Category Archives: Original Works

Riveting Writing Prompts #9: People of the Deep

Welcome, weebs, to Animated Observations

Hey guys, it’s been a while since I have done one of these, but here is another Riveting Writing Prompts:

Earth’s most intelligent species has been hiding in the vast unexplored oceans all this time. In fact they tricked us into looking to the stars for intelligent life to distract us from their existence.

The prompt was written by u/Crazy_ManMan on Reddit.

Without further ado, here is the story:


While it is true that humans have conquered the land, the oceans are a much different story. Far from the shores of any continent, and much below the view of any random passerby, at the intersection of the global west and the east, there lives a group much older than humans, and yet miraculously not yet seem by them. While the land above was being ravaged by war, poverty, corruption and the likes, these beings are living out a much more peaceful existence.

Known only to the land above in legends, the Aquiatic people live near the ocean’s floor, in specially built houses that allow them to stay perfectly still, even while underwater. During their long history, the group has also gained the ability to breathe underwater, as well as swim just as well as any other sea life. Just like the humans above them, of which the Aquiatic people are distant relatives, they enjoy a diverse range of food collected from various parts of the ocean. The society of Aquius is run in a fairly similar fashion to the great democracies of the human world, with an elected body, a president, and courts.

However, they developed this system long before humans ever realized a system like that was even possible. Around the time of the Alexander the Great was conquering much of the world, while Aquius was being transformed into a more democratic society, its rulers realized that the day humans discovered their society existed, that would be the day everything ended. So, as part of a plan to protect their great society, the ruler at the time, King Zarius, sent a group of trained spies on a mission: to infiltrate human societies all around the world and make them believe that the only intelligent life existed beyond earth.

Zacari, one of the spies assigned to trick the human population in Asia, became famous among the people of Aquius. Every day he would talk to hundreds and hundreds of people, working tirelessly to convince people that intelligent life existed beyond the stars. Eventually, though, the people he talked to became afraid. They came to see him as a dangerous outsider, corrupting the minds of their fellow citizens, and so they killed him. Soon after his death, Zacari became immortalized as a statue in the country’s capital city Ozium.

While it is true that the people of Aquius fear their human relatives above, they do not hate them. Much like the worm does not wish to become the food of a bird, they to did not wish to be dug out of the hole they have built for themselves.


How do you guys feel about this story? Let me know in the comments below. Also, if you would like to support The Aniwriter or are just feeling generous, consider donating on Ko-fi or using one of my affiliate links:

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

Check out my writing blog, Solidly Liquid!

If you can’t, or just don’t feel like it, no worries. Thank you all for reading, and goodbye, for now, friends!

I’ve Been Tagged Again! The T.A.P Tag

Welcome, weebs, to Animated Observations


For as much as you might expect someone like me to combine anime and poetry, especially considering they are the main two topics of this blog, I rarely get the chance to do it. Well, I’ve now been finally been given an excuse to do so. Thank you to Keiko for tagging me for this. Here are the rules:

The Rules:

  1. Headline your post with “The T.A.P. Tag!” and put “tanka” as one of your tags.
  2. Make sure to link back to the original post that started the tag (this post!).
  3. Make sure to mention the person who introduced the tag to you!
  4. Pick 1-3 of your favorite anime.
  5. Write your tanka about the anime you’ve chosen. It’s fine if you decide to do only one or two if the schedule is tight.
  6. Tag at least 3 or more bloggers you know, and get their creative muscles flowing.

The three anime that I’ve decided to do are: March Comes in Like a Lion, Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai, and The Promised Neverland, just to throw in something current. With that said, here are my poems:

March Comes in Like a Lion

When sadness rains down,
It hits much like a typhoon.
Isolation is freedom,
and everything gets better,
but only for a little.

Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai

It is often true
that the mind is powerful.
It can bring great joy,
but when nightmares become real,
All we are left with is pain.

The Promised Neverland

Around each corner,
in places buried within,
lies many secrets.
We think that truth is power,
but some secrets are too dark.

Tags

Feel free to ignore this tag if you are busy, but I am tagging:

Moyatorium

Takuto’s Anime Cafe

Terrence Crow

What kind of poetry do you guys enjoy? Let me know in the comments below. Also, if you guys would like to support The Aniwriter or are just feeling generous, consider supporting me on ko-fi or by using one of my affiliate links to buy stuff:

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

Check out my writing blog, Solidly Liquid!

If you can’t, or just don’t feel like it, no worries. Thank you all for reading, and goodbye, for now, friends!

Tell Me What Death is Like

Welcome, weebs and authors alike, to The Aniwriter

So, a lot of my poems are somewhat spontaneous. Usually, I’ll think of a central idea, and sort of just go from there. This one, however, was inspired by a song called “I’m Sorry” by Joyner Lucas. Its a great, song and I would highly recommend checking it out. The song focuses on the suicide of one of Joyner’s friends, and how it affected both his friend and himself. Its been one of my favorite songs for a while now, and it has given me a lot of inspiration, so I thought I would use that inspiration to write a poem based on that song.


For a while, I have wondered about the status of mortality:
What does it mean to be alive?
Is it simply to be filled with blood and have a pulse,
or is it more?
But more so I have wondered what death is like.
I do not know if ghosts or spirits roam the earth eternally,
or if angels often come down from the heavens to check on the living,
but if they did I would ask them to tell me what death is like:
Is it the problematic dichotomy of heaven and hell?
Is it a maze of rivers and guardians of lost souls?
Does death exist like darkness, surrounding the conscious and suffocating it?
Is death all of those things?
Do people experience death the way we all seem to deal with life: by retreating
into the worlds, we feel most comfortable in?
I do not know what death is like, but I am often tempted to find out.


How do you guys feel about this poem? Let me know in the comments below. Also, if you want to support the Aniwriter through donations or are just feeling generous, consider buying me a coffee on Ko-Fi. Otherwise, thanks for reading and bye for now, Friendos!

Riveting Writing Prompts #7: The Chicken Does Not Cross Alone

Welcome, weebs and authors alike, to The Aniwriter

It’s been a minute since I wrote a story, so here we go again. This prompt is a bit sillier, but I thought it would be fun.

Here is the prompt:

[WP] You’re a chicken who just woke up on the side of a road and can only remember that he started on the other side. Your mission? To find out why you crossed the road.

written by: u/ploot-O

With that, here we go.


” I’m currently standing on the sidewalk, alone, and I honestly have no idea what is going on.” I made a mental note as looked around. The freshly paved road simmered in the incredibly hot weather, with sweat running down my face. Except, something was noticeably different. My body was much lower to the ground, and I had wings instead of hands. It turns out that I was a chicken.

Something else was also going on. The last thing I remembered was sitting on the bench on the other side of the road waiting for the bus to come. The road itself was not extremely busy, so I decided that I would start my investigation at the bus stop. Being a chicken made trekking across the intensely hot road much more difficult. My walking had become much slower, and my feet were burning.

Eventually, I made it across and found myself at an empty bus stop area. The place looked as though no one had been there for days. I then wondered just how long I had been sitting there on the other side of the road. The worry hit me like a car at full speed. I spent a few minutes getting my emotions together and then went back to investigating.

As I looked around the back of the bench I a piece of paper. It had been crumpled up, and seemingly missed the trash can which was a few inches away. My “situation” made it a bit more difficult to open. I was forced to hold down a corner of it with my foot and slowly peel it open with my wings. Written on the crumpled paper was a note. “You are probably wondering what you are even doing right now. The world probably feels as though it has no meaning. ‘Why are you a chicken’ you might be asking yourself. Well, turn around and I might be able to provide some answers.

As I finished reading, I immediately rotated my small, plump body all the way around. Sure enough, A large black cat sat a few feet behind me. “Hello there,” he said, with a devious smile strewn across his face. “Who are you, and what do you know about what has happened to me?” He chuckled a bit, and then said: “follow me.” I wattled behind him into a small area of trees behind the bench.

We walked for about five minutes, and then I saw it. Small houses made of sticks and other materials in the area were laid out in an open area of grass. Other chickens walked around, unaware of the cat and I. “Welcome to your new home.” The cat waved his paw towards the group of other chickens. “I will tell you this boy, Chickens do not cross the road, only idiotic humans with a death wish. You were actually crossing the road, but then were struck down by the hands of fate, or I guess most people would just call it a car. This is your second chance at life. Use it, or don’t. I don’t care either way.” I still had so many questions.


What kind of story would you guys tell with this prompt? Let me know in the comments below. Also, if you want to support the Aniwriter through donations or are just feeling generous, consider buying me a coffee on Ko-Fi. Otherwise, thanks for reading and bye for now, Friendos!

Do Not Stand and Watch Your Own Demise

Welcome, weebs and authors alike, to The Aniwriter

No special intro this time, just something that was spur of the moment and thought turned out fairly well.


When the light in your eyes starts to fade,
and the source grows ever distant,
when the green in the grass becomes a pale gray,
and the blue sky goes black,
when the hole in your heart widens,
and won’t stop growing,
remember to move.
Get up, and move.
Throw your hands around like gravity doesn’t exist,
jump like you know you can touch the sun,
and bask in the glory you know you will have someday.


How do you guys feel about this poem? Let me know in the comments below. Also, if you want to support the Aniwriter through donations or are just feeling generous, consider buying me a coffee on Ko-Fi. Otherwise, thanks for reading and bye for now, Friendos!

Riveting Writing Prompts #6: A Time Traveling Savior

Welcome, weebs and authors alike, to The Aniwriter

So, most of the time when I go through different sources looking for writing prompts, I spend a decent amount of time looking. But this time I picked the first one I came across. Not because I am doing a challenge, but because I really like this prompt from u/papahardt.

You and friend agree that if one of you invents time travel, they will come back to this very moment. As you shake on it, an older and injured you shows up and shoots your friend in the head.

It is not super complicated, but it leaves a lot of room for detail. So, with that being said, here is another short story.


As sun’s slow departure from the sky signaled the day’s end, I turned to my partner in crime Eric and asked, somewhat randomly, “Could you imagine if we had time travel?” In his usual, much more relaxed manner he replied: “that would be pretty cool.” “Hey, if one us invents time travel, we should come back to this very moment reminisce.” Eric got somewhat uncomfortable. “I don’t know, don’t they always warn about messing with timelines in Sci-Fi movies?”

His question was quickly interrupted by a loud noise coming from behind us. As we both turned our heads to identify the source of the noise, what looked to be a large portal appeared out of nowhere. It had a glowing, purple outside ring with a clear, almost reflective middle. Eric then got up and began to walk toward the portal. “Hey, be careful, okay.” As I finished my sentence, a hand holding a small pistol emerged from the portal’s center, and fired at Eric. Immediately, he fell dead on the ground. Without thinking about my surroundings, I rushed over to pick up his body. He soon became covered in his own blood.

While sitting on the ground reflecting on what just happened, I felt a hand appear on my shoulder. I immediately turned to see who it was only to find a man much older than myself crying, seeming barely able to hold back his own whaling. “Who… are you?” Confusion quickly turned to anger as I noticed him holding the same gun that moments ago had taken down Eric. “I… am… you” he managed to get out while still choking on his own sadness. “I’ve come here in order to save the future. Eric may have been your best friend, but I found out very quickly just how evil he can become.” My anger only continued to grow as he spewed utter nonsense. Without thinking, I took a swing at his face. The man did not react and simply excepted the punch without hitting back. At that moment, part of me understood that he knew what my reaction would be.

After leaving something of a mark on the man’s face, I lay Eric’s body on the ground, sat back and asked: “Why? What did Eric do?” “Eric became stuck in his ways, and his insanity drove him to wipe out most of the human race.”

“…huh”

“I will explain. Spoiler Alert: you and Eric both get your dream jobs. Eric finds a job working with a private company studying epidemics, and you pursue your dream job of studying the possibility of time travel. However, Eric began obsessing over the idea of natural selection. Eventually, he decided to manufacture a disease so powerful it could wipe out the planet. Around the time he told me about his plan, I had recent build a stable time machine and decided to do what needed to be done. Believe me when I say that none of it was within your control.”


What kind of story would you guys tell with this prompt? Let me know in the comments below. Also, if you want to support the Aniwriter through donations or are just feeling generous, consider buying me a coffee on Ko-Fi. Otherwise, thanks for reading and bye for now, Friendos!

To All the People I Could Not Say Hi To

Welcome, weebs and authors alike, to The Aniwriter.

Sometimes my introvertedness gets the better of me, so here is a poem about that.


Isn’t it amazing how much work goes into saying just a few words?
First, the mouth takes in air,
then the brain sends signals to fire thousands of neurons.
The mouth must then reopen and with the help of vibrating air,
words then flow seamlessly out, or so we would all like to think.
There is actually a lot more to saying a few words than that.
Speaking is actually a lot like cooking,
because every ingredient is chosen carefully and used in a specific way.
If you leave a sentence in the oven too long it might burn,
but take it out to early and it becomes cold.
Saying “hi” is hard, not because of the ingredients but because
every time I try to cook with that word it always goes missing.


How do you guys feel about this poem? Let me know in the comments below. Also, if you want to support the Aniwriter through donations or are just feeling generous, consider buying me a coffee on Ko-Fi. Otherwise, thanks for reading and bye for now, Friendos!

Blerd Lines: Where Fiction and Reality Both Meet Tragedy

Welcome, weebs and authors alike, to The Aniwriter.

As I mentioned in my last update post, today, I’ll be doing something a little bit different. If you don’t know him, Lujaune “El’ja” Bowens is a spoken word poet who has been honing his craft since around 2005. Today I’ll be reviewing his third collection of poems titled “Blerd Lines”

Full disclosure: I have interviewed him before for an article I wrote back when I was with The Hawkeye, my school newspaper, and he did send me the book to read, so make of that what you will. With that being said, here’s the review.


Poetry has always been known for individual expression. Whether it be about the beauty of nature, or the solitude of silence, poets express themselves in uniquely interesting ways. However, poetry in recent years has come to take on a new, underlying theme: Identity. With the swarm of socio-political chaos that has swept its way into the White House, and which has also been the propagator of bigotry and hatred, identity has become more important than ever. El’ja Bowens’ “Blerd Lines” is the perfect example of how this theme of identity can play out in beautiful ways.

One part of Identity Bowens focuses on throughout the book is the accepting of others for who they are. In the poem “That’s All Folks,” focuses on the attempted demonization of non-heterosexuals that changed the character of Bugs Bunny from a less heteronormative one to one that was explicitly Heterosexual. Later on in the poem, Bowens cleverly describes a situation in which someone responds to a doctor’s suggestion that they will “see the light” when it comes to their sexuality, and then that person responds to the doctor’s assertion with Bugs Bunny’s signature catchphrase “What’s up doc?” Making the doctor’s suggestion that sexuality is something that can be grown out of the punchline reinforces the idea that being judged for arbitrary things that people have no control over is wrong.

Bowens also grapples with the reality that he is a black man in America. In the opening poem “Don’t Be Alarmed,” he makes it clear that despite having a diverse number of interests, he still fears people seeing him in a one-dimensional light, or as he puts it: “I can’t blame people that gaze like its 1000 convicts.” Later on in the poem, Bowens brilliantly pushes back by saying he has a “smile has a melody that replicates a thousand rainbows,” and then wraps up the poem with “Don’t be alarmed because I’m here to live my life…”

In “Eyeore’s Dilemma,” Bowens cleverly imagine himself as Eyeore, but in this story, he wonders “Maybe if I changed the color of my skin Then maybe I won’t see what gloomy looks like in the mirror.” Try as he might to forget about the pain of always being perceived as fundamentally different, just like Eyeore himself, Bowens distracts himself by comparing that pain to rain and saying “one of the nicest things about the rain is that it always stops… Eventually.” The comparison to here to Eyeore is fantastic because just like the pain created by racism, it’s not likely to go away.

But Bowens’ poems aren’t all doom in gloom. In fact, another huge aspect of his work is his identity as a nerd, and he is not afraid to show it. In “Don’t Be Alarmed,” Bowens makes his passion for video games such as Final Fantasy and Manga like Dragon Ball Z and Bleach abundantly clear. In “Nerd Haikus and Other Ramblings,” Bowens again makes reference to Manga and Anime when he talks about the idea that Trump holds the Death Note, and that Piccolo is a real father to Gohan. Sure, Both these pieces are somewhat more serious in tone, but they are also reflective of his passion for things generally considered to be nerdy.

What appears in “Blerd Lines” is not just a collection of poems, but a continuing story of Bowens’ identity. In this book, he puts himself on display, all his fears, hopes and aspirations. Sometimes it can hard to face a world where people are judged arbitrarily for things they cannot control, or for interests they have that don’t harm anyone else, but to Bowens, that is all apart of what makes us, us. I’m sure that for many poetry has become that thing you remember studying in high school English, but “Blerd Lines” is absolutely worth your time.


If you want to get the book for yourself, you can find it here when it releases this Friday.

Who are some of your favorite modern poets? What is your favorite thing about poetry? Let me know in the comments below. Also, if you want to support the Aniwriter through donations or are just feeling generous, consider buying me a coffee on Ko-Fi. Otherwise, thanks for reading and bye for now, Friendos!

Untitled, or not, I’m not sure

Welcome, weebs and authors alike, to The Aniwriter.

A poem about titles, because why not. Here ya go:


When I thought about what to write for this poem,
I didn’t start with a title.
Despite this being my usual working style, something told me to forgo it.
Titles are often just short summaries, a fraction of a fraction.
They can tell you everything, and nothing.
In that regard, they’re quite useless, aren’t they?
Titles also make us think about what it is we’re about to read, watch, etc.
For example, the title “Death of a salesman” might get us thinking, both in a literal
and figurative way.
People make judgments based off of titles, and no matter how often you tell somebody
“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” it won’t change the fact that its a lot easier to read the
cliff notes version than a whole book.
Most often when I think of titles, I think of what the author thinks of that thing.
It is easy to engage with a piece of art and come away with a completely different
idea of the work than even the author, similar to how everyone jumping into a pool
will always have a slightly different splash, or maybe a very different splash.
Titles are often the rival of expectations, and much like a pool, expectations can often be
surface level, until you splash further down.


How did this turn out? Let me know in the comments below. Also, if you want to support the Aniwriter through donations or are just feeling generous, consider buying me a coffee on Ko-Fi. Otherwise, thanks for reading and bye for now, Friendos!

Tragedy/Comedy

Welcome, weebs and authors alike, to The Aniwriter.

For this post, I wrote a poem focusing on the similarities in tragedy and comedy. Enjoy!


I think one thing can be considered at least partially true is the link between Tragedy and Comedy.
Whether we like it or not, they are two sides of the same broken coin.
Tragedy is almost always followed by a nervous, hysterically laughter.
Comedy is often times laughing at the misery of others.
This same phenomenon exists in the theory I have about rape jokes: No one really tells them because they think it will be funny. They tell them because violence is a lot easier to deal with when you can project it onto others.
In some ways, a suicide note is really just a stand-up routine in which the joke is always a bullet to the head.
Shakespear never wrote a tragedy without someone playing the fool, because he knew it would be too much to bear.
When we talk about Comedy and Tragedy, what we really mean is that laughing and crying aren’t so dissimilar.


Sorry to drop something a little heavier out of nowhere, but what do you guys think of this one? Let me know in the comments below. Also, if you want to support the Aniwriter through donations or are just feeling generous, consider buying me a coffee on Ko-Fi. Otherwise, thanks for reading and bye for now, Friendos!