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Emile Pierce
Writer living and surviving in the Cincinnati area. Determined to dominate the literary scene...taking over your consciousness.
Writer living and surviving in the Cincinnati area. Determined to dominate the literary scene...taking over your consciousness.

Emile's posts

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beale street blues boy
was it ‘bout that
sharecroppin’ boy usin’
a  guitar as a toy? bendin’
and stretchin’ each
emotion drenched note, singin
like demons and angels tryin’
ta crawl from his throat. made
women swoon and
grown ass men cry. my
oh my, dem
blues is so sly. left

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a vulcan state of mind
i am not spock. time? the 23 rd century… the place? the hearts and minds of every trekkie who ever dared raise an eyebrow, or attempt to paralyze a buddy with a neck pinch surprise. the green-blooded hobgoblin was calm and collected, while making bones and ...

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"the man"
can I get a witness?! hyperbole for all to see, dangling participles to set staunch minds free, his legend metamorphosed into something cooler than the other side of the pillow. like a guy smokin’ at a gas station, his career blew up and he politely took us...

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  Franklin studied his
face, in the restroom mirror, and managed a quick smile. It was fake. He was
checking to see if there was any spinach stuck in his teeth from the appetizer
he just forced down.   “Fucking spinach. I
hate that shit,” he mumbled, while ...

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Stephan sniffed and rubbed the snot away from his nose, with
a dirty shirt sleeve. He’d been wearing the same shirt for ten days. There was
no need to count days anymore. But he did it to keep the frail thread of sanity
he felt leaving. He looked around the...

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mr. pickles
"Danny, don't go in there." The sound of Russell's voice was low and hesitant. He had
heard the stories about the store in the old house and wanted to believe they
were all made up. He wanted nothing more than to believe there was no old man,
with half his ...

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the old shack
It was a typical Friday evening. Joshua had polished off a few beers at the local bar and was
ready to head home. He looked at his surroundings and shook his head. The same
people, the same conversations, the same disconnection and fake smiles. The
routine ...

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50 years of what?
if you thought the dream was alive and well, wake up. the death knoll tolls to usher in the living hell which has engulfed a nation in turmoil. america, the land of the free, still desires strange fruit hanging from a tree. brown skin, dark skin, it really ...

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fear of a black planet or the real america?
What’s happening in Ferguson isn’t new. If you’re black and living in this land of the free called America, you’ve been programmed to accept the madness. There is a fear that resonates through America. It's a manufactured fear that all black men should be w...

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"ferguson blues"
bullets have become the norm in the midst of a storm that can no longer be kept quiet.  body counts rise,  while lady liberty  closes her eyes.  heart wrenching cries  from mothers  burying children too soon,  as hecklers loom  and the reaper swoons.  "educ...
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