I got a story like that

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Another example of when artists and writers collide.


“I must have dozed off, how the hell did I get here?

I don’t even remember getting on this train. Everyone is awfully quiet. Hell they’re all just normal subway car riders. Looking but not really looking at each other. Everyone just trying not to be noticed, wanting to get through this ride and get off the train. Hell, what am I thinking? Of course, I just fell asleep. I’ve been working so damn hard these days, my brain is playing tricks on me. I’m imagining that I haven’t been sitting here the whole time. But have I been here? Why don’t I remember getting on this train? Did I miss my stop? I feel like I’ve been on this damn train forever!

Excuse me ma’am, ma’am, could you please tell me what the next stop is? I seemed to have dozed off and might have missed my stop, ma’am? How rude, she’s totally ignoring me.

I certainly must have missed my stop; these people don’t look like people who live in my neighborhood. They’re not even sociable. I’ll just close my eyes for a minute, I’m so damn tired, maybe I’ll take a nap and all this will have been just a weird dream. The worst part is that I feel like I’ve been here before. Oh well, at least I’m on my way home and not on my way to work!

That’s odd; the sun is shining into the car. How could it be light outside?”

Conductor’s voice over train intercom: “Sorry folks the next stop will be delayed. It seems some poor soul has jumped into the path of the train ahead of us and was killed.”


The artwork is just one of the many unique and fascinating pieces by our new friend Ray Ferrer @ http://urbanwallart.wordpress.com/

The words fell out of my face and onto this page…http://sobnyc.wordpress.com/








Here is another three poem collection inspired by a single picture


I am the last

Of my kind

You can look

But will not find

Armed, but all alone

I wait for you

Sooner or later

You must pass thru

It won’t be long

Till the falling snow

Reveals to me

Which way you go

Is that you

That I hear

Are you far

Or are you near

I am a statue

That you can’t see

Just a little closer

I need you to be

As I touch my trigger

And gently squeeze

Your life’s now ended

I am not pleased




How do I

Reveal to you

What I know

That I must do

I was not born

To right the wrong

My heart and faith

Can’t come along

I must take back

Things I did not give

Like my home

And the way I live

As you look

Upon my face

Will you run

Or will you chase

Will you fight

By my side

Or shall I hunt

While you hide

I do not blink

Or hesitate

God be with you

Ready, aim, wait



While the world

Passes by

While children born

Give first cry

And the wind

Blows to the west

And when God

Puts you to the test

I am here

Watching for you

Making sure

That dreams come true

We must each

Do our part

To save the meek

From dark heart

The winter’s snow

And summers heat

I’ll always guard

This city’s street

When comes the day

That I go home

Lay down my gun

No more alone





If you’re reading this and would like to submit a photo/drawing or similar, please let us know.


The photo and words were submitted by ME @ http://sobnyc.wordpress.com/


“ALRIGHT,ALRIGHT, EVERYONE PLEASE get into their places,we are about to begin.” Yelled a very exasperated photographer. This photo shoot was taking much longer than they all had expected. They had rented this location for only 3 hours, of which there was only a half hour left.  A friend of the photographer had told him about this location. The rental price was affordable,mostly because nobody used it this space anymore because of the rumors that it was haunted or something.

“OKAY NOW, the photographer started saying,” when the two actors are in position I want lighting and mirrors to start rotating around them. Let’s see if we can get this shot right people, okay?”

As the small production team ran nervously about doing their jobs, the two young models walked towards each other to their assigned spot in the center of the old stone walled room. On the floor scattered all about were dead leaves and flakes of peeling paint.

It was the perfect setting the photographer was looking for, it had the right mix of wet cavern walls with thick mature vines stretching and crawling their way upwards along the walls towards the small sunlight opening at the roof.  It really was the perfect setting he wanted and he didn’t care about any childish superstitions.

The rental agent told him that this very place was used for ancient marriages. The legend has it that when forbidden lovers wanted to be together they stole away to this very  spot in secret.  There was an inscription chiseled into the stone floor. And when repeated by the lovers, would create a magical mist that swirled around them. The longer the lovers stayed inside that mist, the more the deeper their connection and love for one another would become. Stay too long, and the two bodies would begin to manifest into one single person. Early lovers stayed inside the mist just long enough to become true soul mates.

The legend also speaks of a darker side of the stones secret power. Centuries later, after the spot was discovered. The ancient laws that forbade love that was not prearranged would use spot as used as punishment for those that sought true love. The holy ones would make the alleged sinners stand inside the mist until they turned into one single body. Then they would have to live like that forever. Never again able to see or touch each other.

The photographer was embarrassed that he even wasted his time thinking of all this mumbo jumbo; he shook himself back into reality and focused to the job at hand. “PEOPLE,PEOPLE are we ready now, please?” Everyone nodded at him and took their places.

Standing together in their assigned spot in the center of all this hustle and bustle. The two actors held hands and pulled each other close. They noticed some markings, almost like writings on the stone floor directly between their feet.

With their foreheads touching they began to speak  the words written into the stone floor.

On bended knee –I ask of thee –Will you –Mist with me

“CUT, CUT, CUT, NOW WHATS HAPPENING, “the photographer started yelling, what is with all the MIST I’m getting in my shot?”

The photo was generously submitted by Eric Robillard    http://clownonfire.wordpress.com/

When I saw this picture I had to ask to write a story. http://sobnyc.wordpress.com/