agonia
english

v3
 

Agonia.Net | Policy | Mission Contact | Participate
poezii poezii poezii poezii poezii
poezii
armana Poezii, Poezie deutsch Poezii, Poezie english Poezii, Poezie espanol Poezii, Poezie francais Poezii, Poezie italiano Poezii, Poezie japanese Poezii, Poezie portugues Poezii, Poezie romana Poezii, Poezie russkaia Poezii, Poezie

Article Communities Contest Essay Multimedia Personals Poetry Press Prose _QUOTE Screenplay Special

Poezii Românesti - Romanian Poetry

poezii


 
Texts by the same author


Translations of this text
0

 Members comments


print e-mail
Views: 3628 .



The Bottom of the (W) hole
prose [ Science-Fiction ]
The Beginning of an End

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [Alean ]

2006-07-19  |     | 



The Bottom of the (W) hole

- Waiter, feed (give) me please some love with a bit of jealousy.
- Right away, sir.
- As I was telling you, we ideas are doomed to live in this hole where every scrap of garbage comes in but nothing gets out.
- Pardon me, sir, here is your order.
- Thank you…Oh interesting love indeed, very fond of … and the tiny part of jealousy is quite right. The spice is perfectly suited (the spice is perfect), this meal is really sweet and delicious. Here is some honor for your trouble.(a token for your excellent service)
- Thank you, sir.
-I’ll have just the same, waiter. Say, did you felt (hear) the recent rumour about those who claimed last month that they actually felt (saw) something or someone getting out?!
- Really?
- Yes and they tried to discover about but Oldie didn’t let them go too far in their research.
- Such an idea (man) is Oldie. Why is he meddling in everyone’s affairs? Oh, this love is so possessive. I even feel now I am able to love The First Idea too. I think I better go now before this meal takes complete control over me. I am sorry. Feel (see) you next time and thank you for the meal, it has made me so happy by living it. Bye Tenth!
- Oh, never mind, I think I will finish my meal at home then. Maybe it will help me to create (give birth to) a better son. Who knows!? Bye Lordie! Feel you! Waiter, I will feel (have) the rest to go.

The Ten Thousand Idea or The Father of Cultivated Feelings or simply Lordie for his friends, getting out of the park, was a great idea (man). He was waving (walking) home after the meal with his friend, The Tenth Idea- The Minister for Controlling Ideas, full of love, enjoying the feeling but still a bit of jealous of Oldie. Oldie was The First Idea who felt about life. The thought of.. living, life, creating (giving birth) ideas and using other ideas. It was an honor, such a rare feeling (food, money, being rich), to be his child and a bigger honor to be used by him. Anyway, feeling a bit dizzy he thought not to worry too much about his friend, The Minister .. the suspicion.. oh must he become suspicious?!
Must I ..
Could his friend be in some way, by taking him to a meal, harmful, dangerous? Nevertheless the meal was good even that love can be very dangerous, the hole is big enough for everybody and Oldie is already born. However, maybe next time it would be more proper to order something else like.. let me feel (see) some fear with a small part, a garnish of curiosity…
I remember the times .. what a chaos it was.. without any control of the ideas. Every idea was using the other one, without asking, every feeling was eaten immediately, by the biggest idea or the nearest one who was lucky to be there. It was a very sad hole, death everywhere, so many fighting, few feelings (food) and no honor at all. But no sorrows no tears for the beginning. Maybe at the core of it all, in some space of the whole it remains as it was in the very beginning. Maybe we are reaching the margins of the hole. Every beginning has an end to something to be continued. Where is ours?! Maybe the end of this life but still not the idea’s (men) end, only of the life in the hole is by getting out.. Oh look what a good meal can do! Have I given birth to a son?! A SON ..The First Idea who gets out. Tomorrow is another time (day).. we shall see, my son… if you deserve to be registered.

Now, let’s go home son.

.  |








 
shim Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests. shim
shim
poezii  Search  Agonia.Net  

Reproduction of any materials without our permission is strictly prohibited.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net

E-mail | Privacy and publication policy

Top Site-uri Cultura - Join the Cultural Topsites!