"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Pitchforks: check...Torches: check

Well, that's the end of that. I came up a little more than 2,700 words short in my quest for NaNoWriMo greatness, although I do take a little pride in the fact that I spilled out over 13,000 words yesterday in my last minute push to make the deadline. As I've been saying about my favorite sports team for the last 14 seasons: There's always next year.

In the meantime, back to writing the smaller stuff. Here's a new post for Three Word Wednesday (yes, on Thursday, I know). The words this week are behave, jettison and mob.

Dearly beloved,
we are gathered here today
to burst through the confines
of this thin Blue line.
Our mob shall spill forth
as blood rips free
from an old wound.

In our eyes we shall behave
as revolutionaries.
In theirs,
as menaces to society.
If they refuse to see our power,
will we change course
or stagnate in protest?

We musn't be persuaded
to jettison our faith,
no matter the odds against us.
We can hope for change,
but hope carries little pull
when the world turns to shove.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Paul Simon, April Come She Will

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