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Non-Fiction Prose

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

Published on 18th February 2015 11:23am
Written by ezwayz
Him and hers
engraved
by name and deed.

It's just a matter
of time
for settlement
of accrued debt.

Dirty deeds
done dirt cheap
wasn't just a lyric.
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prose-non-fiction poem

18 reads
1 Comment


Published on 17th February 2015 11:22pm
Written by David_gessner
I wrote this probably 4 years ago, was looking thru my older stuff and decided to share it here

My teenage days were spent loitering in parking lots, drinking illicit alcohol from a bottle concealed in a brown paper bag and smoking stolen filterless camel  cigarettes.
An adolescent alcoholic searching for clarity, thru the whisky fumes.
Lost in the neverending quest for intoxication, I found cheap contentment in a plant and paper combination.
Huffing duster from a can because it's cheap, it fucked me up and made me feel good with...
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prose-non-fiction poem

15 reads
No Comments


Published on 17th February 2015 9:19pm
Written by Austin Rura Austin_Rura
"There are more muscles in the mouth than in a finger. So the next time you feel too lazy to lift a finger to help someone remember to keep your mouth shut as well."
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prose-non-fiction poem

29 reads
2 Comments


Published on 17th February 2015 3:28pm
Written by nadine-lynn Luna15
in this word we have 2 different people
the bad and the good
and I do not believe in god
nor the devil
this world is too cruel
to have either
but even I have to admit
some good people do have their flaws
and their so called "demons"
but we are only humans
we make mistakes
but we can do something to fix those mistakes
and that's what makes us good I guess
what makes us good or bad people
are the choices we make
not the people we hang out with
or the family we came from
we all have free will
and we chose what path...
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prose-non-fiction poem

18 reads
No Comments


Published on 16th February 2015 7:55pm
Written by joeyregan joeregan
Did my tears or pencil ruin my poem?
 
I’m sitting at my desk.  My pencil is peeling the paper away revealing a crop behind it.  With each pick, more and more beauty is unearthed.  The holes are then filled with the waterfalls above.  The steady streams flow.  Some hit the pasture.  Others hit around.  Ruining what I have just harvested.  Smudges of what used to be solid are now only muddied puddles.  Was it my tears or pencil that ruined my poem?
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prose-non-fiction poem

23 reads
2 Comments


Published on 16th February 2015 7:53pm
Written by Germacide socialflutterby
So it's Monday night
and I'm sat here
thinkin....
I am in a house ah don't like
in a place ah don't like
surrounded by people
ah don't like
wonderin
how on earth I ended up here
It's had it's moments
life has
no doubt about it
but jeezo
I wonder
how many others there are
sittin
just like me
on a dreary monday night
rain batterin  the window
wondering how in the
world
they ended up where they are
so that's it?
wee bit ah hoose huntin
n ah found a wee place
a cottage like place...
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prose-non-fiction poem

15 reads
1 Comment


Published on 14th February 2015 9:42am
Written by shadow_starzzz
The thing about bad boys, that are in fact, good men, is that they're intoxicating and addictive. They're a remedy juxtaposed firmly with a warning label.
Often, there's red neon signage that's flashing in the distance of my mind, it warns me I'm at risk of an unhealthy obsession if I proceed with flirting with danger.
I failed to adhere the significance of such notions, when they were forthcoming at the time, and the danger associated with his kind was intoxicating but toxic, in the same breath.
Obviously, it was a little overwhelming but extremely tempting...
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prose-non-fiction poem

36 reads
3 Comments


Published on 13th February 2015 11:55pm
Written by LokiOfLiterati
Mornings.
     Morning is something so private. The universe swells as the morning unfolds, every petal a different facet to expose. Everything that matters for a day of survival and prosperity uploads as the muscles and bones stretch. Alive feels righteous. Pop. Twist. Shoulders move and rotate, align the spine. Awake feels good. Mind is self-amused. Already reaching out to the Muses. Deep breath next. Reach out and text. Morning is about warmings. Mold reality with warm purpose as it's forming.
     My animal is awake before the rest of me. So my feet need to...
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prose-non-fiction poem

23 reads
4 Comments


Published on 13th February 2015 6:04pm
Written by monstermusicdude schizodude
To this day around 80% of all drone attacks in the Middle East kill non-combatants, they kill innocent people. People who have dreams, hopes, desires, goals, family, loved ones die because of a program aimed at destroying so called "terrorists" who are sponsored by the same country sending the drones. And what's the most vile thing about this is that people DO NOT CARE. As long as it's not their families being blown up, torn to shreds, destroyed they will simply turn a blind eye to it and act as if it is not happening. We live in a culture that shamelessly passes the blame to the killed...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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Published on 12th February 2015 4:43pm
Written by chowmaster
Metaphors fascinate me. How they can transform one idea and transplant it with something tangible and relatable. I have always been able to translate ideas well into symbols, however, I find it comes easier conversationally than through some sort of formal writing. But I spent a lot of time in my head and it becomes hard to discern my thoughts from reality. Like this one time I was working, and I suddenly zoned out and there was a white stallion in a green forest. Before the white stallion stood a black stallion. And together, through their union, they made a silver unicorn, with a golden...
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prose-non-fiction poem

21 reads
2 Comments


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

Published on 12th February 2015 1:39pm
Written by WikipediaJunkie
Advice? Don’t fall in love with a poet. Avoid the perfectly scripted promises the same way you’d run from the bullet of an angry gun and with just as much heart pounding panic and unwavering determination. Act as if the train is coming right in your direction, get off of the tracks, run as fast as you can before it’s too late.
Poets can make you believe, trust, see anything we want, anything we aren’t but wish we could be, or for a second believe we are. Able to make any mistake and every emotionally criminal decision sound like only a beautiful life lesson, something innocent, act...
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prose-non-fiction poem

52 reads
4 Comments


Published on 12th February 2015 4:57am
Written by LokiOfLiterati
     Eyes tell lies to the beholder. Eyes are lenses that take in everything. What the brain screens the owner then rationalizes as the view. When we are slaves to our desires our eyes can only perceive what is missing. When we are captive to our fears our eyes can only find problems. To own and master your own vision means being fully aware of what the eyes take in. When our eyes examine our own faces, bodies and lives we are at once very alone and quite rich with comapny. Blemishes, failures, hopes to succeed, marks of previous adventures and changes fire back from self-examination....
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prose-non-fiction poem

19 reads
2 Comments


Published on 11th February 2015 2:36am
Written by Jina Bella jinabell21
If I ever have a son or daughter, and they start to feel the pressure I once felt
I will let them
Dye there hair, blue, green, even pink if they desired it
I will let them cut it, shave it, straighten it
I will let them wear black eyeliner and lipstick
I will let them wear basketball shorts, or cute frilly skirts
I will let them wear hoodies and ripped black jeans
I will listen to them cry
Over "bitches", "assholes", and teachers, and the world, and about the universe
And everyday
I want to make a point of telling...
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prose-non-fiction poem

23 reads
1 Comment


Published on 10th February 2015 00:26am
Written by Sansaint-Fondant Gabriel
“From which stars have we fallen
To meet each other here?” - F. W. Nietzsche
 
We never knew what was coming
Lived happily in our quaint little world as a child to a point
When we realized mother and father did not love us
That’s when I first felt what love really was, when we needed it
It was a conscious rejection towards us
While they jumped to the first whistle of the needs of those who hurt us, calling it love
And their truth did not matter anymore but still you had to abide ...
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prose-non-fiction poem

106 reads
34 Comments


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Published on 9th February 2015 5:50pm
Written by Artist Behind the Pen Nightcore14
(My English Assignment for the Great Gatsby's)
Last night at the amazing Gatsby’s party, the blissful night was young and wild as lights from out the mansion shinned the dark night sky; making the stars so high about seem like fireflies caught in the grips of a spider web and never to come back down again. Inside the mansion everything felt niftier than any foolish hotel but this was a palace! Live music being played anywhere you went. Men and woman drinking champagnes as a dead soldiers lined the long tables-for bootleg has become illegal. Oh the sight of hoofers everywhere...
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prose-non-fiction poem

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No Comments


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Published on 9th February 2015 2:46am
Written by sammy4444
Mother is upstairs exploring the internet with the sounds of a PBS special keeping her company in the background. Father has converted the TV room into a sanctuary where he can explore the digital universe as stacks of the remains of his VHS collection loom along the edges of the room.  In between them are six walls and a dwindling desire to fulfill each other. The longing within to conquer the world or each other has settled into a dull roar of complacency and distracted silence. It is exactly what I expected to find upon returning from a warm visit with long ago friends who have traveled...
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prose-non-fiction poem

25 reads
7 Comments


Published on 8th February 2015 10:39am
Written by Hope AspectsofNyaboth77
I have had a taste of it and I can't let it go. I want more of it. There is nothing like it-the feeling is warmth and security and joy.
I am going to get more of it. I will succeed. I know I will. This addiction includes everyone.  
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prose-non-fiction poem

15 reads
1 Comment


Published on 8th February 2015 6:10am
Written by jIMNUT_rOARIN
staring at the lamp lit imprints on the hotel room ceiling
with the laptop gleam against the back corner
on the bed motionless except for this one handed typing
this magic keyboard of textual deliverance
those sleep needed giggles and not even late
with the tv on mute
the channel set to the riveting program entitled:
"sex sent me to the ER"
(the worst television program on the planet Earth)

anyway
i've been off for a while
but i'll be back in a week or two or so
another swing at 'er
another couple of months...
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prose-non-fiction poem

25 reads
3 Comments


Published on 8th February 2015 4:06am
Written by Cheyanne Chey
I am so worried about her. Why am I so worried about her? I am one of her best friends and she means so much too me. I don't want to feel this why about a friend. I don't want to ruin my friendship with her. She means so fucking much to me. I shouldn't be writing about her. I shouldn't have these fucking feelings for her. I shouldn't be wishing I was next to her all the time. I shouldn't want to hold her hand all the time. I just don't want to feel this way. I know when she lies. I know when she is telling the truth. I know when she is upset even if she isn't next to me. I know when...
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prose-non-fiction poem

20 reads
No Comments


Published on 7th February 2015 6:06pm
Written by Artist Behind the Pen Nightcore14
Dear Tamaura,
  Where have you gone missing? Where are you now? Who was it who took that murky day in their car? Oh god, what happened to you? I blame myself for this whole entire mess. If it weren't for me, you would still be here with your new love and little angels. People are worried about you and are searching as they cry for your safe return. I am doing the best I can to think of the happy memories we shared before we put up our walls and let them tear us apart. Tamaura, I will go on my knees and have the Gods and Goddess to rip off my wings in return for your safe return. I...
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prose-non-fiction poem

23 reads
4 Comments


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