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€uromeinke, FEJ. and Ghoulish Delight RULE!!! NA abides. |
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#1 |
ohhhh baby
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Inspiration 2.0
The time has come! Sound the horns, shout the rallying cry! The Open Mic shall live again!
Some of you may remember the inspiration thread of bygone days. I think this community is showing signs of creative stirrings again, and so, I bring you Inspiration 2.0! "Rules" are the same. I give you a phrase/thought/concept/word and you run with it, taking it in any direction you wish. Your offering can be as simple as a haiku or as complex as a short story. I'd also love to see other forms of art - music, drawing, sculpting, photography - surprise us! There are no prizes or awards, though I'm sure good entries get lots of mojo ![]() Here is your first theme: Phoenix from the ashes. Go! I'll be back later. ![]() ![]()
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The second star to the right shines in the night for you |
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#2 |
HI!
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The Incredibly Inappropriate Wedding Gift.
A woman, who was an Art History teacher, and her beau, an artist, were married in a festive and creative ceremony befitting the artistically-inclined couple. After they returned from their honeymoon, they held a small gathering to share stories with friends and open their wedding gifts. The evening was a joyous occasion full of laughter and storytelling, memories of the wedding and delicious cocktails - which make the evening even more joyous. Present after present was opened and the gathering oohed and awed over the wonderful gifts. Amongst the packages was a present that, to the experienced eye, looked like a piece of framed artwork. Everyone was looking forward to the unveiling of this piece. Who was it from? Which artist had bestowed upon the happy couple a very special piece of art? No one could wait to see it. Finially, it was time for the last package. The card was opened....OOOH it was from Bill! His work is WONDERFUL! Then, slowly, the wrapping paper was removed. The bride held the art in front of her but her look was one of confusion - almost disgust. The group all began chattering at once..."What is it?" and "Let us see!". Slowly the bride turned the painting around. It was a somewhat abstract painting but the subject matter was clear. It was a painting of a penis. The group sat silently for a moment until someone asked "What's the name of this piece". The bride answered quietly "Self Portrait: Pheonix Rising". Last edited by Not Afraid : 05-12-2006 at 05:21 PM. |
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#3 |
Nevermind
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Lol- great job, NA! It starts out almost like a fable, then takes a bit of an O'Henry type turn. Might have to elaborate on this one, dear.
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#4 |
Nevermind
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Leave this one up for a bit- I have an idea, but I need a little time to work on it!
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#5 | |
ohhhh baby
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Forgot to respond to this sooner.
Quote:
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#6 | |
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Join Date: Jan 2005
Posts: 13,244
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#7 |
ohhhh baby
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She breathed stale air and considered her outdated view of what her life would be.
He was gone. The radio was silent. Light fell from one lamp, in one corner. The rest of the house didn't breathe without her breath, didn't exist without her touch. Curled up into as small a ball as possible on the long couch, she clutched her own skin as if to ward off a chill. The token light slid off her arm. She stared into the void of her own house, as if a demon could crawl out of the shadows at any time and tear into her. The thought bubbled to the surface: The bills were paid. He wrote the checks just a week and a half ago, sitting at the old-but-not-antique desk they'd bought for just that purpose. Right....there. Although alone, she almost felt compelled to point to the darkened wall where the desk sat. Pens and post-its and bill receipts lay on it's small surface, window dressing for a life not lived, background on a TV show. The insurance would pay for everything. He had a great policy through the city. They're not kidding when they say the best jobs are with the government, she thought helplessly. She hadn't even known about the life insurance but it all came to light quickly after they found his bloodied car. The bills were paid, she thought again. Today's and tomorrow's and the day after that's. The other driver had taken care of them by killing both himself and her husband in a grisly enough way that the insurance company had to pay out. Guilt tried to rise, tried to infect…was it she that was trying to feel guilty? She went to work, he went to work. It was Tuesday; where else could they go? Who could say, “Don’t go, something will happen?” “Take the day off and let’s go to the beach.” “Honey, could you take a different route today?” She hadn’t known. The guilt didn’t come. What now? She silently asked the empty house. Now that the reason for so much space has been sucked out of the master bedroom, 2.5 baths and ample living room, now what? Could she scrub her expectations from the walls and start over? Could she bring another man in here and make love to him and bear his children? How much time and repainting and alcohol would that take? She looked over her stillborn life and shook her head. Whoever she was now, she wasn’t this person, wasn’t that person. She thought of signing the mortgage papers less than a year ago. She thought of her upward-moving job and the waiting game she’d been playing. She thought of how he’d loved to nibble on her jaw when they ****ed, and how she was sure she’d dump the pill in about 6 months. She thought of hermit crabs and migratory birds and the proverbial Phoenix. Phoenix, she thought. I’ve never been to Phoenix.
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#8 |
The Littlest Hobo
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: Hobo Junction
Posts: 393
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You must spread some Mojo around before giving it to Cadaverous Pallor again.
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#9 |
Sputnik Sweetheart
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F&*king A, CP. You just get better and better.
Much love and mojo to you! |
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#10 | |
ohhhh baby
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Quote:
![]() I swear, it always seems hard, but once I sit down and give myself a minute to think, it just flows...
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The second star to the right shines in the night for you |
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