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.
The bell keeps ringing. It’s ringing and ringing. And it’s ringing. And it doesn’t drop it. The terrible lingering, gentle, nearly imperceptible tiny hum, like a dog whistle. But it never runs out. It’s never done. It doesn’t go away. It’s unfair. It’s unfair! It forever stays there!
If only it’d stop.
By Sydney Goss
Read MoreOh snap, gon’ be so dope I hope!
We broke, but we know.
We cope. Gon’ toss a party, though
The pope ain’t say no “sorry” or “nope”
So yall green lights say “go”.
We cool, we float.
By Mark Delaware
Read MoreWrapped up in my head. The four walls confining the stream of thought seem ever shrinking. The sky is falling and there’s no way to get out on time. It can’t be outrun. More static than loneliness the numb sensation of nothingness is what remains. A hopeless “I’m alone” is ritualized. Vital to the existence of a boring narcissist and his whoring artistic instinct. A maker makes and a creator creates, so introduce the faker. Intoxicated by the need-to-do is a desperate pretender. An actor the ranks of whom none have witnessed. Defender of ideas that don’t exist yet, but solitude follows the footprints. It loves creative types.
By Selena McCarter
Read MoreThe ticking clock tocks
The talk ends and the car locks
Dead engine, dead time
Bad mentions, worse crimes
Arguments and fights
Augmented intents
Shit nights
Black out wasted
A tasteless, faceless, disgrace
Shattered glass
Bruises
The broken last
But remain useless
Flashbacks flash back
Buried beneath a bottle
Throttle, empty the tank
Hollow with a stare that’s blank
Tomorrow rewind, play back
Swallow the guilt that built up
Follow the hill to the top
Take a deep breath before the drop
Jump.
Roll The Credits, Please.
By Jeffry Crole
Read MoreShe’s mesmerized by what’s across the window. Green foliage of all shapes and sizes. Birds jetting around trees. Squirrels racing up and down oak bark, accenting the deep brown with their beautiful fur coat of grey sprinkled with maroon all around. The blue sky darkening when clouds obstruct the sunlight. She’s in love with the window view because it’s the only beauty she can witness from within the ash walls of the prison cell.
By Amber Black
Read MoreDippin’ dabbled doodads under drippin’ flu-
Ed’s on gravel trippin’, too.
Head travel, sippin’ truth.
Raddled babbles baffles two!
By Mark Delaware
Read MoreDefected, my personality is what makes me unique. Infected by morality all seems bleak. Neglected, no frugality, I reveal as weak. Connected to reality, I have nothing to speak.
By Seth McAllister
Read MoreYou fight yourself.
You hate yourself.
You live to love life, but failure make you frail.
Fake and fantastic is the realism of imagination…ism.
Retreating into your head instead of facing the dread of interaction based regret.
Time ticks, tocks and the tick to talk clocks in.
Hopes that nothing embarrassing will come out
Don’t think, imagine, enjoy.
Our interests don’t line up.
Abruptly I interrupt.
I’m inherently awkward and say something wrong.
I no longer wish to get along.
Life is like a toy you play with until it breaks.
This doesn’t happen when you don’t take risks and avoid all mistakes.
At least I tried.
By Amriel Sewa
Read MoreYou stood apart from the rest because you were not a government clone like the other women. You’ve always been a genuine lady. That’s how you got my attention. This is what’s kept me around.
By Ezequiel Brown
Read MoreFrozen in time a little black dot hovers over me. It’s watching me still. It sees every movement I make and hears every word I say. It was dead before I got here and will probably still be here when I leave. Unchanging and fixed. Will it ever rot away? Nailed to the ceiling it stays and down below it I wait. I’m hoping that it’ll stop spying on me. It’s looming over me, hauntingly. It’s a reflection of one of my many fears. Probably the greatest one of all. Aren’t we all afraid of it? Wondering to myself what will happen next. Will I go anywhere or will it all just go dark? It brings me dread and agony. It’s a reminder of what’s to come. It reminds me that I’m just the grim reaper’s prey and that I could be next.
By Lorenzo Bani
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