy that autumn. His older brother Robby was 14, which meant that he was one of those mysterious BIG kids known as teenagers.

As we went exploring through the trees, we came upon a roaring river. (Okay, it was actually just the East Prairie Creek). It had been raining for days previously and this normally quiet little creek was swollen and the churning water was racing, carrying twigs and debris along as it bullied its way to the Puyallup River, some 10 miles further downstream. In my little-guy's eyes, it could have been the Missisippi.

Robby and a teenage friend of his who had joined us, both headed right into the turbulence and waded—with a little effort—through the water which came about halfway up their thighs. They kept on going, leaving Rickey and I to get across somehow. Rickey looked at the fast moving water, and then at how little I was, and told me he had an idea. He would just give me a shoulder ride, and we would wade across together. The water was no deeper than his waist after all, and I was light.

I remember being nervous, but since I couldn't swim, there was no way I was going to be able to get across the river, which was about 10 yards wide, but looked to me like it was a mile or more across. So in one of those moments of childish faith and adventure, I climbed up on his shoulders, and we set off.

We actually made it about eight steps across—almost to the halfway point—when Rickey's foot slipped on a smooth rock, and we both went sprawling into the rushing, frothy water.

To this day, I can feel the icy water enveloping me, tossing me this way and that, and tumbling me over and over. I remember trying to get my face out of the water, and gasping a huge lungful of dirty tasting air each time I was able to break the surface.

The swirling river carried me downstream for almost a half mile, scrambling for something to hold on to, before I finally saw a low hanging tree branch, brushing the surface of the water. I grabbed it with one hand, then wrapped my arms around it in a death hold... and I waited. I prayed for someone, anyone, to come find me, but I wasn't really terrified. With the total faith of the very young, I knew that I would eventually get home, but it was a long, cold vigil, as the river flowed past me and through my clothes.

After minutes that seemed like days, I heard Rickey's voice, full of terror and worry, screaming my name. I was shivering so hard that I could only croak "Over Here!" in a voice that sounded way too quiet in my own ears. He emerged from the trees, dripping wet, with eyes as big as dinner plates, and ran to the branch where I clung, With a little work, he was able to climb out on the branch and haul me out of the water.

As we lay together in the grass, shivering and letting the adrenaline fade, I still remember him looking at me and saying "You're a lot heavier than you look." This of course made is both start laughing, and we got up and slogged our way out of the woods, about 2 miles from the house. We trudged along the road, and cut through a neighbor's field, wondering if they had started a search party for us.

When we finally got to the house, fearing a scolding or worse, we found Robby and his buddy on the porch, eating lunch. "Oh, there you guys are." No one even knew we were missing!

After a change of clothes and some laughter about our adventure, Rickey and I got our lunch, and decided that next time we would just climb trees instead.

As a parent and grandparent, I'm glad that we never told our parents. I'm sure my mom and dad would have been frantic, had they known the truth. I had an angel on my shoulder that day, and amazingly I never developed a fear of the water, nor even had bad dreams afterward (though I do remember that day very clearly).

The lesson I learned that day was simple: When you can't make it on your own, don't be afraid to climb on the shoulders of a friend or loved one. If they should slip and fall into the rapids, and you find yourself in deep fast-moving water—keep breathing, look around for a branch, and hang on until things get better.

(c) 2017 - dustygrein
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Written by PaulDChambers in portal Poetry & Free Verse

dark ends

oftentimes it feels 

as though I've failed

a multitude of ships 

horizons, gone, sailed

as here, in my struggle 

the twisting and bends

flounders in mazes built

of burning bridge ends

peripherally, all is see

are brash celebrations

success and perfection

'neath joy exclamations

i study scuffed shoes

reflected years refuse

undermine all of it

rust tint glasses muse

it's finite, I know that

yet all seems forever

how easy would it be

to float free 

                          untether

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Written by PaulDChambers in portal Poetry & Free Verse
dark ends
oftentimes it feels 
as though I've failed
a multitude of ships 
horizons, gone, sailed
as here, in my struggle 
the twisting and bends
flounders in mazes built
of burning bridge ends
peripherally, all is see
are brash celebrations
success and perfection
'neath joy exclamations
i study scuffed shoes
reflected years refuse
undermine all of it
rust tint glasses muse
it's finite, I know that
yet all seems forever
how easy would it be
to float free 
                          untether
#nonfiction  #poetry  #philosophy  #spirituality  #mentalhealth 
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Written by RubyPond in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Land of Promises

What is this vision before my eyes

That stretches from my point of view

Across the way 'neath smokey skies

And sits in wait as day renews

Where light falls upon grassy green

and delves the mind upon this river wide

Majestic freedom in this scene

 and rugged rocks where growth still climbs

Peaks, how they point to high above

where raining down in heavy mists

And I, yes I can feel the love

upon this land, God's promises

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Written by RubyPond in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Land of Promises
What is this vision before my eyes
That stretches from my point of view
Across the way 'neath smokey skies
And sits in wait as day renews
Where light falls upon grassy green
and delves the mind upon this river wide
Majestic freedom in this scene
 and rugged rocks where growth still climbs
Peaks, how they point to high above
where raining down in heavy mists
And I, yes I can feel the love
upon this land, God's promises
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Written by solipsist in portal Poetry & Free Verse

[enclosure]

we are in that narrow space

between the end

and to be continued.

and you are still a question

i haven't answered,

and never will.

i wish you'd said it first.

i don't regret it, but i just

never know what to say

when you kiss

blood from your own veins.

and i can't forgive you.

and i haven't told you this,

but you're the only girl i ever

imagined growing old with.

i wish i didn't feel this way.

you can't stop me from loving you,

but you stay. so i stay.

and in this narrow space,

we reflect upon all the regrets

we left inside each other.

and looking back on it,

it's hard to believe it happened.

seems like nothing changed.

but it has. so see how

this empty house

you left behind still stands,

all these shutter-shade eyelids

and drywall hands.

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Written by solipsist in portal Poetry & Free Verse
[enclosure]
we are in that narrow space
between the end
and to be continued.

and you are still a question
i haven't answered,
and never will.

i wish you'd said it first.
i don't regret it, but i just
never know what to say

when you kiss
blood from your own veins.
and i can't forgive you.

and i haven't told you this,
but you're the only girl i ever
imagined growing old with.

i wish i didn't feel this way.
you can't stop me from loving you,
but you stay. so i stay.

and in this narrow space,
we reflect upon all the regrets
we left inside each other.

and looking back on it,
it's hard to believe it happened.
seems like nothing changed.
but it has. so see how

this empty house
you left behind still stands,
all these shutter-shade eyelids
and drywall hands.
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CotW #66: Write about the biggest lesson life has taught you.
Written by JustJason40

Lifes Biggest Lesson

What is the biggest lesson life ever taught me? It is not the abusive up bringing, the being kicked out of home while still in high school, the addiction struggles, nor the time I died. Nope not any of those things. Do not get me wrong here. Those life events fucked me over hardcore and did teach me. However I am not sure they taught me the right kind of lessons. Else they did and I just did not get it right.

No the biggie for me came as a husband and father of two with one on the way. I am talking about living for a year with no home and little work. The darkest time of my forty years of living was that year lived not that long ago. 

I cannot tell you everything or even most of the lessons I learned from that year because most of it is too personal and fucking raw. However I can share these few important things. I share them everytime I talk to people about the topic of the homeless.

First off is I learned how way off base societies opinions on the homeless are. Not everyone is homeless because of addiction or bad choices. Some go down those roads AFTER becoming homeless. Most are like myself in that we just hit a run of bad luck and nobody we knew would help us out. Which leads me to the second lesson.

God is the homeless. And the homeless experience God in full. Fuck the church and their Christians. No offense. Every last one we knew said God was punishing us for something. That our sins made us homeless. They made and still make a million excuses why they couldn't help us or the homeless now. However all the people they called bad: LBGT, atheists, other religions, etc. All of them reached out and helped my family during that year. God is beyond religion or faith. That led me down a journey of change I am still on almost four years later.

No matter what comes of this post and account remember this story next time you see a homeless person.

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CotW #66: Write about the biggest lesson life has taught you.
Written by JustJason40
Lifes Biggest Lesson
What is the biggest lesson life ever taught me? It is not the abusive up bringing, the being kicked out of home while still in high school, the addiction struggles, nor the time I died. Nope not any of those things. Do not get me wrong here. Those life events fucked me over hardcore and did teach me. However I am not sure they taught me the right kind of lessons. Else they did and I just did not get it right.

No the biggie for me came as a husband and father of two with one on the way. I am talking about living for a year with no home and little work. The darkest time of my forty years of living was that year lived not that long ago. 

I cannot tell you everything or even most of the lessons I learned from that year because most of it is too personal and fucking raw. However I can share these few important things. I share them everytime I talk to people about the topic of the homeless.

First off is I learned how way off base societies opinions on the homeless are. Not everyone is homeless because of addiction or bad choices. Some go down those roads AFTER becoming homeless. Most are like myself in that we just hit a run of bad luck and nobody we knew would help us out. Which leads me to the second lesson.

God is the homeless. And the homeless experience God in full. Fuck the church and their Christians. No offense. Every last one we knew said God was punishing us for something. That our sins made us homeless. They made and still make a million excuses why they couldn't help us or the homeless now. However all the people they called bad: LBGT, atheists, other religions, etc. All of them reached out and helped my family during that year. God is beyond religion or faith. That led me down a journey of change I am still on almost four years later.

No matter what comes of this post and account remember this story next time you see a homeless person.
#nonfiction  #education  #prosechallenge  #culture  #opinion 
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Write a poem or short story based off of this phrase, "I've learned to walk around inside my own head".
Written by sandflea68

Skull

I’ve learned to navigate inside my head

away from stale breath and spineless skin,

multiples of doubt cascade in sheets,

tiptoeing as light streaks inside my brain,

lost in the tangled web of my head

streets paved in aimless silver lining.

Blood trickles from orifices down my face,

knotted fear and anxiety popping like corks,

empty insides building up wrinkled rage.

Smiles flash lightning but not from my lips,

wolf-like predators chew up my brain

following criss-crossed lines of negativity.

Hammered thoughts reverberate inside

my skull swallowing my distant screams

pulverized until nothing’s left but bones.

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Write a poem or short story based off of this phrase, "I've learned to walk around inside my own head".
Written by sandflea68
Skull
I’ve learned to navigate inside my head
away from stale breath and spineless skin,
multiples of doubt cascade in sheets,
tiptoeing as light streaks inside my brain,
lost in the tangled web of my head
streets paved in aimless silver lining.
Blood trickles from orifices down my face,
knotted fear and anxiety popping like corks,
empty insides building up wrinkled rage.
Smiles flash lightning but not from my lips,
wolf-like predators chew up my brain
following criss-crossed lines of negativity.
Hammered thoughts reverberate inside
my skull swallowing my distant screams
pulverized until nothing’s left but bones.

#challenge  #WalkingAroundInsideMyHead 
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Chapter 34 of Of Love, Loss & Loneliness
Written by Cross in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Veins

I would rather remember you

As a coward.

A quitter.

A weakling.

You took the easy way out.

You surrendered.

Your white flag,

Stained red.

I would rather hate

Your bloodstained image

Than succumb

To despair.

You and me

Together in this battle

Until you left me

Behind.

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Chapter 34 of Of Love, Loss & Loneliness
Written by Cross in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Veins
I would rather remember you
As a coward.
A quitter.
A weakling.

You took the easy way out.
You surrendered.
Your white flag,
Stained red.

I would rather hate
Your bloodstained image
Than succumb
To despair.

You and me
Together in this battle
Until you left me
Behind.
#poetry  #loss  #suicide  #LLL 
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Written by AjStardust in portal Introductions

Hi there!

Hello everyone! I just stumbled across this site today and I look forward to reading what people have written and to add my own. 

My name is Allana, its what my family and friends call me, but when I write I tend to go by AJ unless its for a school paper. I am on my second year of college, pre-vet, and will be transferring to a university in the fall to continue on the path to become a veterinarian. 

Ever since I was little, I've loved to write. I'd make up these silly little stories about bugs or animals and my mom would put them in a folder and save them even though they had numerous spelling mistakes and cheeto stains... I think she even still has some of them. In high school, writing became one of my escapes along with reading and music so its been really important to me and is something I hope to keep doing no matter where life takes me. 

-- AJ

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Written by AjStardust in portal Introductions
Hi there!
Hello everyone! I just stumbled across this site today and I look forward to reading what people have written and to add my own. 
My name is Allana, its what my family and friends call me, but when I write I tend to go by AJ unless its for a school paper. I am on my second year of college, pre-vet, and will be transferring to a university in the fall to continue on the path to become a veterinarian. 
Ever since I was little, I've loved to write. I'd make up these silly little stories about bugs or animals and my mom would put them in a folder and save them even though they had numerous spelling mistakes and cheeto stains... I think she even still has some of them. In high school, writing became one of my escapes along with reading and music so its been really important to me and is something I hope to keep doing no matter where life takes me. 

-- AJ
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"THE EYES ARE THE WINDOW OF THE SOUL." Our lips may lie but our eyes always reflects the truth . Eyes had been the source of inspiration to the poets , authors and artists . Write about the most attractive eyes that can never fade away from your heart and mind . ( Any genre )
Written by sandflea68

Aqueous

Turquoise intensity pools at my feet,

thick black eyelashes wrap me in passion.

Eye gems surrounded by apricot skin

draw me into your fathomless sea.

Liquid silk of your bedroom eyes

envelopes my soul and beckons me.

My lips touch your eyelids, stirring

mounting zenith of moist desire.

Even against the deepest night,

your eyes are a beacon of light,

a lighthouse of warning, foretelling,

forever marooned by her eyes,

stranded within her warm islands.

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"THE EYES ARE THE WINDOW OF THE SOUL." Our lips may lie but our eyes always reflects the truth . Eyes had been the source of inspiration to the poets , authors and artists . Write about the most attractive eyes that can never fade away from your heart and mind . ( Any genre )
Written by sandflea68
Aqueous
Turquoise intensity pools at my feet,
thick black eyelashes wrap me in passion.
Eye gems surrounded by apricot skin
draw me into your fathomless sea.
Liquid silk of your bedroom eyes
envelopes my soul and beckons me.
My lips touch your eyelids, stirring
mounting zenith of moist desire.
Even against the deepest night,
your eyes are a beacon of light,
a lighthouse of warning, foretelling,
forever marooned by her eyes,
stranded within her warm islands.

#challenge  #SoulWindows 
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