This City is a mirror smashed. It slowly falls,
A galaxy of brilliant shards:
Ruins of unearthly splendor.
And I can only watch, suspended
In a state of breathless shock, as beauty,
Grace, and wisdom bounce against the floor
To lie in dully shining heaps,
Their sheen besmirched by that strange stain
That men call progress.
A tower stretching to the sky
Will always fall. The plans of those
Who built a City (carved of glass that might reflect
Their high and noble dreams)
Cannot outlast the broken mirror lying
At my feet.
I see roads like twisted threads
Running through a tarnished hub:
Dirt and grease of time have slowly weighed
The gold
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Literature
NBC - contest entry
To Christmas town, distractedly
He wandered, and was suddenly
Enchanted by the change.
No screaming children
In nightmare's midst.
Goosebumps gone. Fear deceased.
Holly wreaths
To every door, and
Mistletoe
Above all head.
Ribbons, presents, and oh, boy,
Endless merriment and joy.
Best of intents in his heart.
Eagerness for new adventure.
Fantasies so great in nature
Of replacing Santa Claus
Rewarding children for behavior.
Easter bunny fled in horror.
Christmas turned to nightmare,
Halloween messed it all up.
Regretting at last
Into Boogie's he went
Santa Claus and Sally he saved.
Then he finally found
Most inner cont
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ENDED- ACG Tales of Time Contest 54
Round Me Rings by hallosse, literature
Literature
Round Me Rings
This City is a mirror smashed. It slowly falls,
A galaxy of brilliant shards:
Ruins of unearthly splendor.
And I can only watch, suspended
In a state of breathless shock, as beauty,
Grace, and wisdom bounce against the floor
To lie in dully shining heaps,
Their sheen besmirched by that strange stain
That men call progress.
A tower stretching to the sky
Will always fall. The plans of those
Who built a City (carved of glass that might reflect
Their high and noble dreams)
Cannot outlast the broken mirror lying
At my feet.
I see roads like twisted threads
Running through a tarnished hub:
Dirt and grease of time have slowly weighed
The gold
There is no fear and loathing here. by prettyflour, literature
Literature
There is no fear and loathing here.
We were somewhere in the South Pacific on the edge of the ocean when the withdrawals began to take hold. I remember saying something like, “Where the hell are we?”
My attorney said nothing. Sitting in the sand, he wore only a pair of hideous bell bottoms with red and white stripes that resembled a peppermint candy on copious amounts of LSD. He ignored me and repeatedly tapped his bare foot into the gentle rush of water as it crawled up the beach.
And suddenly I realized I had no idea how we had gotten there. A gaping hole in my memory sparked a brief sense of panic.
“Don’t let it get you,” he said before yawning