http://slow.writerscafe.org/rmar1957 The original writings of author Red Rose en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776164597 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Wasn’t I dreading turning a year older? Evening of September the 12th.  What the hell?Where’s my life?  In letters, photos, report cards, IRS forms,transcripts, journals, and poems?  It’s a messthat congeals then blurs like a vision.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405900/ NMT Lesson #2 My mother got stabbed once—in the gut—by her twin sister’s future second ex-husband;she jumped in sporting a solid 8 inches of adipose tissue whenJoe lunged at Joan with a kitchen knife.The blade never connected to anything vital... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405891/ i love my neighborhood 23feb09i am surrounded by Mexicans on all sides except  in back        thereyou’ll find woods where we dump our fallen leaves and brancheslast march when tornados hop-skipped Alpharettainto roswell and a 100-.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405544/ Initiate At the parlor, I get a new name.I like how Erica rings erotic.You’ve heard every rite of passagedelivers one to the next level of being,attaching meaning to where once was none . . .After the last customer’s gone, the linenschanged, we&rs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405541/ Fat Franny 101 Here lies the real test:  doing Fat Franny, thebig boss, the BIG big boss.  Neverhave I seen anyone his size in allmy 18 years of life.  Lucky me.  I get to seehim naked, get to scale and manipulate hismountain of ammonia-scen.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405537/ reply to a forum post on liberated linguists that's why i think the most rational thing to dowith all the doom and gloom on the road to global disasteris to reconnect with humanity in the flesh ratherthan on the screen.  isn't it fun to bewith other people?&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405203/ poetry is what you do when you need to be doin s**t best time to write poetry is when you know you have more pressing things to doyou get up make tea grab a pen and with goopy eyes scribble nonsenseand a list of words that come out of nowhereprobably s**t left over.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405194/ now is the time the anti-terrorist posts 10-minute video clips on youtube with info to research and verifyalan watt--with his 1-hour audios from past shows via cuttingthroughthematrix dot com--reads from books and articleslyndon larouche of larouchepac dot com broa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405189/ A Summer Too Long I’m thirteen, sitting on my big rockat the edge of the front yard.It’s past midnight and I’m in my under-drawers and tank topwatching winged-insects do loops through the hazy lightof the street lamp.Over the racket of window .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405179/ A Colgate Moment  Oh m’god . . . we’re a nation of sheep! We think the same, dress the same,  watch the same propaganda on TV. We vote for the same actors on the political stage and then we even get stuck in the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405175/ A Political Poem by Apolitical PoetNo, I don't do politics nor discuss warin poetry--mmmn-mmmn--it all being somewhere beyond thefront line of my experience and toocomplicated for the mind that residesinside its bony shell. Make no mistake--I do not ignore e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405172/ s**t might happen 60s and early 70s were all ‘bout bein free peace ‘n’ brotherly lovefree & peace meant lots of sex no questions askedjust be polite do yer dishes take out yer own trashlots of babies were born thenAIDS hadn’t been rele.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405154/ kill if we must hey man it’s a freakin democracyso you get to vote for the puppet of choiceit’s one hell of a democracybut if you know somethin they’ll be silencin your voicethey’re spreadin freedom at the point of a gunthey’ve lea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405138/ chasing soap bubbles in a fool’s paradise  we--who have descended from loinsof hunters, gatherers, fishermen, tillers of earth--have been corralled like domesticated cattlein this brutal farm of blood-letting not of our design nor desire;her.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/rmar1957/405137/