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Category: Writing

The Root of the Problem

“Root canal is one fifty, give or take, depending on who’s doing it to you. But listen, I’ll do it for a third of the price, cut you a real deal. Provided you can go without anesthesia, of course. But listen here, most people pass out within a couple of seconds anyways, no sweat. A hundred credits is a lot man, think about it.” A hundred credits really is a lot of money nowadays. A hundred credits can buy you a fully functioning synthetic heart. Can even get you a… Read more The Root of the Problem

An Intellectual Gulag

There’s a sense of romanticism that I find lacking in school. Some lack of camaraderie amongst peers I suppose. Some absence of chutzpah carried by those unfettered by the shackles of experience and good taste. Yes, here it is. It’s this very passiveness that pervades the collective will of my fellow classmates that demeans them. Look at Chang. How he unwittingly laps knowledge from our so called ‘teacher’s’ hands, never, even for a moment considering how it might be poisoned. Like a dog and his owner. A prisoner and his… Read more An Intellectual Gulag

For Want of a Better Conversation

For Want of a Better Conversation   “That’s the problem with this city you hear? And I, for one, can’t stand for it. Absolutely not. How absurd? Vagrants prowling the streets. Stealing away on subway cars like stowaways… Then BAM. There they go! Holding the whole cabin hostage with their pleas for alms and pity! It’s disgraceful. And really, we’re the ones responsible. We’re the ones that have to do something about it.” The man beside me stares back vacantly, quiet, but attentive. A dumb look in his eyes. You… Read more For Want of a Better Conversation

Practically Catharsis

Speak Goddammit. I’ll wring you till you sing a sonnet so sonorous, that weeping will only unerringly honor it. Sing to me so lyrically an Iliad, but brief! Make Troy of ennui An Odyssey of relief Lend me your voice For un-screamed screams walls stricken at half-force For sake o’ deferred dreams whisper. this is practically catharsis   –Raymond Lew

Ode to the Sound of Progress

What sound should sound the march of progress? what beaten drum resounding? Bell rung, howling out deeds done for all to hear and recognize Ah Progress! Hear, hear! The mellifluous melodies, marking the march of progress! How sweetly doth chords swing and sway to thine ear? How beautiful the composition! Could this not be but Progress? O’ now, the horns blaring, with sound so concrete That cannot tension but build, build, build! Silence straining, sleep breaking, waking to the Sound of Progress!   –Raymond Lew

Autumn 2

Rustling swooning, dying leaves haunt an evening gusty breeze swirling twirling dancing on wind that whistles in the dawn of an early winter. –Raymond Lew


A last kiss from Autumn warmth leaving, lips left cold rose complexion, now so gently pale by every tender sigh exhaled on frosty breath imbued a softly sweet perfume haunts an evening gusty breeze rustling swooning, dying leaves waking me just in time for winter   –Raymond Lew