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On Returning Home
After seven-and-half-hours, all conversation had dried up. The freeway however, continued to pound out below us relentlessly, mile after mile. Up-front my parents sat rigidly, eyes trained on the unreachable horizon ahead.
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- 427 reads
Eleanor Crosses: Lincoln
Though we had not yet slept since arriving in Nottingham and leaving Nottingham My master bids me watch his wife, the dry flesh of his wife, while he busies himself with I don't know what. His wife, the lady Eleanor, is in a box, a rich box, her smooth bosom flat and her chest extinguished -
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- 737 reads
Three decent bombs, one excellent
I'm getting used to days of rescheduled telly, half-hoping a friend will answer his phone from under the rubble.
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- 1508 reads
Heart. By. Off.
Now, professors in convertibles tear past me, tossing ashtrays full of lit half-smoked cigerettes into the road, making tarmac briefly special.
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- 1527 reads
Calculation Error
"Show me again, Mr Kenton." sighed the president, still trying to understand what exactly was being explained to him. "Ok." said the other man. He slowly typed the buttons on the calculator. "Two.....multiplied by.....eight.....equals......There! Seventeen!"
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- 828 reads
Dry Run
He awoke suddenly from his deep sleep. He knew at once what he must do. The mission. Follow the others.
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- 881 reads
More Than Just A Pale Memory
Never showing your naked emotions, You toy with peoples hearts, Pawing at their desires. I've watched you with your captives, How you taunt them, Slowly you move, Circling them, Always watching,
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- 447 reads
Fragile
Fragile Fragile and pale, Her skin like a veil Reflecting the glow of the sun. As she spoke in a whisper I kissed her, hoping that she wouldn't run. One single tear Rolled down past her ear,
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- 487 reads
When one accidentally catches sight of one's reflection in the window of the train home...
With slick lipstick so red and thick I've smeared my sullen lips. The polish fails deep crimson nails
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- 673 reads
Dinosaurs
Sarah is painting, it's dinosaurs again. We tried to interest her in dolls, our efforts were in vain. Mother thinks she's talented, I'm not sure that's the word, Obsessed's a bit more like it, criticism won't be heard.
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- 833 reads
The Three Trials
High above the burg of Brond on a hill surrounded by forest, a babe of elfin kind was born on a wintry Swedish night. Her parents named her Stiarna, a word that meant 'star' in the mortal tongue, and as she grew older the light of her beauty shone brighter than the most dazzling of supernovas.
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- 619 reads
Billboardz2
Maddness - it just doesn't STOP!
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- 742 reads
Narcissus
Narcissus needs a loving gaze As a baby his Mother looked away or hid her eyes tired and sad He has needed ever since a pretty mirror to exist not to move or speak or love his human self but exist
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- 1925 reads
Cold Boudicca
Cold Boudicca her city suit armours her in cloth her woman self set aside and fallow trusts only herself wears knives on her chariot and crisped helmet hair cooks for one and sighs at the hopelessness of men
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- 1858 reads
Load King
...I felt more secure knowing I would not be the only victim of the crushing metal train if one decided to jack-knife.
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- 1142 reads
Christmas Ornament
...Our youngest got a mild lecture on respecting other people's property and the assembly work continued.
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- 1429 reads
Grasping At Nettles
Breathlessly we climb the non-metamorphic hillside the glare squinting at our shadows your fatherly hand steering my footing. You fill my head with your 'earth nectar'¦ I marvel at the volcanic rock
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- 770 reads
A Half-light declaration
Whispering in hair stroking softness at three am I mingle profundity with nonsense to form messages that loop around your neck like my outstretched arms. The checked bedspread shields me as in the grey light I seek your scrutiny
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- 632 reads
A ditty on divorce and A toast to amicable break ups
A Ditty on Divorce: Shall I name several instances of betrayal Or quote well-meaning advice? No I'll go forth in anger And dream of squeezing his genitals in a vice. ---()()()--- A Toast To Amicable Break Ups
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- 645 reads
How Sweet That Is
Our pedals spin and whir we career along a gravel path. Beneath the squinting grey I listen to our intimate soundtrack. Cycling tall in conifers, following your curved back that maps my way, caught in the thrill of future reminiscing
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- 642 reads


