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Skwot
So we're having a joint but there's so much dust in my lungs that it's feeling real tickly on my bronchi, and he's asking me my fucking name every time I begin a bit of speech.
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- 922 reads
The Notebook
T H E N O T E B O O K Part one They all wanted to have sex one day. It became one of their nicest pastimes. To search for the boy who would become their first. The only difference with Rosie's dreams from that of her friends was the person she had her sights on was definitely not a boy.
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- 537 reads
EROTIC WORDS MIGHT HAVE SLIPPED IN
Light-hearted poem.
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- 963 reads
Bag of Weasels. Chapter 3
Right about now I reckoned Ralph would be stamping out his mission-from-god, daily crowd clearing path up Richmond Hill, holding up his precious object like a piece of the true cross. London has its ways, and some of those ways - the less trodden, the hidden and meandering - are now mine: and so I weaved my own way down.
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- 1262 reads
The Shitting Forecast
For Eddie Gibbons. Un homage.
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- 1768 reads
YOU ARE NO LONGER A PART OF ME
You've not broken my heart this time.
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- 1079 reads
Springboard to a Future?
A girl - perhaps, of no more than nineteen years of age - but her face already lined, ravaged and worn - is handing the crumpled tenner she's just sold herself for- now to seek her reward down a litter strewn alley off 'St Anns Chase.' A man in sports gear, his body adorned with the gaudy gold jewellery of greed takes the note and hands her the one miserly cellophaned wrap of Crack Cocaine. Life lived out through the white smoky haze of the gauze pipe ' the exchange of a never-ending agony.
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- 1117 reads
Mighty Rocks That Stay
it is a truth to me that is so really very weird. i can only explain to you if you speak to me. face to face.
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- 1033 reads
The Invisibility Game
DO parents ever really hear their children? DO people ever really hear each other? OR are we all just playing a big game of invisible
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- 880 reads
Globalised Nation
a holiday poem.
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- 973 reads
Revenge
About a guy was just got revenge 1 day
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- 696 reads
PETER
Intended to be a light-hearted poem and not disrespectful!
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- 1148 reads
WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR CHRISTMAS?
Light-hearted poem.
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- 1165 reads
Bag of Weasels. Chapter 2
On a good day I know, I'm not the full ticket; on a bad day I don't know my arse from my elbow. So I've been told, and so it is written; it must be true. I've learnt to live with it after a fashion, and I can tie my own shoelaces and count to ten, but for the sake of my head I stay off the maindrag. I was on a downward curve about then anyway, drifting like litter down side streets and alleyways, slipping into the empty, unused spaces, the long-untouched deserted houses; cracks in the city, cracks in between. London was a scary place for me.
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- 1281 reads
Men are in loss
Did you ever know that the devil cries but all you ever see is when he smiles and all you ever know is when he wins for his battles of a million sins are not ended when he wins and tomorrow he will turn around
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- 995 reads
UNLESS YOU ARE AN ARMY OFFICER, YOU CAN GET BETTER RESULTS BY REQUESTS THAN YOU CAN BY ORDERS.
Armies spend endless hours training people to follow orders without question. It's an essential quality in a soldier. In everyday life, however, things don't work that way. Business, political, and civic leaders have learned that ordinary people will perform exceptional tasks when they are asked-not ordered-to do so. Even when you are managing other people, you will achieve far more if you convert every order to a request. Introductory phrases such as, "Would you mind . . ." or "Could I ask your assistance in . . ." or the always effective "Please . . ." will ensure success far more often than intimidating those who work for you. And when you need help from those whose paychecks you do not control, you will find them far more responsive to requests than to orders.
Paper
He pins me with his stare. An urgent message on his cork board.
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- 846 reads
Will I ever..?
Will I ever forget..
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- 810 reads


