PostsChallengesPortalsAuthorsBooks
Sign Up
Log In
Posts
Challenges
Portals
Authors
Books
beta
Sign Up
Search
Stream of Consciousness
9.9k Posts • 13.6k Followers
Follow
Trending
Newest
Popular
Challenges
Challenge
The Epstein Effect
prose
Cover image for post The Player, by CynthiaCalder
Profile avatar image for CynthiaCalder
CynthiaCalder in Stream of Consciousness

The Player

Beat, belabor, intimidate, and arrogantly exhibit those foul deeds amongst your peers while, with a double edged sword, you seek yet to hide the atrocities found therein. You're borne from the depths of virulent death, destruction, and mayhem. You are the purest form of evil, not easily disguised by the masks you don, which instead, showcase and lay bare your most barbaric ways and wiles.

The world watches while you repeatedly attempt to discard your trash, much like forgotten weeds scattered in the garden. Instead, all remain cognizant of the depths of iniquity feeding the fetor of your soul, swiftly aiding its demoralized decay. Hope and decency have long since fled, absconding due to the draining drought of moral aptitude. You are an empty, hellish nob, festering naught save hatred and discord amongst the masses. You are the vilest of scum, on bright display, but lest you forget, remember all the world's a stage....and you are front and center.

We see you in all your perverted glory and gore. We see exactly who you are....and the enormity of what you so luridly lack.

Profile avatar image for Vyxyn
Vyxyn in Stream of Consciousness

Bullying

I find it interesting that when I post my opinions on certain media outlets, I get bombarded with so much hate and nasty replies. Then if they cant argue a good enough point, they pick on mispellings in your post. I try not to go on someones post that I disagree with especially to call them a name. Why do that? Why go out of your way just to be so hateful to sombody you dont know, that you disagree with?

So your opinion is different.

And? Thats what is supposed to make USA such a great country

We dont all have to agree on everything, what a boring world that would be! Ok, so no body is putting a gun to your head to make you agree with differing opinions. Just scroll on. Simple. I am not here to fight to change mindsets. But if certain individuals are allowed to state one opinion why isnt anyone else able to do the same?? Its a sad state of affairs and says alot about the character of people who cant agree to disagree without hatespeech and bullying.

If I have done so in the past, I deeply apologize and regret it emphaticaly.

Profile avatar image for Vyxyn
Vyxyn in Stream of Consciousness

Imortality..

Used to be art imitated life.

Ive come to believe the opposite is true.

Ive noticed a patern in the "matrix" we live in.

If you concieve and imagine it, the posibility of it happening is greater.

Have you noticed how the movies have portrayed humanity? Before cinema, we had books.

Books ignighted inspiration for fantasy and science fiction, if was imagined and put to paper, it became real in one way or another.

Stories once by word of mouth, spoken into existence, printed on paper, became life.

Isnt it interesting how what was once fiction has become reality.

Flight. Outerspace. Staying young.

Look at all the achievments that have exploded into existance in the last 120 years. Thats such a short time when you look at the big picture of life on this planet.

Have you noticed celebrities getting younger? Whats up with that? In the story "Jupiter Ascending" they manufacture a youth serum from harvesting human beings. Described humans like raising cattle for the market of consumption.

Given what weve learned about the occult being the underlyng intity in Hollywood, maybe there was a message in that story.

It is a lie that imortality means never dying or leaving this reality.

The human condition should be described as like a catipillar existing for a short while as one thing, then transforming and ascending to a higher self, intellegance.

Does that mean staying in this body? The butterfly doesnt start life as a butterfly but as a catipillar. It learns about life in that existance, then changes into what it was meant to become.

Human life is similar i believe.

We shouldnt fear what we dont fully understand. Dont fear aging, dont fear changing into what we are meant to be.

This existance is an evolution of the soul.

Think about that....

Profile avatar image for rraven
rraven in Stream of Consciousness

Medication Changes

I traded an orange pill for white.

It doesn't burn my chest. It's a powder shell not digestible plastic.

My hands shake more. I feel the anxiety winding like a snake in my stomach,

up my throat and out my mouth in unintelligible sentences where something sharp used to live.

I feel everything where there used to be fluff and fuzz and nothing quite coherent, and I ache terribly because of it.

I am filled with energy and yet blink spots from my vision. I sob and I want to be cradled but settle for a phone call and wish I was wanted more, but won't verbalize it.

I can feel my brain trying to heal itself through zapping and body trying to mend from aches and palpitations. The alcohol and nicotine that stained my teeth and rotted my heart don't feel like relief anymore, but a worsening for the ripe wound that covets me whole.

I want my father to call me his little girl. I want my mother to tuck me in. I want my brothers to put a hand on my head and laugh as I try to swing at them. I want to be small for I have been a tall child much too long.

I consider going back. But then I wouldn't cry when someone leaves. I wouldn't fall in love. I wouldn't feel pleasure or pain. I wouldn't feel so suffocatingly, for I wouldn't feel at all.

Profile avatar image for Vyxyn
Vyxyn in Stream of Consciousness

The Problem...

I had a problem this morning and Chuck my husband of 35 yrs had to save me.

A little background,

When i was a little girl about 4yrs old, The nieghbors brothers threw a big fat bug into my long hair!

I was terrified!!

A few yrs later I was probaly 8 or 10 and I was visitng with my friend at her aunties house. They had a large screened in porch but bees had made a nest inder the overhang.We were told not to let the door slam, but I forgot and the bees chased me. One got tangled in my long hair, my hair was down to my butt.

I could hear it buzzing and feel it crawling on my head!

I was terrified!!!

The adults didnt believe me and I was hysterical, finally the bee fell out and stung me on my shoulder.

All this to say, this morning one of those big black waterbugs crawled up on me!

I totally freaked out!!! I screamed and cried, Rajah, my big great dane puppy, came and tried to save me!

It took Chuck getting the bug and taking it outside then coming back and holding me before i could calm down.

In a way its kinda funny, cause I'm not scared of mice, lizards or snakes. But a big ole bug crawling on me freaks me out!

I feel better now but it sure did get me!

Cover image for post the surrendering skies, and two hearts beating to the same melody, by anarosewood
Profile avatar image for anarosewood
anarosewood in Stream of Consciousness

the surrendering skies, and two hearts beating to the same melody

The sun had already set as she walked past the sandy shores, the wind blowing away her oversized red flannel shirt and pulling at her long, tangled hair, sending goosebumps down the bare legs draped only in a part of cotton shorts, a risky outfit for this kind of early Autumn weather. Not that she cared really, but rather welcomed it being the strange conundrum that she had been all her life.

She watched the sky as it still held some light in all its fading out-glory - turquoise green with a tint of blue shades, romancing away with deep blushing pinks - burning auburn oranges waiting to take over as soon as the night would lose its power to the dawn. She walked for what seemed like an endless journey - maybe it was an hour, maybe three, she wasn't sure. All that she knew was that she needed it; setting her mind into a more peaceful state that held place for her to write, or maybe even paint - she smiled at the thought.

The waves crashed softly against each other as they moved around with the powerful arms of the wind that seemed to want to have control over everything in its reach, moving to some peculiar yet beautiful kind of dance that was for her to witness. She smiled at the sight, at the same time feeling more goosebumps creep up her skin. Automatically, she wrapped the soft, worn-out shirt around her. And as she did so, she thought of the arms that always brought her warmth. She thought of the long fingers that intertwined around hers in a way that always left her lost for words. In the best possible way.

She looked up at the lights from the small houses and a few hotels spread around the beach and searched for the one place that actually mattered. All of them were beautiful, especially at a night like this, filled with the breathtaking spectacle provided by Mother Nature herself, filled with the wind, the waves, and with that one-of-a-kind breeze from the ocean. A combination that she could never resist, and never wanted to refuse. She looked up again and lifted her hand over her eyes, trying to see better through the darkness and the wind constantly pushing locks of her hair into her face. She squinted her eyes, concentrating, and smiled with relief as a small silhouette appeared in the distance, getting gradually bigger with each moment. A relief that could only appear in the presence of your home - that one person on earth meant only for you.

She ran up slightly, with a smile that held some guilt to it. The person lifted their hand in the air and waved it as if letting her know they were approaching. She watched the other woman shake her head as if being both amused and slightly annoyed - a famous combination for them both.

I thought you said, "Just one hour to clear my mind, just enough to not become crazier than usual". Wasn't that the agreement, woman? Or does one hour mean something a little different in your original, native tongue?

Okay, first of all, don't get smart with me. And second, what I said before was an assumption, darling. You know, I don't wear a watch.

Well, it's something that I'm still working on. I know that one day, I will make you see the right way.

She shakes her head but doesn't comment, instead she comes close and wraps an arm around her home, letting her hand move around her waist and rests her head on the other woman's chest. Listening to the symphony of a heart that brought her the most peace. Her love grumbles something under her breath, but holds her close in return.

Come on, let's get back before you catch a cold. I ordered some takeaway and opened a bottle of red, the one that you liked so much the last time around.

Well then. I expected punishment and a lecture. No bribery, darling.

Well, as you always say, "one does not stop the other".

That's fair.

She whispers and lets her love lead her back to their little beach house while the sky darkens its colors, deepening the turquoise and pink shade even more, shyly inviting bright points of light and reason to the spectacle, while a delicate crescent moon shows them the way back. She smiles at all the majestic beauty above her head and thanks the universe for the gift that it brought them. A gift that somehow always let them find their way back to each other. Each time for longer until reality became them always in skin's reach, at an arm's length, and close enough to feel the breath of one another when their souls would whisper the loudest. She watches as her love walks into their place, all lights already on, filling the space with warmth, showing off all the corners and surfaces that their love occupied so well, so naturally.

Just a beautiful, perfectly messy existence they accepted into their lives, something that they waited for what seemed like so many lifetimes. A blessing that they welcomed with gratitude that held no limits.

She takes one more look at the darkening skies now so graciously filled with stars, and inhales deeper as the wind intensifies, causing the waves to intensify their spectacular dance. She walks in with a smile.

Mmm, a storm coming? - Her love asks curiously.

It seems so.

Then we are definitely sleeping with the windows open in the bedroom.

As if there is any other way to do it right.

She smiles and massages the side of her neck, breathing in deeper and exhaling with something that fills her with a sense of rest and peace. Something that only comes from another soul, inside which you found your home. Someone who finally showed you that survival mode is not the only way to live.

With her, I find rest in my bones, rest that I never found before - a pause for the chaos always present in my body and mind. In her, I find someone that I can finally surrender to.

In the best possible way.

Profile avatar image for Tamaracian
Tamaracian in Stream of Consciousness

Checking in

Hey everyone. I’m still here for now. If you are thinking of leaving, I just wanted to extend my thanks for your contributions to this community. I hope you find another venue to post your writings. I have always supported being true to your heart and yourself. Doing what’s right for you is never a wrong decision.

“asdfjkl:” is the universal resting position on a keyboard. It’s where you go from there that makes your writing come alive. And not everyone knows what sequence of keystrokes are required to compose something worthy of reading. So wherever you end up, keep sharing your unique talent so others are moved or inspired.

Challenge
The Life of the Potted Plant
Poetry or Prose
Cover image for post Philomena, by Mariah
Profile avatar image for Mariah
Mariah in Stream of Consciousness

Philomena

Oh! Hello there. You are coming home with me.

Kayla felt slight guilt as she knelt down and picked up the Philodendron piece from the floor of the home improvement store.

It's technically not stealing, right? I mean, scraps like this are just going to be swept up at closing time and tossed in the trash, right? What a waste. I'm actually rescuing it if you think about it. Yeah.

She carefully tucked the heart-shaped piece into her hoodie pocket.

On the drive home to her tiny apartment, she placed her passenger on the dashboard and excitedly brought her up to date on all things Kayla.

“…and I am soooo close to graduating. And when I do, I'm definitely gonna land a kick ass job somewhere — maybe even in one of these places,” She gestured upward toward the towering glass buildings as she drove through the medical center streets. “And you're coming with me, of course. You are going to have your very own spot on my desk!”

Kayla prattled on, feeling excited for the future and surprisingly, a lot less lonely all of a sudden. It felt good to speak her hopes and dreams out loud— even if only to a drooping leaf.

When they got home, Kayla placed her new roommate in a glass of water and set her on the kitchen window sill. She made a mental note to pick up some potting soil soon.

It will be so nice to have someone to talk to for a change. Now, she needs a name. Hmm…

Kayla smiled as it came to her.

“I hereby dub thee Philomena. For it is a strong name and a good name for a friend.”

Cover image for post Lacerations or Hot Rubber, by JeffStewart
Profile avatar image for JeffStewart
JeffStewart in Stream of Consciousness

Lacerations or Hot Rubber

I didn’t want to walk into her work looking like I did. I hopped her fence and fell asleep under the trampoline.

I woke up sweating from the heat of the black rubber. I found a corner of the yard and threw up. Under a palm’s short shade, I went through my bag and found my Walkman far at the bottom. I played my music until my batteries went dead. I thought of ways to get my four hundred and sixty-two dollars back from my father, though I knew it was spent already. I laid my head on a pillow of shirts and closed my eyes. Since the sudden death of my mother, he was bound for what he did. The pain of his chemical life was easier for him than dealing with his guilt for treating her like dirt, for ignoring her. Only thing was he still had a son. I wanted to hate him but I couldn’t. I thought about my mother reading her Bible from her chair under the big lamp. She was with the faith but never once pushed it on us. I thought about the old man now, a husk of waste on the floor, while I tasted my vomit and blood. My throat grew thick with bile and I leaned to my side and let it go on the grass. The Sun reached through gaps in the palms and gripped my swollen eye. It burned with tears but my eyelid wouldn’t open for anything. I covered my brow with a shirt and remembered back to my old life, to my mother reading the word, and my head burned beneath the sky that was once full with stars, which was now bright with sickness while I tried to breathe. All of nature’s passions spent, all of her God’s forgotten grace descended and rotting, the failure of His plan and the bloody tears of war-torn angels. All the mysteries of children lacerated.

Cover image for post Fragile demons, angry flowers, by rawestinspo
Profile avatar image for rawestinspo
rawestinspo in Stream of Consciousness

Fragile demons, angry flowers

I don’t feel safe anymore, it’s like some light went off, and I have no idea how to turn it on again and stop living in the dark. Something is missing, something is very wrong, and I don’t know how to figure out what it is. I’m sitting here crying, no clue other than no one can hear me screaming. My insides, twisting and burning, it hurts to breathe, no clue other than mourning. I’m mourning the girl I used to be, mourning the relationship we once had.

I keep trying to figure out why I’m like this, why I’m so fragile and angry, and it all boils down to you. And how you treated me over the years. You know what you’ve done, and still act like you’re the one abused.

Honey, you started the cycle.

You’re the reason everything turned to dust. You’re the reason I started packing away knives in case you hurt me first. Because you always did, with some side comment or sarcastic remark, and it was perfectly fine

until I started passively aggressively fighting back.

Until it stopped being so passive.

Until I started fighting dirty.

But it never made me feel better, it went against everything I was as a person. Any angry outburst felt like demons took hold of my body, once they evacuated, I’d be shaking and crying as if I had no clue what just happened. It’s exactly how it felt being me for years on end, but these episodes only happened with you. For years I thought I was crazy, but you’re the one who created the mess, the mess of me. You’re the one who has no idea what you’ve done, nor do I think you care, you just think you’re a fucking victim. No, you’re fucking not.

I’ve hated myself since before you, but you’re the reason I set myself on fire. You’re the reason I burnt to the ground and never made it out alive. You’re the reason I’m holding a memorial for the girl I used to be, the flowers in my hand, the flowers I place on my grave, are the ones you gave me, a symbol of the love I believed you had for me. But the flowers never belonged to you or me, they were demons we disguised as something beautiful.

I believed I was good in soul when I was a devil underneath the surface. I don’t understand why I’m so destructive. I’m a mean, selfish, manipulative person, yet I feel vulnerable and victimized inside. How is it I’m two different people, one person in my soul and another person to the world? It doesn’t make sense, nothing about me makes sense anymore.

I hate everything I’ve become because of you. I hate I can only scratch the surface because of you. No real emotions come through, I’ve learned to build walls from you. I’ve become an expert at hiding from the truth by hating myself for decades. And it’s not that I wanted to see the best in you, I just wanted you. I wanted this fantasy life, and I hated the world, I hated reality, everything it stood for.

I’m honestly not sure why I feel this way, the anger in my soul is boiling. … And I notice I do this, tell myself I don’t know why I feel when I’m on the verge of cracking and shattering my earth.

No idea why I keep trying to dig up this girl buried long ago, a girl I’m not even sure existed. Sometimes I wonder if I created this insanity in my mind, if maybe I’m the reason I died. That maybe I’m blaming you for everything I hate about myself. But I don’t see that, since everything is about you, and nothing is about me. - that’s impossible not to see even with my eyes closed, even pretending to be blind and burying myself in who I want you to be.

You’re not a good person.

I’m not the first person to say that, yet I keep hoping maybe I’m with you for the right reasons and not to cross boundaries with reality.

I don’t want to deal with never being meant to be loved,

I was meant to live a storyline never ending,

yet it never started with us.