Submissions by Uley-Bone
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
1st Jan 2013 12:47pm
1st Jan 2013 12:47pm
Shared Story: Pain Drive
754 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
29th Dec 2012 2:27pm
29th Dec 2012 2:27pm
A Rage of Flowers
Dell Newman watched as his youngest son rose, and immediately grabbed a beer from the fridge. He could not imagine the boy that had once lived in his house anymore, from the man that stood there with his long dirty-blonde hair, wild and in places matted to his scalp from sweat. Wearing an old white tee-shirt, and a pair of sweat pants, his chin thick with stubble and his eyes glazed and lost as if he were still dreaming. Dell always looked forward to and dreaded these reunions. He didn't mind the inconveniences so much as he didn't like the way he might, and usually did, feel. Both during and...
849 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Dec 2012 9:12am
28th Dec 2012 9:12am
Scarecrow
The mind obeys order, the body discipline; while the soul wroughts its own image in nightly rosaries, and other rituals--like reheated leftovers from the dreamless dominion where the heart scurries from the thunder of passing sleep...
"Tonight in New York, a man was pushed in front of a speeding subway train"
Ben Assara sat at his station and watched the news. It seemed kind of crazy for a security guard in a nuthouse. Yet, here he was, sitting at the front door, well past midnight, as if someone was going to come in and steal something from the cracker-box. He felt...
"Tonight in New York, a man was pushed in front of a speeding subway train"
Ben Assara sat at his station and watched the news. It seemed kind of crazy for a security guard in a nuthouse. Yet, here he was, sitting at the front door, well past midnight, as if someone was going to come in and steal something from the cracker-box. He felt...
673 reads
4 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
27th Dec 2012 8:34am
27th Dec 2012 8:34am
The Riverman: Mad-Dog Blues
Donald Andre Curtoni sat in his old Ford Coupe, a one time Mad Dog Wine Runner owned by a guy that they used to call Fist-Pedal Granger. Donnie had bought the vehicle off from him once the glory days of running stills and blowing the doors off through the back-roads had fallen into history. Granger was now trying his hand at legitimate racing, and had sold the old car to Donnie after he had fallen on some hard times. Donnie had had to get it back into shape, from tires and a tune-up to popping the dent out of the front driver's side quarter panel. He had also had to replace the interior, as...
713 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
25th Dec 2012 11:12am
25th Dec 2012 11:12am
Angry Trees
*Written for Dog Daze competition**
Say now, what have...
Whoa! Easy there killer.
I seem to remember
when getting to know you
involved a dinner...
or a drink...
Yeah, this is me,
growling and howling
in the New Year
with a scratch behind
the ear and a pat
on the head, and a
boot to the ass
from whatever
joker was put in charge
of what happens next.
I mean, I had plans here,
all of which
involved walking erect,
opposable thumbs and a...
Freaking itch.
So where was I?
I was...
Say now, what have...
Whoa! Easy there killer.
I seem to remember
when getting to know you
involved a dinner...
or a drink...
Yeah, this is me,
growling and howling
in the New Year
with a scratch behind
the ear and a pat
on the head, and a
boot to the ass
from whatever
joker was put in charge
of what happens next.
I mean, I had plans here,
all of which
involved walking erect,
opposable thumbs and a...
Freaking itch.
So where was I?
I was...
734 reads
7 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
24th Dec 2012 10:20am
24th Dec 2012 10:20am
The Riverman: The Moog
702 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
23rd Dec 2012 9:54am
23rd Dec 2012 9:54am
Broken Memorae
*Written for the Ghost Story Challenge**
Awakening; the e'er unfamiliar adjust from which the senses desert us unto the momentary realm where dreams linger with a quickening in the chest, and a thinning of the breath.
I had only moved into this new place this morning, a space to rebegin from what had once been another happily ever after, that never happened. I was alone there in the dark, in an unfamiliar new home.
It was simple enough to convince myself, at first, that the woman still weeping in my ear was only a phantom from those dark dreams. That she was I, and...
Awakening; the e'er unfamiliar adjust from which the senses desert us unto the momentary realm where dreams linger with a quickening in the chest, and a thinning of the breath.
I had only moved into this new place this morning, a space to rebegin from what had once been another happily ever after, that never happened. I was alone there in the dark, in an unfamiliar new home.
It was simple enough to convince myself, at first, that the woman still weeping in my ear was only a phantom from those dark dreams. That she was I, and...
615 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
23rd Dec 2012 9:11am
23rd Dec 2012 9:11am
The Damned
*Written for the "Cheater" contest.**
Fed you demons well
upon the idlewile strain,
driven by those
mindless tales
as you scrub and wash
this heart away--
like a stain of
corruption, circling
the drain...
Pray thee, wrought desire
upon the frenzied rise,
of what small devils, kept
asleep inside, within the dormant
reside of what cannot be
swept, hovering motes are
merely the minute molecules,
disassembling this invention
of you and I
As yes, we all
must remain imperfect
and human--...
Fed you demons well
upon the idlewile strain,
driven by those
mindless tales
as you scrub and wash
this heart away--
like a stain of
corruption, circling
the drain...
Pray thee, wrought desire
upon the frenzied rise,
of what small devils, kept
asleep inside, within the dormant
reside of what cannot be
swept, hovering motes are
merely the minute molecules,
disassembling this invention
of you and I
As yes, we all
must remain imperfect
and human--...
603 reads
6 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
22nd Dec 2012 2:26pm
22nd Dec 2012 2:26pm
The Riverman: A Real Kick In the Head
Eddie Kerr sat on the fallen poplar tree, a cigarette poised behind is pudgy fingers as Tommy Hines stood behind him with a pair of binoculars to his eyes. Only having recently been released from The Walls, as the cons had taken to reference the Missouri State Penitentiary over in Jefferson City, Eddie had come back to St. Louis, hoping to keep a low profile. You really couldn't get much lower than Tommy Hines, as even the boss was not entirely certain that that was even the man's name. What Tony Marta did know was that the ex-Kook gang member was reliable for pretty much what the Kook Gang...
714 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Uley-Bone
