Live-Love-Write Writing Prompt

Hello;

Featuring those who submitted to the November 29th to December 6th, 2010, writing prompt from Live-Love-Write, here are the participants for this week, featured in style.
For those of you who use the writing prompt, please remember to put the Live-Love-Write icon in your artist's comments if using the prompt, and please submit to the Writing Prompt gallery for your feature every week!
Please keep in mind that if you do not see your submission here, you have not read the submission rules and/or you have not included some variation of Live-Love-Write in your Artist's Comments. The Writing Prompt submission guidelines are easy and simple, very clear and quite painless to follow! I'll do my part, you do yours.

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Last Weeks Writing Prompt:

" Down That Road "

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Poetry

Got No Means For WanderlustMy city beats slowly, pulsating with painful murmur,
an almost stillness, as if we stepped no more.
Beneath, below the decaying ancestors and sewage swamps,
there lies the pumping piece, the esprit de corps;
the children that crayon the concrete with glee,
see now washed away memories in us .
We want to succeed, survive and thrive in tiny towns,
destruction is never a subject to discuss.
Yet as I journey through our jumbled streets,
I notice the air is dead and sidewalks are sinking.
Paint is peeling off abandoned buildings and
the places flowers flourished are fastly shrinking.
My city's soul is wilting, withering from the lack
of spirit, of hope, of having a sense of pride.
The surviving populace is apathetic at best,
as if the last remaining reason had died.
My city ceases to quiver beneath me;
from here on my feet provide the tremors and quakes.
Those who follow behind add to it's rhythm,
amplitude rising until the boundary breaks.
I refuse to be stifled; suffocated by control.
The Down That RoadSo what do I need to do?
Write some cheezey lines,
With some lovely lies?
What makes me different?
I write with passion
And you take no action
So do as you please
Show me love is just for lease
But I sure as fuck won't go down that road:thumb188319225::thumb188349136: LLW Prompt: Down that roadThe road is uneven and cracked and tilting somewhat
Sideways so that we are almost falling off it.
But fresh flurries of snow have plastered old wounds by keeping salt at bay,
And we are separated: time apart; winters apart; worlds apart.
The diffident enchantment hides from my
Glowers in the wake of mistyeyed mornings
Where the worlds intermerse for a split second and the early snow
Is dusted by autumn leaves and awkward footprints
And disheveled angels.
Winter morning and the frost burns my skin
My thoughts becomes glacial. It is cold.
You can't see the sky
For the snow,
Neither can I.
Let's not. Go. Let go of me
The road that was here long ago
Has been mended.
Ill never trip on that crack again
And you will never keep me
From falling.
Patches of snow, and red mittens sewn onto our hearts
Memories from long ago
Melt with winter.
The bubble is released from my throat. Do you knowNo one knows what it's like
To be a man
Innocent but then
Judged by those who only
Want to see him fall
Nobody knows what it's like
To stand there
Being criticized by eyes
So far blinded by truth,
They only see the lies
But my conscious is clean
No matter how bad is seems
I've had hours and hours
To let this burden go
My only vindication
As they put that rope around my neck
Is that for their deceit and lies
Their whole lives will they regret
No one knows what it's like
To feel the shame
Of others passing blame
No one can understand why
I still turn the other cheek
And when they ask me why
I criticize the hand that feed
Maybe my pain shines through
The bitterness I hide
But my conscious is clean
No matter how bad is seems
I've had hours and hours
To let this burden go
My only vindication
As they put that rope around my neck
Is that for their deceit and lies
Their whole lives will they regret
Some day they'll regret it
Some day they'll realize
The mistake they're making
Hanging an innoce

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Prose

The RoadThe road seems both short and long looking back now. Short because so little time had passed since I started this journey, but so much had changed now.  What could I do?
Looking down at the village that I had grown up in, I realized I couldn't go back. Too much had changed inside of me. The place, I realized, was filled with too many of the innocence and happiness of my childhood and the pains of loosing my adopted family. Their deaths were what started me on the road.
Still staring down at the cluster of small buildings, I traced the black lines marked under my left eye. It is a visual on how much I had changed. The simple and beautiful design that showed the world that I was not the same as I was, that I had been down that road.
A hand drop to my shoulder and I glanced back towards the man that had become my friend and mentor.
"You understand now," he said softly. He had warned me all the way here that my wish to return to this place was a symptom of nostalgic and nothing m Stand firmAll I see is Never-ending black with no destination, its swiveling, swiveling heading nowhere.
An all too familiar place, an all too familiar feeling; its texture, its smell, remains the same.
A hooded figure that wants to take my hand; he calls out to me by name.
Step after step, breath after breath; the more I continue the more dreadful it becomes.
An awful feeling of sorrow and despair fills the atmosphere; a putrid smell of decomposition invades my nostrils.
"I can only show you what you want to see" says the voice.
"What if, all I have wanted to see has in fact, already been seen" I reply to the voice.
"Preposterous! Surely you cannot believe that you've seen it all" responds the voice.
"I never said that I've seen it all, simply that I've seen all I want to see."
An evil cackle booms like a cannonball hitting the side of an enemy ship.
Am I foolish for continuing? Or am I somewhat of a hero?
There is after all, a very thin line separating fools from legends.
As I walk down the pa:thumb188068730: Treaded pathsI've been down that road I think as my niece peers at me through sad eyes, she seems surprised, concerned, and I wish I could reassure her, but all I can really do is warn her. "It's hard," I whisper, "We face a lot of persecution, and...I know being Bi is different than being full on Lesbian like me, but it's still hard, you might get hurt worse because you're...bi." She looks distressed, her deep brown eyes shimmering,
"...Nay," She murmurs, and I am struck again by how young she looks at this moment, "What's it like for you to kiss a girl?" She seems confused, worried somehow, unsure of herself. She's only eleven, I remind myself,
"For me...it's like fireworks...completion, reality..." I'm not sure how to explain it to her, how to make her understand that nothing feels as right to me as holding my girlfriend.
"How did you...come out?" She asks softly, and I sigh, it's been nearly five years since my sexual orientation was exposed,
"...I didn't." I whisper, wincing at Easy      How do you fall in love with a man you hate?  It's easy.  You don't.  You hate him. . .so much that his name won't escape your lips.  So, your teeth catch it and grind it to bits.  You swallow the mess, like a key or a secret.  It travels to the darkest parts of you, that graveyard of dead thoughts.  Phantoms resurrect themselves at night; his name murmurs in your dreams.  
      Don't you know?  You can't backspace his name, wipe out his existence from your being.  No, not when you digest the pieces of whom he is, absorb his essence into your blood—not when the letters of his name calcify in your bones, harden in your muscles, and keratinize in your skin.  No, child… you can't deny a part of yourself.
      How did this happen?  That's easy.  You fell in love. . .from:thumb184684217:

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This weeks (December 6th to 13th, 2010) writing prompt is -

" Holiday Spirit "

Christmas is coming Let's hear your wish, plea, surprise, or unplanned miracle, your plans, your hopes, goals and expectations. Share some of that holiday spirit!

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