http://slow.writerscafe.org/RMLoxly888 The original writings of author Mark en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776418056 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The wind blows sweetly on those content with just that;ask more and she's shrill. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RMLoxly888/1337923/ How we never tire  to celebrate the killers   who carry our flags    as they practice their craft. How glad we are  to last another day   and not be slain    by the falling sword. How willing we are  to build guns and bombs   and hope we’re spa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RMLoxly888/1231861/ Enough crazy women and enough beers and  wasted days and   cigarettes that I    must be must know    something by now.No no now, college didn't work out I  never got the job never gave no woman no ring,   and these bills neve.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RMLoxly888/898945/ The liquor was slow  and I was there alone   with you     with everybody,        took another sip the          bodies waggled in the window and I   couldn't hear what that gir.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RMLoxly888/898939/   A perfect breeze sweeps across the nightexcept it's some ten degrees so we can't quite see   the beauty in it. Trolling amongst the corpses  the wet hard flesh thunking clumsily together       between itchy stiff sheets retwisting  arranging, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RMLoxly888/898937/ when he comes for me I won't weep like a puss over  all I meant to do.I am a stone and will be a stone a  man satisfied the nectar   he has swam in was as  beautiful as if he partook forever and time and the eons weremeasurements not worth discussing in a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RMLoxly888/898934/  Iced coffee and  cigarettes   calling death    to play it's game...  But it can't come   won't come    isn't real    never was. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RMLoxly888/898932/ He had webbed feet  webbed feet   webbed feet  because of an old witch doctor's curse.  He could swim,  boy could he swim,   and the ladies,    no,    not really ever         after him... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RMLoxly888/898929/   I'm supposed to write a poem because I told myself I would.   That was a dumbass move. My poetry, it'll be forced, you see...  The quality will be the most abhorrent     there ever will have been.    It will follow no form. &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RMLoxly888/898927/ "Mark LaMountain," two spaces, wrote a poem. That's what it would say, I guess. Mark LaMountain."Who the hell is that?" you'll ask. maybe to yourself,if I died in some car accident. until then I'm Jim Jones, Jone Jims, Him Hers, Sim Sirs. Some anomoly in a world of anomolies... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RMLoxly888/898926/ The world is swirling twirling to an end- and it hasn't a friend with the balls to stop it...Oil in our oceans... well... there's always been oil in our oceans...whether it's been our sell-out leaders and greedy masters wielding cash instead of swords, or the oblivious masses.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RMLoxly888/898920/ I woke up one day and realized   I was an alarm clock.          I was so delighted.You see though,    when one becomes an alarm clock,     they also inherit the knowledge    &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/RMLoxly888/372176/