Due to being incredibly busy with finding a job and starting work, and other craziness...I had not been able to get to this. However. Now that things have OFFICIALLY settled down, I can continue where I left off. This is Day 4. These are my newer followers, all worthy of some extra love and attention. It's a bit more varied this time. And by that, not all of it is Lit. At any rate, expect these Features to be out more often. I'm aiming for twice a week. Much Love

 

AlphaManifest

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SurrealCachinnation

An Old, Sweet SongMy heart aches for scorching summer afternoons
spent drinking lemonade in the shadow of
the old house on the hill, draped in ivy and shade.
I'd watch cars fly by:
Pick-up trucks sporting Confederate flags
and a lot of red clay and pollen,
which would rumble across old railroad tracks
on their way to churches whose steeples
could pierce the stillness of the sky;
SMART cars--the clean ones with
stick figure families--taking 75-south
ripping down the interstate, too important
to admire the cornfields or sip sweet tea.
Everyone was in a hurry
to collect scattered souls for Jesus
or to sit in miles of city traffic,
each secretly addicted to the gridlock.
We were all missing something,
clinging to our side of the juxtaposition,
but in reality nothing mattered more
than the harmony we couldn't see. With Rain on our TonguesI have been walking our oceans again,
having held on forever to the hope of knowing
the dialogue of the tides.
The clouds never spoke pounding melodies,
only echoes into the nothing.
The stars whispered a lie that tells the truth:
You waited, praying to fireflies, and
I wanted to be someone else.
You're never touching anything,
singing me oblivion and creating destiny
with a void dance and erotic spills:
eloquent tradition like petals and leaves. NathanielI stand on the marble balcony and let you go,
the goodbye you wrote on the tattered napkin
dancing its way to the Tiber where it can travel
like you, on a pilgrimage that will not end
until the Mediterranean destroys it
as age will eat away at your mortal body.
I long to let myself go--like a tarnished Euro falling,
abandoned to the Trevi fountain.  All that remains 
are the Dionysian kisses you stole under soft city lights
and the bruises your lips left behind. By DesignRhys held his wife's hand as she tapped her foot nervously, staring at the door.  They'd been waiting half an hour already for the doctor, and their appointment was supposed to be forty minutes ago.  He appreciated the quiet of the room, but the silence made Wanda anxious.
"Everything's going to be okay, Wanda," he reassured her, squeezing her hand gently.  "One of my coworkers has been through this and he says it's nothing.  They're just going to ask a few questions, and take a sample of--"
"You know how much I hate needles, Rhys!" Wanda snapped, ripping her hand away.  She shook her head and placed her hand on his knee.  "I'm sorry.  I really don't like doctors."
"I know, sweetie."
The door opened and Wanda jumped a little bit out of her seat.  The doctor came into the room holding a clipboard and a pen and smiled politely at his patients.
The feigned sincerity of the smile was almost as convincing as the perfectly straight, titanium white teet LingerieEvery woman owns one garment
that remains tucked away,
saved for special occasions
when it will be seen.
It is almost always midnight
black, or blood red, and
covered in lace, or made
of mesh, soft and delicate
as the skin it covers.
Such things should be hidden,
lest the owner be labeled
as something other than "lady."
It has a power we can't
control, one that transforms
denim and cotton clad
ragdolls into Barbies,
perfectly proportioned plastic,
smooth and flawless hourglasses
that turn on command.
We groan and flinch
as satin strings pull us
apart and together,
and heartstrings are plucked
as we scrutinize our reflection;
we are not diamonds
with perfect exteriors--
we are fractured, as we
realize hourglasses can be exchanged
for quartz watches that are
faster, more convenient,
incapable of failure
made by the obsolete.

Certified-Daydreamer

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CatapultedCarcass

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rociobelindamendez

PontificateWe live in reverse.
We’re born dead, and grow alive. Perhaps we don’t fear being gone, but instead we fear to start anew.
What’s scarier than something we don’t know? What’s scarier than jumping into it free of will?
To begin and to end, both equal in ambiguity; where does one start if not from itself?
Different words from the same proverbial tree
Too alike in discourse to negate;
                   life is but to pontificate.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez SelfI’m afraid of being afraid, worried about feeling worried, and anxious about my anxieties.
Confusion, confusion, confusion, sense.
Losing self while trying to gain my strength, finding nowhere while trying to escape my somewhere.
Smiling only to end up wiping away my tears.
Crying only to end up intensely inspired.
Writing to let my soul drip ink; over pages as I blink away the ache falling from my eyes.
Feeling so alive, feeling so untouchable, feeling like I can fly.
Cowering into a corner when I’m what scares me most.
Holding my hand out until I grab it on the other side.
Confusion, confusion, confusion, sense.
I blossom, only to shrivel up, I shrivel up, only to blossom. I live only to die, I die only to live.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez You're an ocean in one drop.You are not alone in this life. Take the time to realise those who may be counting on your strength, those whose heads fit perfectly on your shoulders, those who need your arms to hold them up.
You may be one person in the world, but you could mean the entire world to another, in many different forms. Company is what it comes down to; someone you can be alone with, someone you choose to spend your moments with, people who are more than a chapter in your story, those who are main characters, those who move you, those who linger on.
If you were really alone in this world, you wouldn’t feel alone; you’d feel complete, strong, immense. You would be everything you need, and you would stand tall without realising. You’re not alone, do you understand me? Do you hear me? Do you feel me? We’re both alive in this instant, isn’t that something?
What a crazy notion –– in these billions of years worth of existence, we’ve managed to stumble across each Now.What am I thinking, I’m sitting here admitting my thoughts as I’m drinking. It’s fitting, lonely nights are becoming committing, addicting. The feeling emitting from my splitting sanity is tripping
–– my thoughts, they’re running away from me, they’re gaining individuality, do I think them or do they think me? is that just a technicality.
I know depth that drowns, it crowns you to clown you, messes around you, takes it’s toll, as you fall, then you crawl to a wall
–– it’s suffocation being the foundation; in summation – desolation. What a crazy generation, innovation lacking delegation, procrastination and exploration, these times are an abbreviation.
Feel like I belong in the past, always eager to imagine contrast, the universe is infinitely vast, I wish at last to fly unsurpassed.
I’m the remedy, I can sedate you centrally, spark it up intrepidly, just wait n see. My integrity might slow it down accidentall Passing Through.Dying may be the biggest adventure yet, Peter Pan had it right all along.
We weren’t scared of being born were we? Perhaps we were, perhaps we were frightened about forgetting it all, saying goodbye to it all, and starting something new.
It was beautiful wasn’t it? Being born…so much new found love, new family and friends, a whole brand new world, just for you. So much unfathomable beauty present in the entire process, no wonder new mothers are radiant, the love is pouring out into the universe.
Our eyes start closed and end closed, it’s too perfect a cycle to be anything negative. All we have is a few blinks in between–– to see as much as we can, so we can reminisce in the dark, while we wait for the light once more.
What can be sad is the way it can happen, and what is left behind, the permanent attachment to something transient.
––Although, what an adventure it could be! What an experience! I think it’s safe to say, it would be

FieryDownpour479

Instincts GymAs humans, only about 50% of our total lung capacity is available for our use while at rest. But even though we have 50% that we can use, we usually use only about 15% of our full lung capacity. We don’t use the rest of our lung capacity because we don’t have to. That’s just reserved for life or death situations, like if you’re running from a collapsing building.
In some cases, people will gain inhuman strength if their life depends on it. Face it, humans are selfish creatures – they’re made to be – and here at our gym, we embrace this factor. You want to lose weight? Sure thing! You want that bikini body? No problem; you will lose that weight in no time at our gym.
You see, here we have an exclusive, extensive workout program that is guaranteed to get your heart pumping, your adrenaline cruising, and you weight slipping off of you with that sweat. You are guaranteed to use your full lung capacity, maximize your strength, and unlock those survi That's All RightSilence falls over the crowd as the king strolls into the room. The king wears his royal suit of white, just like he's known for. As soon as he is spotted the entire crowd bursts into yells and screams. Some even faint. The king grabs the microphone. The whole crowd is anticipating what he has yet to say.
Elvis Presley parts his lips ever so slightly and bursts into singing his very first single, “That’s All Right”. The crowd goes wild. Girls in their poodle skirts nearly fling themselves on stage. Everyone wants a piece of the king. It seems even those not watching his performance, even those around the world, even they want a piece of him too.
It’s hard to imagine that the small 19 year old heartthrob that signed a contract a few years ago would ever become this famous. But somehow, he did it. The king of rock and roll, Elvis Presley, is here, performing live right now as we speak.
As Elvis continues the song, I think back to July 5th, 1954 when he firs AvariceSurrounded by emerald pools, she drowned. The Little Blue FairyDeep in the thicket beyond what the eye can see
Fairies dwell within a child’s fantasy.
Here they laugh and here they play
But not everyone does this every day.
The little blue fairy, the prettiest of them all,
Sits in her tree truck crying a waterfall.
Her wings are beautiful, crafted as if from glass
But she cannot fly, so to her, time does not pass.
Her friend, she says that this is just a phase,
That the little blue fairy will soon fly all of her days.
But behind her back, her friend does not believe;
In fact, she spreads rumors like a hideous weed.
“She’s so ugly! I can’t believe she cannot fly!”
“She might as well just go drown in the river and die.”
They say such things as terrible as this and more
All the while the little blue fairy sits alone on the shore.
She thinks these thoughts that her friend is nice;
Her friend would never make her pay this price.
Her tears drop into the water and she watches the river reply,
“My dear littl Where's the Justice in That?It’s easy to busy yourself with
Meaningless things
Of pleasure if
Even for just a second.
You’re constantly searching,
Searching for that
Temporary high
Even after you realize
It’s just one-way love.
Anything to keep you alive,
To keep your heart still beating,
You’ll do it,
Even if it means
Staring at a screen all day.
Scars rake down your arms
Without you even noticing.
Emotions and memories
Scorch themselves
Into your heart
As you stare away blankly,
Desensitizing your senses,
Thoughtlessly stringing together thoughts
With little rhyme or reason.
It’s like a poem
With all the words
b
r
o
k
e
n
up
And sentences
Strung
All
Over
The
Place
With no thought or reason
At all.
With no |obvious|breaks|
Orevenspaces
To understand in the slightest bit
What’s going on.
There’s no punctuation
No attention to simple awareness of gramer or speling like
Nothing else matters anymore
Life is just a run-on sentence after all
With no rhyme or reason
At all
Just

TransitorioAzzuro

Innocenza Chapter 1-3Moist dew of the morning mysts kissed Viktoria’s lips. As she and her senses awakened, she found herself in what seemed to be a whole other world. Both eyes were open to these natural surroundings, causing Viktoria to wonder if she had died. Cradled in the arms of her mother, she stared out over a land that rolled over with a pale fog down into the dense fortitude of trees. It was all eerie, cold, and quiet.
“You are awake!” A joyous Cachusa greeted her daughter.
Hearing her mother’s voice filled with elation, to be held in her arms again made this a paradise if dead. Unsure of what happened after her desperate attack met failure, Viktoria knew that her mother would save them both in the end. That dark place full of nightmares was still fresh in her mind but, at least now it was not a present reality. The earth was beneath her, the sky above and her precious maerta no longer out of reach.
Cachusa smothered her child with kisses and tears; none could have been mo

Malintra-Shadowmoon

October Full MoonYour blood-red fruit in the sky let my soul flow,
You draw me slowly to yearning distances,
And while the crows’ croaks echo on foggy fields,
I travel to the stars, full of nostalgia.
The wind in the willows whistles with sorrowful flute tune,
And while I follow you to the destinations of our dreams,
I cast a glance at the scenery full of fruits.
From the depth of the earth, song and whisper raise.
Our love was already gone before it began.
I could only search but I never found you.
The sand of the hourglass vanished between our hands,
I had to get over the unavoidable farewell.
The gossamers of past dreams
Cover my thoughts like a web.
They make the brown-colored leafless trees shake
As well as my walk.
October full moon, take me with you on the journey.
Help me to fly to the other side of summer.
In a magical, eternal way
You and I will walk together under the fresh green leaves. Inner CreationsTightly woven spiderwebs -
Branch to branch. I AdoreI adore the love,
The life of a kiss,
Dreaming of happiness:
I love the tender spring air
Which feel like a thousand caresses.
I like the ecstasy of a body,
The eyes that shut with a pleasurable smile
The immortality of bodies fusing.
The sensation of the skin,
The sense of touch and the emotions.
I admire the excitement of a moment,
The trembling of extremities.
Gentle music, where nothing is left but a dream.
A lover full of tenderness.
I am fond of love in wonderful silence.
I desire real nudity,
Close by a fire.
Caressing, calmness and relaxation,
Exhaustion, sleep and dreams
After the battle of love. To My LoveWhen I look into your face
I always feel strong emotions.
When I look into your eyes
I see the deep blue northern seas.
When I look upon your lips
I wish that you would give me a kiss.
When I look at your stature
I am thinking of some strong and wise king of ancient legend.
And when you are moving
It seems like a swan gliding over the water.
That is what you are for me
And what I always want you to be. Glamour WorkCollecting tears
like diamonds -
beautiful work.

Riorlyne

A Teacup LullabyIt’s bedtime now, my dear little cup;
Hop to the cupboard, and I’ll nudge you up.
So big, your yawn—you snuggle close to me—
We’ll be fresh at dawn to serve the master tea,
After we have slept tonight. . .
Rest your rim, my sugarlump child,
Snug-safe in your cosy, asleep with a smile.
It’s drowsy and dim behind cupboard doors;
You’re rocked to the rhythm of crockery snores,
So close your eyes and sleep tonight. . .
Whether cup or boy, I love you still;
My Chip, you’re the joy of my days:
Your teakettle vim,
Your lopsided grin—
I’ll love you, my mugling, always.
But oh, the pain hidden deep in my soul
To know, each day, you’d shatter if you fall:
I want so much to keep you from harm;
I wish, just once, to hold you in my arms,
But a kiss will have to do tonight. . .
Your face is peaceful: you savour, it seems,
A teaspoon of sweetness infused in your dreams—
Rest well, my Chip, ma When It RainsI think of you, when it rains.
Don’t you remember
The fickle breezes
Spattering droplets in our faces,
How a great gust carried off your Donald Duck umbrella
And we chased it,
Across the square, across the park,
Where it finally caught
In the rosebushes.
One of the ribs was broken
But I laughed
And laughed because it made Donald’s tail droop,
Until you were laughing too.
I don’t know how we didn’t even
Notice that my hands were bleeding from the thorns
Until we were halfway home.
You asked me if it hurt—
Of course it did,
But it didn’t matter—
Besides, I just can’t cry with raindrops running down my face,
Running down my arms,
Running free.
Or, what about
The spangling rain of winter,
Sharp—but harmless, like pins-and-needles—on our skin
But death to the letters
In the postbox
Where their words would bleed their life away,
Stabbed with rain.
So for safety,
You tucked the letters under your shirt
Then pulled off your jacket,
He

AlphaSite

JudgmentWhen I walk down the street
I feel the eyes follow me
stares from the social elite
But this is the way I am.
Each time I open a door
I see the heads turn
whispers that I abhor
But they can't change me.
Wherever I walk
whatever I try to say
I can't seem to block
their judgment away.
Yes, I'm divergent
But no choice was made
when I was emergent;
I was born this way.
So why did I hide
From all these petty lies
and the things they implied
when this is who I am?
Was it that I was afraid
that they were all right
or was it what it conveyed?
No, it was because lies hurt. Don't Believe HerDon't touch my heart
with your venomous voice
or else I will fall apart
ashes from rejoice.
Don't spread your lies
into my hopeful head
of love, but under guise
just to get into my bed.
Don't look into my eyes
or delve into my soul
you don't deserve my cries
for two to be whole.
Don't take another stride
stay back you skank
you wounded my pride
by pulling this prank. TimeAll around me, I see
people beginning to open their eyes
to the horrors of the world
Yet the things that terrify them
I've been seeing since 10
when my father first raised his fist high
and brought it down on my innocence
My eyes were opened wide in that moment
and a veil was lifted
with the cruelty of the world
bare for me to see
From that moment on
I walked upon the edge
between hope and darkness
hoping to fall off the cliff
But when others tried
to push me down
I climbed
Just to spite them
And now I stand atop
the highest mountain
on the coldest peak
looking over the landscape
of my bruised and shattered past
But now is the time
for me to turn around
and look upon the land
of my future
And to hope
that as I descend back
into shadow and darkness
that I might face the terrors
yet shine brighter still The StormToday the sky was tinged with red
with dark black clouds overhead
Their thunderous roars deafened my ears
but their silent rain masked my tears.
And so I began to pray
that a wind might push the storm away
so others could see how I feel
and my love would bring the world to kneel. The Fruit of LoveIn each passing year
another leaf falls
not unlike a tear
at each heart's call
And this sacred tree
of my barren heart
needs a caring bee
with pollen, to impart
To end this gloom
And this despair
To bring my flowers to bloom
And my fruit to bear.

Also. Shameless Plug Alert (again) I am putting on a Project over at The theme being 7 Deadly Sins. This will run until August. If you are interested see below:

7 Deadly Sins Project!A type of Flash Fiction, six word stories are (very) short stories with an exact word count: six words. SixWordStories is the place where, alongside quality, quantity really does matter. Though these stories are so brief in length, they can be as profound, if not more, than the prose and poetry you see and read every day, partly because six word stories can tell us so much and yet contain so little.
As a Group, we encourage writers to explore their boundaries with prompts, collaborations and more, but we accept anyone and everyone too! Whether you are a digital artist, photographer, or something else entirely, if you can string six words together into a story, this is the place to be!
Please support the project and the article so that more can join in on the fun!
A new project will be hosted this month, the theme being: 7 Deadly Sins!. The 7 Deadly Sins have been made famous by artists, writers, and filmmakers alike.
"The seven deadly sins provide keys to understanding You do not need to be a member of the group to join! There will be prizes, so go on over for more details.