Original prose

#prose #poetry #prosepoetry

I’m on my way

Im on my way down, spinning in a long bus descending now, circling the drain of the town deep working my way into hells impersonations, super fan motion, Division street devotion, echoing a spicy grin, my burning face a bludgeoned tire, across the globe, seize your fire, past regret, to find a rhyme I resent relaying, playing a song to forget, rushing back into a market to hide, I confide in nothing over taken, medication finalized a dreary distillery, bound dreaming soaring incorrectly, stuttering lines of prose are those I conceive, between a ride across the grid of my city, moments of memory, distillery of liquid hope, vapor of forgiveness rising, I regret more than what’s unknown of the planets seas

A cure for acute ideation, slave nation of serenity, day starts off with a prayer as a plea for obvious insecurity, to hang with no frame, stuck to the mind of the structure, you have no bigot, no crave for rupture, so there for now, so, there, I shall scribble on the page and take a photograph, to say that I wrote a poem on my phone sounds insane in 96’….. There’s a purpose here, do I seek attention for my pain or am I purely the slave to theory of freedom within the walls of where here exists as this rambling bullshit?  Like an amphetamine in the stream once begun release has advantages  and done needs a gun placed between the eyes of  stop

To try and be a porous door, demanding consistent boredoms to vanish, translucent distractions take away the dimmer light, communication is a fog, a free form within, outside is the assumption, I can’t stand to repeat my problem out loud, but in action there is a crowd who will notice hostess decieving

I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote a prose-poem about a moment between two people. Maybe it was a dream, a memory, or just a mood.

https://gem.bearblog.dev/a-knowing/

#MicroFiction #Poetry #Prose #ProsePoetry

Im tired

I’m tired of being a part of the dumpster fire burning in the back of retail trauma running through the blue veins of a little brat accusing me of being a piece of shit, when I hear it I cower, this pill to swallow is an adjacent struggle of power, though I crave none at all. None at all. Never have I twisted the knife. Never in this life have I intended to ever disrespect, yet it’s socially acceptable to run rampant in the streets wearing your trauma but not taking accountability for it, this is wrong because people get wrongly treated because accountability doesn’t get taken

I have picked the worst people to be apart of my life at times in my life. People that I ended up entrusting with my life and believed things like they loved me or liked me when that was not the case at all, these people were sociopaths and narcissistic to the fullest extent. Horrible things have happened that have put a deep pause to my whole life at times and I felt like my life was over. Youre damn right I became a full blown addict eventually. I grew up with no one wanting me. I now live the same. The hurt and loneliness and sadness has turned to bitterness that’s been bypassed through a beating heart that’s surely broken. Just take a look in my eyes. You’ll see it all immediately and become judgemental. If not that, well, then, hell. The bell is beating a rhythm for goodbye.

table of contents – episodes

#poetry #poetrynovel #writing #ProsePoetry #freeverse #poetryblogger #blogging #poems #sketching #sketchart #poetryart
https://fmdepisodes.wordpress.com/table-of-contents/

The Nature of Immortality:Prose Poetry

https://kibriabelal123.wordpress.com/2026/05/01/the-nature-of-immortality/

"Stay." I'm not sure if you pull me down or I fall with you. It doesn't really matter because here I am, and here I stand with you. We fold against each other, soft curves and hard edges, bone and flesh. I am wet and sticky with you. You cling to me, a second body, wanting more. I can feel it now, the slow ache our of desire spiraling into the maelstrom. Your heat a fire that should burn but only enflames.

#microfiction #prosePoetry

Postcards from The Strait of El Schmoozer

The Hiking Princess Schnorrer was diverted by rhetorical windbags and passed through The Strait of El Schmoozer to the Port of El Happenstance. Rabid postcard collectors highly value the postcards sent by passengers on this voyage of the unexpected.

#Art #Collage #CollageArt #DigitalArt
#Asemic #AsemicArt #AsemicPostcards #AsemicText #Postcard #AsemicPostcard #Asemicwriting #DeconstructedText #Phantasmagoria #Poetry #Prosepoetry #ProsePoem #SpeculativePoetry

https://asemictarot.wordpress.com/2026/04/14/postcards-from-the-strait-of-el-schmoozer/

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑾𝒂𝒚𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔: “𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒊𝒅𝒆” 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝑹𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 -

". . . but the edges have eroded, bluntered and edgeless. Warfarin-thin. A swiftwater rush, . . . "

https://waywordsstudio.com/fiction/esmond-blood-and-tide/

#poetry #poetrycommunity #originalpoetry #writingcommunity #prosepoetry #flashfiction #shortreads #experimentalprose #fiction