Was it to disenchant, and to undo,That we approached the Seat of Charlemaine?To sweep from many an old romantic strainThat faith which no devotion may renew!Why does this puny Church present to viewHer feeble columns? and that scanty chair!This sword that one of our weak times might wear!Objects of false pretense, or meanly true!If from a traveler's fortune I might claimA … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour On The Continent, 1820 – VI. – Aix-La-Chapelle, By: William Wordsworth
The Covert Narcissist, By: Stuart Bowen, Jr.
Mean sullen mien trolling the roomeyes cold and empty broken alonedoing dark damage when nobody's homesends flying monkeys into the kill zone.Surgical strikes smearing napalmburning black eyes vengeance a balmnone understands the evil withinI never knew when it would begin.Victim of victims her image divinesuddenly whispers morph into whineslabel me loud unleashed … [Read more...] about The Covert Narcissist, By: Stuart Bowen, Jr.
Between Blood and Ignorance, By: Basma Bilal
Woke up drowning in red,Blood everywhere—my legs, my bed, my feet.Day 4, and I wonder how much more I can bleed before I disappear.The pain tears through me like shattered glass,Sharp, relentless, as if my body wants to break itself apart,Piece by piece. The cramps come like a fist,Clenching my insides, twisting until I scream silently,Until I can’t remember what it feels … [Read more...] about Between Blood and Ignorance, By: Basma Bilal
Free Game, By: Nathaniel Terrell
The distraction was the prosecution of forty fiveThe failed play, was to secure an election Refusal to submit to being led or being coveredConsequently means forfeiting protection Fragile feelings get hurt by factsA fool despises correction If tithes only requires ten percentWhy do congregations solicit multiple collections? If you don’t sow, it’s … [Read more...] about Free Game, By: Nathaniel Terrell
Memorials Of A Tour On The Continent, 1820 – V. – Between Namur And Liege, By: William Wordsworth
What lovelier home could gentle Fancy choose?Is this the stream, whose cities, heights, and plains,War's favourite playground, are with crimson stainsFamiliar, as the Morn with pearly dews?The Morn, that now, along the silver Meuse,Spreading her peaceful ensigns, calls the swainsTo tend their silent boats and ringing wains,Or strip the bough whose mellow fruit bestrewsThe … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour On The Continent, 1820 – V. – Between Namur And Liege, By: William Wordsworth