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Stori
All I have are my words..
425 Posts • 440 Followers • 347 Following
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Challenge
Kinetic Writing
I have run across Kinetic Art again recently and it made me wonder about the possibility of kinetics being applied to the written art form. In the visual arts it is not so much about a "moving" picture or words like in film media, but about the illusion generated by the movement of the viewer around a static artwork. Could this be done with poetry or prose? Enter an attempt if you like :)
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Stori in Words
49 reads

Optical

Topical

Illusions

Reiterate

The

Impression

of

Movements.

It's

The

Expression

Of

A

Moment

Frozen

For

All

Time

As

If

Paused

And

Placed

Aesthetically

On

Display.

Kinetic

Art

Like

A

Heart's

Beat

At

Play

It

Keeps

Moving

Tread

Carving

Grooves

Cutting

Lines

To

Prove

It

Is

Doing

what

it

Is.

Its

Thumbprint

Ensuing

From

It's

Path

Via

Our

Brains

Gray

Cellular

Synapse

When

Viewing

The

Rifts

Delicate

Decay.

To

Make

Legitimate

It's

Moment

Of

Movement

Into

Actuality

Realized.

Reality

Actualized

Longevity

Forming

When

One

Day

Art

Formed

An

Artform

Initially,

And

In

A

Way

At

It's

Forefront

Art

was

A

Movement

Authentically.

Where

Since

Then

It

Has

Been

The

Start

Of

A

Community

Communing

through

The

Time

We

Took

Taking

The

Opportunity

To

Introduce

A

New

Look

To

See

A

Concept

To

Shape

A

Form

Who's

Conception

Is

Purely

Formed

Through

The

Expressive

Elements

Uptake

Only

Finalized

When

Received.

This

Guided

Intent

Gilding

Raw

Outcomes

Of

Active

Passions

Reactive

Outputs

Into

Our

Sinew

An

Income

Stomping

Stamps

Of

Dancing

Dances

Tapped

Deeply

Freely

Upon

Our

Cellular

Center

Stage.

In

These

We’ll

Find

Our

Future.

By

These

kinetic

Firings

Sparking

Thoughts

We

Pray.

We

March

Forward

Tracing

Woven

Ways

And

The

Neural

Wiring

Is

Decided.

Mapping

The

Mental

Potential

Pathways

Of

Our

Thoughts

To

Be

Guided

To

Come,

In

Coming

Days.

Future

Causes

Inspiring

Effects

As

a

basis

From

Which

Is

Sprung

Creation

Enriching

Ways

For

Us

To

Further

Enumerated

Epithets

Fodder

And

Accoutrements

If

The

Expressive

Testament

Is

kept

Wholly

To

The

Moves

These

Meanings.

Make

A

Kind

Of

An

Etiquette

To

The

Kind

Kinetic

workings

Of

Time

That

Is

Spent

And

That

We

Take.

True

Progression

Of

The

Mind.

Art

Moves

And

Art

Makes.

Cyclically

Perpetuating

Mundane

Progeny

The

Day

By

Day

Yet

When

Looked

At

Close

Its

Pulchritudinously

Ornate.

Where

Art

Is,

There

Exists

Expression

Expanding

Through

time

In

space

Where

Direction

Was

A

Decision

A

Choice.

Within

That

Moment

Where

We

Find

That

Voice

Grace

Is

That

That

Speaks

Silently,

Though

Inarguably

Perceived.

The

Narrative

Of

What's

Paced

Gets

Received

Art

The

Culmination

Of

What

Was

Used

To

Be

Part

Forming

Part

Of

The

Input

To

Calculate

The

Data

Computed

Art

Is

This

Sum

SSTThe e

Some

Thing

to

equate

To

The

Impression

We're

Left

With

That

Part

Left

Is

What

Matters

It's

Art

What

Art

Uses

To

Move

Us

Moved

By

What

It

Meant.

Made

To

The

True

Us

The

Symbiotic

Nature

of

Kinetic

Art

Contextualized

In

Text

An

Art

Formed

By

Phrases

Scrawled

In

Lengths

I

Write

If

In

These

Pages

I'm

Right

Read

Me

Through

The

Ages

Give

Me

The

Life

It's

Musings.

The

Moving

Parts

Are

Part

Of

Us

Bright

Is

Our

Collective

Kinetic

Spark

What a sight.

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Stori in Poetry & Free Verse
15 reads

I Confess

From being told who I am,

To making me for me,

I need not another person

To state my validity.

I'll be who I want to,

A shining smile on my face.

I can turn away from

Those who think they chose my place.

I'll do what I ought to, Cancel plans for me you've made.

I tread the path I'm lead to on heart-caught glimmers of God's Grace.

I'll find the peace I'm promised,

No hands will you see nor have eyes yet met,

The Beautiful bountiful blossoms,

of the flowers bloom, of every breath.

I know the unseen value of the gold kept hidden by all in hind-sight.

It is through this that these treasures fall to my now,

So that daily I delight.

Joy alights in the flight that fancy grants me, and I accept its sweet behest.

Promised like a birthright; certain while my heart beats within my chest.

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Challenge
Devil May Care
The root of all evil, a tale of impossible redemption, or a nightclub owner in LA. What is the devil you hold in your heart, and how can you make us feel the angst, hatred, or regret of the original edgelord himself? Lucifer, Satan, Old Scratch. Misunderstood or worthy of fear, you decide.
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Stori
24 reads

I'm walking down peter street, late evening.

I spy, to my surprise, the devil waiting at a bus stop.

I stop.

The Devil peers at me with a sideways glance, so I ask, "What are you doing here?"

Beelzebub looks at me, with the air of someone who's known too long to care.

He is unmistakable in his appearance though as to why, I'm unclear.

He meets my question with a slight mock grin, and turning eyes to the sky he replies,

"Waiting on a bus."

'Waiting' came with the ring of an eternity.

The kind of low buzz that sings constantly from electricity humming wires playing the rare to notice soundtrack of our day to day, it's The sound of forever.

Unnerved, a little I checked my watch with a jerk.

I thought I was late so I stammered,

"The bus, uh.. It should have just come and passed, right? Only just before I got here?"

I was thinking out loud.

"Has it come?"

Scanning in my direction with a disconnected glance, immediately turning his head back to a unfocused stare he shrugged.

"I'm still waiting" he growled plainly, in a raspy voice with flavor hints of disdain, but he maintained the sheerest of friendly demeanors.

I leaned nearer the sign post parallel my posterior, Resting my weight in a lean to on the poll I try to show

an illustration of my continuing comfort. A falsehood cause I understood who was right there facing me. I felt unsafe inexplicably, but the feeling was understandable.

My safety was lost to a battle with my imagination, sieged upon the realization of who was there making my acquaintance.

I gotta stop, so grasping at my common sense I try looking about, strategically casual.

I say "Looks like there's no telling" in a breathy sighing moan, as if to reassert my comfortable stance out loud.

He saw through me in one scant peek, I knew it, but my weak mind kept it's finger upon the now tattered security blanket It had made for me. Be polite and speak casually,or no, seek help or ask for help, but nothing's wrong really, so why am I alarmed?

What do I do? Here without a clue I ask the first thing I see when I drop my chin in self pity and my eyes focus on my feet on the ground.

Somehow, Their lack of wisdom was profound and exactly the answer i need.

Scrawled out I perceive letters and I read, beseeched by invisible words spelling out, 'do nothing at all'.

Then my shoes posed some

amusing proof I suppose that did well to actually ease me.

"I still have my soles intact!" I chuckle to myself and I'm amused at this fact before I recall my surreal situation.

The motivation for my jubilation did not absolve the danger presently felt right there.

So the grin my face cracked I withdrawal.

I must stave off the invitation my mind sending to welcome to myself total fear.

Then,

'stay calm'

A voice in my ear came through and instructs me. It tugs me a bit back to my senses and my back straightens, and I realize he winces at the momentary shift in stances.. and suddenly I see how I can withdrawal myself from any potential situation, with the lovely realization that I choose what I do and think and

Today I think where I'm going I'd rather walk, and quickly I saunter off.

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Stori
13 reads

Random thank you for cash sent on Venmo:

Could there be a word for such a divine kindness, the like of which dwells within you?

My dear; I think not!

Our words fall short of it's granduer as they are born of mundane human ilk.

One which you so graciously defy, as you shine with the marvels of kinship, and leave me blessed to delight in your generosity.

Thanks dude!

(And I haven't even had coffee this morning)

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Challenge
One man’s trash?
Using the contents of your email's junk folder, write a something that makes me laugh :) The most stylistic treasure wins.
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Stori in Comedy
32 reads

ConJUNKtion

Great

Savings and a new way to

Have a phone to sell?

Quick Sale, Gee

New phone huh?

who's this?

It's savings.

Save on your next upgrade and

Do not miss it,

Life Helen

Life Helen

HelenHelen

You've been patient, now pick

items you want,

for a great friendly reminder that

your saved.

Last Days savings

Last Chance

It's about time you make good.

It's about time you make

Great

and Don't wait

these offers won't

Don't wait

these offers won't last...

Hand-Picked

THE BEST.

see what's new

Or fall

your dose of goodness Not in you.

let's

Hand-Pick

THE BEST

Not good to do

When your dose of local goodness is Not in...

Not in you.

they are coming:

Escape

Woods...

what to do

your dose of local goodness

No

can't miss

exclusive

can't miss

elusive

Hand-Picked BEST

But

your dose of local goodness

Is Not in...

Great

plus for the need

Everything you need

for you to escape

to win

a trip

to win

A trip to escape

Helen

Last Chance.

|To create this I did a screenshot of my junk folder and opened it in Google translate and selected all copied and pasted it to my notepad. Then went to work deleting words and spaces until this was left. All original order retained and I added the word "But". That's it! Love this challenge, thanks!|

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Challenge
Play Ball! (An Opening Day Analogy)
The rookie bunted his way to first base and surprisingly stole second base, but the kid never, ever would have scored if not for that sacrifice by a teammate. Make it about anything except baseball.
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Stori
35 reads

Based-Ball

You started playing for the other team so when I went to pitch you called a time out.

Now time Is up and there is a silent crowd.

As I watch from the sidelines; you swing and you miss, but then you'll hit a bunter, that'll tear your ass if you make that home run.

While I'm amiss, caught on the kiss cam warming this bleacher and I'm pissed off.

I'm done honey bun; cause the only future I see costs me playing this game. It is me potentially getting drafted and leaving our team.

While if I were to be realistic, ostensibly for us there is nothing on base.

On your lies up to this inning we've been lead to this loss

The home run you just swung at might be the final straw.

Plus the lies!! These damn lies, how you ultimately cost us the season.

I'm sick at the fact that you're up to bat again, and in the first place.

The sickened grimace my face takes makes you strike all the way out.

Now you are truly the foul ball,

So Fuck you fuck boy,

You can't win them all.

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Challenge
Cupid's Arrow
Haiku (5-7-5)
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Stori in Haiku
29 reads

Valentines Prick

Beware of Cupid

From his fold fell pointed sticks

Forced Give-a-fucks

~Made for the cupids arrow challenge.~

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Stori in Stream of Consciousness
9 reads

"In a world where the advanced take advantage and weakness prevails, we are denied the truth and struggle to be real.

We need teachers, leaders, thinkers, and believers, but mostly we need to let our conscience lead us.

To free us!"

-Stori 2011

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Stori in Poetry & Free Verse
10 reads

“Buying In”

Becoming a cog in the gear,

the social turnstile.

I join in line and walk single-file.

I numb out my points and

burn out my nerve,

squelching

my transmitors capcity

for me to stray from the learned.

I can blur out my day dreams

and fade out these lines,

painting a pattern of the life

i feel would be

a better use of my time.

I'm amist a battle of wills,

here battleing my own.

Think to stray from my post,

wonder where would I roam?

However, I have no choice,

so the answer is made for me,

and i turn over my freedom,

the

other

cheek.

i hand in my soul to be a suit made of meat.

"I" have become obsolete.

Original work by Stori 2014

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Stori
10 reads

Random hikus

Eyes couldn't bare it,

a heart risks the brunt force hit,

by which I'm struck down.

________________________

Drunk they start to brawl.

The telling bell made the call.

A High Coup broke loose.

___________________

Its basic physics,

The equal opposite force

So muted it's forced

SomutedIt's

Somutedd

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