Her eyes widened at the mention of his name. It had been almost 10 years since she last saw him. Last she remembered, he had moved to Columbia and vowed never to speak to her again.
Shock and awe, ladies and gentlemen. Shock and awe. The lieutenant was aiming a tank in the general direction of Baghdad, in a line with hundreds of other tanks. We’ll make them Iraqis think the world just ended and hell opened up to swallow them. We all followed suit.
i am in shock
i just wanted to write the words across the page
not jolt my way down the stairs
each of my legs is a filament
can you see the way my hair stands on end
as i look at you
my fingers coil into cables and jam themselves into any available sockets
the friction between my clothes makes a sparkling crackling sound
Shocked was how I felt when I learned #45 was the elected president. Shock that people voted for him weren’t who I thought they were, who they have been pretending to be so we wouldn’t turn on them or turn from them in disgust. But shock, yeah, that was my predominant feeling when I heard that he’d be representing me, as an American, to the rest of the world.
Shocked to be so absorbed, pleasantly claply and all full of vim. Mister Tan was all of these and more as the stringent vernacular of his contemporaries slammed into him full force, full of force and vigor. Indeed.
What a particular word. And a particular thought. When he froze, when he didn’t know what to do and how to feel, his mind lingered on it, on shock. He stared at the catastrophe, his eyes darting from one thing to the next, the heat on his exposed face and hands reminding him of the gruesome explosion, the wind and fury and torrent of flame.
i jabbed the fork into the toaster to pull out an Eggo that was jammed. Suddenly I received a shock that literally made steam come out of my ears, my hair turn frizzy and my heart stop.
I am shocked. I am shocked how 2 very similar people can have such opposing perspectives. I’m not talking about the fact that you may like oranges and I like apples. Opposing political views, for example, can be very shocking. Relationships..oh, dear God. Relationships. End paragraph.
Have you ever seen something you can’t unsee? I did once. I walked in on my parents. It was a nightmare. How am I supposed to get my eyes clean again? It was like two polar bears wrestling over the corpse of a freshly killed seal. It was like a Jackson Pollock painting done on a piece of cardboard pulled out of a trash dump. It was like… well, it was like seeing your parents fucking.
I was sitting there, all alone, in complete disbelief. How could someone so close to me shock me into such a state. She took everything I had and never even said a word. I guess she wasn’t who I thought she was.
the derision from the shock of failure may
not happen the first time
but itll continue to bite the beholder
until it reasons and rhymes
the brain is a centrifuge with auk birds
flying through it,
minor maladays
are part of everyday hustles
to quickly drink a glass of tea
and lift the arm up to move over a cloud
is a go getter’s bustle.
just because a medicore bird wants
to drop a harmful word
doesnt mean the great eagle of the west
doesnt do the very
best
to attest
with a slight cloud
shroud.
His words don’t shock me anymore. I’ve been called everything in the book. I look at him now and realize the only meaning is he is a shell of a man and it’s his lacking not mine that comes out in rage…
i couldn’t believe my eyes/ears. my heart was racing, i forgot to breathe. i wonder how long i’d been holding my breath. shake my head. hands shaking uncontrollably. eyes widened
i was completely in shck when that person over me told me about the accident.
In fact I had listen to a strange noise, but didn’t pay much atention to it. The point was that all my
She sat, still in shock, while the sirens rushed past her, down the block into the distance. They would never know it was her. They would never track her down. But in that instant, she knew she had to run. She stood, shaking the dirt from the back of her skirt, and started walking in the opposite direction.
Shock is a bad word to use. It’s a nothing word. A word that can only mean something to you if you’re in the thick of it. You can’t feel shock by reading it. You can’t feel shock by saying it. You can only feel it when you’re down on your knees, waist deep in it. You can only feel it if it’s taken your heart out of your chest.
I feel my palms become more and more wet with sweat. I feel my jaw want to clench and want to express my emotions. But I can’t. All I must do is control the fear. Control the shock. What else is there to do when you confront a monster?
Paddles to the heart. What to do? Will it start? Come to life, oh, lifeless one. Come to life, to the One who forever holds life in His hands. Don’t be afraid to breathe again. Come to life, oh, lifeless one. Come.
Opening the door, I was faced with something I had definitely not expected. my knees began to tremble violently, and my entire body went into a strange state, somewhere between weak and numb.
Eyes wide and heart threatening to pummel its way out from beneath her breast, she fixed her with a powerful glare as soon as the shock wore off enough for her to do so. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she demanded, her voice unnaturally high, “What is WRONG with you?!”
I stood in shock horror, my fingers clenching around the knife that slayed my lover. Breathless, I struggled to wipe the blood from my hands as I stare numbly at the corpse, fumbling mutely with my
The sensation zips through your body, traveling from where your fingertips are joined and spreading heat across your arm and down to curl at the base of your spine. It’s only a second, a touch of lips and a mingling of breath but you never imagined it would feel like this.
That teenager. She shocked me, with her disrespectful attitude, her slouchy body language, the mean words that glided out of her mouth with vengeance and malice. She was willing to tear everyone down, willing to blame everyone else for her situation, never ready to take responsibility for anything.
The buses’ windshield was a wet foggy blur, kaleidoscopic my journey into night. I hadn’t slept for three days, but there was still an hour left before I arrived in Brooklyn. I was driving this church bus down what must have been the darkest stretch of road in all of New York City, you couldn’t even call it a city street, it was just a road. I heard a popping sound, and felt pieces of glass cut my shoulder. I couldn’t stop, but I couldn’t look away from the road for more an a microsecond. When I glanced over out of reflex, I thought the kaleidoscope lens jumped from the windshield to behind my eyes, because what I saw was abstract. Abstract in the way the Aztecs looked out at the ocean one day and something looked especially abstract about the sea. The Aztecs had no concept of a Spanish ship, so they did not even perceive it. It was the passenger seat that something had popped and shot at me. The lights were off inside the bus, and most everyone was asleep. I looked over again for a microsecond, the passenger was a young woman, teenager maybe. When I realized that one of her eyes were spilling out like a broken egg yoke I also realized my own shock was going to get everyone killed. She put a hand-mirror up to her face, something made it violently shatter, a piece of the glass pierced her left eye. A pickup artist once told me to always look a woman in her left eye, he said the left eye was the gateway to the soul. He was right. What haunts me to this day is she didn’t make a sound, the only sound was that pop. I don’t know how it even happened. I pulled over the bus as soon as possible, and the rain hit all around us in this calm, womb-like way, nestling us. I just sat there, nobody knew what had happened. One person woke up and looked straight into my rear view mirror, and when I looked back at him he knew that silently I was asking him for help. The guy looked like my Dad, i mean, he didn’t look just like my Dad, but, his eyes did. I padded my bleeding shoulder, my cut was nothing. I couldn’t look at her. What the fuck happened. She was seating right next to the door too, if I wanted to run away from this moment I’d have to get closer to it. I wanted to go to the back of the bus and sit next to the man who looked like my Dad and cry while he held me by my adrenaline soaked shoulders. But that didn’t happen. I knew I had to get up and say something. ‘There’s been an accident.’, Was what I was going to say. But the scariest part was, I didn’t want to wake everyone. Except for the one guy, everybody was asleep. I wanted to let them sleep. I wanted to be the only one who saw it. I wanted to go back and say, “Dad, I don’t know what happened.” With the most profoundly lost and horrifically confused voice. I got up to say what needed to be said, to everyone. I started out with, “Folks, excuse me, folks.” God help me. I didn’t know what to say next, there was no explaining what happened, I didn’t even know what happened. The truth is, I tried to say the next words, whatever they were, and everyone was waking up real slowly. I was choking and my mouth was piercingly dry, the way it gets when you’re about to cry or something. When I got everyone’s eyes on me, tears rolled down my face and I said through my teeth and now wet lips, “This woman has been hurt.” Then I got a brilliant idea that only came to me at that very moment. “Is anyone here a doctor?” I said, with my hands up in a plea for help. The guy who looked like my Dad stood up. He walked through the aisle and put some glasses on as he stepped passed me. He was about to kneel down to the woman to check her pulse maybe, but when he got a look at her eye, he squinted his, and his glasses enlarged the look he had, increased it for everyone. But only I was looking, and suddenly he didn’t look like my Dad anymore. He looked at me with a face that can only be described as desperate. “What happened?” He said breathlessly. “I don’t know.” I said, and started crying as hard as the rain was. “I don’t know.”
He didn’t tend to be surprised about things he wasn’t expecting. The ideology of expecting the unexpected had taken the earth-shifting feeling out of something new, the good surprises and the bad. It was the other things, even small, that he knew were imminent, he predicted, and had run the scenario through his head so many times he had thought of how to deal with it all. They threw him helplessly. Like watching waves, rhythmic, more or less predictable, and then getting hit in the face with far more force than you anticipated from graceful foaming curls you saw from the shore. The kind you forget to close your mouth for. Waiting for a loud sound and jumping all the more when it rings out in the night. No confusion or awe to muddle the electricity in his body, the predictables left him speechless. The little chasm between the perfectly accurate imagination and reality, the chasm of time and flowing blood and salty water. He could see them in his mind but now it all was here. The clock actually ticks, every second of days too short. Beating chest drowning even the loudest of thoughts into silence. The tiniest of oceans breaking the dam, tracing the lips he forgot to close, spattering on his hand, and even though he’d seen it in his mind countless times, the sensation of feeling it paralyzed him.
i was shocked to learn how quickly we were thrust into this new world, of discipline and strength. We were unwavering in our commitment but shaken but the harsh words of the drill sergeants. I tried my best everyday and everyday I was tested to my limit.
How many times would you always say how shock you are of the kings today? As they wade to their knees in the angry seas that they brewed up themselves, you’re in shock AND in awe? Don’t make me laugh; I am sick to my stomach, and the monarchs of tomorrow are ruining today. They drink beer from old buckets and tuck money in their pockets before blowing the kingdom sky high.
Her eyes widened at the mention of his name. It had been almost 10 years since she last saw him. Last she remembered, he had moved to Columbia and vowed never to speak to her again.
Shock and awe, ladies and gentlemen. Shock and awe. The lieutenant was aiming a tank in the general direction of Baghdad, in a line with hundreds of other tanks. We’ll make them Iraqis think the world just ended and hell opened up to swallow them. We all followed suit.
i am in shock
i just wanted to write the words across the page
not jolt my way down the stairs
each of my legs is a filament
can you see the way my hair stands on end
as i look at you
my fingers coil into cables and jam themselves into any available sockets
the friction between my clothes makes a sparkling crackling sound
Shocked was how I felt when I learned #45 was the elected president. Shock that people voted for him weren’t who I thought they were, who they have been pretending to be so we wouldn’t turn on them or turn from them in disgust. But shock, yeah, that was my predominant feeling when I heard that he’d be representing me, as an American, to the rest of the world.
Shocked to be so absorbed, pleasantly claply and all full of vim. Mister Tan was all of these and more as the stringent vernacular of his contemporaries slammed into him full force, full of force and vigor. Indeed.
What a particular word. And a particular thought. When he froze, when he didn’t know what to do and how to feel, his mind lingered on it, on shock. He stared at the catastrophe, his eyes darting from one thing to the next, the heat on his exposed face and hands reminding him of the gruesome explosion, the wind and fury and torrent of flame.
i jabbed the fork into the toaster to pull out an Eggo that was jammed. Suddenly I received a shock that literally made steam come out of my ears, my hair turn frizzy and my heart stop.
I am shocked. I am shocked how 2 very similar people can have such opposing perspectives. I’m not talking about the fact that you may like oranges and I like apples. Opposing political views, for example, can be very shocking. Relationships..oh, dear God. Relationships. End paragraph.
Have you ever seen something you can’t unsee? I did once. I walked in on my parents. It was a nightmare. How am I supposed to get my eyes clean again? It was like two polar bears wrestling over the corpse of a freshly killed seal. It was like a Jackson Pollock painting done on a piece of cardboard pulled out of a trash dump. It was like… well, it was like seeing your parents fucking.
I was sitting there, all alone, in complete disbelief. How could someone so close to me shock me into such a state. She took everything I had and never even said a word. I guess she wasn’t who I thought she was.
the derision from the shock of failure may
not happen the first time
but itll continue to bite the beholder
until it reasons and rhymes
the brain is a centrifuge with auk birds
flying through it,
minor maladays
are part of everyday hustles
to quickly drink a glass of tea
and lift the arm up to move over a cloud
is a go getter’s bustle.
just because a medicore bird wants
to drop a harmful word
doesnt mean the great eagle of the west
doesnt do the very
best
to attest
with a slight cloud
shroud.
His words don’t shock me anymore. I’ve been called everything in the book. I look at him now and realize the only meaning is he is a shell of a man and it’s his lacking not mine that comes out in rage…
i couldn’t believe my eyes/ears. my heart was racing, i forgot to breathe. i wonder how long i’d been holding my breath. shake my head. hands shaking uncontrollably. eyes widened
i was completely in shck when that person over me told me about the accident.
In fact I had listen to a strange noise, but didn’t pay much atention to it. The point was that all my
She sat, still in shock, while the sirens rushed past her, down the block into the distance. They would never know it was her. They would never track her down. But in that instant, she knew she had to run. She stood, shaking the dirt from the back of her skirt, and started walking in the opposite direction.
Shock is a bad word to use. It’s a nothing word. A word that can only mean something to you if you’re in the thick of it. You can’t feel shock by reading it. You can’t feel shock by saying it. You can only feel it when you’re down on your knees, waist deep in it. You can only feel it if it’s taken your heart out of your chest.
I feel my palms become more and more wet with sweat. I feel my jaw want to clench and want to express my emotions. But I can’t. All I must do is control the fear. Control the shock. What else is there to do when you confront a monster?
Paddles to the heart. What to do? Will it start? Come to life, oh, lifeless one. Come to life, to the One who forever holds life in His hands. Don’t be afraid to breathe again. Come to life, oh, lifeless one. Come.
What?? I have nothing to say! I’m in shock! I can’t believe you did it! I mean, I might have provoked you but that doesn’t mean you had to do it!
Opening the door, I was faced with something I had definitely not expected. my knees began to tremble violently, and my entire body went into a strange state, somewhere between weak and numb.
What a shock
A surprise
It’s the truth
Not a lie
I’m amazed
That it’s real
When it’s so hard for you
To be sincere
Eyes wide and heart threatening to pummel its way out from beneath her breast, she fixed her with a powerful glare as soon as the shock wore off enough for her to do so. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she demanded, her voice unnaturally high, “What is WRONG with you?!”
I stood in shock horror, my fingers clenching around the knife that slayed my lover. Breathless, I struggled to wipe the blood from my hands as I stare numbly at the corpse, fumbling mutely with my
The sensation zips through your body, traveling from where your fingertips are joined and spreading heat across your arm and down to curl at the base of your spine. It’s only a second, a touch of lips and a mingling of breath but you never imagined it would feel like this.
That teenager. She shocked me, with her disrespectful attitude, her slouchy body language, the mean words that glided out of her mouth with vengeance and malice. She was willing to tear everyone down, willing to blame everyone else for her situation, never ready to take responsibility for anything.
The buses’ windshield was a wet foggy blur, kaleidoscopic my journey into night. I hadn’t slept for three days, but there was still an hour left before I arrived in Brooklyn. I was driving this church bus down what must have been the darkest stretch of road in all of New York City, you couldn’t even call it a city street, it was just a road. I heard a popping sound, and felt pieces of glass cut my shoulder. I couldn’t stop, but I couldn’t look away from the road for more an a microsecond. When I glanced over out of reflex, I thought the kaleidoscope lens jumped from the windshield to behind my eyes, because what I saw was abstract. Abstract in the way the Aztecs looked out at the ocean one day and something looked especially abstract about the sea. The Aztecs had no concept of a Spanish ship, so they did not even perceive it. It was the passenger seat that something had popped and shot at me. The lights were off inside the bus, and most everyone was asleep. I looked over again for a microsecond, the passenger was a young woman, teenager maybe. When I realized that one of her eyes were spilling out like a broken egg yoke I also realized my own shock was going to get everyone killed. She put a hand-mirror up to her face, something made it violently shatter, a piece of the glass pierced her left eye. A pickup artist once told me to always look a woman in her left eye, he said the left eye was the gateway to the soul. He was right. What haunts me to this day is she didn’t make a sound, the only sound was that pop. I don’t know how it even happened. I pulled over the bus as soon as possible, and the rain hit all around us in this calm, womb-like way, nestling us. I just sat there, nobody knew what had happened. One person woke up and looked straight into my rear view mirror, and when I looked back at him he knew that silently I was asking him for help. The guy looked like my Dad, i mean, he didn’t look just like my Dad, but, his eyes did. I padded my bleeding shoulder, my cut was nothing. I couldn’t look at her. What the fuck happened. She was seating right next to the door too, if I wanted to run away from this moment I’d have to get closer to it. I wanted to go to the back of the bus and sit next to the man who looked like my Dad and cry while he held me by my adrenaline soaked shoulders. But that didn’t happen. I knew I had to get up and say something. ‘There’s been an accident.’, Was what I was going to say. But the scariest part was, I didn’t want to wake everyone. Except for the one guy, everybody was asleep. I wanted to let them sleep. I wanted to be the only one who saw it. I wanted to go back and say, “Dad, I don’t know what happened.” With the most profoundly lost and horrifically confused voice. I got up to say what needed to be said, to everyone. I started out with, “Folks, excuse me, folks.” God help me. I didn’t know what to say next, there was no explaining what happened, I didn’t even know what happened. The truth is, I tried to say the next words, whatever they were, and everyone was waking up real slowly. I was choking and my mouth was piercingly dry, the way it gets when you’re about to cry or something. When I got everyone’s eyes on me, tears rolled down my face and I said through my teeth and now wet lips, “This woman has been hurt.” Then I got a brilliant idea that only came to me at that very moment. “Is anyone here a doctor?” I said, with my hands up in a plea for help. The guy who looked like my Dad stood up. He walked through the aisle and put some glasses on as he stepped passed me. He was about to kneel down to the woman to check her pulse maybe, but when he got a look at her eye, he squinted his, and his glasses enlarged the look he had, increased it for everyone. But only I was looking, and suddenly he didn’t look like my Dad anymore. He looked at me with a face that can only be described as desperate. “What happened?” He said breathlessly. “I don’t know.” I said, and started crying as hard as the rain was. “I don’t know.”
I don’t think I ever will.
He didn’t tend to be surprised about things he wasn’t expecting. The ideology of expecting the unexpected had taken the earth-shifting feeling out of something new, the good surprises and the bad. It was the other things, even small, that he knew were imminent, he predicted, and had run the scenario through his head so many times he had thought of how to deal with it all. They threw him helplessly. Like watching waves, rhythmic, more or less predictable, and then getting hit in the face with far more force than you anticipated from graceful foaming curls you saw from the shore. The kind you forget to close your mouth for. Waiting for a loud sound and jumping all the more when it rings out in the night. No confusion or awe to muddle the electricity in his body, the predictables left him speechless. The little chasm between the perfectly accurate imagination and reality, the chasm of time and flowing blood and salty water. He could see them in his mind but now it all was here. The clock actually ticks, every second of days too short. Beating chest drowning even the loudest of thoughts into silence. The tiniest of oceans breaking the dam, tracing the lips he forgot to close, spattering on his hand, and even though he’d seen it in his mind countless times, the sensation of feeling it paralyzed him.
i was shocked to learn how quickly we were thrust into this new world, of discipline and strength. We were unwavering in our commitment but shaken but the harsh words of the drill sergeants. I tried my best everyday and everyday I was tested to my limit.
How many times would you always say how shock you are of the kings today? As they wade to their knees in the angry seas that they brewed up themselves, you’re in shock AND in awe? Don’t make me laugh; I am sick to my stomach, and the monarchs of tomorrow are ruining today. They drink beer from old buckets and tuck money in their pockets before blowing the kingdom sky high.