Like ants marching into a freshly-crushed anthill, so we all walk into an unknown future. There is no past, no future, there is only now. There are former nows and future nows, but we shouldn’t let who we once were be held against us.
Ants are apparently an energy tonic in Chinese Medicine and a good source of protein. Excellent team players and hard workers they will stick it through with their resilience. Many can accomplish what one cannot.
marching in scurried lines
lava hot
carrying weights bigger than their bodies
hailing to the queen
building homes in the sand
of areas where children play
come to the rescue
of their colony
when intruders attack
marching on and on and on
ants are tiny creeping little things i was going to say creepy but their not really creepy just creeping, creeping round the house, the yard and sometime, when i get that tickly feeling,, up my leg.
Little creatures that flow in an endless river I wish to rid myself of. Throughout the day and the night as well they crawl around my bed causing me to shiver. Cinnamon though is my savior.
The ants in 15 out of the 20 colonies were dying. 3 more were dead already. The nanites were killing them. But the rest were graying and strange. Changing. Adam watched them every night, unsure whether to be afraid for Douglas or ecstatic. The ones that were flourishing moved at odd times, and in certain slants of shadow seemed to glow.
I let them crawl on my skin, wondering if my pores would fit them. The thought of having insects claim my insides as their territory both horrified and intrigued me. The sensation would be unique and undiscovered. I needed something for myself.
She sat enjoying he lonely picnic on the dreary may day when all of the sudden the blanket started moving. She looked down to see millions of angry ants whisking he away to their underground home.
ohmygosh! I love/hate ants. I mean, I really think they are cute and really interesting and important but… WHY DO THE HAVE TO INVADE MY ROOM? It’s just not fair, man, not fair.
A slow fever moving through her makes her antsy. The delirium? No, no, it couldn’t be that. He was safe! He was cured from love! She would be too, soon. There was no harm in meeting him that night. Maybe he wasn’t flirting, he could have just played nice to her obvious attraction to him.
Oh god, she thought, was it obvious? Please let him not know.
Please let him be Cured.
She couldn’t afford to fall in love when her vaccination is so near.
I had a front-row view of the scene. I watched as a whole camp of my discriminated people were attacked viciously. The soldiers, in their dull outfits of cotton and kevlar, marched towards the tents in neat lines like little beige ants, and scattered, row by row, as they reached their destination. Although not at all powerless, my people stood little chance against the Celestian armed forces. I had to watch as friends were separated, and see the look on the faces of mothers as their sons and daughters were slaughtered as they defended their home. My mind was flooded with thoughts of how I was too far away and too late to save those friendly faces, and how even my dear friend, the very queen of the beautiful planet my people and I grew up on, was unable to stop this un-just massacre.
when i see ants i think of small little creatures who really have great bodies and can lift weights up to 10 times more than their own weight. people really hate ants, especially me too, because they crawl around and usually don’t bring good news.
crawl and jump and play and frolic in the sand while curious bees stand in awe and wonder at the dangerous work of those who cannot fly and are stuck to the ground. Meanwhile, ants laugh at the foolish tumbling of the flying things that know not the safety of the ground and the comfort of working all day with family only to go back home and see more family! They work alone.
marching
red
though the chairs
across the tables
to get back outside
carrying
chips
soda cans
pieces of sticks
they want to get back home
to their mountain
made of earth
tiny
with a little hole in the middle
the ants were crawling up the wall, one by one. each following the one before. “scent trails. that’s how they know where to go,” he whispered. “the first ants, the scouts, find the food and then leave a trail for the rest”. food. how odd. food. i wouldn’t immediately think to call the bloated, stinking mess slumped in the corner “food.” i rolled the word across my tongue and into my mind, trying to make the word match the image i had in my head. just 3 days ago this “food” had a name. i called it “dad.”
They were red and walking in a single file line. Some were carrying potato chips and others were carrying soda cans(I don’t know how they did this, they just did.) But they marched in a line up the hills and through the valleys and mountains that made up this giant carpet.
Small little creatures, walking on the picnic sheet. We are but ants on the sheet we established. Patches of city, of field, of crop. Patches we crawl along, who is bigger watching us with a magnifying glass in hand?
Long tendrils twined through the opening in the wall Some climbing plant that she could neither recognise nor name threw out thick stumpy tendrils and clung to the caked walls like a frieze. She threw back the mosquito net which Arcona had draped over the bed and gazed at the thick rope stem of the plant. She glanced at it as she wiped a trickle sweat from her brow. A movement caught her eye. An ant, scurrying the length of it… a few ants…more… as her eyes took steady focus she became aware . The whole plant was a highway for soldiering ants…
The ants are all around the picnic table.
I have ants in my pants.
I can’t wait.
The ants are climbing up the hill.
Look at all the ants in that one ant hole.
Circles and diagrams edge over spaces
She floats past silent doors, into smaller colder places
Listening loudly to the softness of thought
As little ants crawl cowardly, further than they sought.
ants and ants and ants… they’re all over the place!!! i can’t believe there are so many of them. if only there were a way of redirecting them out of my house please call the following number –
what if there were no ants thought,,, would my life paradigm shift?
they live in colonies in the ground much as people would if they were to inahbit the moon or an asteroid someday in the future. they have a society based on working for the greater good of their colony.
Ants remind me of my cottage. The big, fat, jicy looking ants that roamed the cottage at the beginning of the season. I see the veiny 70’s carpet that was so cushy it made them hard to squish. I see the sun coming through the windows.
When I was a little girl, ants were my only foe. They would bite my innocent, naked feet which caused me to cry and run far, far from home…. I arrived in the secret places of New Mexico where a medicine man asked to heal my wounds… Lying on the sweet earth, he laid his heavy hands upon my belly and whispered that the “ants have decided to forgive you”…. From that moment until now, ants hear the silence of my voice and obey my requests as if I were their Queen.
Falling in line with the masses is not my idea of a fulfilling life. But what of bills, what of rent, what of obligations? How to march to the beat of my own drum and be taken care of? Hmm. How indeed?
We sat there underneath the night sky. I stared at the ground and watched the ants move. it was summer. You were wearing a blue shirt. I was wearing one of my favorite v-necks with a purple tank top- both extremely loose on me. that was because I had just told you I was anorexic. I will never, ever forget that night. I’m so sorry you had to me like that.
Wow. The first thing that went through my mind when I saw this word was what letter I could put on the front of it to make it more interesting. Pants. Wants. Rants. I actually like all three of these things better than ants themselves. I’m just sayin’.
Bryce watched idly as the trail of ants marched determinedly up the tree trunk. It was a very long trail, and he wondered if it would ever end, if at some point there would be just one ant, the last one, bringing up the rear.
Like ants marching into a freshly-crushed anthill, so we all walk into an unknown future. There is no past, no future, there is only now. There are former nows and future nows, but we shouldn’t let who we once were be held against us.
Ants are apparently an energy tonic in Chinese Medicine and a good source of protein. Excellent team players and hard workers they will stick it through with their resilience. Many can accomplish what one cannot.
marching in scurried lines
lava hot
carrying weights bigger than their bodies
hailing to the queen
building homes in the sand
of areas where children play
come to the rescue
of their colony
when intruders attack
marching on and on and on
ants are tiny creeping little things i was going to say creepy but their not really creepy just creeping, creeping round the house, the yard and sometime, when i get that tickly feeling,, up my leg.
Little creatures that flow in an endless river I wish to rid myself of. Throughout the day and the night as well they crawl around my bed causing me to shiver. Cinnamon though is my savior.
The ants in 15 out of the 20 colonies were dying. 3 more were dead already. The nanites were killing them. But the rest were graying and strange. Changing. Adam watched them every night, unsure whether to be afraid for Douglas or ecstatic. The ones that were flourishing moved at odd times, and in certain slants of shadow seemed to glow.
I let them crawl on my skin, wondering if my pores would fit them. The thought of having insects claim my insides as their territory both horrified and intrigued me. The sensation would be unique and undiscovered. I needed something for myself.
She sat enjoying he lonely picnic on the dreary may day when all of the sudden the blanket started moving. She looked down to see millions of angry ants whisking he away to their underground home.
Crawling in my pants doing a dance
red orange segmented leaves sticks, teamwork, one word answers? happy, solid, green
ohmygosh! I love/hate ants. I mean, I really think they are cute and really interesting and important but… WHY DO THE HAVE TO INVADE MY ROOM? It’s just not fair, man, not fair.
crawling over me. disgusting. i kill them, then feel absolutely horrible.
how bad is it to destroy something that freaks you out?
/:
A slow fever moving through her makes her antsy. The delirium? No, no, it couldn’t be that. He was safe! He was cured from love! She would be too, soon. There was no harm in meeting him that night. Maybe he wasn’t flirting, he could have just played nice to her obvious attraction to him.
Oh god, she thought, was it obvious? Please let him not know.
Please let him be Cured.
She couldn’t afford to fall in love when her vaccination is so near.
ants go marching
to the rhythm of the axis spin
around the giant blade of grass
to the stores in the nest
and back to he scent of their need
Lord make me forget the life of ants and live far from need
I had a front-row view of the scene. I watched as a whole camp of my discriminated people were attacked viciously. The soldiers, in their dull outfits of cotton and kevlar, marched towards the tents in neat lines like little beige ants, and scattered, row by row, as they reached their destination. Although not at all powerless, my people stood little chance against the Celestian armed forces. I had to watch as friends were separated, and see the look on the faces of mothers as their sons and daughters were slaughtered as they defended their home. My mind was flooded with thoughts of how I was too far away and too late to save those friendly faces, and how even my dear friend, the very queen of the beautiful planet my people and I grew up on, was unable to stop this un-just massacre.
when i see ants i think of small little creatures who really have great bodies and can lift weights up to 10 times more than their own weight. people really hate ants, especially me too, because they crawl around and usually don’t bring good news.
look down, try not to step on the ants.
In my pants. Picnics, it’s too damn cold for picnics right now. I’m hungry. If I leave now I can still get a table at Silly Goose.
crawl and jump and play and frolic in the sand while curious bees stand in awe and wonder at the dangerous work of those who cannot fly and are stuck to the ground. Meanwhile, ants laugh at the foolish tumbling of the flying things that know not the safety of the ground and the comfort of working all day with family only to go back home and see more family! They work alone.
marching
red
though the chairs
across the tables
to get back outside
carrying
chips
soda cans
pieces of sticks
they want to get back home
to their mountain
made of earth
tiny
with a little hole in the middle
the ants were crawling up the wall, one by one. each following the one before. “scent trails. that’s how they know where to go,” he whispered. “the first ants, the scouts, find the food and then leave a trail for the rest”. food. how odd. food. i wouldn’t immediately think to call the bloated, stinking mess slumped in the corner “food.” i rolled the word across my tongue and into my mind, trying to make the word match the image i had in my head. just 3 days ago this “food” had a name. i called it “dad.”
They were red and walking in a single file line. Some were carrying potato chips and others were carrying soda cans(I don’t know how they did this, they just did.) But they marched in a line up the hills and through the valleys and mountains that made up this giant carpet.
ugly
small
beast
red
prickly
Small little creatures, walking on the picnic sheet. We are but ants on the sheet we established. Patches of city, of field, of crop. Patches we crawl along, who is bigger watching us with a magnifying glass in hand?
Like ants on a plate
she mingled around the room
the stares and sneers seen from the corner
or her broken eyses
Long tendrils twined through the opening in the wall Some climbing plant that she could neither recognise nor name threw out thick stumpy tendrils and clung to the caked walls like a frieze. She threw back the mosquito net which Arcona had draped over the bed and gazed at the thick rope stem of the plant. She glanced at it as she wiped a trickle sweat from her brow. A movement caught her eye. An ant, scurrying the length of it… a few ants…more… as her eyes took steady focus she became aware . The whole plant was a highway for soldiering ants…
The ants are all around the picnic table.
I have ants in my pants.
I can’t wait.
The ants are climbing up the hill.
Look at all the ants in that one ant hole.
small tiny legs moving fast working run footsteps bomb blast tiny little vulnerable ants
Circles and diagrams edge over spaces
She floats past silent doors, into smaller colder places
Listening loudly to the softness of thought
As little ants crawl cowardly, further than they sought.
ants and ants and ants… they’re all over the place!!! i can’t believe there are so many of them. if only there were a way of redirecting them out of my house please call the following number –
what if there were no ants thought,,, would my life paradigm shift?
red and white checker table cloth, damn ants!
they live in colonies in the ground much as people would if they were to inahbit the moon or an asteroid someday in the future. they have a society based on working for the greater good of their colony.
Ants remind me of my cottage. The big, fat, jicy looking ants that roamed the cottage at the beginning of the season. I see the veiny 70’s carpet that was so cushy it made them hard to squish. I see the sun coming through the windows.
When I was a little girl, ants were my only foe. They would bite my innocent, naked feet which caused me to cry and run far, far from home…. I arrived in the secret places of New Mexico where a medicine man asked to heal my wounds… Lying on the sweet earth, he laid his heavy hands upon my belly and whispered that the “ants have decided to forgive you”…. From that moment until now, ants hear the silence of my voice and obey my requests as if I were their Queen.
Falling in line with the masses is not my idea of a fulfilling life. But what of bills, what of rent, what of obligations? How to march to the beat of my own drum and be taken care of? Hmm. How indeed?
We sat there underneath the night sky. I stared at the ground and watched the ants move. it was summer. You were wearing a blue shirt. I was wearing one of my favorite v-necks with a purple tank top- both extremely loose on me. that was because I had just told you I was anorexic. I will never, ever forget that night. I’m so sorry you had to me like that.
Wow. The first thing that went through my mind when I saw this word was what letter I could put on the front of it to make it more interesting. Pants. Wants. Rants. I actually like all three of these things better than ants themselves. I’m just sayin’.
weird, industrious, busy, black, beady, pest, dont know about them, dont like to kill them. dont like the ones that bite.
Ants go marching. Ants go chasing. Ants run away. Ants, our friends, they love to dance, and chase the blues away.
Bryce watched idly as the trail of ants marched determinedly up the tree trunk. It was a very long trail, and he wondered if it would ever end, if at some point there would be just one ant, the last one, bringing up the rear.