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Non-Fiction Prose

Non-poetic writing including diary extracts, journal entries, letters, essays and art

Published on 1st April 2015 5:07am
Written by HHMCameron
Ever since i betrayed my last obligation to raven, i have been slowly loosing my mind

I once made her a promise, that i would be there if she needs me, and that i would never leave someone else for her.

I know that i failed the first promise

i am worried that i will either fail the second promise, or be dragged under.

therapy is soon, again, i hope

it is the only way to survive.

Tuesday, 31 March 2015 01:52
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 31st March 2015 8:32pm
Written by RavenDsheaBarnett ravenb123-
Told once to rebel against authority.
Told once to take the bag and leave.
Told once that I would never be anything.
Told once that life is misery.
Told once that everyone would be better without me.
Once I did believe.
Once I did see.
Once I saw a life without me.
A nothing a nobody.
Once I thought to end it all.
But that was Once Upon A Time Ago.
Now I proved them all wrong.
Now I'm the one they need.
Now I'm success.
I guess you say its my stubborn side few will tell you so.
I came out like a fighter and won like a winner
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 31st March 2015 1:15am
Written by johnrot

adult poems
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 30th March 2015 5:29am
Today I talked to him, the man of my dreams
My husband once,  but now my secret love.
To love him is to be free
To feel him is to be devoured by lust
To taste him is like eating pure honey straight from the comb.
He holds the original key to my heart
The warmth he brings me is undeniable
He hovers in my mind as a flock of birds leaving for hot weather
I'm smoldered in his embrace
When he looks into my eyes I see my future in him
He's all I need and then some
My body aches for him
Yearns for him
I can not let him go again ...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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1 Comment

Published on 27th March 2015 9:52pm
Written by Ooo
You can't read my eyes, my voiceless answer, the never-changing: no. So I present you with pure honesty in word form yet you still refuse to understand. Did my 'no' sound like 'maybe' or does your comprehension of what I need...not extend beyond what you would like me to need? It seems love is not only blind but also quite deaf.    
Stop. before I have to remind myself that you're a person too.
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prose-non-fiction poem

59 reads

Published on 27th March 2015 9:52am
Written by SabrinaK
Today was like any other day... Yet, my heart was racing... Aching, longing to hear from Him... To know how His day has been.... i miss and love Him daily. And know that its just  a set back in us being together... For we are meant to be... You know, that feeling you get when you've found that one that you can't live without... That just the thought of them brightens your day... the sound of their voice let alone if they walk into the room would take your breath away... Surely it wont be too much longer... True love isn't meant to be kept apart...  Even though we just met a few months back......
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 26th March 2015 11:14pm
Written by AscheZuAsche
Being with me is kind of like being given a rose on a lovely day.
It's beautiful, and somehow special... despite the simple and cliche nature of the gesture.
You accept it with the utmost gratitude - perhaps even honor - as you carefully avoid the thorns on the stem...
You wish to cherish it, maybe even show it off some; so you put it in a vase, and place it somewhere open -- being sure to give it plenty of water, and cut the stem just right so it will keep longer...
But with time, it loses it's charm.
The beauty withers, and the...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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1 Comment

Published on 26th March 2015 7:42pm
Written by blocat
Yes this unit does really exist though the truth (Or otherwise)of this story I'll leave you to judge. I've said too much already.
"We only walk in peace and freedom because rough men are willing to do dark deeds on our behalf" Anon
Jack Ellis was a member of 14th Detachment of the Military Intelligence Corps. They earned the nickname ‘The Green Slime’ because of the awful colour of their headgear. ‘The Slime’ works closely with the SAS planning and co-ordinating strikes against terrorist groups. If asked about their function they’d smile and say ‘Oh the usual...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 26th March 2015 4:52pm
Written by kriticool


New millennial, these are the “Years of The War Torn”
Wherein, the upper echelon had a War Council formed
Neo-Cons and others passed along a bunch of scorn
Leading that double-fake-life, not practicing the norm
A few felt their Whole Thing was an unchecked theory
Their eyes, all of ‘ their winks made us leery
But 2double oh3, was like new released porn
Bored troopers in the desert where the sand don't mourn
So we’ got at it, having at it for The Right
Daylight, perhaps skirmish,...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 26th March 2015 00:52am
Written by Ms_Imperfect Fallen_Angel_194
Dear Journal, Its Been Awhile Since I've been Writing Here,
I've been Studying For My STAAR Tests, Which Scare the hell out of me.
I'm Gonna ask My Parent if I can Start taking Anti Depresiants. I hope It'll Take Away the Pain. I'm Really Stressed out. The End of the School Year is going by fast. I have to Pass. I need to Pass. I'm Really Scared that I'm Gonna Fail and It Stresses the hell out of me. I have to Go To School, Go Home, Clean For An Hour. Then Do Homework, Then Help My Sister with her homework. Set out Clothes and Her Shoes For her. Remind her to Put up her Clothes in the...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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DU Poetry : Non-Fiction Prose: Diary Entries, Letters and Articles

Published on 25th March 2015 3:56pm
Written by bwilde
Torrential rain and brutal cold would go on for days if not weeks, causing all manner of slush in the city; mud and effluent and flooded intersections, backed up storm drains, and the sea of umbrella carrying pedestrians trying to get around it all. The coat robed and the fingerless gloved hands of the vendors accepted the season in turn. The ever present plastic covered the kioskos and magazine stands so that Time International remained a constant source. And the envious glances as I too joined in the navigation of the to-and-from.
An almost constant odor of diesel, and brakes from...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 25th March 2015 3:46pm
Written by cyanide kid102 utenaka
Vandel, whereever darling you are, i still hope you dont torture yourself more than necessity.there is a bad connection via mail., there is no chance to meet in the middle of the talk, , no chance to go inside of your poem astrigent orphan, to the issue of being out loud and rockus vs. spread bell of mourn.
if one happen to be an arrestant of cloaka maxima-sport club med-loony bin, there is no chance neither to spit all the surplus of gathered cyanide, which would decy cover this swelled occident as those black bats on skull, nor to reach to you and to some imaginäre subterranean...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 25th March 2015 10:27am
Written by DadaDoggyDannyKozakSaxfn dkzksaxxas_DanielX
done enough 'research' of psychiartie mafia
to know that it's Only Me
                   they're trying to kill, & since 'I'
                 don't exist,
              (except maybe in my own imagination),
they're not likely to find me.
& even if they do, so what?
I'm not going to war for anybody
(But I might Change My Mind if it starts to look like fun).
Too old & stupid to be a crusader.....
may ISIS (or whatever thfuck they're called)
have my bloody, dopey head!
peaceUp, dear///dkzk...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 25th March 2015 7:40am
Written by SabrinaK
You haved asked me to write in expressing why i still up hold this way of life and how i see that it will continue to better my life.... For many years, such memories i put into stories, poem and examples of gorean commands, positions  i long to remember and forget....For i served and was used as animal of sort for the pleasure of men and women alike... When all i ever wanted was to kneel serving only One true loving Master in my rightful place.... Please don't get me wrong, i love this way of life... Even much of the gorean beliefs... More so since that its much how i was raised... But not...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 25th March 2015 4:12am
Written by LokiOfLiterati
     Green is a new beginning, and the most cheerful of colors. Springing steps and a "zoing!" is heard whenever I see the color green. Fresh grass, fresh new adventures, the green-horned Fool of the Tarot endeavoring on seeing past the cliff he strolls on are all facets of green. Somewhere in the center of the spectrum is green, the middle initial of Roy Biv, and such an young state. Jealousy, envy, worship of money, excessive indulgence in marijuana, overreach-- Green is ambitious. Elves and Kermit, Jade and the original Lantern, Pine trees and fast lights, green is the feeling of cruising,...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 25th March 2015 1:10am
Written by Punished
What I can be if only!  ************missing pictures can't show makes the affect of poem less understood.

United States Post Office,
A drawer of distinct age smell and aroma.
My development is a historic process.
The town itself, almost hit glory.
See the view yourself what is left.

Me, the drawer that could tell plenty of stories.
Please look beyond the stressed.
Bridgeport almost became a booming crowed town.
A lady named Cleo Beatrice Utterback, stepped down,
Her first step in...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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1 Comment

Published on 24th March 2015 3:18am
Written by Zachary Stone Angels-Remedy
When I learned
That you were dead
I diidn’t cry
I couldn’t even cry
Gods know I triied
I triied to show paiin and anger and hurt
For my boyfriiend
I was too shocked, I guess
I could barely glance at your piicture because I diidn’t eXpect
Someone liike you
Who spent every moment of hiis liife makiing me smiile
Would leave….just….liike that
If I knew that you were hurtiing that bad
That you needed some of my strength and support
That you needed courage to carry on
Just maybe
I could’ve saved you
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 23rd March 2015 4:24pm
Written by bwilde
The Gypsies would as soon buy a house and then raze it, erect a Gypsy-esque tent in its place and live there in community on the lot; houses on either side, now considerably worth, less. The older women along with the younger women and teenage girl protégés, all with the large silver crucifix, would read the palm for a gamba in the parks and greens; sometimes with the grimy naked five-year-old boy or girl for added sympathy of the unsuspecting.
The younger Gypsy youths pick-pocketed the distracted or the unguarded junior office worker, construction laborer, high school...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 22nd March 2015 9:27pm
Written by looloolookie
Or what I thought was my first time. 16 years old, in love with a 21 year old bass player who loved my tits and the little virgin he got to explore. Even though I obsessed over him, I would always stop his hand from moving from my chest to my special spot. A spot NO ONE was allowed to touch.
This was getting old for him, he said as much, and I wanted to please him.
One night after a gig, we ended up at his parents. Why a 21 year old was living at his parents still, oh yeah, he was a musician.
I drank a lot that night. I was wearing the lacy panties and matching bra my mother...
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prose-non-fiction poem

53 reads

Published on 22nd March 2015 00:24am
Written by SabrinaK
                 inaha brie's Daily Journal
                                                ‎Thursday, ‎February ‎24, ‎2015
                                                4:42:09 AM
awww.... O'my God, do i love Him so... Yet feel so guilty, for keeping Him up so late... Lordy, i just love to hear His voice though... negidi inaha tsia anagi Itancanka... loving Him, missing Him... already... and we was just talking... But am going to rest my...
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prose-non-fiction poem

18 reads
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