http://slow.writerscafe.org/Alister%20Flik The original writings of author Alister Flik en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776002060 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 A little rambling stream of consciousness. A little humor. A little dark...maybe. Let me know what you think. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/416948/ I feel moved by the beauty of a liar.What do you think of that, Mother?You worked so hard to instill in me a “healthy” fear and superiority over “the Other.”  Are you surprised to discover that I look at my reflection and find my brother, or worse, thro.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/291812/ Give me eyes that look like they see;look like they are looking.Give me a mouth that speaks when it is closed,And blooms when it is open.Allow me a laugh that curls like a baby’s toes,And tears that weave life in frozen air.Let my emotions fall like water on stonesOr bubble lik.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/290394/  The rational animal’s staring at me.Dark eyes in shadow are glaring at me. A pretend balance of two blinks the suggestion into question:Rational—Who? The black and white linesThe swirling grey fogs Life:  this nebulous definition of things,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/285606/ This is really just the beginning...but I'm lazy, so who knows when I'll get around to editing the rest. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/279897/  The Fun BeginsDinnerI want to rip out my teeth. The pain is so subtle…it's like an itch permeating throughout my mouth. I hate orthodontia. Nothing makes a 19-year-old girl feel more attractive than suddenly developing a lisp from the invasive placement of metal and plastic within h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/279895/ Tired of this pressured, packaged, pleasure with the paint and plastic label, “Love.” Get the hell away from me. Keep your flimsy velcro “Matching” stuck to something that cares. Maybe the a*s of some ape still impressed with mere pretty colors and shiny faces. The only m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/261858/ The product of listening to final presentations in Biblical Literature with Tool songs stuck in my head. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/259167/ I don't even know... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/243872/  *Note:  Characters are not actually a puppet, strings, etc.  Those are  only their given names (On stage is a room with plain walls and a door at the back of the stage. There is a plain wooden table and chair in the center of the room with a wine glass holding red win.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/219824/ This picture is actually the picture of the tree I wrote about. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/219807/  Can you follow this thread of disappointment?I must admit I weary of it. Its continual uncoiling-whine deafens my earsAnd rubs a fine burn on my soul. From where does it unwind?I can see no beginning or end— Myself only matted in the fraying massCompl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/188667/  There upon the dew-moist grass I sat.  From flower to cloud, plant to sky I gazed.  Not stopping to think.  Until, light-jolly, floating across my path, winged Beauty danced for my attention, and in the sunlight blazed a scream of color, delicate and refined. “B.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/185692/ Won't you allow me to be beautiful?Won't you allow me to love what I am?Must I be denied acceptance in place of this mud painted imagesplattered across my eyes?What do you have to gain from such destruction? There is more power in peaceof mind,of body, of soul.&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/181184/  This lovely flower holds double purpose—Fitting to its connection with a soul.Dual design is not new, I confess,But twice, blooming image can yet console. The first, in sculpture, compelling my heartTo draw near snug mem’ries, stopping to dream.Its paint raises.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/166811/ Comfort weighs on our hiding heart,masking all manner of mistakes,  and so prompts imagination. And here ignites the dry wood of the soulto illuminate deceitful paths through darkness.  Side-step, side-step.  Stumble.   Broken from the Fall.&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/162033/ Drawn out of deep waters,the air hits my soaked skinwith a calming chill.Uneasy to forget the paththat led to the miry depthswithout foothold for aid.Surrounded, engulfed bythat flood.  Swift to sinkwith the weight of hate.Uneasy to reopen a mouththat unleashes hurricanes,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/156338/  Crawling with harsh sobs,one hand lifts from the dirt below,and a muddy palm flattens it's pressureto the heaving chest.Fingers grasp to rip this weight from a broken heart.Screams of pain are suffocatedunder the burden of heavy tears.Unbearable.Contine with stumbling movemen.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/147122/ This room of people,so much more than just bodies. The mysteryof the connection. These frail, spunwebs that breakso easily--leaving detatched,floatingtentaclessearching for something solid. Always searching. Unaware of thefull beautyand whole.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/147100/  I see this common stain--the mark in my eye,reflected in the soul ofevery broken thing I see. Striving to be clear of it.Tears can’t purifythe tainted view fromthe soul's window. The stain irritatesand from it slips thismuddy water thatwishes away al.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/147098/ You snap me again!I'm made of metal that only bends so far.Yet, you push and you pull!I buckle under the pressure.How much longer will this broken fram show any picture of life?What am I to do?Bend, kneel at my own shards and pick them up.Saying to you,"I stumbled," and s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/138496/ Poem about the death of Dido, from her sister's perspective. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/137523/  What hope would there beif you did not want me?  If I were truly worthless?  Should I not have pride in the fact that I am yours? Created with powerful, Unstoppable, Irrevocable purpose.  Made to be a working, Beautifully broken, Puzzle part that fits.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/133877/  So, Here we have the Basic Human Cavern. This crack That splinters out from the core. The root of all these Little Fractures. The Original Break. Though, The subject is not born with this. It is c.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/133324/ This beautiful thing. This lost art.A reach to divinity. A communication with humanity. With history. With future.  The abstract becoming concrete in the form of a tiny, sliding window to the soul.  A touch of Truth. A grasp at God. The act, a connection with His .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/124340/  Talked down. I am right. Allow me to open your mind Feeble thinkers I will be the bigger person I will answer slowly You will understand. Feel the hope I will inspire You poor lost infants. I am smart.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/123371/  Do moments create? Do they flow, like a river, to a great sea of something?  Life?  What happens when?  Do we master moments, or mold under their weight?  The current of our lives must be rushing toward something. Forward into the mo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/118828/  What color am I, you ask.What a silly suggestion;that anyone's soul could be expressed so simply.What color you ask?Perhaps I will try.The colors of a stormy sea;the soul in turmoil.The blinding white of the saintwith the yellow rays of pride,or the all-consuming ebony of the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/118593/  The bland taste of boredomrests on my tongue. This dish was served dryly tonight. It settles in my stomach and floats, as my thoughts slide from nothing, to nothing. Then it begins bubbling; rising up like baking bread. It reaches my throat with a burst of flavor, and I l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/118589/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/118553/ Your words are so disgusting!Your pride is even worse. I want to grab that self-righteous smirk and smash it in the dirt.  You rotten, selfish b*****d. Too ignorant to know. I'd kill you if it weren't as bad as what you do for show.  Indignant does not suit you. You.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/116005/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/115658/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/114733/  The world whirls,Spinning at a sickening speed.Turning and tilting,Dipping and dropping.But we are still,Or so it seems.Then I notices as I start,Turning opposite the societal slant,The nauseating, disgustingRate at which we dilate ourselvesToward destruction.I then perce.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/114388/  What does the lost woman see in the Sun?Does she recognize its glory or Grace?Does she look at its truth, or turn and run,Unable to accept its knowing face.She calls it a lie of the dumb and weak,Saying, it reveals nothing to the world.She is afraid to listen to it speak.She defi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/114376/  I hate being sick. It leaves so much time open for my family to try and talk to me. Moaning and coughing only keeps them quiet for so long. I often resort to locking myself in my room and using what I like to call, “musical therapy”. During my “therapy” time, I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/114374/ I am frozen waters,Forever stuckFalling,Inward on myself.I melt, only to boil.The world turnsRed with the heatAs my cliffsReach to containThe steam.Then Freeze,Back again.Icy debrisItches as itSits--a partOf the never beginning calm.It all collects,Glacially slow,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Alister-Flik/114226/