Maybe the plague wasn’t such an awful thing. I look to today’s society and realize that we need a good plague; I don’t mean a literal plague, of course, but a metaphorical plague. Natural selection nor progress are doing their jobs.
crap. that was the first thought. i hear the word plage and i think of dirty dark cold streets where people where just rotting to death n the streets like rats. how could others do do something. but then again, there were plenty of people who saw the need and created and healed.
It was spreading everywhere. Plague they called it. Why must they invent new words for everything? It was just death, inevitable death and renaming it “plague” would not help anyone. It would not help the town, and it would not help Caitlyn. And she needed help, more than anyone at this very moment.
You filled me in with
a pen full of
my own blood
and licked my ribs dry
of any poison you
could have left behind
and I wish I would have
known that you were
a plague
because now I’m left
with you.
remember the nights of poetry
books&books and hours&hours
quoting the good ones to each other, until we degenerated back into just-ourselves
with our-vocabulary,
fuck me like you’re alan watts
(the memory ends —
stoned sneaking out your second-floor window because your mother’s home from her chinese classes at community college, you were a necessary right-of-passage
)
that i should miss
but i don’t
She tried to conceal her disgust at the sluggish green mucous dripping uninhibited down his face. “It’s this blasted plague, m’am,” he explained hastily, wiping his nose against his filthy sleeve. “Near every man in the company has it.”
The plague was an akward and horrid event in england times. From the black plague, to the spanish influenza the european civilization was rocked to it’s very core. These diseases spread like wildfire throughout europe although it did not seem to damage the human spirit. we still are alive today, this proves testiment to our ability to hope and dream.
I’m plagued with worry. People die from plagues. Yellow plagues. Plagues take whole towns down. Before antibiotics. Has there been any plagues since the invention of antibiotics? Sweating misery. Babies. Families. Bury the dead. Are the still contaminated? How do you care for someone who has the plague without getting the plague yourself?
The word about his arrival spread like a plague, capturing innocent teenage souls and permantly marking them forever. Yet the one girl who stood up to this beautiful star was one that fell hardest for him.
The only thing plaguing my mind lately are all questions relating to the future. For the most part, everything seems like it’s mapped out in a linear format for me, but I don’t know where it’s headed.
And it just hit me. He was like a plague, I’d been swept away and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling like everyone always depicted for me. You can’t escape. There’s no exodus. You just suffer through it fantasizing about the opposite end of the spectrum.
suddenly she was plagued by an unpleasant burst of unfamiliar sensations. Her eyes welled up, she wanted to punch someone next she threw her head back laughing. Finally she collapsed gasping for breath.
what was going on? the scientists observing her noticed an irregular shift in her brian waves. Oh no, its happening again, screeched the project head knocking over his coffe cup in the ensuing chaos. We have to shut her down before its too late. She’s nothing but a killing machine!
Every year for Passover, we throw the plagues instead of just talking about them. Plastic cows, flies, cotton balls, etc. We have to prepare “plague bags” a few days before the seder and it’s become one of our traditions and beloved Passover events.
Anger surges in me and I have to push it back. This constant fury is like a plague. It takes hold and I want to scream, throw dishes, shout, cry. But anger gets me nowhere. My only recourse is redirect. Find something to do, something to create, something to clean, something to write, something to listen to, something to draw. Pour the anger like a fuel into something productive and somewhere in it, a feeling floats to the top. Sometimes it’s an image, a word, a poem, a squiggle within squiggles that brings a truth to light and the chance to find an answer for my heart emerges.
I looked away as tears slowly fell down her cheeks. I hated these moments.
In these moments, the bitter details of life are all apparent in her eyes as she tries to pretend she’s not broken. I hated these moments.
I was plagued by the thought that he might never return. That he would be forever lost in a dream world, where reality was not reality and all things untrue were true and false. What if he doesn’t come back? My strength is fading, I don’t think I could make it without him.
i knew what was happening. i had seen it coming. they were so helpless. i could not help them. i had to sit back and watch as humanity was losing its battle; its kryptonite.
the year was 1349. everyone was dying. humanity was losing against something that was invisible to the eye. everyone except me. i had to witness everything. i tried helping. i did everything i could. to no avail. people were dropping like flies and i remained exactly the same; unchanged. i knew what was coming and that for me, was the curse. my plague. my death.
It sweeps through the city like ash on the wind.
Tiny, microscopic germs fill lungs and homes, filling hospital beds and morgues. It infiltrates the deepest of bunkers and basements, but manages to avoid planes or boats.
In a matter of days, it goes from a thriving city to a ghost town as the rest of the world watches silently.
The plague was an accident. Really. It simply didn’t make sense. There had always been rumors that certain… indecencies would cause plagues, but science had proven those rumors to be false! How could this have ever happened?
The whole world was shrouded in fog. The plague had taken every one. John sat alone on his bed. “Well,” he sighed, “I guess this is it.” He placed the gun in his mouth. He’d be damned if the sickness got him too. Bang. His own rules.
The air was thick with death, and choking. Smoke covered the air, and sick people stumbled around aimlessly, attempting to find solace in each other. Thre was none – the whole city was a barren, toxic maze of fighting, blood, and disease – a plague of humanity’s evil, converging into a central jungle of fire and steel. It was the Pitt, and it was the last place anyone wanted to be.
The war was terrible. There was a pandemic, and then all there was was fighting. Fighting over the limited cure, over food and supplies. Now it’s only me and a few others left. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, or where we’ll go. But I know that we will survive. We are the strong, the survivors, and we cannot fail.
the plague infected the one person. and from there it infected another person, then infected a own, a city, a state, a country. It then infected another country. It kills too fast to find a cure. It kills and kills and kills. Decimating everything in its past.
the black plague. the bubonic plague. killed more people in history, isolated towns, cities, and whole groups of people. It is spreading a germ, a feeling, one word that makes people shutter. It is still here with racism, discrimination, and prejudice
the black plague comes to mind first. But also i think that its also a word that reminds me of absolute death like people think it does or technically speaking they think it at least means disease.
i saw a dog and it had foam at its mouth and it chased me along the candy cane street and i ran into cinnamon buns and he ate me and i died and then i woke up in a hospital and the doctor ate me the end. and i am a zombie now.
I think there are still plagues every day. Plagues of hatred, of discourse, of ignorance. A plague is catching, and can be spread through populations from only a few. It destroys everything in its path, and is a dangerous force of nature. We suffer from plagues every day. It all depends on how strong your immunity is, that’s the only thing saving you from succumbing
Maybe the plague wasn’t such an awful thing. I look to today’s society and realize that we need a good plague; I don’t mean a literal plague, of course, but a metaphorical plague. Natural selection nor progress are doing their jobs.
crap. that was the first thought. i hear the word plage and i think of dirty dark cold streets where people where just rotting to death n the streets like rats. how could others do do something. but then again, there were plenty of people who saw the need and created and healed.
It was spreading everywhere. Plague they called it. Why must they invent new words for everything? It was just death, inevitable death and renaming it “plague” would not help anyone. It would not help the town, and it would not help Caitlyn. And she needed help, more than anyone at this very moment.
i am terrified for the day he realizes i don’t exist
but i think he already suspects it
You filled me in with
a pen full of
my own blood
and licked my ribs dry
of any poison you
could have left behind
and I wish I would have
known that you were
a plague
because now I’m left
with you.
-a.d.r.
remember the nights of poetry
books&books and hours&hours
quoting the good ones to each other, until we degenerated back into just-ourselves
with our-vocabulary,
fuck me like you’re alan watts
(the memory ends —
stoned sneaking out your second-floor window because your mother’s home from her chinese classes at community college, you were a necessary right-of-passage
)
that i should miss
but i don’t
the plague is wrestling with my mind and i can’t handle it.
The terrible, terrible plague! It shows no mercy. Every man for himself as the black death is upon us. Love ones reek from the smell of death
She tried to conceal her disgust at the sluggish green mucous dripping uninhibited down his face. “It’s this blasted plague, m’am,” he explained hastily, wiping his nose against his filthy sleeve. “Near every man in the company has it.”
The plague was an akward and horrid event in england times. From the black plague, to the spanish influenza the european civilization was rocked to it’s very core. These diseases spread like wildfire throughout europe although it did not seem to damage the human spirit. we still are alive today, this proves testiment to our ability to hope and dream.
This was a bad thing that people went through. This would cause alot of hurt and alot of people died. I’m almost sure that it took place in london.
She felt like she had the plague. As she she lay in bed unable to get him from her mind, her soul ached as if she were dying inside.
that’s really gross!!!!
I’m plagued with worry. People die from plagues. Yellow plagues. Plagues take whole towns down. Before antibiotics. Has there been any plagues since the invention of antibiotics? Sweating misery. Babies. Families. Bury the dead. Are the still contaminated? How do you care for someone who has the plague without getting the plague yourself?
People
Love
All
Greatly
Understand
Everyone
The word about his arrival spread like a plague, capturing innocent teenage souls and permantly marking them forever. Yet the one girl who stood up to this beautiful star was one that fell hardest for him.
The only thing plaguing my mind lately are all questions relating to the future. For the most part, everything seems like it’s mapped out in a linear format for me, but I don’t know where it’s headed.
And it just hit me. He was like a plague, I’d been swept away and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling like everyone always depicted for me. You can’t escape. There’s no exodus. You just suffer through it fantasizing about the opposite end of the spectrum.
suddenly she was plagued by an unpleasant burst of unfamiliar sensations. Her eyes welled up, she wanted to punch someone next she threw her head back laughing. Finally she collapsed gasping for breath.
what was going on? the scientists observing her noticed an irregular shift in her brian waves. Oh no, its happening again, screeched the project head knocking over his coffe cup in the ensuing chaos. We have to shut her down before its too late. She’s nothing but a killing machine!
Every year for Passover, we throw the plagues instead of just talking about them. Plastic cows, flies, cotton balls, etc. We have to prepare “plague bags” a few days before the seder and it’s become one of our traditions and beloved Passover events.
Anger surges in me and I have to push it back. This constant fury is like a plague. It takes hold and I want to scream, throw dishes, shout, cry. But anger gets me nowhere. My only recourse is redirect. Find something to do, something to create, something to clean, something to write, something to listen to, something to draw. Pour the anger like a fuel into something productive and somewhere in it, a feeling floats to the top. Sometimes it’s an image, a word, a poem, a squiggle within squiggles that brings a truth to light and the chance to find an answer for my heart emerges.
I looked away as tears slowly fell down her cheeks. I hated these moments.
In these moments, the bitter details of life are all apparent in her eyes as she tries to pretend she’s not broken. I hated these moments.
I was plagued by the thought that he might never return. That he would be forever lost in a dream world, where reality was not reality and all things untrue were true and false. What if he doesn’t come back? My strength is fading, I don’t think I could make it without him.
i knew what was happening. i had seen it coming. they were so helpless. i could not help them. i had to sit back and watch as humanity was losing its battle; its kryptonite.
the year was 1349. everyone was dying. humanity was losing against something that was invisible to the eye. everyone except me. i had to witness everything. i tried helping. i did everything i could. to no avail. people were dropping like flies and i remained exactly the same; unchanged. i knew what was coming and that for me, was the curse. my plague. my death.
the Black Death
the people all smothered by one monster
invisible
a silent killer you could say
sickness disease plague plague kill
people can die and will die
It sweeps through the city like ash on the wind.
Tiny, microscopic germs fill lungs and homes, filling hospital beds and morgues. It infiltrates the deepest of bunkers and basements, but manages to avoid planes or boats.
In a matter of days, it goes from a thriving city to a ghost town as the rest of the world watches silently.
The plague was an accident. Really. It simply didn’t make sense. There had always been rumors that certain… indecencies would cause plagues, but science had proven those rumors to be false! How could this have ever happened?
My mind is plagued with doubts. It is continuosly mocking my confidence. Black plague, irish plague, egypts plagues. Neverending. filling the spaces.
The whole world was shrouded in fog. The plague had taken every one. John sat alone on his bed. “Well,” he sighed, “I guess this is it.” He placed the gun in his mouth. He’d be damned if the sickness got him too. Bang. His own rules.
The air was thick with death, and choking. Smoke covered the air, and sick people stumbled around aimlessly, attempting to find solace in each other. Thre was none – the whole city was a barren, toxic maze of fighting, blood, and disease – a plague of humanity’s evil, converging into a central jungle of fire and steel. It was the Pitt, and it was the last place anyone wanted to be.
The war was terrible. There was a pandemic, and then all there was was fighting. Fighting over the limited cure, over food and supplies. Now it’s only me and a few others left. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, or where we’ll go. But I know that we will survive. We are the strong, the survivors, and we cannot fail.
It doesn´t matter what do you do, it comes for you
i feel lonely
the plague infected the one person. and from there it infected another person, then infected a own, a city, a state, a country. It then infected another country. It kills too fast to find a cure. It kills and kills and kills. Decimating everything in its past.
Leaves fall, drifting endlessley down toward the ground.
Mottled with colours unnatural on their skin – sick and diseased they are the plague leaves.
the black plague. the bubonic plague. killed more people in history, isolated towns, cities, and whole groups of people. It is spreading a germ, a feeling, one word that makes people shutter. It is still here with racism, discrimination, and prejudice
the black plague comes to mind first. But also i think that its also a word that reminds me of absolute death like people think it does or technically speaking they think it at least means disease.
i saw a dog and it had foam at its mouth and it chased me along the candy cane street and i ran into cinnamon buns and he ate me and i died and then i woke up in a hospital and the doctor ate me the end. and i am a zombie now.
I think there are still plagues every day. Plagues of hatred, of discourse, of ignorance. A plague is catching, and can be spread through populations from only a few. It destroys everything in its path, and is a dangerous force of nature. We suffer from plagues every day. It all depends on how strong your immunity is, that’s the only thing saving you from succumbing