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Rococo
My spine has Rococo taste in men overblown and in such bad taste plenty of gilt very doree but no longer jeunesse of course it is the bits of damage I adore adds to character I am reminded of flowery cuffs and conversations full of light
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- 1567 reads
Survival Kit
This is the one published in the current issue of Iota.
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- 1078 reads
A trip to Bahadur's village
"Watch out! Jim shouted as he spotted a cow walking directly into the road. Amazingly, as if obeying some invisible road safety order, the cow halted on the verge allowing the car to speed past
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- 1175 reads
Song for the sleeping classes
Curtains of suburbia, switch off your halos!
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- 1262 reads
A Longing for Utility
Been nine days since the end of the year for sweetness and dogs but I'm not done talking about dogs, the sweetness, maybe. This house is overflowing the stink of dogs is pushing me out. We need fire
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- 3349 reads
Poem about the Magma Poetry reading in the style of the poet Paul Macjoyce
Warning - references to Rimbaud
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- 1239 reads
VIOLINS AND PAST FEELINGS
They had cosy nicknames for each other, That they are now not permitted to say.
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- 1055 reads
Past, Present, Future
The minutes roll into one, So do the hours, And the days, When I'm here, In the past, Stuck in a rut, I can't change the past, I can't forsee the future, I'm swamped in the present, Picking m
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- 649 reads
Melissa
Darjeeling is a small town about 7000 feet from sea level.Most of the ordinary people work in the world-famous tea gardens.The rest are engaged in the booming tourism industry.Few hill stations in india are as idyllic and picturesque as Darjeeling.People from all over india and beyond visit this wonderful town to enjoy its unique sights and unmatched scenery.However the locals are themselves crazy about cricket.In particular the Camellia Cup.
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- 821 reads
Woollen Peters Shocking Question
Part One of the disgusting tale of Woollen Peter...
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- 816 reads
The romance of crime
Walking out I know this is not the end of the matter, I will be hearing from my conscience shortly; that too padded plain navy sofa. Still, the walk home's thrilling, the moon all anglepoised, gets me, dancing.
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- 1702 reads
Things that are early and late
Of course he came too early, I was only just evening my eyesight with the headboard hoping for him to hold out and then, they were born, blinking pink twins as still as a stream as honest as squirrels.
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- 2413 reads
Loneliness is.
Loneliness is a crowded room. Or hiding in the corner, Forever entombed. Loneliness is a star-lit sky. Or the darkness around them, So many reasons to die. Loneliness is a waiting phone.
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- 1432 reads
Single file.
You were giggling, smoking, I made eye-contact with you once or twice. You went one way, I went the other And of course, I'll never see you again. If I could have somehow frozen time, Frozen everything except you and I,
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- 976 reads
Screw-up
I can't hear you Above the static in my mind. I never catch you 'til you're gone, Only ever hear you on rewind. The future is just a reflection Of a past that's already dead. And I'm sick of always looking back,
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- 934 reads
Love.
A bed that was once warm, Our sanctuary: The only place on earth Where I wanted to be. Now you can see your breath, It's so damn cold And those three magic words,
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- 1124 reads
Remnants of dreams.
The room is empty, But I'm never alone. There's a typewriter before me, A bottle by its side And the ever looming presence Of a glorious suicide. Behold: This night, this silence;
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- 1003 reads
The Absent Autumn
In July, summer sun loved skin, Older now, and travelled...
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- 881 reads
Hickling Broad
"Look, a coral-gutted loner bird! I said, at some show-off twig-legged prancer.
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- 1365 reads


