/lit/ - Literature

>>10791542
The nigger stole.

>>10791542
The nigger steals.

Ces années sans eux... the nigger is stealing.

>>10792996
The nigger will steal.

>>10793048
The nigger hath stolen.

>Do you not avoid these anxieties lest you may in some way inflict them on those that occupy these worried imaginings?

El mayate robó

Thine nigger hath stolen.

>>10792841
깜둥이가 훔쳤다.
:^)

>>10791542
Wow that was disappointing

>>10791542
IREEE! I REEE!
My wrath on thee!
Kike, shill, faggot, cuck and nigger,
White man's brain is surely bigger!
I do not want to be a soyboy,
You say "oy vey please eat my soy, goy!"
I do not want to join a Klan,
Or be a skinhead Nazi man.
Look soft! The glow of CIA in the night!
A-REE! A-REE! Screech the alt-right.
They holler and shriek with all their might,
Forgetting Americans aren't even white.

El negro roba.

>>10793257
>Trying this hard to fit in.
Leave.

>>10791542
The piece of property stole a piece of property.

>>10793383
The nigger "borrowed."

>>10791542
The nigger conducted a five finger discount.

what's with all the fucking racism?

>>10793257
I fucking love /int/ memes
>>10793337
Stfu cuck

Threads like this ruin the board. Stop bumping.

>>10791542
The nigger stole the (unfinished draft).

>>10791542
A nigger who does not steal is not a nigger.

If u can answer this you don't write enough

>>10793257
Lol

I love doggerel

If a nigger does not steal, is he still a nigger?

The nigger steel

Jet fuel can´t melt nigger steel beams

Il negro ruba

>>10793536
I've never been on /int/
>>10793337
>taking 30 seconds to write a poem is trying hard

The negroid pinched an unattended bicycle.

A niggardly nigger doth confiscate an article of a white man, it is true.

>>10791542
and you can burn my hand
and you can bruise my tongue
i cry in silence at the majesty
and the things i dont want to understand
are the things i have understood
for a long time
that make me cry in silence
at the mystery

>>10791542
It is in the interest of every nigger man woman and child to procure an item that does not belong to them for the benefit of themselves and only themselves so that it may barter the burgled item for cash to display its wealth to the rest of its tribe of niggers and assert its dominance within the niggardly hierarchy, thereby cementing its need for procreation and respect every second of every day until a stronger, faster nigger procures its own wealth to flaunt and assert itself at the top of the tribe, thereby perpetuating a primitive cycle to which they are forever enslaved and made dance to as time turns slow as the mind of a nigger.

>>10795874
damn...

>>10793545
DA MUHFUGGIN NIGGA STOLED SOME SHIIIIET

I analed her good
she said yes thats good
right there deep in my bum
bury your chunky pork-sword
puncture the innards of my soul
and so I kept slamming away
like a comet shooting for the stars
pummeling away, away, away
boy did I fuck her good in the bum
all her friends told me I did
they all said, you really did, she said so
about me giving her that good dick
anally of course, she's saving herself
for marriage, thus the poophole
loophole, that glorious loophole
the poophole that I stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey
despite it being july, hot damn that ass was sweet
like a honeybaked christmas ham
during july of course, but still, hot ham ass
sweaty and salty and sweet like meat
gave it to her so good she came back for more
of my amazing penis game so strong
yeah i ass fucked her real good
all her friends tell me
everyone talks about it

the niggerfication of a noble nigger is the worst nigger of them all

I wrote poetry once. I miss love, even if it's embarrassing.

I'm a cripple;
stuck in my lips,
quivering hips,
heart having skips,
your stupid dimple...

fucking shite-
this love thing's a blight-
A warm disease
a bleedin breeze
I want to hear you say please

I'm on the floor
you've got me at the core
I'm sore
and a boar
and a bore
and you soar

bare your souls, gentemen

Los negros roban.

Time, as we see it, is like looking through a keyhole while falling from a cliff. But once the key is in place, and turned, and the door opened, it is the world left behind which begins to lose focus.

If a nigger steals and no one is around to see it, does he commit a crime?

>>10791542
you started a fucking nigger thread. great job, idiot

>>10798043
Then stop bumping, you idiot.

>>10793257
Stolen

>>10798083
lol ironic

>>10793122
That's not how you use lest.

>>10798494
Yes it is.

>>10798494
>lest definition
>for fear that
>Do you not avoid these anxieties for fear that you may in some way inflict them on those that occupy these worried imaginings?
seems fine to me.

this is from my /pol9k/ book. i am sorry, i really must apologize for this.

>>10798494
you are bait

>>10798522
the bait had strange timing, as soon as i came to harvest (you)s, after posting this yesterday, this had been posted less than a second past loading the page. excellent timing, really.

>>10793122
Probably the worst piece of writing I've ever read.

>>10798548
is it worse than joyce?

>Epidemics are so planned upon the Forested Suicide, retinas inclined to the filmed wrappings; leticia is so consumed! One must disgust such Princesses, that weave their Nightly Decompositions; sporadic skies, that whisper strange incantations, compose the worldly laughter, that converts to tears. Dinners melted on the faced communal, consuming fleshy drinks that worm their ways to extincted strangulations: suffocation.

>>10798548
Ok. Thanks for the criticism.

>>10798713
this is actually bad

>>10798911
Go on, then

>>10791542
The man sat on a craggy rock with his dick in his hand. "Ouch," he said. "It hurts."

Somebody please post the exerpt of the book whereby every third word was nigger

>>10791542
kys anon

>>10799235
Once lived nigger, a dastardly nigger, of tribe nigger, a city of niggers, of sad niggers, and violent niggers. What is nigger, not violent nigger, ten little niggers, killed five niggers, raped four niggers, commanded by nigger, king of niggers. That, my niggers, is our nigger, our story, niggers.

>>10791542
All niggers steal.

>>10791542
youre going to pay for making this shitty thread

>>10796269
>that post
>that post number

ayyyy

>>10791542
I remember how I learned the nature of Beach leaves, going for walks with my father through those grey New England winters. For three years from November until March, the world seemed especially colorless. He would drag me outside into the cold for my own good, out of love. My legs had stopped listening to me. I fell forwards through the sleeping forests, an infant atop stilts, tumbling down the icy rooted paths towards the water. My thoughts were not my own. My body; burning, crooked, and crumbling, no longer heard my voice.

What makes the North American Beech Tree so distinct is that it hails from the tropics. Long ago these giants wandered into a foreign land, gradually northwards from warmer climes. Lost in the snow, they were forced to leave their authentic selves behind; to adapt, to survive. Unlike the maple or oak with their dark skins and jagged ridges the Beech is smooth, flat, and light. Here in the north, the Beech stands out. Ever a stranger, there is no one in the landscape quite like it.

I had learned from books that the purpose of this adaptation is to distribute solar heat evenly, to prevent deadly frost cracks from forming in the bark; but I believe differently. I believe, the Beech looks this way because deep in its sturdy trunk, it remembers. As it sleeps under the low New England winter sun, that lazy egg yolk, dripping in the sky, it dreams of home.

The Beech comes from a land where there is no winter, where the leaves may live year round without a care in the world. In that place of memory they always full, they are always green. No such thing exists up here in New England; not for these giants, so stranded in the cold. No, their leaves shrivel into pale white nothings.

Turned downwards on their stems like scraps of paper quaking in the wind, they are a sore sight indeed. However fragile, the Beech leaf holds a quiet strength. It never lets go. It holds on because in the tropics, because in spring, the leaves do not let go. It refuses to die because it remembers what once was, because it knows what again will be.

I remember being in withdrawal; what it meant to be paper thin, to flail in the wind, to hang pale above the icy ground. I remember how I learned the nature of Beech leaves, and what they whispered through the forest that would set me free.

We stopped talking. There were some things that people just can’t say, and it lives in their head very clearly, but it must get torn up and mangled on its way down to their mouth because it comes out very small and very dead. In your head it’s something that can carve rivers and valleys and out of your mouth a corpse so disfigured it could hardly be remembered as something that was once great. He didn’t want to kill it, so I didn’t press him any more. If it was one of those very strong very powerful things it would make its way into my head like a bullet, without words. If it was really so strong it wouldn’t need words. Words are a crutch for the weak things and if an idea needs words to get in your head it’s not much worth thinking about.


>>10801432
I like this one. What did you write it for? I think it must be a very sad thing to write if desolate passages like this come up.

>>10798512
This is actually really fucking good from the angle of a normal man going bat shit insane from being on 4chan too long

>>10798512
Reminds me of Welcome to the NHK, in a good way. Please keep writing.

A small play-set there on the ground. Children's toys, a set of tiny chairs, and a small table. Sheets of white paper lay scattered about, along with some coloured crayons. I had to close my eyes, but I could not see you there.

>>10801432
This is nice.

>>10791542
Niggers steal.

>>10791542
Too often I think back to the time in which my journey intersected with yours, a million years ago when we both lived in that windy little town outside of Cortez. Too often I think about how it moved me; how every night, the desert was so clear and beautiful. Out in the middle of the plains I’d find you standing under the heavens, staring off into infinity with those massive eyes of yours. You were very much a creature of that place. To me, you were something of a spirit, an enchantress who seemed to emerge from the red dust of that land; who every night would exhale the stars around me. I the stranger, the temporary, this un-belonging thing from the east, felt drawn to that. If I could go back, I’d try to be brave. I’d do my best to toss my fears out into the open, to throw them on the ground, to point and laugh at them and hope to god you’d do the same. If nothing else in the world, I wanted lie there with you in the damp cool grass under the heavens, for us to feel small, but not apart. I remember you told me you felt alone, right before I had to leave, how your words had made my chest hurt. I wanted us to laugh about the awkwardness and distance we both seem to feel from all other things, about the absurdity of our lives, about the absurdity of ourselves. I wish I had been brave enough to be vulnerable, to truly know who you were. In your own subtle way, you certainly tried your best to know me. I miss the tranquil desert sky where one can see the machinery of the cosmos in its workings. I miss the clarity, the stillness, the voices of those massive silent things, and the part that you played among them.

>>10801670
>What did you write it for?
The simple processing of soothing own pain and fear from things in the past through artistic sublimation. It was born at 4AM in a sweltering dorm room last October.

>>10792841
>>10792857
>>10792996
>>10793048
>>10793086
>>10793134
>>10793191
>>10793227
>>10793273
>>10793383
>>10793490
>>10793524
>>10793596
>>10793620
>>10794161
>>10794400
>>10794413
>>10795121
>>10795329
>>10795808
>>10795874
>>10796255
>>10796285
>>10797679
>>10797931
>>10800006
>>10800060
>>10802707
all you racists, please, kys.

>>10802912
You must be a nigger. Tell me, what did you steal today?

>>10791542
WHY ISNT THIS THREAD GETTING ARCHIVED???

>>10803248
because idiots like u keep bumping

>>10798713
wth is this garbage

>>10803564
What's wrong with it?
Go on, explain in detail what you don't like about it.

>>10801432
i know it's probably part of a larger story, but it works quite well on its own desu

the fact that a thread like this can exist on /lit/

>>10793122
Stop writing

He sat and he started to sing. He knew it was a bad idea, even more so than lighting a fire but he cared not.
His comrade had fallen. His only earthly companion gone. Buried in the soil not two feet from where he now sat and to hell if he wasn't going to see his comrade out with a warriors tune. The first screams of the horde cut through the night sky. They heard his song.
He stood, gripped his sword tightly and sang louder still.
The small fire pit reflected light against the makeshift wooden tombstone that he carved for his friend.
"Here lies Cat. A true comrade. A loyal beast to the end." It read.
More screams went up. Closer now.
He gently rubbed the tombstone and walked out into the fog, still singing, sword held aloft, ready to fell any creature that dared interrupt Cats send off.

>>10802912
a better image

The nigger only takes. What he gives is an antagonist to civilized society.

Niggers are born to steal. Woe is the nigger who does not steal!

>>10804506
>The nigger only takes
>What he gives

nice job contradicting yourself
I bet you're actually insecure, can't form a powerful opinion and stand behind it, instead turning and cowering, crudely attempting a shot a humor- as humor appeals more to the layman than preaching contrary opinions. Get good or give up, don't get stuck in the halfway limbo anon.

>>10804506
>>10804569
lol what a nigger

>>10804586
u rite

>>10791542
Los negros roban.

>>10792841
>The nigger stole.
>>10792857
>The nigger steals.
Wow, I totally didn't know that.

>>10804482
These threads are an example why /lit/ is turning to shit. And it's not going to change for the better anytime soon.

Blood slipped from the cut across his face.

Someone tell me if they catch the pun.

>>10798093
I wrote it you faggot
I did post it about a month ago though

>>10805256
He was bleeding from the mouth?

The Nigger and his Own

To steal, or not to steal, that is the question:
Of the nigger

>>10805398
a nigger that does not steal is not a nigger

i went to maury and he said that baby aint mine
so I threw that dumb skank on top of a mine

>>10805496
> went to maury and he said that baby aint mine
> so I threw that dumb skank on top of a mine
From Kendrick Lamar's newest album Shit. Nominated for 20 Grammys, projected to win all of them.

>>10791542
Les Nigerables

>>10805619
>>10805398
Niglet by William Shakespeare
To steal or not to steal...

>>10796411
Joyce has done this already except better. Explore new territory.

>>10805655
what if i was trying to do it worse than joyce? certainly, that's new territory, is it not?

>>10802912
FAGGOT!!!!

>>10805655
imagine if someone had told Shakespeare not to do Sonnets because he should be exploring new territory

>>10791542
You know how these niggers made their millions? By stealing the brain cells of the faggots that listen to their music.

>>10791542
Spongewhite Squarewhite shot the nigger who tried to steal the Krabby Patty secret formula.

>>10792841
You're gonna pretend like wetbacks don't steal?

>>10804358
Thanks. I wrote it as its own standalone piece, something autobiographical pulled from memory, from certain experiences of the natural world as a healing entity. It grew as a story concept out of my own belief about people in horrible conditions, and how they perceive the world. If you have nothing and you know this, you are able to hear what other people cannot. Those more subtle things in the world take on a life of their own and become louder precisely because you have nothing substantial upon which to rescue yourself. We have to find our own guardians sometimes.

I see what you mean and I could definitely envision it being used as an introduction to a larger story. I might in the future simply because it suggests so much more.

>>10791542
I'll go terrestrial bottomfeeders for 200.
Creatures that steal.
What is a nigger?
Correct, they are niggers or as they say in Latin America, negros.

>>10805278
Yup.

Thou shalt not be fooled by these here riches I sport, for I am still Jennifer from ye olde block.

>>10807344
who tf is jennifer?

>>10807430
>there are people here who weren't even born when J-LO was famous
feels bad

>>10804915
that sarcasm makes you sound like a nigger

>>10807586
>niggers are capable of using sarcasm

>>10804482
It's bleedover from /pol/. We have to move boards.

>>10793531
leave while you still can

>>10795160
if that actually took 30 seconds it’s mildly impressive

>>10801432
only actual good piece of writing posted in this thread

>>10808269
why leave when ucan savor the racism?

>>10808386
In your opinion is this Joseph Conrad level of racsim?

>>10808413
How is Conrad racist?

>>10808413
>detested colonialism to the point of writing a novella that showcases all of the horrors it produced
>wrote letters to Belgian trade companies calling them out in their bullshit

How is Conrad a racist? I’m curious why you think that.

>>10808634
>>10808672
He said the 'n' word a lot and protrayed Africans as savages.
The fact that I even have to point it out is baffling.

>>10809464
>portrayed Africans as savages
>reality is racist

He portrayed Europeans as savages as well.

>>10809690
>>portrayed Africans as savages
how is this not racist when africans are more full of depth and culture than shallow characterizations a white man would make?

>>10808634
>>10808672
>>10809690
Conrad made Africa to be some sort of anti-civilization, some sort of dark world. He made a point at the expense of Africans and African culture.

>>10810349
>He made a point at the expense of Africans and African culture.
The absolute state of /lit/.

>>10810349
are you aware of the reality of Africa, because anti-civilization describes it pretty well. Even the countries that were once very rich due to colonization, like the Congo, are retreating back into jungle and anarchy.

>>10810349
oh, how fucking problematic

>>10810400
Even the ancient giants of that continent are literally dust at this point. Shit just doesnt last in the hellhole people call their roots.

>>10809464
>>10810349
The fact that Conrad, a man who denounced colonialism and wrote heart of darkness separating himself from the protagonist through a blatantly unreliable narrator, is accused of being a racist, while Chinua Achebe, the man who started this whole "Conrad is racist" thing and wrote his fiction NOT separating himself from the narrator, is never called out on the sexism present in his works is simply astounding. The hypocrisy of post colonial scholars knows no bounds.

>>10796269
had a hearty kek

>>10810432
Based.

Im glad Conrad is kill, i wouldnt want him to live in this shit show.

I've always liked the meaning to this one, but I know it's not really all that great. I had planned to make a short story of it but it never really fanned out.

He continued to walk down the ever busy street, people angrily and fearfully rushing amongst the sidewalk. The road was clouded with so many bodies that it would be near impossible for a car to park in it, let alone drive. Yelling and shouting filled the air, not of urgency, but of desperation. He looked around him taking in the view; the view of the man breaking the glass of a nearby shop, the child attempting to keep up with her rushing mother, or the woman slowly walking towards him. She seemed like a picture to him, an image of a lone figure standing above the fog as if she knew something he never could, and as she passed him she let out a sad, yet knowing smile. He gazed into it and fell deeper in love with it.
There is a certain beauty in the impact of simple actions. A wave, a nod, a handshake. Such small, nearly unimportant, actions carry such a weight that one could not even imagine. A smile, oh dear Christ a smile. He wondered how many lives had been saved by a smile, how many had been ended, and how many ruined.
A small smile across the train would fill him with a joy so unique, so itself, that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He’d smile back, and in that short moment nothing would matter. Not his dead end job, his boring social life, or his ever stagnating mind. In that moment he was free, he was happy, and then that moment was gone.
And yet that same action can brought him such a haunting pain. A sad smile would fill his heart with a cynic’s solidarity. In that moment he would feel empathy bearing down on him and pulling him into distant fantasies. He’d tell himself that he’d do anything to help, but that moment too would pass and reality would set in as he simply continued his life leaving others to theirs.
As he lifted his head he realized he had done just that, the girl had kept walking now behind him. He cast one last glance at her, turned around, and kept walking himself. He had always found timing to be a funny thing, biding his time for opportunities while missing the ones right in front of him. There was a certain irony in it, he had come to find, a truth that he found troubling to accept.

>>10810480
He may have been able to turn this shit show upside down if he were alive.

Memories are worst remembered alone

>>10810432
>>10810480
>>10810573
>>10810349
>be a genius who mastered the literary craft of three major world languages and used it to create some of the most cutting and insightful social commentaries of your era
>there are still people out there who are so fucking stupid that they completely misinterpret everything you say through the bilateral platitudes based upon thinking only from their own modern contexts long after you’re gone

Being Conrad is suffering.

>>10791542
No nigger does not steal.

>>10810691
If a nigger no longer steals, does he cease being a nigger?

>>10810711
A trained nigger is still a nigger.

>>10802730
revised draft, a little better but still a work in progress:

You are Everywhere

Too often I think back to the time in which my journey intersected with yours, a million years ago when we both lived in that windy little town outside of Cortez. Too often I think about how it moved me, how every night, the desert was so clear and beautiful. Out in the middle of the plains I’d often find you standing under the heavens, staring off into infinity with those massive eyes of yours.
You were very much a creature of that place. To me, you were something of a spirit, this sort of enchantress who seemed to emerge from the red dust of that land, who every night would exhale the universe around me. You were something that I the stranger, this temporary and un-belonging thing from the cloudy east, felt drawn to.
If I could go back, I’d try to be brave. I’d do my best to toss my fears out into the open, to throw them into the dirt, to point, to laugh at them and hope to god you’d do the same. If nothing else in the world, I wanted to sit with you in the cool wet grass under the cosmic highway, for us to feel small in the grand scheme of things, but not apart. I remember right before I left, how you told me that you felt alone, and how your words had made my chest hurt.
I wanted to toss away all of the burdens with which I was forced to grapple, to free up my arms and place them around you. I wanted us to laugh about the awkwardness and distance we both seemed to feel from all other things, about the absurdity of our lives, about the absurdity of ourselves. With the heat of those far away suns, I wanted us to burn it all away.
I wish I had been brave enough to be vulnerable, to stay out there, to truly know who you were. In your own subtle way, you certainly tried your best to know me. I miss the tranquil desert sky where one can see the machinery of creation in all of its workings. I miss the clarity, the stillness, the voices of those massive silent things, and how it was you stood among them.

Sleep, like me, comes in spurts.

>>10791542
In a world that rhymes, no one will be the second stanza.

>>10811111
nice digits

>>10811113
It's like poetry, it rhymes.

>>10811520
Contextually: no one wants to be the second stanza. Had to scourge it here for various reasons. Not that it matters to you, probably.

>>10791542

Do you remember how the two of us would sit up in my flat in Burlington, watching movies and laughing while the world around us froze? There was one night in February, a favorite of mine that reached 40 below zero. It didn't matter because the house was warm and you were there beside me. Actually, I think the cold only made me love you more.

I miss the heaviness of your body pressed against my own, the rhythmic rise and fall of your lungs with mine; that slow and intimate dance they did. I miss the push and pull of our breathing as you slept, moving me to peacefulness like sea waves. I miss focusing on the cracks in the plaster walls to prevent myself from drifting off, in an effort to savor being intertwined with you as long as possible.

I miss the weight of another person's life bearing down into my own, how with each subtle shift and stir you unconsciously told me that you were there to stay. I miss the honesty such closeness whispered, those small unspoken affirmations found in subtle motions, the ones that kept the winter at bay.

Before I knew it, I had to leave; the softness, the realness, the sincerity of you, that lovely thing so anchoring my peace. It evaporated into shallow digital platitudes, and eventually faded into silence. It was not my fault that I got sick and had to go, that I left you alone up in Vermont, out in the cold by yourself.

Now that I'm somewhat healed, back from death, from what those people had done to me, I no longer allow myself to be close. I hate what they did, how through violations so fundamental, they made me ugly. How I hate that I hate to be touched, how it's not my fault that something so essential now causes me such pain. While I hate them deeply for all that they’d done to me, I hate them the most for taking me away from you.

There is nobody in the world I'd want so near to me, nobody except for you, that missing piece all clad in green mountains. For some reason, after everything that happened, it was always okay with you. If all that I had was the fire that you were, that gentle caring thing by which to warm myself, I think I could be that person again. I think I could be that person for you. I think it would be okay if the rest of the world were as frigid as it was that night in Vermont, way back in my memories, up in my flat, when the two of us would laugh and watch movies. I think it would be okay if all the world had froze, so long as you were there beside me.

>>10811616
emotional ;(

>>10811616
>I miss the honesty such closeness whispered, those small unspoken affirmations found in subtle motions, the ones that kept the winter at bay.
Overall great writing, but this line just hit me hard.

>>10811616
this was a great read thanks!


Those hours hang in memory,
Each fleeting laugh and hanging look
Trapped in golden atoms of
Time, resin dripping from
The moment of her hair
Floating on an April wind
I’ve bobbed upon its ripples,
Wavelets coursing long and languid
From their honeyed centre

>>10810501
>>10811087
These are awesome, please keep writing

>>10811616
damn anon. is there more? you share your stuff anywhere?

>>10811709
Working on writing a book of short stories in this style with the same structure. I posted two others in this thread to test the waters. One is being used as a voiceover in a short film I'm directing.

>>10811727
>I posted two others in this thread to test the waters.
I thought it was you!

>>10811699
>purple prose which drowns out the meaning of the author's intention combined with choppy flow and visually jarring transitions between lines that force you to pause and wonder where the fuck the current text is connecting

I puked in my mouth a little pham

>>10810501
I like that you really relaxed into jut explaining a concept and that it doesn’t force itself into a narrative structure. She walks away and we’re left feeling the same way as the storyteller, and all we really need in the end.

Thoroughly enjoyed that anon. Great stuff.

“It’s all real, Jason,” Ray yelled over the hissing and cracking of the rain which the wind had channeled into a barrage that nearly toppled both of them. “I need you to tell me what comes next.”
At that moment, the ceaseless downpour and its accompanying thunder felt wholly irrelevant to Jason. Though the rain was deafening and the bolts of terrifying electricity grew ever closer, he had encountered both before -- his attention was entirely consumed by that which he had not.
“Say that again,” Jason said.
“We don’t have time for this, damnit!” Ray said, looking behind him as a stroke of light embedded itself in the earth mere feet behind him, causing an explosion of dirt and stone that spattered the pair in black and brown.
“I said it’s all real,” he yelled, matching Jason’s stare, putting a hand on his face. “I need you to get us out of here.”

>>10803661
>>10798997
I’m neither of those anons but you’re just trying so hard to shout LOOK, LOOK HOW NONCONFORMIST I AM, THE WHOLE WORLD IS A JOKE while still staying surface level and relying on somatic incantatations to describe the way you feel. There is no deeper ideology or greater structure to your statement about the world. You are merely pointing things out with flowery language. Anyone can point and say “dude, consumerism is geyy” but can you tell us why? Clearly you cannot.

>>10811111
Sure, I'll check 'em, not bad friendo B-)

>>10812869
I'm not your friend, nigger.

>>10813222
I'm not your nigger, homie.

>>10813361
I'm not your homie, friend.

>>10811958
I'm guessing this is about Jason Voorhees?

not my best.

>I went there and sat on the first computer I saw that was far away from everything else and nearest to the door -- this meant that I wouldn't have to look at anyone and no one would disturb me. She sat next to me and I thought that she would probably be here only for the two periods and not do anything else probably wouldn't sit here ever again. Deciding not to look at her or speak ( or show any interest ) was easy enough to come to, for I had spent the majority of my holiday getting over her. I was sure nothing would happen from her side, because I was completely convinced she called me a creep behind my back and I needed no evidence to validate that because I would call anyone who did to me what I did to her a creep. It was probably my fault. Had I sat where I usually did, she would have had a friend next to her and I would have peace and quiet and a little privacy from the teacher because I don't expect other girls to talk to me for long periods of time except when asking for help or when they're obligated, and in both scenarios I try and reduce the time it takes to interact with them - by curtly declining to help (but never lying about it) and passing on the burden. I came to the conclusion that on her head was the burden of sitting next to her abuser, something she would not be comfortable about, and was something I would not force her to do if I culd help it. Making a fuss about it right now would be the worst thing to do, and so I decided both of us had to bear each other's proximity for two hours in the span of four years. If it was up to me, I'd leave and never see her again and forget about her in a year or two and maybe then I would be alive again and forget the pain that came with the awareness of her existence and how she wasn't what I though about in my head even though she looked exactly the same. Like a doppleganger rumpelstiltskin. Asking for moral debasement with a face and voice crafted around and bursting with innocence and untainted laughter.

not my best

>I went there and sat on the first computer I saw that was far away from everything else and nearest to the door -- this meant that I wouldn't have to look at anyone and no one would disturb me. She sat next to me and I thought that she would probably be here only for the two periods and not do anything else. She probably wouldn't sit here ever again. Deciding not to look at her or speak ( or show any interest ) was easy enough to come to, for I had spent the majority of my holiday getting over her. I was sure nothing would happen from her side, because I was completely convinced she called me a creep behind my back and I needed no evidence to validate that because I would call anyone who did to me what I did to her a creep. It was probably my fault. Had I sat where I usually did, she would have had a friend next to her and I would have peace and quiet and a little privacy from the teacher because I don't expect other girls to talk to me for long periods of time except when asking for help or when they're obligated, and in both scenarios I try and reduce the time it takes to interact with them - by curtly declining to help (but never lying about it) and passing on the burden. I came to the conclusion that on her head was the burden of sitting next to her abuser, something she would not be comfortable about, and was something I would not force her to do if I could help it. Making a fuss about it right now would be the worst thing to do, and so I decided both of us had to bear each other's proximity for two hours in the span of four years. If it was up to me, I'd leave and never see her again and forget about her in a year or two and maybe then I would be alive again and forget the pain that came with the awareness of her existence and how she wasn't what I thought about in my head even though she looked exactly the same. Like a doppleganger rumpelstiltskin. Asking for moral debasement with a face and voice crafted around and bursting with innocence and untainted laughter.

>>10813537
no, completely unrelated

>>10791542
WOWOWOW WE REALLY DIDN'T KNOW THAT NIGGERS STEAL! DID WE HAVE TO MAKE A WHOLE THREAD ABOUT THE FACT THAT ALL NIGGERS ARE GENETICALLY PROGRAMMED TO STEAL WHATEVER THEY SEE? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU CREATE THIS RETARDED THREAD FOR, YOU FUCKING BRAINLET!!!

He could hear the shouts and yells of scrambling people in the distance, slowly drowned out by the songs of the cicadas. The tempo had always captured his heart. He knew not if it was simply nostalgia or whether the noise was truly as beautiful as he heard, but regardless he drowned himself in it, taking each noise as it slowly trailed into a dull nothingness before another raised its voice. The sun was shining brightly, its rays centering on his face and eyes like a soft blanket. It rinsed over his body, seeping into his clothes and warming him to the core as he slowly brought his arms in, hugging himself. He smiled and closed his eyes, his head still lying back in a position that he could only explain as pure comfort. A sweet perfume filled the air of cut grass and tree sap, and as each of his senses had filled he drifted from reality. His mind slowly left him, and waves of happy thoughts of the ones he had truly loved filled the always increasing empty spaces he had felt. As they ran around on this play ground, sat on the swings and contemplated life. Soft tears ran down his face, caressing him in a way that was not unpleasant, and he let out a soft sigh. The interrupting sound of footsteps approached him. The cynic in him told him it was not who he thought it was. He opened in eyes; half blinded by the sun, he saw the faint outline of a slender woman. She was foreign to him, but welcome none the less. He smiled as she approached and sat beside him, about a foot away. He leaned back again and closed his eyes, still sticky with tears. They spread across his eyelashes, and soon evaporated away, leaving only a chilly feeling where they had once been. He reached out his hands and brought the woman in, softly pulling her to his side as she met him along the way. He felt her long, silky hair. It must have been beautiful, but he could not force himself to open his eyes. He could feel her chest rising and falling erratically as she silently sobbed into him.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said bluntly as he opened his eyes once again, his gaze fixed on the sun, a smile spreading across his face.
The moment seemed to drag as the warmth he had once felt drained from him. The cicada’s song had stopped a while ago, how long he could not say. The smell of cut grass was long gone, and he realized that there was not long left.
“Me too,” she softly let out, her voice breaking as she unburied her face and leaned into his arms.
The world grew cold, dark, and silent around him. It pushed in at every possible angle burying him in a feeling of misery and loneliness that had always nipped at his heels, his head filled with all cynicism and self-loathing he had hoped to have forgotten. But then felt a soft stirring next to him. He wasn’t alone. Not this time. And as everything became nothing, swallowed up by the inevitable something, he knew that if he could have, he would have come to love these times too.

>>10814310
this is probably one of the best pieces of writing anyone's ever posted on a critique thread on lit

>>10814446
If you're not being sarcastic, I really appreciate it.

>>10814310

Very nice, m8. Perfectly balanced.

>>10814310
This would work well in a collection of shorts.

>>10814811
It was meant to be an ending sequence to a short story.

>>10814255
dude, chill with the racism

>>10814868
I'd like to read the whole short story.

>>10815385
If I ever write it properly, I'll post it here. I can tell you what it's about if you'd like, but that's really all I have at this point. I was extremely disappointed with how it turned out as an entire piece, but I enjoyed the ending and message I had in mind. I might try again at some point, but my ability to piece a cohesive story together is a struggle.

Deep within the fiery crucible of creation, the Galactic Thunder Nigger roared into existence.

>>10815538
Only quads may slay him.

>>10815538
>>10815754
Quads are impossible. Galactic Thunder Nigger will reign supreme!

>>10815763
Not if we have something to say about it.

>>10815821
Is the guy holding the flag a NIGGER???

>>10815821
>that flag bearer on the far right

Jesus fuck it’s a literal confederacy of dunces

>>10815976
It must be the mulatto they're too compassionate to simply kill but still don't trust with a rifle.

>>10815538
>>10815754
>>10815763
>>10815821
>>10815877
>>10815987
What happened in your childhood that made you raging racists?

>>10816206
robbed by niggers

>>10816206
I read the book 'the selfish gene' whereupon it occurred to me that there was absolutely no reason that men and women, or whites or blacks, or whatever should all be identical

Wrote this pure stream of consciousness thing recently that is definitely cheesy but I liked parts of it.

Memory(?)


Vomit, booze, and smoke. Even the wind from the bay can’t wash away such a tenacious smell of human filth. It clings in the crevices and corners, a mo(u)rning reminder of Friday's festivities. When people drink coffee and utter the incantation “Ahhh, I feel human again,” it's because they fervently deny the filth of being human so strongly that stimulant induced delusion is their natural state. As if synthetic fibers and skyscrapers have somehow fundamentally changed anything. The human condition is stress, exhaustion, despair, brief exuberance, and filth.


A city is a place to forget and a place to remember. The Scylla of work snatches soon forgotten cre(eeds)wmen off your battered ego’s deck and the torrent of people that swirl in Charybdis chips away at your individuality as the foam tugs you into malls, subways, streets with no helmsman apparent. The vessel only sails as long you can forget. The vessel only sails if at least one crewman can see sunlight between the cliffs. Forget the splintering deck, the you reflected in every face, the dead crew, your crushed naivety. Remember the beautiful, transient sunlight.


Who are you? What sets you apart? No one of importance. Nothing internal. The moral of the ugly duckling wasn't to be kind to everyone just in case, which itself is a selfish motive, but rather that beauty is the truest pedigree that can't be denied. Beauty in the city can stop cars, turn heads, make people forget, make people remember. Did the ducks forget (remember) their own filth when they gazed on a perfect form? Do people remember (forget) what it is to be human when the subconscious pursuit of beauty ends for a moment?


Existing in filth only has meaning if beauty exists. Vomit is knowledge, smoke is comfort, booze is camaraderie, and the wind is reality. Knowledge of one's limit is forgotten. Comfort is ephemeral and at the expense of others. Camaraderie only lasts as long as it's convenient. Reality gently washes each delusion from the c(ps)i(y)t(che)y but the subtle stench that remains shouldn't be forgotten. Only by enshrining that waft can you remember. Only by knowing that waft can beauty make you forget.

>>10816206
Nigger fucked my wife.

>>10791542
Nigger.

>>10811616
>>10811087
>>10810501
How long have you written? It is very nice.

>>10811616
>>10811087
also tips on how to do this intimate emotion? Are you writing from personal experience?

>>10816825
>>10816825
Thank you (I did the desert stars and vermont girl posts). On and off since I was 15 or so. It all started when I first had the chance to travel. For some reason I felt compelled to record my experiences in a handwritten journal. I’d write about 4 pages every day when something interesting was happening in my life, and then when things returned to normal I’d do a 5 page passage about once per week. It just became habit.

>>10816828
For both of those passages and most of what I write, I do pull from personal experience, which I think is both a strength and a weakness. As cheesy as it sounds, I focus on what stayed in my heart from those times. One thing I tend to see a lot of anons on this board getting tripped up on is that they put form and surface-level finish before function and intent. If you spend time workshopping what it is you want to say, rather than how to convey it, your communication of concepts and ideas will be a lot clearer. I tend to lean on somatic descriptions of feelings to make my writing feel more alive. In the end, it’s all about what you feel and what you want to say, what aches in your heart rather than what words you want to use. Just relax and trust yourself without getting hung up on flowery “purple prose” as it’s often called here. Keep intent, and the description of emotional concepts as your focus, then go back and build in the metaphors later.

For example, I knew that I felt sad about having to leave someone I loved, but my comparison of her leaving my life to the encroaching cold of winter was an afterthought worked into the prose later.

>>10791542
Imagine waking up one day to find out your dad is a nigger.

>>10817969
then that would make u at least half a nigger

>>10816206
What happened in your childhood that made you so thin-skinned?

>>10816825
>>10810501
At the time I wrote this, I had been trying really hard to get a short story together for a year maybe. I had always read a lot, and really enjoyed writing in school, but had never really done much before hand outside of school. I really started writing a lot more after this, but still not enough to really do anything with.

>>10818133
Am I thin-skinned for wanting some decency?
Fuck racists!

>>10818229
>racists on /lit/

>>10818434
And you're somehow implying that there aren't racists on lit? This thread is a goddamn example. Full of Conrad apologists, spewing hatred and racism without coherent explanations for their racism. Make America Great Again, white boy! How's that going for you?

>>10818624
How is Conrad a racist?

>>10818229
>>10818624
you get absolutely no good boy points or gold stars for pretending to care about minorities here. The internet has made it immensely clear that when you level the playing field of discussion the racists win nearly every time. you are better off just not bothering unless your name is attached to what you're saying

>>10818226
>>10817064
Thank both of you guys, especially the somatic thing, I'll try to work with that.

>>10818624
>retards think saying nigger is racist
>autists say it because of this
>retards continue to think it's racist
>autists continue to use it
Vicious cycle.
nigger

>>10818624
>>10819282
nigger

nigger

nigger

>>10818794
>The internet has made it immensely clear that when you level the playing field of discussion the racists win nearly every time.
lmafo That's not at all true and you know it!

>>10818794
>The internet has made it immensely clear that when you level the playing field of discussion the racists win nearly every time.
Where are the racists on Reddit?

>>10819879
you're not being serious right now...

>>10818794
two questions: why is the stripping of identity, which includes ties and appearances (both important for forming bonds) a good thing?

and why do you think racism is a monolithic concept and why are you not precise by what you mean when you say racists win? do you think /pol/ brigading other boards and encouraging people to make meme threads with inflammatory racism is the same thing as the idea of racism winning? what of the people who don't mean the racism they espouse? what of the people who are doing it to fit in? what of the ""silent"" majority who don't join in? what about those who protest and are equally represented? most threads aren't racist and probably half the posters who do reply to racial threads are not racist. It seems like you're posturing and not rigorous

>>10819879
Reddit is heavily moderated. Anything that doesn't fit with their hive-mind is banned.

>>10820337
Nigger say what?

>>10819879
Reddit is filled with racists.

>>10820704
almost everywhere on Reddit will ban you and delete your comment for being racist even in the 'check out these statistics' way, let alone the 'fuck u nigger' way

I steal, therefore I am a nigger

>>10820704
Reddit bans users at the first hint of racism. Most subreddits have "no racism" within the first five rules. Pathetic niggers, chinks, spics, and crackers can't handle language.

>>10820700
>>10820733
dubs proclaim that niggers are inferior

>>10819236
My pleasure anon.

>>10821183
Dubs means the truth. Check em.

>I saw her there, sitting alone, on a towel, watching the play of the waves. I walked over to her, told her that she looked nice, and that it was a hot day, to which she agreed. Then I asked her if she had made any plans for that night. She told me that she hadn’t, and then I asked her if she’d like to hang out with me later. She said sure, and then I gave her my address.

That night, whilst we were in my kitchen, I told her that I had to go to the bathroom, and that I would soon be back. But instead, I went to my bedroom, and got the rifle that I had hidden underneath my bed. When I returned, I saw her standing in the kitchen. I saw her back, her legs, her buttocks, her hair, and thought that she was very beautiful. I thought of touching her, smelling her, caressing her,… And then I shot her.

>>10822922
I was reading this, scrolling through the thread, and I stopped, and said, "Ouch."

>>10811616
I actually think this is heavy handed and plainly silly in places. Things like
>the ones that kept the winter at bay.
make me roll my eyes.

>>10822887
oooh, so close from trips :L
but still... niggers are inferior

>With the strength he had left, Tim ate the last Beefy Fritos Burrito from the bag. It had no flavor, but he imagined the ones described by the wrapper. He moaned without breathing and with the last bite fondled the bag into a loose ball. He felt a soft, lukewarm resistance push out from the paper and a wave of despair that originated at the hand settled in his stomach. There were still two Cinnabon Delights that deserved no place in his stomach but for the fact that they were already bought, already touched, and should logically follow the salty main course. Tim unfurled the ball of paper into a bag again, retrieved his prize, and then swirled his hand around the bottom to salvage unused sachets of salsa. All appetites spoiled or sated at this point, the very forms of the balls became overwhelming. He imagined seminal fluids inside and felt the rough, scrotal exterior. In my mouth? But his hand was already conveying the dessert testicle to his face and his teeth, still lacquered by queso and beef, tore the doughy shell. At least this tasted like something. The intense sweetness was a welcome change of pace. Before his esophagus had squeezed the first bite down, he took the rest of the Delight into his mouth. Milk would be good with this. He lurched over his knees and and fell forward fast enough to begin walking, toward the kitchen. He brought the last ball with him. Just a splash. A splash for each bite. Good, done. Tim shuffled back to his seat to discover that he'd barely touched his Baja Blast.

A thunder cracked. Beyond the pane the sky was cackling bright white jagged angles, as if to say "your mom gay lol"

>>10824003
A screaming comes across the sky, a screaming that says, "your mom fagit, lol."

>>10824003
>>10824064
low effort

>>10822922
How evil of you! >:[

Bumping because I want someone to like my thing

>>10826233
at least link it

like this
>>10813617

>>10827125
I want my work to stand on its own

>>10827394
In a thread full of niggers, it's hard for a work of art to stand out.

>>10803150
Your potential wife

>>10829051
Niggers steal.

>>10830225
That is nasty but fitting.

>>10830526
It would fit into my asshole, all right ;)

>>10814310
Dope. Not the best thing I've ever seen posted here as the other anon said, but you're one of the good ones, buddy.

>>10791542

>A slow descent of collapsing sonics dived in effortless movements, defying gravity and all sense of motion. An erotic damnation had befallen upon this beautiful land, and we were to pay for it through tribute to these taoistic heralds. A collective animalia, beset with a determined philosophy that wishes us virtually unlimited cadence. Faint and pearlescent howlings, quips and taps murmured and fluttered its semblance raucously down my spine. The avian lords collapsed in some inverted vestibular seething gasp down upon the ground not but 50 yards away from our exhausted state. Perpendicular globes sloshed about from pivoting and rigid feathered tendrils, beautifully mocking a leafs’ desire for photosynthesis. They formed a pentagon about our nearest proximities. Second and third sets of wings folded inward towards their torso’s, forming beastial arms with bulging muscles and stoned palms cached in marbled hues of teals and indigos. Nameless, border-line formless, faces only obvious, yet oblivious to reason, by their circus of beaks and ornamental protrusions.

I dabble in Surrealist techniques, Automatism, and Hypnagogia. It's fun and I love losing myself to these passages.

>>10831705
the fuck is this shit

>>10810349
So you're saying describing Africa is inherently racist?

>You are an equestrian?

>Nay, I'm a contrarian

>>10831775
People like them are offended by truth.

>>10832208
And what is the truth?

>>10801670
Pretty nice.

>>10811699
Pretty good

>>10816206
Most are honestly probably just joking and being edgy, nigger

>>10819602
Well, if you're so upset by a single word on an anonymous imageboard, then the racists have truly won and you truly are a nigger.

>>10791542

>>10833335
Complete the story, anons!

>>10833369
lol no

It is time for perfect sadness to encompass my heart. There is a perfect circular hole in which she once resided, and there is surely no one in existence who will fit so well in the place she left behind.

>>10835206
just take a knife and make that hole into a square lol, faggot

>>10831705
This purple as fuck just say the birds danced with the wind or some shit damn dude get a real hobby.

>>10820700
What?

>>10831705
>The avian lords

>>10831705
Downright gaudy language that trips over itself and obstructs all basic intent, structure, and meaning in favor of a poorly thought out and vain attempt to sound complicated and descriptive. Absolutely disgusting you Saul Bello wannabe pseud fuck.

Please never post here again and stop writing entirely.

>>10796269
10/10

>>10797694
nice

>>10798512
MOAR PLZ

>>10798512
Excellent.

He opened the door to his room and a musty smell hit him at once. He waved away the air, allowing it to flow out into the hall and stepped inside. There was a mattress, a table upon which a lantern was placed, a chair and a window covered in brown tarp. He shut the door behind him, kicked off his boots, and fell flat onto the mattress. He lay there. He did not move. He did not think and in the receding haze of waking life he saw nothing but the bareness of the room in which he now lay and he was at once repelled and attracted to the stolid fixture of its arrangement, consumed by the placement of chair and table and window and in the luminescence of the lantern that flickered and died in the way that all things do like a raven that sails over the rushing wind and air and that mysterious attractor that it must struggle against for the duration of its short and solitary life and in all of this he could see the menace of mundanity that rests and lies in wait within worldly corners obliterated by the bareness of their being; in the sooty corner of a hotel room or the dusted tables fixed to the floor of a saloon or in the great towering shiprocks that rose up from the desert floor as if the land itself had pushed up some inescapable and eternal reminder of itself, a swooning marker and declaration of its own perverse instantiation upon the horizons of the world. When he drifted to sleep he did not dream.

>>10836354
Boy howdy now that’s a fucking run-on sentence.

>>10791542
>These years without them are replete with a shivering emptiness.
What does /lit/ think of putting paradoxical statements like this in your writing? I suppose it's relatable and I don't think many wouldn't understand what the author is trying to convey, but in my view it still feels like you need to carry out some form of escalation in meaning to reach something abstract like this. Of course, it's just an excerpt so I don't know the preceding sentences, but I think it would be good have jumpable stepping stones so the reader doesn't get lost.

>>10793257
I fucking lost it

>>10811793
come on it's overwrought but not that bad

>>10813893
it's shit then
sorry anon

I hope it's not too purple.

They like to rough things up at /lit/, so when OP made this thread, I knew I had to bring it. These anons have seen and done it all, but today I knew it was time to bring out the anal cannon. The Anal Cannon is loaded when a funnel is placed into an asshole, and the 2nd whore pukes into it. After the ass is filled with puke, a cock then fucks it until the pressure is all built up. After the Asshole has been fucked hard enough, the cock is pulled out and the Anal cannon explodes! To top it all off, ass to mouth occurs, with both ladies licking off the fresh mix of vomit and ass for the ultimate /lit/ dessert!

>>10836149

you miss the point of surrealism. it's akin to abstract art, in that it simply is what it is. There is no further intent beyond what you see. Minimizing the scope of acceptable language is a terrible idea; use all of it to fully and experience what it can give you.

Calm your ego down.

>>10837294
You assume that learning to use language well is restrictive, but all it means is that you need to become a better writer to find that obstacle diminished. If you can just use and words and arrangements freely with no refused for overall composition where lies the challenge, the push to create something meaningful? Abstract “art,” “art” for the sake of form only is shit and what you’ve written is utter schlock. Placing importance on ideas is what separates us from animals, and placing the superficial, the surface level on a pedestal with nothing underneath is disgusting. You have no mind underneath it. It’s hollow and empty.

>>10837407
bump

>>10791542
Nothing you guys post on lit is ever good. Why is that?

>>10838978
OPs was the worst thing posted, even amongst all these nigger posts.

>>10838978
if any of us were good, we wouldn't be posting on lit

>>10839946
I'm the next Hemingway. You'll all see.

>>10840544
Post some of your writing, then.

>>10840745
Im not that guy, but i think ive got something great in me.

>Hanging there in the starless night - it boasts of a world known, but unseen; a mirror held to the light of day - so that the stars of man know the brevity of their days.

your presence illuminates nothing but a spectre

The copper feet of Him clicked against the cobbles as he went to kill the man.