A nostalgic poem about a man revisiting the factory in which he worked for many years.

The body is a canvas with which one can adorn it with every possible element to show the world and the person their true selves. It is a creative person's first field, first muse, the very desire of life stems from it.

Really Prose, but either way just some musings.

sexual harrassment

"When I Write" By Brittany L. Copyright; Dec. 5th 2012 5:14 PM ET owned by Brittany L. AKA Britt3899. Consult to know if you may use this in anything.

poem about working to live

A day of an urban warehouse worker. 03.12.2012

Poe embodies the darker side of poetry and I give my ode to that man. A comparison between a work of mine and his.

The terrible writer's block!

The life and desires of many a sailor.

As they sip on cappuccinos made by invisible ghosts they chit chat about who's kids are moving back in with who, the botched Botox that their "friend" had done and the best way to make more money on the backs of the downtrodden. Please read and review.

Those in pain, cry out for mercy. Those in mercy, cry out for pain.

My nightmares of the future.

My dreams for the future.

Friday is almost orgasmic, the afternoon curls her legs around the waist of promise, lets it take her.

I'd like to see if I can make the write-up to this piece longer than the poem itself. Because what's behind it means more than this.

This is what writing is to me, what is it to you?

this IS just a test

Temper me like glass so that when I break, I shatter into zenith and ego.

I often sat awake in the early morning, waiting for the time to tick by. I had work to do, but I couldn't get to sleep. My eyes were propped open as if I had barbed wire underneath my eyelids.

Sitting through school pre-session meetings, getting more and more depressed with the blase rigamaroll and same-old-same-old "nothing will ever change so it doesn't matter if it's not working" stuff. So this is mostly a ramble about the boring details and the fact that maybe some things should change, even if we're used to the double standards.

a poem about work and how I think

A short description of some mornings.

Just a walk through a hallway...

In a world with over 7 billion people, original ideas are hard to be found. I hope my slam poem will help you understand more what REALLY an original idea is :D ::Language Arts Project::