Submitted by Lori R. Lopez on Tue, 03/16/2010 - 2:57pm
So what is there to be very wary of? I'll tell you. Come closer so I can whisper it: "Everything." That's right, you heard me. Everything! Not that I'm paranoid. Or maybe I am. Maybe you should be worried that I am. And maybe it's contagious! Maybe the mere suggestion can leap to your brain and burrow into your subconscious where you will be subliminally infected. Maybe it will spread like germs to every surface, on every breath, until it becomes one big whopping flipped-out pandemic of fear.
Submitted by Lori R. Lopez on Tue, 02/16/2010 - 1:12pm
I'm writing this poem on the birthday of a friend. She knows who she is so I don't have to pretend. It's one of those things that you can't say enough: "Thanks for being there; I'm sorry it's been rough."
I'm writing this poem for someone in particular. If the words speak to you, then that's . . . specticular? (I hope you'll forgive a few bad rhymes. You have to admit, it's not the worst of crimes.)
Submitted by Lori R. Lopez on Mon, 01/11/2010 - 8:54pm
There are lighter topics I could choose, yet I find myself able only to speak from the heart. A heart that beats too loud, too strong, too fast at times. Or thuds faintly, wounded and gasping. A heart that is too often betrayed in this world, that bleeds too easily.
Submitted by Lori R. Lopez on Wed, 12/16/2009 - 3:17pm
Be prepared. I am not in a humorous mood. I'm angry, in fact, feeling abused by a system that is supposed to inform as well as entertain. Hence the title.
Do not mistake my meaning. I'm not referring to boredom or an insult to intelligence. My premise that entertainment could abuse is based, rather, on content and example. It has nothing to do with quality.
Submitted by Lori R. Lopez on Fri, 12/11/2009 - 5:00pm
I have managed to avoid most addictions along my journey, yet I must confess here and now that I am hopelessly — helplessly — haplessly (take your pick) passionate about words. There, I've said it. Spilled my guts all over this page. I feel less burdened by the dark dire secret I have carried for too long.
'Tis no laughing matter, but a rare and serious cravence that affects the odd bibliophilic scrivener once in a purple moon.