<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>Chad LaPierre | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/cjlapierre</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Chad LaPierre</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776055787</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>asdfffffgggggghhhbv</title>
			<description>In January 2013, fans of the Star Wars franchise were reacquainted with the long-forgotten prospect of another great film entering the Star Wars universe. J. J. Abrams, a celebrated filmmaker, known largely for his contributions to the science-fiction genre,&amp;nbsp;was confirmed to direct&amp;nbsp;Star Wa..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/cjlapierre/1522500/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Quaint Song for a Death March</title>
			<description>Wholly irrevocable horrors of adulthood infiltrate our hides and coalesce within.Consequently, we vie to relinquish our place in the universe as creatures of eternal sin.&amp;nbsp;&quot;Attending church is vital to a prosperous life!&quot; said the idiot. He swore he was right.He thought it was grand to tell the ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/cjlapierre/1510018/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Again</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;trembling trapdoor ceases.&amp;nbsp;stiff fingers enclose &amp;nbsp;the splintery surface&amp;nbsp;and smash the pricks to pieces.&amp;ldquo;I &amp;hellip; I am &amp;hellip; I am free.&amp;rdquo;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;nocturnal tongue releases.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;in the forest th..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/cjlapierre/1151535/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Through the Woods</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; At night we gyrate amid the greenery&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;to shake wildly with mirth in the brisk autumnal chill,&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;flushed and flustered and weary,&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;dancing with each other through paths in&amp;nbsp;the desultory forest.&amp;nbsp;&quot;Ah, isn't it ni..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/cjlapierre/1113582/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Town</title>
			<description>Homeward boundin the snowy hillsides,I spot an unlit town sleepingbeneath sheets of whiteand sheets of sadness.The ice is a hindrance,and the town seems furtherthan I thought it was once.&amp;nbsp;And I head to the crest of a&amp;nbsp;snowy dune becauseI hear something cryingon the other side.&amp;nbsp;But ther..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/cjlapierre/1101829/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Annabelle</title>
			<description>Warm-skinned and lithe dancer,&amp;nbsp;she stuns the tongue to the point of numbness.And a brisk breeze, deep like the water wells,scampers 'neath the undergrowththrough which I crawl to touch her body.&amp;nbsp;A touch is imagined.And I observe the to-and-fro motion of the wateras her cherry lips beckon w..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/cjlapierre/1045295/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>For You</title>
			<description>I've nary a penchant for crumpets and tea.But rather a simple trickle of skin,milky and smooth and soft like a pillow,a simple remnant of life before life.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/cjlapierre/1042018/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Waiting</title>
			<description>Waiting for your arrival, I sit idle at the train station.A whistle blows in the distance, but the wind is all that I hear.And it seems for a second&amp;nbsp;that&amp;nbsp;I should sit idle in the grass;for your arrival is a more natural thing.And my love for you sprouts like a tiny infantasleep on a soft b..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/cjlapierre/1040398/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Memories</title>
			<description>I riddled the thought of your return with a thousand burning leaves in some old brown bag.Yet your body sat ornate&amp;nbsp;in such pristine clarity that it could not be real.Indeed, I asked myself if you were real; I never answered.And so I wrenched and screamed until you finally left me,&amp;nbsp;but your..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/cjlapierre/1040147/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>