Erik ubbink
Bio
Stories (17)
Filter by community
Bereft of Refuge
It's not where I have all my decorations hanging or music twanging? I think I prefer the quiet of Nite, out past the campfire lite. Where there's scary things that bite, I feel like it wears out after a while. When you've been walking for miles and miles. It must be renewed from time to time, whether a gift you put on a shelf or you have to make some for yourself. Everyone deserves some I believe. I hope you got the nerve, get ready to receive. Now I'm used to Going in the dark, don't worry about me. I'm stealthy as a shark. Drawn death in sharp. Dynamos down. Look at all those silly clowns. Beautiful faces swirling all around so many horrible places, you'd think it wouldn't be found. Sing it real loud, let them hear this sound whether they are battered or bound.
By Erik ubbink3 years ago in Poets
Help Called It
I hear it in the song sung by small creatures after darkness falls. I see it there in the tail wag when my dog greets me upon my arrivals. When I'm capsized and cold in the water, it throws me a line to pull me out of my troubles, subsides the shivering till the calming comes. Sometimes it gushes out of friendly conversations and supportive words. It can be made of hard work. When carried for a great distance its burden appreciates in value. It's unpacked with a warm meal. Its impact lets you know your love is real. Some people seek it out. Some find it in the strangest ways. It has a cousin peace, and even finds you in a maze. I've found it often in chaos. It's how I feel just knowing you're real. Out there waiting like a boss. If you're not careful it can trap you in a zone. Children often make it, with cardboard and a blanket. If you need some, I've got plenty to share. It's my favorite thing to give, with a warning. "You can't stay there." Everyone needs to hear it. That someone truly cares!!!
By Erik ubbink3 years ago in Poets
Banners Burnt by Brimstone
Simple and poignant, clear and graceful, words that hit you with a face full. Better start calling me more names, For all these personalities got with vigor in my veins. I really really missed all your voices inside my brains. Better throw your nets. Start making lots of bets, The catch is going to be big. I got the rains. I'm running this rig.
By Erik ubbink3 years ago in Poets
Decay of Time
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Seems a contingent supposition into the depths of my soul. I've got some territory to roam before I get to this place, I call my home. In space, in a vacuum, empty of thought, when you surrender to the unknowing. When you realize that all of that space is full of information, all that was known and will ever be known and when the vacuum pulls everything down out of you, right through your feet, be completely empty of it with nothing left to hold, and nothing to weigh you down, you can roll across the information of all time. As I let go of my own will and desires so I can be free of its perspective and see the real beauty of my own divinity. For how can I turn down its eternal love and not except the gift it wills for me.
By Erik ubbink3 years ago in Fiction
