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Some writing I did

(Poetry, prose, etc. Some may contain cursing.)

Only the Wolf They are called pigs for a good reason. Smug little thorns, I just wanted company. But they are not entirely to blame. No one wants to befriend a wolf, after all. I guess you can call me too forward, demanding forcible entrance to their doorsteps. But you know in all the versions, I never explicitly say I want to devour them. Pigs are filthy creatures. They eat terrible things. Pink and fleshy like their human masters. Funny thing, pigs are so similar to people. Or the humans who call themselves people. I never was a person in their eyes, never anything of grace or beauty. Endangered species list. Angry farmers and their slaughtered sheep. I was hungry. I was famished. I was tired. Wolves of nature are not usually alone, but in this tale I was solitary. Perhaps this made me a fluke, desperate in my loneliness. I really did want to speak. I really didn't want to be demonized. There's another story about me featuring a girl. Don't talk to strangers. But she was no pig, pretty thing but children are far from appetizing. If anything I cannot eat her whole. But humans can annihilate. Worse that the pigs. At least pigs are satisfied with mud and garbage. People, should they be called people, want a lot more than just happiness, some nameless thing is what they are after. Some destructive something. To think I am the villain in the string of words. A lone wolf is a frightened wolf, and does not last long. But I have survived the ages, if only out of my own viciousness. But really, what weakness envelops me. Love Letter Lost I I wrote you a Sanskrit love letter, and mailed it in hopes that you would understand beyond the words. But my message was lost in translation, choking in the weeds of false pretenses, dying from the desert that is my stuttering eloquence. I'm not particularly loquacious, and you know that, but with a pen and paper I spill out my heart like alcohol in a glass. I guess you had too much of my wine. You just want a sip. You don't want to drink all of me and choke and cough and become dry in the mouth. You don't want a hangover either, when I leave you. You don't want anything from me but the buzz. I understand. You've had wine before. A lot of it. But me, I want to get drunk from you. I want to die from your sweet inebriation. I want so much, and I know I can never have it. II I got your letter, and no, your words were fine. Your message was clear, like the burning blue of a sky free of clouds. It's not something that usually happens, you know. You are sweet. Wine is such a romantic item to use for metaphors of love. But you do know that it burns the stomach lining and poisons your system. It also gets you dependent. I am a working woman, and I do not want to be dependent on anything, no matter how wonderful it seems to be. I think to some other girl, you'll be more like water. You'll make up more than three-fourths of her. You'll fill her up. You'll quench her thirst. Water might be good for me. But I don't want to be reliant on anything, even if water is what will make me whole and alive again. I'd rather die, I think, but you are a nice boy. Heart Tumor Rakesh pictures angiosarcoma as a rapidly growing forest of blood vessels, and each seedling blossoming into magisterial, congested sequoias. They had burst open after two short months of the diagnosis, and his brother drowned, a stirring of red in his chest. How whisperingly fitting, he thought then, and thinks now, that Jaichand, with his heart as tall as a skyscraper, would die of it collapsing from the weight of his strained love. He adored and continues to adore his brother, and hated him now and hates him still. Perfect grades, perfect face, perfect manners, and murderous kindness. The favored son, the valedictorian, the ever so patient donor of time and attention, the name his teachers say in reference. “Jaichand's brother.” Rakesh, an after-note. But. Love was there, love had to be there. He recalls his envy and his rage, remembers calling his brother a one man ass-kissing act and wishing that he was dead. He reconstructs his brother's genuinely crestfallen face, the impassioned exchange, the embracing. Rakesh never did apologize for it, because a part of him still thought himself right, and now he is regretting this choice. Yesterday was the one year anniversary. Today is the wallowing after visiting the slab of rock atop a hill, alone, howling obscenities at the awful sky. He is in his living room watching a special on Buddhist religion, slouching over at the couch and scratching his belly, wondering why anyone would want nirvana. There is a dull thudding beneath his cage of muscle and bone. His eyes are blurry. He sleeps. --- “You were never stable, Rakesh.” Jaichand is the mighty regent of this kingdom, his castle atop a hill. He is dressed in a hospital gown, the kind that does not close at the back, IV tubes filled with red liquid adorning his neck. He is smiling, face both powerful and kind, and Rakesh kneels reverently before him, head bowed close to the ground. “What is it you desire, my prince?” Rakesh's armor glows silver and splendid, and his face is solemn. At the back of his head he is weeping, at the front of his mind he is thinking himself truly a knight. “There is a great beast prowling the land, and he has taken something of mine.” The blue, backless gown is pulled down to his waist, and there is a small, hollow, box-shaped hole in the prince's chest. It is lined with blood velvet. Rakesh nods, understanding. He receives a blessing and a kiss on the forehead. The mourning noises in his head is growing louder as he leaves the castle, blade at hand. A horse awaits him, and he tears off its flesh, riding its fiery, bony remnants down the hill.
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  mintysalts — Page created: 23 May 2008
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sydnosh says :   23 May 2008   574748  
A young man was getting ready to graduate from college. For many months > >>he had
admired a beautiful sports car in a dealer's showroom, and knowing > >>his father
could well afford it, he told him that was all he wanted. As > >>Graduation Day
approached, the young man awaited signs that his father had > >>purchased the car. >
> > Finally, on the morning of his graduation, his > >>father called him into his
private study. His father told him how proud he > >>was to have such a fine son, and
told him how much he loved him. He handed > >>his son a beautiful wrapped > gift
> > Curious, but somewhat > >>Disappointed, the young man opened the box and found a
lovely, > >>leather-bound Bible, with the young man's name embossed in gold.
Angrily, > >>he raised his voice to his father and said, "With all your money you
give > >>me a Bible? and stormed out of the house, leaving the Bible. > > Many >
>>years passed and the young man was very successful in business. He had a >
>>beautiful home and wonderful family, but realized his father was very old, > >>and
thought perhaps he should go to him. He had not seen him since that > >>graduation
day. Before he could make arrangements, he received a telegram > >>telling him his
father had passed away, and willed all of his possessions > >>to his son. He needed
to come home immediately and take care of things. > > >> > When he arrived at his
father's house, sudden sadness and regret > > >>filled his heart. He began to search
through his father's important papers > >>and saw the still new Bible, just as he
left it years ago. With tears, > >>he opened the Bible and began to turn the pages.
His father had carefully > >>underlined a verse, > > Matt 7:11, "And if ye, being
evil know how to give > >>good gifts to your children, how much mor e shall your
Heavenly > father > >>which is in heaven, give to those who ask Him?" > > As he read
those > >>words, a car key dropped from the back of the Bible. It had a tag with the
> >>dealer's name, the same dealer who had the > sports car he had desired. On >
>>the tag was the date of his graduation, and the words...PAID IN FULL. > > > >> >
How many times do we miss God's blessings because they are not packaged > >>as we
expected? I trust you enjoyed this. Pass it on to others. Do not > >>spoil what you
have by desiring what you have not; but remember that what > >>you now have was once
among the things you only hoped for... > IF YOUR > >>GIFT

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