The Abstract Art Gallery
A writing gallery created by writers from around the world. From poetry to song lyrics, from essays to entire novels and short stories.
Single mom, with two children, from different fathers. From a distance, you might think she’s promiscuous, or deserved what she got, or wasn’t smart enough. Draw closer, hear her out. You’ll realize it could have been you, or any other person…
By Benjamin Nambu
Read More…are growing up, we have these grand illusions of what we wanna be, places we want to go and whom we want to marry. Many of these illusions are birthed and kept alive by movies we’ve watched, a favorite song, some picture in a newspaper, book or …
By Benjamin Nambu
Read MoreA hollow drum holds…
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… his life was really spotless. It was only that he considered it so. Not that he really considered anything. Michael Potts was impervious to legal niceties, moral turpitude, and common sense. Whatever he did was okay…
By K. L. Shipley
Read More…used to crave for attention. I would do anything to get it, although at the time I didn’t realize it was an obsession, tainted with subtle…
By Benjamin Nambu
Read MoreEchoes in time..
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…history had barely begun, when ideas were replacing instinct, when grunts were becoming speech, a mysterious people were unknowingly laying the foundation of both western and eastern civilization. Their proto words and beliefs spread across…
By K. L. Shipley
Read MoreHow often does,” Go, Go…
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…sympathies are completely with old Plautus. Yours, too, I imagine. The sun-dial was bad enough. Now we have ever-more refined ways of slicing our days into ever-more itsy-bitsy pieces. We are obsessed by time. We never have enough…
By K. L. Shipley
Read MoreSuicide, preceded by three…
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…rounds from a pump-action 12-gauge shotgun took the lives of four souls - Floyd Sanford (shot twice), Bessie Lee Sanford, and Rosalie Sanford. Each died from close-range blasts that splattered blood, flesh and bone. The fifth shot was delivered to the chest of the murderer …
By K. L. Shipley
Read More“I have an idea, let’s …
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Vat, now I must argue with my toaster about my toast shud be lighter or darker?
…whole life everybody tellin’ me vat to do. Now my toaster tells me vat my toast shud be! No, no, no. I throw that blabbermouth in der trasch and toast my bread over the fire. The fire don’t talk back to…
By K. L. Shipley
Read MoreMy condolences to the…
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…were “What was going through the minds of those on board as they walked into the helicopter?“ Did they sense it coming? Did any of them feel the need to step back and say they wouldn’t go but couldn’t voice it? Did any of them dream about it …
By Benjamin Nambu
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