Comments Posted By Kalen Goodluck
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It was all a dream. The steady stream of rain led the the smiles of the entire town. Miraculous was an understatement, but seemed enough to justify the feeling of sacred life that the people of that small desert town needed.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 05.05.2014 @ 8:11 am
A large white tent hung above and dripped and drenched muddy ground with rain water. The bear tamer inside walked to his dresser followed by his cub who had been begging him for a treat of rabbit meat. Drawing the dresser drawer, he took out many pieces of paper and a quill pen, his treasured items he received upon visiting a spanish market across the Atlantic sea on a voyage to the New World. On his paper, he began to predict the future. The loneliness of a distant village, where the birds sang and no one has yet grown old, where war will soon ravage within a generation and love has never been stronger or more abused, and where there will be no trace of the founding family on the face of the earth for they will suffer a profound solitude from a cruel world and their absent trace will go unnoticed.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 04.30.2014 @ 7:20 am
In the jungle heat, under a canopy of trees and singing chorus of noises surrounding him, he sat wondering if what he was doing was going to mean something. Whether the revolution he would probably die for would honor him for his actions. Or did that matter? Was he truly loved? would he be remembered at all. He didn’t know any of the answers. All he knew was that imperialism made no distinction with their predatory money hungry practices that killed his people. His love for his people, his family, and his country motivated him to fight, not the hate for a sick people.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 04.09.2014 @ 6:40 am
Running was a prayer. Much like the physical and spiritual endurance only prayers could heal in a sweat lodge and in life, his legs carried him farther than his heart could alone and he chanted and sang over red sand, the blood of giants cut from his ancestor twin brothers. He prayed for his family first, those at home cooking dinner, doing homework, working on the yard outside. Then his friends, those who carried him from battles, from desperate feelings of hate and anger, from parties, and carried him out of love. Many times they didn’t know they were carrying him. He ran for love. Love for his people, love for his friends and family, love for those whose hearts aren’t strong enough.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 04.08.2014 @ 8:24 am
Down an empty stairway to the riverbed was a place where he thought, brought his lovers, his friend, but its where he grew an idea. He wanted revolution.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 04.05.2014 @ 6:21 pm
The stairway is where he got dressed. Like always he had to leave in the night, because he wasn’t fully welcome. The stars looked at him with pity, but also a love that meant they would always walk with him home down an unlit path.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 04.05.2014 @ 6:14 pm
At the moment, his worktable was the kitchen table, and his bench was one of the chairs next to him as he bent hard over the newly painted red mailbox. It was a gift. He would hide a couple more gifts inside and lift the flag. Happy birthday mom.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.27.2014 @ 5:22 pm
His head felt like an overcrowded room, filled with an anxious and meddling mess of people who have accumulated over time from everyone you wish you had never met. He hated this, he hated her, he hated everyone, especially himself. Maybe it was only himself who he hated. Maybe it was the gold ring band on his finger, which constricted the flow of blood from his finger to his heart.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.26.2014 @ 10:57 pm
All that glitters isn’t gold was written on the door of her room. He decided not to knock and turned away. He could hear a silent waltz fly through his head, that filled the empty room of his apartment, and that carried on like particles of sand past the window and into the night sky and joined the stars in their empty glow.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.26.2014 @ 10:33 pm
Drenched form head to toe, the man sat on his porch, watching the rain travel and drape across the sand landscape. The mesa looked lonely out in the distance. His dog walked up to his chain and placed his head in his lap and whined a bit for food.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.19.2014 @ 9:47 am
YOU ARE THE PROPHET.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.17.2014 @ 9:11 am
A like Aureliano, the dealers never deserved a second chance and were wiped off the face of the earth. Up in clouds of dust, shells, and shattered wood they were sprayed into oblivion and disappeared into the storm.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.12.2014 @ 2:26 pm
Listen to the golpe upon the drum you beat, for if you don’t, then how does your heart know when and how to beat? A group of those collectively beating the drums of their hearts are that of brothers and sisters of the same terrain.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.11.2014 @ 5:49 pm
Lost in flight, like the sounds of a Cello and Violin, he never touched ground again, never saw the sandy terrain of the desert nor the green woods of the northern forests, but he kept on flying toward a new landless place where infiniteness swallowed him and embraced him, and he never felt alone again.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.11.2014 @ 5:47 pm
And so it came to pass. The rain drizzled on a magically been terrain that seemed to have a certain lively hum as the heavens gently graced the ground. María looked around at the clouds and began to feel a surge of sudden nostalgia. This memory wasn’t hers, but that of her grandfather’s, who would loved to work in the rain as he gathered his flock in the Sierra Maestra mountains.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.11.2014 @ 5:43 pm
The spider crept along the deranged window sill, and ten kyle just walked up to me and laid down his sandwich. Jack: How are you doing? Kyle: I’m eating. Jack: You thick fuck!
I Lost my Virginity. Well find it you thick fuck!
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.11.2014 @ 9:09 am
Come to fight with the sound of a drum. Come to fight on the back of a war pony. Come to fight under a modest sun that shines so brilliantly across a grassy field that you can’t help but stop to smell the flowers as you ride to war.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.10.2014 @ 11:03 am
And it was all a dream. The moon couldn’t remain modest, and neither could its shine on top of the grass, which soaked up all of the milk. All that stood in its light remained for an eternal moment. Stars arranged like the rhythms of a traveling dance gathered to listen to the infinite echo of the a magic step. This step in this moment would follow him, haunting his world all the while an old incantation sung in his ear the ancient tales of hazardous love.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.09.2014 @ 8:54 pm
Addressing the Criolo directly, the modest bishop took his letter and walked it across the street from the cathedral, across the dusty yet neatly kept street to the towns post office. This matter was of utmost importance and dealt with a young girl whose condition was stirring anxiousness into the friers and the priests, as they were suspicious that she was possessed by a devil.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.09.2014 @ 11:53 am
What a hapless man I have witnessed thought woman on the couch. She ripped the page of arabic homework out of her notebook and looked at the man next to her. She was not happy and he knew it. She couldn’t concentrate anymore and turned to other work.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.05.2014 @ 7:01 pm
The juvenile bird chirped in the boys palms. He had gotten up out of bed to the chicken coop behind his house to see the newly born chick. He took the chick to sit upon a soft hill of sand to watch the ascent of light travel across a path of glazed stars. The moon’s power had frozen the dunes in place and turned them to a milky glass. From out of nowhere graced a single shooting star that disappeared over the horizon.
The baby chick chirped some more. From the boy’s pocket, he took out a red ribbon and he tied it to the left leg of the chick. This was to be his chick and his friend.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.03.2014 @ 1:27 pm
Upon the journey of endless flight, what is a juvenile supposed to do? What does he expect when he takes his first leap into an abyss that he only knows is dark and see mingling infinite? Does he trust what he was taught? Or does he abandon all and let himself go to panic? All crossed his mind as he sat on the soft train seat, waiting for the next stop.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 03.03.2014 @ 1:15 pm
Under the starry sky and across the snowy hills of New York, the playground was silent and sat frozen in time. The little girl walked by and realized that she would never be small again. She trudged to the swings and gently brushed off the snow, and sat.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 02.16.2014 @ 9:18 am
Those who strive to be the one who dance the most beautiful and seductive are those that find life to be a chase and pursuit, her mother used to say, and she felt relieved at his current skills and his current endeavors not to become a great dancer for her, but only to be with her at this moment.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 01.19.2014 @ 7:25 pm
He grew to know María under the circumstances of a hot summer night and the sounds of intoxicating rhythms from the Afro Cuban band and their heartbroken violinist.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 01.05.2014 @ 9:33 pm
This bitter earth had blotted his mouth and he rose up in anger and roared under the blistering sun above him. The sniper had taken his shot from across the valley from his hiding spot in the mesa, but the bullet had missed its lethal trajectory by three inches and instead tore threw the man’s stomach. The sniper had unloaded the last of his shells into the tires of his target’s old rusted pickup truck, and left him to die.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 01.04.2014 @ 12:17 am
The girl ran across the dirt street, under crossfire, holding her doll in one arm and her mother’s hand in the other. Run, run, keep up! her mother screamed as bullets whizzed past, kicking up dust by their feet. At once the girl was brought to the time she was playing tag on the playground only a couple months back with her brother of the same age. Run, run, keep up! he yelled as they jetted across the playground to the slide, in close pursuit by the other boys chasing her, laughing and screaming.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 12.29.2013 @ 4:06 pm
Overcome by shock, the well dressed man bent over, threw up, then cried. The band stopped and whispers were jetting about the crowd. “Gentlemen, ladies” he said after a bout of sobs,”would you excuse me.”The well dressed man set down the telephone and retired to the bedroom. Everyone stared, not a word was said.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 12.28.2013 @ 12:49 pm
What does this man think of creation? He was never formerly taught a particular belief system other than what he has picked up from people around town, his family, and philosophies around the world. He likes the idea that his body is made up of what was once molecules of the earth and stars. What was first man and first woman other than made from stardust and this mother earth? And what will he be when he dies and is buried (or cremated he hadn’t decided yet) other than returning to the earth as stardust and earth?
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 12.27.2013 @ 11:00 pm
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Sinking unto a darkness most profound and desolate, the old gun fighter lay across the front seat of his faded pickup, reaching for the glove compartment for his letter. The luminarias glowed with a certain solitude that blew with the sandy wind, undisturbed and was the only source of light for this disappearing man. Just a second, he murmured. He needed to write one last scribble beforehand.
» Posted By Kalen Goodluck On 12.24.2013 @ 5:44 pm