Autobiography
England's High Street
work drink play drink work drink
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- 913 reads
Early memories
She was so beautiful. I sat there taking in every detail of her features. The small rounded nose, the full ruby lips and those vivid blue eyes accentuated by her golden ringlets.
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- 3288 reads
Such A Boron Cohen - Benny Hill for A level kids needing a fad
Sasha Bor on Cohen – the point is not missed Roll up roll up to my circus Allow me to insult any race Oh come on I’m only joking Look at the smile that’s on my face
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- 1118 reads
Hallelujah
Here comes my nurse with my daily dose on a unicycle constructed entirely of punctuation marks, sorry sentences and sticky backed plastic- see her weaving her way through the field of lost socks, hold
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- 1455 reads
A mathematical defence
Having grown up in a rural Afrikaner community Prof Sauer once told me the following story:
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- 6480 reads
Still haven't forgave myself *18+*
Blame myself for my childhood. Feel left out, I'm real misunderstood. But that's life growing up in the hood. But I blame myself.
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- 4244 reads
Rome
Dull centurion, genitor, I’m tired of your dire gates, The journeys East, the plums and dates, I can not fight your sunset war. And you, Cleopatra from New York,
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- 675 reads
Vitriolic Sticky Wicket
I wondered if it was for real or some joke we would later share. But further comments set the seal they really filled me with despair.
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- 2833 reads
No Shit Sherlock - The new report of 'elitism in private schools'
No Shit Sherlock A new report released today Says that upper class kids always get their way No shit Sherlock The report announces that those with more money
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- 826 reads
International Relations - Cross border love
history resents
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- 803 reads
Pillow Talk
sleep - the only thing in common
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- 667 reads
The Trouble with Grace
We couldn’t help ourselves, even though we knew where it would end.
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- 30 comments
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- 8713 reads
An Ode to Midges
Green snow falling on my windshield relentlessly, tiny green guru that taught me the art of squee-gee, green sea full of dragon-fly ships, bitter bugs persistently trying to slip through my lips,
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- 959 reads
Apathy Hill - Brief intro
A town with no cheer
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- 715 reads
Monkey oil and sardine tea
HANGING UP ON TRUE LOVE
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- 825 reads
Reflection on Sunset Cliffs, San Diego
I tend to make metaphors out of everyday objects and LIFE (because life itself is an everyday object).
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- 797 reads
Accidents with Permanence
Sharpies are permanent, but what people forget is that crayons are, too.
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- 718 reads
Becoming a Woman
A 16-year old the figuring out the difference between a woman and a lady
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- 754 reads
Some seriusly crappy prosa
I knew you don't want it but neither did I I'm yours, there you have it, now I want to fly
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- 461 reads
Great rising
I see the sun The great rising And wish I had got a better nights sleep I look for the sanctity of life in the clouds But there is none Then one day it hits you And it takes you by surprise
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- 649 reads
Drunk
My head is spinning. Where are you, And where’s your sweetness now? When will I taste your fallen glow, Or kneel to kiss your hands of dew Which bear the morning light? No: never …
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- 602 reads
Girls Camp. My last Year.
Up in the mountains The air so pure Being together with girls we know Laughing and loving and learning from each other From a first year beehive To a last year laurel We all band together
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- 756 reads
The reality of bent nostalgia and good drunks
When he hit, boy laughed. Small fearful, feral laugh. Who knows why? But he did and boy knew when.
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- 2689 reads
Love with all its wrinkles
better than sex
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- 904 reads
Finite's Lost Arrow
there's always one
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- 878 reads
Looking at your old photo
Your face is there, your smile, your ways, Those lovely eyes that you have got, But not the passion, no, and not The searing tenderness which days And days saw burnt like matchsticks in
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- 607 reads
Great Whale
Through the opal gloam I will eat you up until your skin snugs inside mine our scales should slide nicely no bother. Really, this will not do - shedding friends spitting them out
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- 693 reads
My Hands
Small for an adult man they remain unblemished, skin no longer taut, knuckles tiny knots of weathered cherrywood, the palm patterns, for so long ignored, now warily examined
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- 3462 reads
Skeleton Life - Stale Marriage
when the kids and the bills trap you.
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- 1545 reads
Chilis and collision
From something I written for a writing group, not sure about the structure though, or if it has enough form.
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- 475 reads
Mr Avaricious - Greed is No cure
Nothing good comes from greed
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- 1092 reads
Nightmare
I've turned my pillow over a thousand times tonight.
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- 858 reads
If you buy me garage flowers (when the girl knows its over)
she knows it's time to go
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- 1269 reads
A Blues Poem -To sing/mumble when drunk......
Four in the morning and the sun is peeking at the mess you're in as you trip your way home.
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- 813 reads
On Being Interrupted
A Rant...
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- 9 comments
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- 2782 reads
Do You Know Me?
You think I'm an object with no mind of my own, But since I met Him I've learned and I've grown, You think I'm a girl who is scared and alone, But I know that at last the way has been shown.
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- 708 reads
The Calling
Through the winds I hear a voice that echoes softly in my mind the sound of the spirit calls me near On blackest nights On brightest days the voice calls strong beckoning calling
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- 500 reads
To Be One
When He holds me I feel safe in His arms, When he is with me I feel cherished, When He needs me I feel special, When He takes me I feel loved.
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- 495 reads
"GOING MY WAY?"
When the old Buick stopped I couldn’t believe my luck. I was sure enough tired. It'd been a long day a'searing heat, and nasty looks.
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- 744 reads
Self-Consciousness
I flex my hands eagerly in the gloom. A crying baby boy falls rapidly through chaos into my itching palms. I raise my hands into the faint light and his innocent gaze meets mine with amazed horror.
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- 317 reads
What the mirror said.
A new dawn.
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- 1085 reads
CONFESSIONS OF A HAPPILY MARRIED MAN essay
During the last century (when I was younger) I never thought of getting married. I was too busy playing Roy Rogers, Gene Autry or Tom Mix.
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- 937 reads
Reflection of a man?
I am the prisoner of another man. He obeys my commands and speaks with my voice, but he is not me. He thinks my thoughts and shares my feelings, but he is not me.
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- 612 reads
Beavis & Butthead & the River Of No Return
the river had us firmly in its grip as we bounced up and down
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- 742 reads
I AM MY FATHER poem
I’m grown now, a man of graying years, with wisdom about sacrifices he made when life wasn’t quite what dad wanted.
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- 912 reads
The Hammock
A butterfly flits flower to flower in an Admirals uniform, commanding attention...
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- 2028 reads
The Seeker of Truth
This night reminds me so of my thoughts
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- 470 reads
Reserved For Relatives
They blur with emotions, as much as she may try the tears fall regardless of the day.
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- 680 reads
Willie – Part 1
just a little story that I'm working on... please feel free to slate at will. ;)
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- 866 reads
The Rag Doll
It was just my way of expressing my feelings about bullies. I'm sorry if it's no good, but it was more about the message.
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- 4 comments
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- 1756 reads
Our Mulberry Love
Not much inspiration at the moment so I'm posting an old one, Well,it does have one cherry in it! (:
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- 4 comments
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- 1378 reads
The Weekender
“The Weekender” 1. Why hide if there is nothing to hide? I keep thinking of that Will Oldham song: “Gulf Shores.” Where are you?
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- 513 reads
INTRO TO POSSIBLE BOOK
in the past, i have desperately tried to ignore god's presence in my heart. i hesitated to believe in him out of a fear that he would fail me. everyone, always seemed to fail me. my friends.
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- 344 reads
Aftermath
The plan failed. Finally bored with burning, I pulled the plug. Sweet, certain gravity; a tornado tangoed over the hole.
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- 12 comments
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- 3859 reads
Morning Wished, Drawn and Coloured in. A Pastorale.
As it was, is and in all that's wanted. As it is, for all its disappointments.
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- 855 reads
"Self-Portrait at 31: 14th St., again."
In Law, we talk about “unpacking” language. Some jurists explain issues they have analyzed with an algebraic economy of words. Some judges build these tiny fortresses with only
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- 596 reads
Jesus Won't Steal our Cigarettes
I'm listening to Neal Young singing "Sugar Mountain" in our rented modern cabin with old pine panelling, wearing my Tibetan engagement ring: streaming Nag Champa incense in a $20 jade plant,
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- 1036 reads
Une Nuit Blanche
Message from a veteran insomniac ;) I move from mountain range to foetal - twisting turning. Turning in the grooves of this grave - arms as wings, waving, waving.
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- 9392 reads