Articles written by Jon Pelletier

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What is Helium

About me - Jon Pelletier

It's a teaming vacation for us, I think. We have worked hard to create a greater good for all to see. A memo has been passed and it is not a joke. Love behind what is meant for me. Either sentence could be true, yet only one is.

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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Madness: 12 of 161
I called it afternoon I dropped down to the basket Asked her to confuse me Spoke like a sliding ape The little mad boy mumbles at me Nobody else can see him But he is right beside me His hair is greasy and long He buried an American flag Crossed his arms and wiped them off I called it afternoon But it was mid morning I stamm... More..
Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Life after death: 4 of 42
Jugular: A man pulled his car up to the valet. He opened the door and walked towards the restaurant. Throwing his keys at the young man in a red vest, the richer of the two told him, Take care of her, she's all I have. The valet gave him a small piece of paper to hold until his dinner was over. The young man stepped into the... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Beginnings: 4 of 35
Paris will never be the same again It was written on a wall near the subway What we have lost is somebody's gain Sliding down an airport runway We had decided to pitch our ideas To a clove of marketeers See if we could sell it Before the markets got darker The last lick of light Falling from the room Or the day at high noon ... More..
Arts & Humanities > Thoughts on Writing Quality writing required focus on content and appearance: 1 of 7
The Intellectual Scourge of Earth. "indeed, we both continue to present this image, though useage of our superb nomenclature. Pehaps we'll have intreging conversation on nothing," -Jackson Parker (MSN racket) - The reason I am writing this article is to help us become more aware of the world we live in. It has come to many p... More..
Creative Writing > Essays Essays: Politics: 11 of 60
Why We Should Disown Guam: The Territory of Guam is located in South Pacific Asia. It is one of many islands pushing our forces out into the Pacific Ocean over Australia. The island has a long history of outside colonialism. This started in the late 17th century with a series of attempts to convert the natives to Catholicism... More..
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Daily struggle: 9 of 49
Some times life is slowly ticking forward Broke like the hands on an old pocket watch Left for eons to the man three generations down These times life is borrowed and licked towards Smoke like the man with an old frequent lock Best to be left to the makers simply drawn sounds We write when we laugh to the time locked forward... More..
Creative Writing > Satire Satire: Freedom: 3 of 16
ADAPTATION Kelly Triplich walked to the store. Her eyes were red with anger and her mouth was parched. She wanted to walk to the store, she did not want to drive. Her friends drove past her and a boy threw a bottle. The torch had been passed. She could only think of one thing. She could not understand how to fit in high scho... More..
Creative Writing > Satire Satire: Escape: 1 of 5
Iron! The cats growled. They were hungry, mangy and matted. They fought amongst themselves as I sat resting against a brick with the bottom half of a broom and two thirds of a rake. I have no food, I said, I don't look for it like you. The tomcat cursed at me, No, Iron, tell our kittens your story, would you please? I looked... More..
Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Fear: 15 of 72
The Real World. Jon Pelletier I lit a cigarette as I took my first steps back into the real world, after spending three weeks lying alone on my couch; gathering news from Channel 3 and reading whatever pamphlets came in the mail. I hadn't spoken a word, refusing to pick up my phone and trying my hardest not to exist. After a... More..
Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Murder: 49 of 194
He sat in the pines waiting for the leaves to change. There was a park bench there, made from an old tree stump. He sat and touched his fingers together, aimlessly whittling away at his soul. A nearly empty pouch sat beside him on the far side of the old tree. A grey strap of wool held the pouch to his arm. He was hoping to ... More..