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Young Writers Society


Willard makes Crab Cakes



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Fri Mar 16, 2018 3:41 pm
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Willard says...



Time to do NaPo again, you know?

Title is in reference to a metaphor that has been floating in my head for a while

"Words say little to the mind compared to space thundering with images and crammed with sounds."

stranger, strangelove, drstrangelove, strange, willard
  





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Fri Mar 23, 2018 6:30 pm
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Holysocks says...



Can I ask what the metaphor is? And if I can, will you tell me the answer?
100% autistic
  





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Fri Mar 23, 2018 6:54 pm
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Brigadier says...



may i ask what kind of crab cakes you're making, sir?

this:
Spoiler! :
Image

or this:
Spoiler! :
Image

the brigadier rides again!
LMS VI: Lunch Appointment with Death

  





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Sun Apr 01, 2018 9:10 pm
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Willard says...



day zero: pre napo writing

"Words say little to the mind compared to space thundering with images and crammed with sounds."

stranger, strangelove, drstrangelove, strange, willard
  





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Mon Apr 02, 2018 4:46 pm
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Willard says...



day 1

forgot to post this yesterday, because i was unable to finish it but here are the scraaps i had.


Christ,
there's a body beneath me;
another white kid
on the middle passage.

"Words say little to the mind compared to space thundering with images and crammed with sounds."

stranger, strangelove, drstrangelove, strange, willard
  





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Mon Apr 02, 2018 5:21 pm
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Willard says...



day 2

an experiment.

Do You Yiff?

i don't know how to write poetry,
and i probably won't
for the next few days.

everything i've written
has had a furry motif.

this is really garbage.

i have a talent show script to write.
and ap gov homework.

and i love you all.

"Words say little to the mind compared to space thundering with images and crammed with sounds."

stranger, strangelove, drstrangelove, strange, willard
  





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Wed Apr 04, 2018 3:52 am
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Willard says...



i've waited for you to squeeze me
and feel the chinese newspaper
under my ribs.

in the black summer sun,
we cld keel over in the sand
and watch small flares

infract the perfect circle
we'd been staring at
miles apart.

i kiss with my eyes open.
maybe you'll see it.
maybe we'll see

carved skin
we don't want to expose
to anyone else.

or maybe,
everyone finds me
see through.

and my quest for transparency
rendered null
all my complexities.

"Words say little to the mind compared to space thundering with images and crammed with sounds."

stranger, strangelove, drstrangelove, strange, willard
  





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Thu Apr 05, 2018 10:02 pm
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Willard says...



poem from yesteryear

I can be Magneto,
if I was bald.

But I'd need
to lose the ability
to walk.

Good thing
I'm a reckless driver.

I'll take my hands
off the wheel
and see where life takes me.

"Words say little to the mind compared to space thundering with images and crammed with sounds."

stranger, strangelove, drstrangelove, strange, willard
  





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Mon Apr 09, 2018 6:12 pm
Audy says...



I love the carefreeness of your poems, their embracing of the humor and the meta, the vulnerable, the quest of transparency as one said :)

Good luck in your AP exams too!
  





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417 Reviews



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Mon Apr 23, 2018 12:17 am
Willard says...



One-Off: bodies without organs; in iowa, in washington
you told me you lactate,
but you bleed instead.

a stream leads
from lips to navel.

you busted them
with strangers,

with the pavement.
you aren't a mother.

you love.
i think you love me.

you ask for two hands
under your ribcage,

feel the cribs
we'll have to build.

this is how you love me.
this is how we'll love.

a nuclear family.
a nuclear husband

and nuclear wife
fusing legs-in-legs.

you whisper
i'll be perfect.

in your heart,
there's something

in your womb
resembling us.

but you tell me
when you ovulate

and when your
split lips drip.

"the future,
the future".

you paint my face
every word.

and you see it,
the hole in your stomach,

my hands
trying to hide it.

forever.
we'll love forever.

except for now,
you say.

but afterwards.
forever.

but.
you hang on the but.

a sign of doubt.
no sign of motherhood.

we'll lay in your blood
until there's birth

for who knows how long.

"Words say little to the mind compared to space thundering with images and crammed with sounds."

stranger, strangelove, drstrangelove, strange, willard
  








Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.
— Poe