Hollow Tree. A poem.
I’m just a hollow tree on less than hallowed ground. My sap is drained and pain, profound. Within this forest, where my … Continue reading Hollow Tree. A poem.
Author: Laidback DM
I’m a writer/graphic designer creating content for tabletop role playing games since 2019. And poetry. Don't forget the poetry.😊
Feast. A poem.
Why do we hurt each other so? Why do we tear at our bones like brutal, savage, starving DOGS (begging and braying for blood) until all the meat and gristle is torn away and our ivory husks GLISTEN with the … Continue reading Feast. A poem.
Sunshine Blogger Award. I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of bringing sunshine, unless it was out of my…
Thanks, Mairi, for nominating me for the Sunshine Blogger award. Please check out Mairi’s cool blog, Hitting 60! It’s always nice to be nominated, but it takes me so long to write a post about it – DOH! I may be a mature-age student with little to do, but I have only limited time in which do little. If that makes sense… The Sunshine Blogger Award is given to bloggers who are inspiring and creative (or, in my case, depressing and morbid). Once nominated, a blogger is required to: Thank the blogger for nominating them and link back to their … Continue reading Sunshine Blogger Award. I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of bringing sunshine, unless it was out of my…
Whirlpool. A poem.
My head is spinning, lost in your days/daze. Your whirlpool pulls me down. I clamber for extant purchase, a drowning man on your razor edge, gormlessly clutching at eidetic straws as water chokes my lungs. Your centrifugal force, it wears … Continue reading Whirlpool. A poem.
Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle. A Movie Review.
No Spoilers! My son dragged me (literally) to see the new Jumanji film. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Four teens given school detention find an old game machine with the Jumanji game loaded. They are … Continue reading Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle. A Movie Review.
Icarus. A poem.
My love is Icarus, screaming on molten wings, searing clouds with body heat; an elevator ride straight down to my beckoning crypt. The ground is a winsome friend, cajoling me as I approach. The flames are streamers as I hit … Continue reading Icarus. A poem.
Upstart Photographer #6 – Dogs and Monuments
When I’m walking the dog around town (not my own black dog*, mind you, although he is always with me), I often pass by monuments that look pretty cool. Naturally, I want to take a picture of them. Here are … Continue reading Upstart Photographer #6 – Dogs and Monuments
The Sale. Part 18.
Junifer Vasilikov limped closer. In the moonlight we could make out a ghastly, bloody smear covering her features. Her hands were empty. “My mother was killed by a vacuum cleaner,” she said, wearily. Aisha leapt to her feet, knife at … Continue reading The Sale. Part 18.
Longing. A poem.
The loving and the longing soaked into heart and soul. Sponges wrung at a moment’s notice, all captured in a bucket and mopped across the entirety of my empty little world. Here loving words are written on lonely pages in … Continue reading Longing. A poem.
Sucker Punch. A short tale, revisited.
Here’s a flash fiction I wrote a while back. It wasn’t seen by many at the time, so I’ve decided to re-blog it in the hope that more may get the chance to read it. https://stevestillstanding.com/2017/06/24/sucker-punch-a-short-tale/ Hope you like it. … Continue reading Sucker Punch. A short tale, revisited.
Cut. A poem.
When the bone wails in time to my beating, breaking heart, and the blood curdles along with my myopic tears. I will reach for thee and mark my emboldened flesh in your honour. I will scour my skin indelicately so … Continue reading Cut. A poem.
The Sale. Part 17.
The climb down was a blur of motion and fear. The air was musty, mouldy and laced with the smell of our sweat-soaked and angst-ridden bodies. At the bottom of the ladder, we stood before the exit panel to the … Continue reading The Sale. Part 17.
Judgement. A poem.
No longer angry, now the sum of abject humiliation and shame. I stand before you in mute testimony; judgement rests upon me, a crow upon a broken scarecrow. All I can do is drink in this desolate ambiance, and lower … Continue reading Judgement. A poem.
Upstart Photographer #5. More B&W’s.
Here in my existential and physical womb, among my countless random thoughts and semi-branded column headers, I’ve decided to present yet more amateurish attempts at photography. I’ve stuck with black and white this week, even though it can be a … Continue reading Upstart Photographer #5. More B&W’s.
The Rain and the Heart. A poem.
Rain swaddles the land in an embrace of dewy tears. Thunder racks like winded sobs from the chest of the earth, punctuated by lightning strands sewing clouds together. Here in my womb, I lie and listen. My tears fall in … Continue reading The Rain and the Heart. A poem.
Laidback DM: SteveStillStanding.com 