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Angelina's Trap

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Old 06-29-2018, 05:04 PM
spshane (Offline)
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Default Angelina's Trap


Out the westward door into the infernal howling of dry wind and gray-slicked Coyote shadows, hunting yesterday's promises like the bargain of leftovers and day old bread. Sharpened, ridiculed, hungry, scedaddling toward the relentless mirage of eternal hope, where heat spills over the horizon, like a drunken Eskimo making his slow journey toward Mecca to die. He kills the dastard leprechauns who stand in his way, the malcontent fairies also, the weak-willed giants who grown fat on the morsels of the weak, and the tyrant saints with their mendicant sycophants. Between gulps of chili sauce and testicle ice-cream, he sniffs in the air of stale lies, the precursory chants designed to drive the masses toward certain intended and unintended consequences. He dodges the cool gazes of statesmen whores, who've commoditized desire to the lowest bidder and depression in her afterthought. The tongue offers singers while the poet malingers.


Last edited by spshane; 07-05-2018 at 07:44 PM..
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Old 07-01-2018, 07:26 AM
IanG (Offline)
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I like the opening, it drew me in well. It requires a lot of speculation by the reader, but some people like that touch of mystery. Thanks for sharing it.
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Old 07-08-2018, 03:35 PM
Beesauce (Offline)
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Originally Posted by spshane View Post
Out the westward door into the infernal howling of dry wind and gray-slicked Coyote shadows, hunting yesterday's promises like the bargain of leftovers and day old bread. Sharpened, ridiculed, hungry, scedaddling toward the relentless mirage of eternal hope, where heat spills over the horizon, like a drunken Eskimo making his slow journey toward Mecca to die. He kills the dastard leprechauns who stand in his way, the malcontent fairies also, the weak-willed giants who grown fat on the morsels of the weak, and the tyrant saints with their mendicant sycophants. Between gulps of chili sauce and testicle ice-cream, he sniffs in the air of stale lies, the precursory chants designed to drive the masses toward certain intended and unintended consequences. He dodges the cool gazes of statesmen whores, who've commoditized desire to the lowest bidder and depression in her afterthought. The tongue offers singers while the poet malingers.

You totally changed the story around from the original I documented earlier. I was going to re-read, but I see now it's changed completely. Not bad, in fact I think this is intriguingly poetic. I was going to comment on the earlier story and what I thought of the descriptor of the rainbow hellhound was it?
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Last edited by Beesauce; 07-08-2018 at 03:38 PM..
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