Tied Three Ways for Last Week’s Bad Job Spot, New CotM and Winner(s) Announcement, and Something, well...Intrepid.
Hello, Writers and Dear Readers.
In today's video, we feature a first on Prose. A three-way tie for the CotW! We also announce the winners of last month's CotM, and announce the prompt for number 39, along with a look at a challenge from one of our greats! Here's that video link.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyGAyxTeb-M
And here's the new Challenge of the Month.
https://theprose.com/challenge/14000
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
Sonnet 1
Upon the crest of dawn's embrace, I yearn,
For moments past, in twilight's sweet respite,
And in the sun's descent, my thoughts return,
To love's lament, that doth the day ignite.
Where shadows dance, and sweet refrains arise,
My heart, entwined, doth find its solace true,
In silent echoes of thy tender sighs,
Enraptured, lost, in dreams of love's debut.
Yet, Fate, that cruel mistress, doth conspire,
To sever our entangled hearts asunder,
With bitter winds, her tempestuous ire,
Threatens to tear our love apart, and plunder.
But in the end, our love shall rise above,
And conquer all, for naught can quell true love.
The Parapolicial
is you, plural us
we think they
can make one
say this or that
but can not
make [us] believe
nor "feel it for real"
internally to paraphrase
the Great George O,
but shoot--
they can and do,
they've gotten us
Good
from an early age
the agent of censor
my friend
is you--
you
who won't stop to think
who won't press pause
or hesitate to admit
you who eats
and drinks
who consumes
heap loads
of IT
the whatever
that is served as
the Word---
the kingpin of the moment
the left of the Over
(That which is no-longer,
seen nor heard)
because
we are busy,
with our smoke
and our screens
of mosquito netting
that keep us
from feeling
the itch and the burn
of the hemorrhoid
that's forming
in the most
polite social circles
of global assholes
who talk
about people
in terms of
engagement
as shrimps
and prawns
of escrow
and makeup
moves in cheap
hotel mirror
restrooms,
playing Chinese
checkers upon
the back market
of civilizations
convinced we're
already in
the red,
so what difference
is little or more,
blood shed?
Humiliating
our men in
the triangle
as "cunt" is
the worst name
to be dread,
because Mother
Earth is Whore
of the Universe,
having lost track
of the number
of bastard births
that turn on her
and on God
with vengeance
and spite
for coming
into this world
burdened
by conscience
and nuclear choice,
the surviving
patient
individual,
feeling he'd rather
have choked
on the apple
and iPod,
than leave
progeny this
Paradise loss
Please Forgive
I wish you were here
In front of me now
While my heart is humble
And I'm willing to say
I'm sorry
I wish I could go back
And undo what I did
Take back what I said
And start that day over
When we were still friends
I wish that regret
Could buy your forgiveness
Your cup would run over
There would be no end
To your riches
Please forgive me
And let your forgiveness
Be complete
A washing away
Of all my offenses
Make for me please
A place in your heart
Where your love can embrace me
Even knowing I can fail you
Let your forgiveness heal me
Let your forgiveness protect me
Let your forgiveness change me
Let your forgiveness be…as God's
Of the dangers and preservation of THE WITHIN
without exception, every word, whisper, shout or whistle, and any other act come from THE WITHIN.
It is a mysterious , opaque place of which nothing is known and many dangers abound.
Consequently every echo of that distant place is of value, yet it may be hurtful, disgusting and ugly.
we are capable of expressing disagreeable things- disagreeable to ourselves and others, and yet they are still, a product of transition from the internal obscurity of that misty land to the light of day.
Even if it is a lie , or a thought antithetical to our being, yet we are able to express it and do so, and by doing so, express something of THE WITHIN.
it is necessary to be able to bring those echos outward. communication of experiences and queries, and the expression of emotions and thoughts is beneficial.
Consider how advantageous it is to ask others an innocent question: "can peanut butter be used instead of butter for frying an egg on a pan?" receiving an answer could save a great deal of effort and help avoid an awful smell, should one try things for themselves. Yet what was gleamed of the within from the question? An intention to cook eggs? An interest in the use of peanut butter or other peanut-related products? A sense of ennui , or merely a boredom of the way eggs are made? What of the advice given? Was it made with great malice, “egging” the curious on, or was it an honest appraisal of the inevitable doom?
in as such we can imagine, that every expression by one person may contain some benefit to another, even if they are separated by time and space. And even if the use made, was different from the intended outcome.
For most, the caveman's drawing on the walls, was mostly bad. It was uninteresting , childish amateurish art. it sucked. yet it helps those who care to learn of the imbecility of those distant times and the obvious long way to be traversed go, as far as technique was concerned , before getting a commission for a portrait, or anything worthy of public display.
Such are expressions. Useful to some, useless to others.
Now we come to the part where you may ask, dear reader, what if the expression of one causes injury to another? What if the distasteful expression passes a point where it is no longer unwholesome, but injurious to certain party.
What if a man goes to the park on a nice, breezy day with a new design for a kite. he constructs the kite and it catches the wind magnificently. yet people are soon enraged that the kite bears the image and details of a vagina? some would complain that though the aerodynamic features demonstrated were quite impressive, it would be obscene to expose children who are also in attendance, to such a sight, not to mention those of a strong conservative values, who may even be experiencing physical discomfort, were they to look up! they shall point out the use of colors in the depiction of pubic hairs and the labia to be particularly offensive, even though the the central slit-like opening allows for better control during turbulence and an over superb handling in sudden directional changes of the wind.
Should the venal kite-builder be asked to curtail his long-planned excursion, and retreat to a secluded spot, where his work shall offend none?
What if he can find no breezy clearings that are also unoccupied by those who can potentially be hurt?
Must he sacrifice the giant leap in aerodynamic design that this kite represents , only to accommodate the other?
Much offense can be given, out of malice or accident.
Yet the REACTION to this is a greater question. Should others take offense? Should steps taken to prevent such unhappy product from ever emerging from THE WITHIN?
What effect would restraint have upon the THE WITHIN? Would an individual best resort to his own sense of decency, aesthetics, and his awareness of the possible effect it might have upon others when choosing a means of expression or details entailed?
Or should the offender be persecuted for the damages he had caused?
What condition would be THE WITHIN , if such outward restrictions were made apparent?
In truth, if ever there was a desire to act with malice, that desire could be fulfilled with ease. If a word be outlawed, a new word shall stand its place. If speaker be silenced, another shall rise up. The more more restrictive the outer world becomes, the more creative or violent the output that would be produced. Because THE WITHIN can tolerate much, yet it can not be dammed or damned.
And so, to the benefit of all, we must live in a world where THE WITHIN is cultivated to sympathy, yet seldom restrained with any outward device.
Such manifestations of freedom may undoubtedly result in much that is wrong and bad. Yet THE WITHIN is also resilient and should be able to absorb or deflect those expressions that it encounters, yet grow strong and unhurt by them.
Interference causes greater harm in its use AND ABUSE, than the benefit it brings. yet there are times, where the expression of THE WITHIN may bring danger to others. while growing within an environment of freedom entails developing some detachment from hurtful expressions, there are still risks that can be cause by others. fraudulent misdirection, abusive or predatory exploitation, and of course the instigation of physical violence by enticement, are examples of such danger. no amount of acquired emotional resilience could protect an individual from physical harm, and no degree of caution could unveil the true intentions of others. it is therefore at times, needful for humans, as a collective to forgo some degree of this freedom to reveal the within, when it can be demonstrated that the intention of an individual was not merely to express THE WITHIN, but to willfully cause a harm that is so great, that it could not be reasonably overcome personally.
we might look at all restriction and all enforcement as "a thing protecting its own". a protection from and prosecution of murder is meant to preserve life. a limit to speed on the road is meant to allow for all in transit to reach their destination.
in that case the rare occasion where the expression of THE WITHIN must be restricted, in order that THE WITHIN itself is preserved. if in expression, one causes another to be diminished , hurt or made unable to express any longer THE WITHIN, it is then justifiable to restrict that expression of that individual. the more damaging the expression made by one and suffered by the many, the more of THE WITHIN must be protected.
though this article could be viewed as sheer insanity, as indeed it very likely is, know that it, too was a product of THE WITHIN. despite the inherent obfuscation and tendency to depravity of the author, it is not written with any intent to cause harm, distress or otherwise provoke that restrictive instrument of enforcement, neither was it intended to reduce THE WITHIN or diminish its expression in others.
Answer: The Future
T'was the future held me back
Searching for true love
In the lie of romanticism
I sought the impossible
The more I searched, bullet lists extended
Until all life was eliminated
Reality spoke to me:
I wanted me!
Myself--no one else
But I wasn't enough
I searched for that someone
Who wasn't me
I searched for all the checked boxes
A search miserable and senseless delay
Of important things
A large, ugly toad
Leapfrogging ahead
Postponements I might never catch
Then, at long last
My search distracted by someone
Beautiful inside and out
Soft and kind and
Good to me
Were all boxes checked?
Alas, no
Should I await perfection
The perfect list? or settle?
My epiphany:
The obstacle holding me back
Lifted and making way
Communion with another
A lifelong process, the future reaching back
Into the past, out of order
As if it had always been
Timelines are irrelevant
When ascending above it
A new contender
Conceived in raw material
Tweaked and refined
Melded into a third being
Altogether
A Holy Trinity
If God is love
I turned from Him
Insisting on all of the assinine boxes
Boxes with as much
Relevance to the future
As unicorns
Love--
Between two hermaphroditic beings
--A time to interdigitate
I look back now on my choice back then
One of the great choices of history
Destiny recognized only when destiny realized
The future tethered to a past
Just as loving
Dragged into the present
Forever in the future
Where a priori countered by deja vu
Adds a loving dash of que sera sera
I would never (Too bad he’s gone forever)
'Not all scars show, not all wounds heal' - Lisa French.
That was her quote for the week. She wasn't much of a philosophical person, but with a lot of time on your hands, a lot of things can change. She closed her eyes.
'Yes.'
'Time changes everything'.
She just had to keep reminding herself.
She should have expected it. Nothing good ever lasts long. It was like she was back to when she was just five years old and her mother left. Or that one time her bike got stolen after she had just gotten it the week before. But she thought this time would be different. That they were perfect. That he was perfect.
Her heart still fluttered at the thought of him. His baby blue eyes that made everything else lose their luster when they brightened up. His messy auburn hair that refused to conform to the whims of the owner. His melodious laugh that displayed his white, perfect teeth for all who cared to look.
She adjusted her position on the couch, eyes still glued to the screen. It was a drama this time. (No more thrillers, not after him). She watched the female lead crying, shouting at her partner. Screaming for him to come back.
'Pathetic'. She thought.
Just like her.
She snuggled closer to the blanket she was holding. It was the one with their initials on it. She had done it after watching a few embroidery videos. It looked terrible. But he told her he loved it anyways.
'E&B ', It read
She traced her fingers over the tacky, golden needlework. It still had his scent. His favourite cologne to be precise. The one he got just after-
'No-' , She stopped.
She had left the doors of her heart wide open and let him into her world. But all he did was burn it to the ground and leave her to deal with the ashes and the choking smell of perfume.
She threw the blanket away. She would not give him the satisfaction. She glanced at the TV again. This time the female lead was in the arms of her partner who as apologizing and comforting her.
'I would always love you and nothing can change that', he said.
She turned her head. She had made her choice and she wasn't going to look back.
'I would never, ever, leave you'.
She curled up and cried.