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i could have forgiven the action...


just not


the reaction.

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It's hard not to hurt


for what could have been. 


It's easy to cry for the pain. 


But remember life goes by so quickly,


Then only memories remain. 


Regrets are the devil's reminder,


Perfection, like confection, is divine. 


But shoulda, woulda, coulda does nothing more than...


Cause you pain and toy with your mind. 


 

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I remember those warm summer nights we sat on the deck,


The sun setting off in the distance,


You smoking your cigar,


Me with my coffee in hand.


We were only sixteen,


But we felt the world at our feet.


We talked and laughed for hours


Playing out scenarios in which we were older, but happier.


I’ve often wondered what happened


To the things we said would occur.


Did they become too unrealistic?


Or were we just too lazy to try?


But as I sit here looking across the same lawn years later,


I wonder if maybe we wrote a better story


Than our young minds ever could have


And it leaves me wondering,


Is this really how our story ends?

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you're so easy to write.


you're tiny and fit between words easily


i'll stick you in the story between the bully and his redemption


or maybe with the lot of the villain's prisoners


or just in the middle of a busy highway.


i'll drag you across the pages


until you're ragged and raw 


i'll build your storyline up


then i'll knock you back down. 


you make it so easy


with your shallow character and predictable impulses


i'll write you in an hour


paste you inside in less


and then when i feel like it


(if i feel like it)


i'll delete you  


in no time at all. 

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by chantal
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                Broken buildings spread out like little fungi dotting the distant landscapes beneath me as we sailed past abandoned cars and mini boulder Islands adrift in the middle plain.  Broken glass from various windows had collected in trails behind anything bigger the finer little bits of silt mixed with everything but extended all the tails by a third.  “Yeah I know, what a mess right…”


                “Actually it’s kind of beautiful”


                “Smashed up cars and broken glass?  When did you become so positive Paul?”


                “I’m not saying it’s a good thing, just a nice view is all”


                “Yeah well that nice view is the end of the world as we know it”


                “Everything is up in the air” I agreed


                “Do you know what isn’t up?” I shrugged, “Internet, phone lines, no power, no transportation, any and every line of communication short of an old hand radio is dead.  You can kiss the government goodbye”


                “What about fighter jets and helicopters and stuff?”


                “What would happen if the incredible hulk threw a fighter jet against a wall?”


                “It would explode…”


                “Probably not but I guarantee it would break.  Parts need to be replaced, and then it needs to be refueled and piloted.  Fuel they’ll have on hand, but parts are another story.  The factory that makes the parts is ruined and the storage unit with all the spares is half a world away probably on a different plane and even if it’s not you still don’t know where it is because the land got freaking scrambled like a fresh pan of cracked eggs.  It could be months before anything fly’s again but assuming I’m wrong and something survived or was in a place it could be quickly repaired with gas powered tools, do you really think the yokels that lucked out will know where they can find authoritive figures or if said figures will actually know what to do in a situation like this.  We have text book responses if nukes get dropped on us, but who prepared for gravity to tie itself into senseless knots.  Government will be too little too late if it does anything at all.  The influence of command will probably drop by the hour if not by the second.”


                “So governments out of the picture?”


                “Assuming this event is global, which I do, then yes it’s unlikely any government on earth will be able to hold its own in the minds of its own citizens”


                “I never liked politics anyways”


                “Again what the hell man, when did you get so positive”


                “Are you okay?”


                “My best friend has a loaded gun on his person for some reason but other than that I’m @#$%*@# fantastic”


                “And Alisa’s fine”


                “She crying her eyes out because she misses her parents but other than that she looked alright”


                “So what’s the problem?”


                “The world just ended Paul”


                “No skin off my nose”


                “Tell that to the first looter that bashes you over the head with a banjo”


                “Why a banjo?”


                “I don’t know I’ll ask him if I ever see him again, but I’d just as soon assume that it was because it was on hand…”


                “Your head okay?”


                “I told you I was fine already didn’t I!”


                “Just asking, sheesh, no need to be so snippy”


                “What have your been doing the last two years anyways!?!”


                “Random question…  Golf”


                “Golf, what’s that?”


                “Well there are clubs and holes and…”


                “I KNOW WHAT GOLF IS!!!  What kind of an answer is golf?”


                “It’s a relaxing sport, I don’t see why you making such a problem out of it”


                “You don’t play golf Paul, You loath football, you hate soccer, you dislike volleyball and you positively despise bowling.  If you ever play a sport it’s just the one game and you’re determined never to play again because you can’t stand the conventional perceptions attached to them.  When did golf become exempt?  Was it next to the firing range?  Did your crime boss take a liking to you and force you to play with him?”


                “People change Ray”


                “No they don’t, they pretend to and sneak back into their old habits and styles of thinking without noticing”


                “Well I played golf for over a year and I have the abs to prove it”


                “… I still think you were robbing gas stations and frankly I don’t appreciate the lie.  I’m supposed to be the dishonest one”


                “I was a lookout for drug traffickers for a month, that’s where I got the gun, but the last year or so I’ve been playing Golf and working as a Caddy, scouts honor”


                “You were never a scout”


                “Fair point”


                “You still expect me to buy into Golf!!!”


                “Yeah I do”, he clenched his teeth looking me straight in the eyes with an arched brow…


                “Whatever”, he finally said dismissively


                “What about you?  What makes you think your dad could do… well this”


                “If he figured out how to fold time I don’t see any reason why he couldn’t figure out how to fold space”


                “Bottled backwards time worked out then?”


                “No we didn’t find any, but he made it somehow.  He’s been reading messages from his possible future selves for weeks now and messages sent further into the past have resulted in physical ripples rearrange the entire house before he even sends the message.  Since he has the technology the mere intention is enough provided there’s nothing in the conceivable future preventing him from sending the message”


                “I kind of get what you’re saying but I’m just going to stick with, so yeah it was probably him”


                “Do you know anyone else who has cracked Quantum Physics?”


                “Is this the whole Quantum Mechanics one or the crazier Theory thing?”


                “It’s a little bit of both”


                “Ah…”


                “I can try and explain to you later, but right now we’re almost there”


                “Where?”


                “Well for the next few days it might be home”


                “Cupboard under the stairs, giant magical castle, lighthouse, give me something man!!!”


                “It’s the top half of a convenience store”


 

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by xanlee
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A brother and sister play on the jetty.
Even though their mother said to be careful.
The boy falls into the water.
He doesn't comes back up.
The Mother grieves
At her son's funeral.
Without a body to bury.
The girl watches her mother grieve.
Unable to say goodbye.
For many a year.
So she builds a whale.
Heavy enough to sink down low.
To the bottom of the ocean.
To find her brother's body.
And bring him home.
So her mother can bury him.
The mother sees the girl launch into the water.
She doesn't come back up.


No!


The girl sinks to the bottom of the ocean.
And searches for her brother's body.
Which she does not find.
Instead she meets metallic marine life.
Other people searching.
For bodies to take home.
For mother's to bury.
The girl's whale contraption starts to break up.
And she starts to rise.
And rise.
Until she is left naked.
On the water's surface.
And there she sees.
All those drowned.
All those dead bodies.
All washed up.
Ashore.
She searches them.
With all those others.
Who have shed their metallic bodies.
To find bodies to take home.
For mother's to bury.
She finds her brother's body.
And drags it into the ocean.
And with him she swims home.
Using his body as a float.
Meanwhile her mother has been beside herself
For a mother to lose two children.
Is too much for any mother to bear.
And so she ties a large rock to her foot.
and she drags it to the end of the jetty.
And she pushes it in.
And it pulls her down.
She doesn't fight it.
The daughter arrives home.
With her brother's body.
For her mother to bury.
But her mother is not there.
They have a second funeral for her brother.
This time with a body.
So he can finally rest in peace.
And they have a funeral for her mother.
Without a body.
So she builds a whale.

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Haley-aronow-1586550

WIRC #2-skyline

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there's a poem in my head
about this city
my distant lover of a thousand
cafes and restaurants
who i love but can never make me stay


these small rooms 
small bits of sunlight
would never be enough for me


but then you moved there
with all your optimism
all your hope
and i wanted to watch you harden
i wanted you to feel
the heavy truth
of moving to a new place 
new life
that this shiny apple had smudges
and worms


if you've found them you won't tell me
still smiles and joy in the lights
and seamless food delivery


but we're no longer the
same people
you've taken new friends 
i've taken mine


i don't regret the truth


but sometimes


i miss the spaces you used to fill

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It was the first week of September,
we mapped our childhood by the sunburns
that peeled off of our skin.


A pair of Dr Martens & tattered jeans
anointed the cool kids.
While we sat in the back
and pretended that we didn't care.
At the back of our minds,
still wondering why
our parents didn't give us better lives.


I couldn't quite look at you,
as you fought back tears.
I swallowed the lump in my throat
and the mishap of being born.


Your friend misspelled
my name on the back of my shirt.
All year long, I had to cover it with tape.


I wish somebody had told me,
that these were the good times,
the happy aches, the baby bumps
onto our better selves.
Maybe, it wouldn’t have left
a permanent scar.


We learned a lot of things that year.
My lack of coumaflaging skills,
you wanderlust, and taste for better things.


One morning I discovered I could write,
my dreams on a cheap paperbag,
and let the wind carry it
out of the orbit of our lives.


We buried our vague disgrace
under the criss-cross
of your shoelaces.
And blamed our aches
and fevered dreams,
the surge of the violent rage
on our sunburns.


And just like that our secret was gone.
I never saw you again.


But sometimes,
when the heat gets to my head
and I can’t think,
my ink still finds you.


 

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by mushr
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2wonder-1586406

1 Page Layout idea for Neuroscience segment. I used elements that was included on the documentary.


Added a quote text placement area based on the rokokoko (1420112) audio bed. I think this could be changed to different lines from the documentary.


 

by 2wonder
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