| The current piece I would appreciate some comments/thoughts on. |
| The current piece I would appreciate some comments/thoughts on. |
| Pieces that have been published in online/print journals around the world. |


Wordspill-Welcome Wordspill:Wordspill-Welcome by `apocathary
it wasn't long until everyone on earth had been exterminated except for the authors. the authors, they said, are the only true value tht the earth holds. eelements are found everywhere in the universe, but minds like these, well, you know. we're not exactly creative and neither would you be if you had to stare at the sun in order to extract energy to power the thirteen stomachs and one measley brain you have. the only reason they were even able to converse is through the self-sacrifice of members of their species to power one of them.
anyway, so all these authors had been rounded up into small pens. from browsing the internet wit


Lawrence and his t.w.p. Lawrence loved his snug fitting, titanium white pants. They were, he supposed, the tightest, whitest pants in the town, perhaps even the world. The way they clung to the thin stalks of his legs, so close to his skin that his leg-hairs made bumps in the material, made him wish he had been born with bone white denim rather than shy pink tissue. He wore them constantly, no matter what the occasion. Family dinners, school balls, he had even worn them to his great Aunt's funeral. In fact, the only time he ever took his tight, white pants off (a complicated process involving a stanley knife and a surgeon's steady hand) was to coax another pair on.Lawrence and his t.w.p. by `apocathary
| Exercises, scraps, and miscellaneous stuff that I've written. |
| My (blurry) (light-streaked) (amateur) attempts at film photography. |
| Various attempts at digital photography. |
The degree of quality in `apocathary's works is such that if I saw him on the street I would make my way over to him and swiftly run him through with my blade. Let it be understood that this murder would not be motivated by jealousy, but rather an attempt to slay the beast before its blight corrupts the entirety of the written word. At present he is mercifully confined to the digital realm, but it is only a matter of time, my fellows, until he manages by coincidence or manipulation to manifest in our physical world. On that day the sky shall rain bile and the seas will heave as the Earth Mother herself attempts to eject this sacrilege from its surface. Heed my warning! `apocathary will devour us all! HE IS THE DESTRO--(transmission cut) -- `darkcrescendo `apocathary's works contain sentences which are in turn made up of words. The words, in a manner which reveals their function, are entirely composed of letters which can be said to belong to an alphabet. Occasionally numbers are present, but these are rare and generally considered to be mistakes. `apocathary has shown he is able to take these building blocks and place them in such a way as to construct paragraphs, however it is uncertain if this is deliberate or merely accidental in the manner of a monkey brushing up against the return key. In any case, the paragraphs are commonly found to be loosely related in such a way as to suggest an overall narrative, but these relations are often tenuous or nonsensical. --!TheKingofFall If there is one word that can sum up `apocathary's body of work, it would be 'bewildering'. Bewildering in the sense that one must wonder whether he has actually read any of his work before releasing it, like a rank fart, on the wider community. My beret could write with more skill than him; has done so in fact, with George Tsatsiki quoted as saying my beret's poems 'Have a fine weave about them.' In any case, if I were `apocathary I would be leaning back and having a good head scratch, literally, to check if he has suffered any brain-damaging head wounds lately. --`PoeticWar I just think it's so wonderful to see a writer like `apocathary trying so hard to improve his writing. His stories are just so...special. They're like seeing that guy with no legs crossing the finishing line at the paralympics. While he may not ever write like you or I, he's doing his best in his own unique way. A tear wells in my eye everytime I see something new from him. But they aren't tears of sadness, nor happiness really; more a kind of pity that he'll never be able to write like a normal person. Good on you, `apocathary! You keep doing whatever it is you might call what you're doing! --~Calyptra `apocathary's body of work is like being stranded alone in the darkest bar in the worst part of town, and all of a sudden a massive, tattooed guy wearing a dress comes up to you and asks you to dance. You know you gotta do it, but you also know that at some point you're going to feel dirty. Real dirty. Dirty like rape. Fist rape. Brass-knuckle fist rape. Spiked brass knuckle fist rape. By Oprah. `apocathary's writing is like getting spiked brass knuckle fist raped by Oprah. --~hell-on-a-stick |
| #Wordspill-Central An exercise in motivation #Writers-Workshop Where writers workshop writing! #Prosepoetry-Elegance For excellent writing. #theWrittenRevolution The words are the spark. #EliteLiterature Elite Literature Collective. #TalentedWritersGuild Talented writers, quality lit! #FocusOnLit |
| If you have gained anything from my critiques or merely like what I'm doing with them, consider donating to this pool. I'll be using any donations to offer prizes in competitions that will be organised once the donation pool is filled. NO POINTS WILL BE USED FOR MYSELF! |
Twitter is a free social messaging utility for staying connected in real-time.
JavaScript is required for this module to display correctly.
