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You're at it again
Lost in the world
A glass, some ice
A bartender girl
What happens next
is what I do desire
Every Saturday night
To get in my car
And drive to the pub
Is that the right word?
Fake another scowl
Put in a cruel word
You'll need help going home
You're afraid to admit
So I take you myself
While you scream "Git!"
By the ride home you're asleep
Dead to the waking world
Lost in fantasy land
Childlike visions swirled
I ease your discomfort
With a pillow, removed clothes
Lay my jacket over top
Put a kiss on your nose
Your eyes flutter open
Stunning and green
I smile that charming smile
I Am a Stuffed Animal Bunny
I am a stuffed animal
Sweet, lovable, cuddly and can keep you company
Silent, small, and shy, but still can make you happy
If you're down, I can cheer you up
Little children are my best friends
Thrown away into the closet is my fear
Man Made the Money.Man Made the Money.
We think that if we had more money everything would be different.
That we would suddenly be able do all the things we always desired.
Because the lives we lead right now have become predictable and consistent.
And should we choose to, we could be the ones that are rejoiced and admired.
We could be the ones on the front cover of every magazine.
We could be the ones appearing on everyone’s television screen.
We could be the ones that the paparazzi haunt and terrorise.
We could be the ones that have our every move televised.
With the aid of money we could have unlimited vacations
And have access to an infinite amount
She hardly cares about fame
As she can never remember anyone's name
So she calls everyone by baby
Whether you're a man or a lady
When people see her she looks out of place
Probably because of all the piercing on her face
But to every girl or guy
Even if their straight, lez or bi
They all say she is a sweetheart and a cutie
With no prosthetics but 100% natural beauty
On her face that is, but April has a bread in the oven, the maker
Of this loaf she doesn't know, so this baker
Has left her with a recipe for a bastard inside the tomb
Of her belly where the yeast of this child grows and rises in the fires of her womb
When people as
Family PortraitFamily Portrait.
He comes home late, surly and disorderly.
Tears streaking from his eyes because he's so morbidly
Depressed and continues to drink unlawfully.
He notices I'm awake and sits me down forcefully.
He tells me to come close as he whispers to me reassuringly.
Then he thrusts me around the room, beating me unremorsefully.
He said its my fault that mum decided to leave.
He pulls me closer as he venomously adjusts his sleeves.
He said he regrets the day I was ever conceived.
He lifts me up towards the ceiling with supreme ease.
Grasping at my throat making it difficult for me to breathe.
He intensifies his grip
Carlene was a blonde little girl
Who lived at the end of my block
And spent the most of her summer days
Watching the hands of the clock.
Every day at the strike of noon
She ran outside to her deck
To search for a sign of her Dad there
Coming home from his newest of treks.
But day after day her mother came
And carted the girl away
Whispering in the little girl's ear
"Not today Carly, not today."
But still the girl would watch at the door
For her Daddy to turn the corner
And everyday she prayed and prayed
For Daddy to return to his daughter.
Her mother hid behind the door
And spied on the sad little child
Waiting for a time to
Gallivanting on the high street with my peers.
Thinking there is nothing in this world that I have to fear.
Contemplating an appropriate place where we should eat.
I then leant down to re adjust the laces on my feet.
Suddenly a legion of faces loom towards our direction.
Not assuming that we were victims of their brutal inspection.
They approach me in a violent and threatening manner.
My heart clamours and my mouth begins to stammer.
They bombarded me with belittling and derogatory terms
And asked me where I was from as if it any of their concern.
I answered truthfully and tried to mask my anxiety.
I raise my head and tilt it towards the skies.
Open my imagination and close my eyes.
Envision a place where I would rather be.
As far away from any judgmental eye that can see.
A place where all my dilemmas become obsolete.
Free from my troubles and the expanding concrete
Confinement that I am forced to exist in.
A place where it doesn't matter if you don't fit in.
A place where nothing but a smile is required.
Where I can think and write to my heart's desire.
A place free from any physical and mental disposition.
Free from the conflicting and persuasive power of religion.
A place where there are adjustable weather condit
Reassuring PrideReassuring Pride.
I can do this on my own.
I don't require your assistance.
I'm not questioning whether your capable.
The Dark kingdom named Derse.
The storm still rages on,
When will it cease to pour?
Thunders and Lightnings,
I gotta admit, can be a bit frightening!
The breeze is cold and the rain is harsh,
Perhaps this world will become a great, big marsh?
I'm getting tired... There's one thing left to do.
My little night light.
It's time to slumber, my dear.
To the place of darkened halls,
Where the voice of the HorrorTerrors call!
A bit horrifying than the tall towers of the Golden kingdom,
More isolated than the place of the shining buildings!
Everless, I still enjoy this place,
The Dark kingdom of grace.
I do believe this eye-popping paradi
I FearI Fear
Wondering if I'm on the right path,
Do I need a map?
If I fell into my own personal Hell,
Wondering if I'll ever get well.
My body is deteriorating,
I'm just sitting here waiting.
Will I hear the chorus and bells?
Or the laugh of Satan?
Which path have I taken?
Will I be able to make it?
Feeling alone and cold,
Rotting until I get too old.
If I fold my hand now,
Will it be too early?
I curl into a ball laying on my bed,
Wishing for the thing I most of the time dread,
Frosted FlakesFrosted Flakes
I pour the flakes into a bowl,
This morning happens to be cold.
I sit down, and with a frown,
How closely this bowl resembles my life.
These flakes are like people
Coated in sugar,
And yet so lethal,
Getting away with murder.
(Of my heart).
They settle in a round shape.
Disguised in sweetness.
However, when munched,
They crunch, in discomfort.
I let the pain slide down my throat,
To be led to my stomach,
Where it explodes.
No milk for the pouring this morning.
No lube for the tube going down my chest.
I just hope I can finish the rest.
I wonder if you're enjoying
the curvature of her back.
The spine, a row of ossified crowns
crowded and curved around that defining neural superhighway;
that extension cord,
adventurously connecting the visceral
to the peripheral.
The horseshoe crab vertebrae
scuttle to break through skin at your touch;
a defining shiver.
I see your hands
around the rounded hills of her shoulders.
Scapulae jutting out with the extremity of the bend,
like a chicken's wings.
And the bands of these dorsal muscles
stand up like wings,
cast shadows in the dimples of the pelvis that she lifts;
that will fold o
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More