Do I look like a ghost writer?
I'M THE BUSINESS GHOSTWRITER IN THE SKY
Mike Peters, the Pulitzer Prize winning cartoonist, did this at a Creative Writing conference. His caricatures are world renown.
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Excerpt from a novel:
Nigel saw the directory of names and thought, Thank God they have the English translations.
“There’s Professor Emeritus Omer benDavid, Ph.D., and further down is Professor Nebow Klein, Ph.D., and it looks like they’re on the third floor with adjoining offices or at least their offices are right next to each other. There’s the door to the stairs right next to an elevator. Let’s take the elevator this time. I’m growing just a bit tired of all this clandestine stuff.”
“Clandestine, really? Fine! Just out of curiosity, what is the difference between a professor emeritus and just a professor?”
Taking the opportunity to educate, Nigel said, “A professor emeritus is one who has had the professor title while teaching full time and now is retired. Since Professor benDavid has an office in this building, you can assume that he has retired from full time teaching to do some teaching on a part time basis as well as writing and research. The “just-a-professor” as you put it is teaching here on a full time basis. You can also see from their suffixes Ph.D. that they both have doctorates. Since you have graduated from university, I am concerned as to why you didn’t know that.”
“Don’t get puffy now. I wouldn’t be what anyone in his right mind would refer to as an academic. I went to university to get the education I needed to get a decent job in the field of journalism, not to become a scientist.”
“Now who’s puffy? This is our floor.”
Gwen sees Professor Klein’s office speeding her pace to keep up with Nigel “She says, “Oh great, no one’s here. “
A note on the door indicates “In Class.” “Let’s try Professor benDavid’s office. Oh, never mind, his too has the same note. I see what looks like some sort of lobby area down the hall. Maybe we can wait there.”
“It doesn’t look all that comfortable, but has some English language magazines. Here’s a Discover. I like that one.”
Sounds of a Broken Heart
Tears slip slowly from my lost eyes,
While I stare into now-empty skies.
Reddened, wet, unappeased and sore,
Desperately hoping, longing for more.
I once drank from a glass filled with happiness,
I now need understand my heart-wrenching stress.
That bliss we once felt didn’t flow into our essence,
Because now it is gone without your presence.
Happy couples ignore me because I’m alone,
Like the kid on the side of the court unknown,
Expelling solitary shattered breaths wincingly,
Making only a scarcely audible sigh unconvincingly. .
Anxiety constricting my empty chest cavity,
Watching her walk out from the doorway.
Having taken charge of my miserable mode,
Like sapping the rose of its pigment and lode.
My heart leaps at the sound of my ringing phone,
But falls quickly at the sound of my sister’s voice alone,
A sparkle returns to my eyes with hope anew,
Until I hear she knows the depth of my pain from her view.
Winds no longer refresh but can simply negate.
Will the heart-shattering hopelessness ever abate?
It feels like attending a party and knowing no one,
Or being lost in the woods and knowing no one.
I had feet that barely used to touch the floor,
With you I walked in the rain dreaming, and more.
They now drag and scrape and secrete only pain.
Walking in the rain alone I get wet and see only, rain.
I now smoke cigarettes and inhale deeply,
Recklessness, speed, drugs, risking life freely.
I care not the consequences they portend,
My life, oh, will I shorten it because of love’s end?
Conversing in chat rooms has become like my life,
I want to be held tightly, with passion and without strife.
So I have sought our love-making warmth and pleasure,
But it lacked your tenderness and sincerity by every measure.
I have an unfathomable desire to lie next to you in our bed.
Yet I know that will never happen even if I was misled.
I long for your nakedness, and to absorb your sweet bouquet,
As my life is now like a master chef’s collapsed soufflé.
I can no longer relax and read a good book,
Because now I cannot bear to risk taking a look,
Curled up on a supple sofa in front of a fire,
Without being overcome by tears and empty desire.
My demise presents the only reality I want to consider.
This vacuity has caused my heart to whither.
As I desire it, this horrible pain to confront and win,
I will take the final leap sending my soul into the Den.
LOOK NO FURTHER. YOU HAVE FOUND YOUR SOLUTION!