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Literature Text
She said,
Oh, heavy rainfall!
Landsliding down your soft face
Where is safety now?
He said,
Vast mythical winds,
Contesting their wild angers.
The rain fear maddened!
She said,
Seagulls lost on wing
Their pilgrimage swept away
Will you follow them?
He said,
As lost as the wind,
But they look as if they know.
Display a brave front!
She said,
Carry on, then!
Look sharp now; there be land here!
Your bravery wins!
He said,
Sons of the sea god,
Monocular man eaters.
Bring your wine and stakes!
She said,
Child of mother wind
Bring forth your siblings now!
Lest you are swept off
He said,
Be your own storm front,
Sweep your enemies away.
A fine victory!
[thebalefulprimal and cattservant]
Oh, heavy rainfall!
Landsliding down your soft face
Where is safety now?
He said,
Vast mythical winds,
Contesting their wild angers.
The rain fear maddened!
She said,
Seagulls lost on wing
Their pilgrimage swept away
Will you follow them?
He said,
As lost as the wind,
But they look as if they know.
Display a brave front!
She said,
Carry on, then!
Look sharp now; there be land here!
Your bravery wins!
He said,
Sons of the sea god,
Monocular man eaters.
Bring your wine and stakes!
She said,
Child of mother wind
Bring forth your siblings now!
Lest you are swept off
He said,
Be your own storm front,
Sweep your enemies away.
A fine victory!
[thebalefulprimal and cattservant]
Literature
Who Am I
I am the sea of glass That passes up and down the shore With a serene calm, or a fury That is here now, and was before High overhead I am the light With a deepest blue, like never seen So open your eyes once again And gray sullen clouds come in between The torrent of waves lift up in rage Only to fall again on shores of sand The complete beauty of this creation Is the maker of “Who I Am” As sun sets at the dark of dawn The hues of color take their place That same sun comes up in the Morn I give who I am, my all, to the human race You can glide as birds with heavenly grace As my own, it’s yours to use Or rage and bicker with contempt I give, Now it’s for you to choose So ponder and see the rage and fury in what I made Or the gentle softness of a little lamb. I ask quietly, precious child of mine, Again Who Am I? “I Am” Vicky Bartlett (Hayes) January 31, 1999
Literature
Human toilets for policemen
In the prisons of the future, there will be so many prisoners that the guards will discipline them by creating a climate of fear, threatening to mutilate them for the slightest disobedience. The mutilated were transformed into human toilets. Replacing the pipes, they had no choice but to eat shit and drink piss until the end of their days. Forgotten, they descend into madness, believing they were born to be shit eaters. More enviable, the position of human toilet outside makes it possible to see the guards and the guards who come to feed them. A tube connects one prisoner's mouth, allowing him to drink the guards' piss, while the other prisoner has a tube into which the policemen's shit flows directly to him. And the tubes are alternated with each passage of the guards. For fun and to pass the time, the police and prison guards caused fear to reign by threatening to amputate a prisoner's limbs by choosing him at random. No prisoner was safe. Starving and shorn, the prisoners were
Literature
Dhaka City
A stream of people A stream of lives Flowing through the streets like a raging river, like blood cells in a web of veins Going somewhere Going nowhere Crossing paths Sometimes colliding, shouting, but eventually going their separate ways 2 boys chase each other outside a storefront, picking trash off the ground and throwing it, ducking behind corners to dodge the other’s attacks Dogs sleep in the road as if nothing around them existed The stream makes way for them, altering its course around them as if they were small stones At peace in the tenuously orchestrated cacophony Only muted every few hours by the call to prayer Melodious words in another tongue, echoing through the streets even after the last light has gone out and the last rickshaw has rattled past An almost eerie, empty tone or perhaps the promise of a new day to come It travels up the cold stone stairs, past the calico watching over her 3 kittens, ears turning towards the sound even in sleep Her babies are still small
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Such words (: