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Ode to the Outhouse by kscorn080 (pete) Do you remember The little house out behind Where you had to go out And clear your mind You sat in there With the critters and bugs Bees and spiders Maybe even some slugs It was an oven in summer And made you sweat An icebox in winter When it rained it was wet When you were finished Done with your chore You jump up quickly And rush out the door For you had been told But it might not...

I wonder, Wonder how.  Wonder what.  Wonder why. I wonder,How did I get the hottest woman on earth? What made her fall for me?Why did the hottest woman pick me of all people? I wonder, How can she love me so much ? What does she see in me? Why does she do every thing I ask her to do? I wonder,Wonder how. Wonder what. Wonder why. I would of never had a first, a second or a third love if she was my first love. There is no w...

Cross legged, I sit. Topless on my bed, fan blowing at me. I’m far too hot. That’s not a complaint you hear much where I am from. It’s usually that it’s too damned cold, but I can’t complain too vehemently. No, I do not like the sun, or rather, I don’t like the heat it brings with it, but it is nice to see it. It’s kind of a scary sight, but it does do wonderful things. It brings life, it sustains life, it does make other...

The sky’s blue-gray – opaque and oppressive. The clouds can’t even seem to stand up to it, because they’re ghostly – unreal – their dark bottoms devoured by that steely background. Heh. Have to remember that. Sounds like a good opening for a story. I’ve got a nice view of it, not that I want it. The narrow rock shelf I’m lying on doesn’t give me much else to look at, other than the crumbled remains of the significantly na...

I hear it all the time, the guys walking down the hall. All these vulgar sayings and words for the girls. We aren't called gorgeous or pretty or even cute. Half the sayings I won't even type, because it's insulting- granted, if I liked the guy, if we were together, I might think differently about some of them- but maybe not. Most likely not. They aren't ever directed at me, thank goodness, but the girls they are directed...

I spread out my mother's dust-filled, leather-bound, two ton photo album on my lap. It was still a fading blue color even after all these years. The front cover had a gold engraved inscription; "Friends Forever." in cursive writing that shimmered and reflected the dim lighting in the attic. Mama used to tell me that the Queen of England wrote it on the book herself, with real gold and real jewels. That was years ago. All...