simplicity
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Stories (146)
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The Picture of One
I never missed the things undone Just all the things truly done Chasing memories that are on the run Pushed away by my own harsh cultivation Getting further each day, with each rise and fall of the sun While we're living together; our single lives for one Our memories were never on the run It was our own harsh cultivation Asking us to leave past destination In the preservation of one Until we have the time, and no where to run To truly meet what truly has been done and left undone To witness cultivation With no need of preservation Until all the things done, and undone, are none What's left, is the picture of one
By simplicity3 years ago in Poets
Sterling Customizable
The show opens with the introduction of a Character known as Sterling. Sterling is a graphic engineer, but really he creates Deep Fakes as his claim to fame. Until one day, his Friend says to him "It's cool, but whats the point? You live in barely a one bedroom apartment with a makeshift kitchen and a small bathroom. You are smart, but what's it worth? I mean it's all Child's play unless you can make money at it, right?"
By simplicity3 years ago in Humor
Children's Games
In another life I'd be the perfect house wife. I'd bake chicken pot pies that tasted rich with flaky crusts and velvet saucy fillings that are delicious. I'd make morning pastries to feed my adoring husband before I kissed him goodbye, before he headed to work. When busy, I'd be rich enough to buy treats or trade with friends for them. I'd complete all my domestic tasks while I worried over my husbands return, without a way to communicate with him. By night I'd wait for my husband to sleep then sneak away to a gathering of friends for the meeting of my secret society. The only break from my god fearing womanly ways as the domestic matriarch of my household. So much stronger than my female form exhibits. I'd pardon myself, knowing my actions aligned with the times. I'd be an artist in my own right. I'd have a male pen name that society comes to adore, as much as my husband does me. A Renaissance woman during the Renaissance. Full of new ideas and the energy to embrace it.
By simplicity3 years ago in History
Poppy. Content Warning.
Vincent Van Gogh once said, "If a painting seems too simple, you just haven't looked at it long enough". For his paintings this is definitely true. I've applied this quote as my understanding of people as well. It's become the basis of most characters I write about or try to develop. People, like snowflakes and art are all unique. Art reveals not only what's being depicted, but how the one depicting it see's something.
By simplicity3 years ago in Art
NGAD Theft
He adjusted his freshly pressed uniform as he sat in his seat. Not letting on to anything out of the ordinary, for he was still being watched. This day would be anything but ordinary. It had taken him 12 months to get to this point. A hefty 5 part syllabus course completed. However, before the 12 months, it was a five year rigorous planning ordeal with a college mate. Any NGAD Flyer pilot would be anxious and excited, but they weren't pulling off the greatest heist ever attempted.
By simplicity3 years ago in Fiction
The New Business Plan
Doll-Up, Riggzy, Trash, and Harper. The fours of us were in it together. Riggzy was the trust fund kid with the higher education, but he was so much smarter than that. The rest of us weren't dumb, but had nothing stellar about us. Me, Harper, came from a middle class family. The others not even that.
By simplicity3 years ago in Fiction
Words
Defined, definitions followed to the root. Indications to a history. Serving as dowries to society. Tracing our own histories and upbringings. Reasonably the reasons for existing. An infinite amount of formulations. Connecting us all. Transcribing the times. Increasing as new formulations arrise and decrease as the old are discarded. Opening various paths to travel, be it a stroll or hike. Nascent displays of the individual.
By simplicity3 years ago in Poets
Drive Home From Work
I wonder if I will ever reach my destination. The waffling of misplaced air from the two windows being down in the back gets to be too much for my ears. I give in to lowering my passanger side window, just a crack. Immediately a streaming flow of salty air envelopes the car. Familiar and nuanced. The air carries information about nearby restaurants and the days activities. I see my dog agrees as I look at her through my car side mirror. I know we're close. I stick my hand out the window, allowing my fingers to weave through the air as if running through strands of hair. Cool to the touch, it's almost damp. The sun doesn't try to smother the skin with kisses all day like the deserts sun. Instead, it waits til afternoon to make an appearance, if it does at all. Today's haze cushions memories with thoughts of my bed and pillows as we drive on. The familiar right turn on to PCH, my body bracing before the car even turns. I re-adjust naturally after. It's all second nature at this point. Anticipation garners as my home comes into view. A full bladder's screaming makes it hard to think. Except to wonder, why I'd ever left my beach location.
By simplicity3 years ago in Poets
