http://slow.writerscafe.org/ComaGirlCagney The original writings of author ComaGirlCagney en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776081448 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 a rant of the creative mind http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ComaGirlCagney/358306/ vampires http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ComaGirlCagney/358162/ Los Banditos             It was a chilly night in Washington, D.C.; a steady breeze lifted off the Potomac and crawled down the boulevards of the stifled streets. The light chatter of the boys and the girls in the corduroy jackets intermingled.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ComaGirlCagney/217271/ Car Car Rimbaud I write in almost a delirium as something unknown crawls through my veins, crawls through the drains leading to my mind, to my brain to my soul. Where it will stop only I know. Pulsing through my body tickling my thoughts and playing with them like we did when we were children r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ComaGirlCagney/212972/ Cagney Beatnik Clutching the mic like a long departed lover at last spotted dashing down an alley in shame, he struts forward, slobbering in a near hysteria, every vein in his body pulsing with the guitar screams and drums pounding near his ears sending cascading waves through his brain as the blo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ComaGirlCagney/212970/ Blowcap Senorita Screaming rebel, roaring into Jerusalem on the back of a rusted old hog with a helmet like Captain America's, he screams to the skies, " F**k you, universe, I'm my own man now." Twisting through the streets, he is a madman poet rolling through the vast expanse of time li.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ComaGirlCagney/212963/ Bloodshot Strummer Slowly, effortlessly the street lights blink through their transitions, a guiding light in the darkness,  comforting in a small way as the tears of rain bang down upon the pavement. They close their eyes like a tired lover would, comfortable and safe without a care in the w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ComaGirlCagney/212961/ Polyphonic RhythmRebel of the month on a south-bound subway train speeding through the dark underbelly of his city, the city he calls mother and the city he calls home. His dark fingernails scratch at the guitar on his lap lazily, massaging it, making it comfortable before he invades it. The grimy.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ComaGirlCagney/212949/ Nonsense RhythmX-ray vision with extra heat precision,Superman's lost it and cracked a barrel,Stumbling drunkenly over the dead body of Clark Kent.Last is not an option but lust is so come to me and maybe,Just maybe we will work something out as I regurgitate thisProse along with my last.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ComaGirlCagney/212947/ poem http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ComaGirlCagney/212946/ poem on the Gaza Strip http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ComaGirlCagney/212944/