Prose Poetry

[prose--poetry]

I’m dreaming right now.

I’m dreaming of an economy that puts people over profit --

a solidarity economy in which our value is not measured by production but one in which we exchange our gifts in service of the collective -- 

a solidarity economy in which we value the earth & her beings as one.

//

I’m dreaming of a nation that is led by compassion & service -- a nation that aims to heal rather than to divide --

a nation that recognizes & honors the inherent worth of every human being &  the interconnectedness of us all.

//

Perhaps this dream of mine will rise from the ashes of capitalism to create anew.

[sedraboc]

[prose--poetry]

The Collective “I”

What is joy?

Joy is -   inhaling the entirety of the world   into my body.

A little white dog   snoring peacefully   by my side.

Carefully crafted words - The salacious notes   of a saxophone singing - A voice of veracity   invigorating our souls.

A community collectively collaborating to combine -   we & they   you & us into an embodied “I”.

True joy is the recognition that   you are a part of us;   that they are we - That my joy is your joy,   my sorrows are your sorrows.

That these constructs   that society has created   to divide us

To create perceptions of   you and me   us and them -

To create a fabricated other - Are only lies.

Instead of celebrating   a song of myself,  I celebrate   the collective “I”.

[crescentmoon06666]

[prose--poetry]

She fell off her bed and kept going. As she fell (through azure skies and wispy clouds), winged creatures surrounded her, watching. It was a curious kind of watching, a patient waiting of sorts. The sky seemed to have no depths. She wasn’t plummeting through the sky; no, it was a graceful, floating fall. Eventually, she lay suspended in the air, held aloft by a cushion of wind. Above the azure skies, her breath slowed, then stopped. Soon, all that remained were her clothes rustling in the wind.

[xokrista]

[prose--poetry]

Negativity clanks metallic earthquakes as the dragon slithers across marble floors

[folds2d]

[prose--poetry]

An Exercise in Eloquence

She perches on a silver table inlaid with twisting leaves, a leather notebook in hand. A breeze floats by; the sleeves of her ivory blouse flutter.

She peers past the golden leaves tumbling softly onto the autumn floor; the swans gliding on the crystalline lake.

She inhales the sweet scent of sycamores; the freshness of the changing seasons.

She bequeaths color upon the world: a dash of copper here; a splash of amber there.

A thrush whistles; blossoms sway with the wind.

She places her flute in her slender fingers, her melody a hymn of elegance.

She springs to her toes, pirouettes delicately under the cerulean sky.

She slips gracefully, her tinkling laughs chiming with the wind.

Soon, the moon beckons gently, and she twirls her way home.

[ballerinaproject]

[prose--poetry]

Burst, Implode, Come together, again. Burst, Implode, Come together, again. Burst, Implode, Come together, again. Rinse / Recycle / Repeat

[inblack-wetrust]

[prose--poetry]

She strides confidently, the clacking sounds of her heels following in her wake.

She continues walking.

Sometimes, her steps falter.

Sometimes she skips, sometimes she leaps – and sometimes, she falls.

Sometimes, she sprints, she runs – but then must stop to catch her breath.

Sometimes she runs ahead, too far, too fast – and then collapses.

After every collapse, she learns.

She slows herself down.

She no longer runs too far, too fast – instead, she jogs.

And when the moment is right, she walks slowly, peacefully, enjoying each step.

[ucberkeley]

[prose--poetry]

A Poetic Breakthrough

With jade I carve the darkness of my soul.

~

Glass shatters inside my brain as my exterior become a blank canvas.

~

Stylistic

Cognizant

Reminiscent-

Dreams splashing in color.

~

The self:

A flower

That blooms

In darkness.

[dailyminimal]

#DE15-415 

 A new geometric design every day

Buy my posters on LinxSupply 

[prose--poetry]

Nightmares Alive

Death points a spindly finger towards a line of my loved ones marching forward.

At random, he chooses,

and they vanish, one by one.

~

I am a mere specimen.

Outside of my glass, cylindrical prison peers a bespectacled giant, a thousand times my size.

Her pincers click as she dissects me, analyzes my infinitesimal fragments.

~

I lie, alone.

My only company the numbing solace of my bare, white walls.

The bed- no, table- I lie upon is silver, unyielding to my touch.

My feet slowly touch the cold floor, one careful toe at a time.

The light’s brilliant glow burns my eyes, and so I stagger blindly towards the walls, my arms outstretched.

I’m walking, walking, walking for hours, the palms of my hands forever upon the cool surface of my white prison, hoping against all hope that I’ll find a means to escape…

Until I realize that I’ve been walking in circles this whole time,

That this very prison I’m in is a circle.

A harsh noise echoes, reverberating from wall to wall, and belatedly I realize-

Those haunting sounds are screams sent from a lifetime past.