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WandsThePoet
WandsThePoet
48/F/UK Wanda is also an astonishingly attractive author; you would never know that she was nearly 150 years old and a part-time vampire! Her poems and stories always leave the reader wanting ...
On the edge I'm nine again standing daringly atop the stairs bannister, wearing my Holly-Hobbie flannelled gown. Artex ceiling barnacles rough against my palms. I can smell onions, coal, and doom. On that edge I imagine falling, flying like an angel. Butterfly arms carrying me skyward away, away from frozen failure, just like Daddy will. On this edge I'm no longer nine, I'm waiting, longer than my nine-year-self would have. Waiting for the crescendo in my glass-heart to choose, fall hard or rage harder.
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May 11, 2023
May 11, 2023 at 12:35 PM UTC
The Edge
When shall we three Snapchat again? In hidden, closed, or public domain? When the Slutshaming's done When we've trashed Kardashian *** Fair is troll, and trolls are fair Hover through the net, we click, and share Double, double, hashtag trouble Forum feed and Facebook guzzle ***** about the latest sex-tape In the chatroom stir up hate Eye of catfish and bit of blog **** of spammer and bandwidth hog Bigot's breath, cyberstalker's cling Hacker's mouse and tweeter's ping For a charm of hater's trouble We're gonna burst your online bubble
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May 11, 2023
May 11, 2023 at 12:35 PM UTC
When Shall We Three Snapchat Again?
Red Red Wine Can You Feel It? The Way You Make Me Feel You Spin Me Round (Like a Record) Walk Like An Egyptian All Night Long (All Night) Red Red Wine Here I go Again Borderline Free Fallin' Footloose Walking On Sunshine Upside Down It's Tricky Red Red Wine You Shook Me All Night Long Never Too Much Never Gonna Give You Up De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da Red Red Wine Should I Stay or Should I Go? Take on Me I'm Still Standing Against All Odds Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go
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May 11, 2023
May 11, 2023 at 12:34 PM UTC
Dancefloor Drunk : 1980's Style
Alone in a boatful of swaying drunks ‘five, four, three, two, one’ the fireworks crackled stale light. ‘You’re looking the wrong way,’ they laughed at my back. ‘You’re missing it.’ I spied two shooting stars. Stars of heavenly hope, cascading calm, reminding me of nature’s wild and wonderful wit. ‘No, you’re looking the wrong way,’ I laughed at them back. ‘You’re missing it.’ Maybe the crowd doesn’t need following.
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May 11, 2023
May 11, 2023 at 12:26 PM UTC
The Instinct of Looking
Let us whisper words into wires offer up our heart to amplifiers; me due South, and you due North, sound waves bouncing back and forth, telegraph pole to telegraph pole oscillating away our electron soul, down grey-end streets, up ripe-green bowers tip toe thrumming timber towers delivering death, doom, disaster love, lust and lifelorn laughter; conjoined coils coupled ear to ear by corroding sentinels that weep tar tears, tranquillized by summer’s smiling skies where dusk and dawn dip and rise; pinch-paralyzed in frosted breath, lightning bolts inflict electric death.
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Feb 10, 2022
Feb 10, 2022 at 8:30 AM UTC
The Call
I want to fall. I may perform a nonchalant, artistic dip. A dramatic trip, where I wobble... Will she?  Won’t she? Or one where I shiver and shimmy. Gliding down like rolling mist. Because I love how it feels when you catch me.
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Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 9:49 AM UTC
Fall
It’s early, shutters yawn open drawing in an already spirited sun. I reluctantly roam an unchartered narrow maze of whitewashed walls. Fingers squeeze a mint mil Pesetas banknote and list, written in my mother’s stern and starchy hand. I am the outsider, inside and out. I inhale pine dust, bins and septic tanks, I exhale a huff of childhood hopelessness. Shadows startle me with machine gun Catalan. I didn’t hear the rumble of the water truck. Didn’t look right when I crossed the road. Didn’t thank the stranger who saved me, until now.
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Jan 8, 2021
Jan 8, 2021 at 10:09 AM UTC
Capdepera Stranger - 1983