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  Feb 2016 Anthony Perry
Little Bear
I leave this place.
The clouds of humiliation hang heavy,
drenching my naked skin.
The air damp with shame.

Looking back at the town
called worry and torment.
My naked form ridiculed and put in stocks
as the towns folk aimed their best.
My time was served
for no crime that I committed.

And I am now leaving.
To wander the hills and woodland once again.
To find my peace.

My rucksack now packed with my hopes,
like Lambas bread.
A small cake of it
would feed a grown man for a day,
even with a hard march ahead.
I know there are many in my bag.
Enough to last a lifetime.

My water skin filled with laughter,
drinking deeply to quench my thirst.
I know the clear springs I find
will fill my bottle to the brim.

My dreams are worn about me,
as the finest cloth,
To give me warmth at night
and to hide me from my foe.
Their colour indiscernible,
neither grey nor green.
The soft Hithlain hangs about my shoulders
clasped with a broach of comfort.

I wear my friendships under my garments,
keeping them close to my heart.
As strong as Mithril.
And just as beautiful.

My map shows the way to happiness,
just over the horizon.
Away from this town.

The sun shines through the trees,
showing me the way.
The only thing I can trust is that it will rise in the east
and will set in the west.
Everything else will be met with caution.
A lesson well learned.

My heart is light,
my mind clear,
I know the way ahead will be led
only by my own footsteps.
Walking barefoot to the new lands that await me.

Running,
happy,
waving my map...

I'M GOING ON AN ADVENTURE!!!!

:O)
I love Tolkien's 'The Lord of the Rings'..
Just read 'The Hobbit' for the second time.
Now reading 'The Fellowship of the Ring' again...
'The Two Towers' next!!!

One day I will be brave and read 'The Silmarillion'


When life gives you lemons, keep 'em, because hey... free lemons.!!

:o)
I hope you are unhappy wherever you are.
And may you always lose the keys to your car.
May your underwear be uncomfortable all your life
and may you hit all the red lights whenever you drive.
May your upstairs neighbor party all night long
and may the radio never play your favorite song.
May your skin never reach the smoothness of silk
and may your cookies break when you dip them in milk.
Because I don't want you dead for just hurting me
But I wish for you that tiny extra bit of misery.
I would never wish for any exceptionally bad things towards my Ex. This is mostly for fun! ;)
Anthony Perry Feb 2016
I heard Peter Piper picked a pricey pepper, the same day I heard he got chased down by a hungry mob of less than lovely lepers, now Peter Piper and his picked pepper are prodded by hot pokers while a village of now happy, hairless, horrifyingly lipless lepers salivate in anticipation of poor Peter Piper's soon to be pickled body.

The Masses chant and cheer to sounds of Peter's screams that seem to season his sizzling skin as children scrape scolding scraps peeling from his searing kneecaps.

Veins build up pressure, veins then rupture, veins open and spray onto the crowd and moisturize all the rough textures, soaked faces gain weight and fall off exposing maggots that festered, excited crowds jump and cheer as their knees buckle and bodies fracture.

The elder ***** picks a peck of pickled Peter Piper, now the elder ***** enjoys a pepper with a peck of old Peter Piper.
Anthony Perry Jan 2016
Violence is real and natural. Multidimensional, it exists in every form of life. Its visceral, it shears through the thickest ice, survives the coldest vice and won't shatter when thrown from incredible hieghts.

Violence is quick and unjust.
It swiftly infects the blood then slowly turns a useful mind to rust, takes away all that someone is and replaces it with formaldehyde and sawdust, it wants to watch as the body succumbs to deaths lust.

Violence is hard and true.
It's an event, a car crash that forced a woman out of the windshield like a 12 gauge slug pumped straight into the heart of a child who's witnessed skin hanging from the hole his mother just went through.

Violence is in the air like a pathogen, infecting us with an experience that executes our innocence, genocide, created from hate by that precious few.
In one dimension or another, it's the backbone of every great nation and of all life, it's nothing new.
Anthony Perry Jan 2016
Bubbling skin surrounds the mind, lungs will collapse after given enough time, ears peel to the sound of blame, the heat burns from the essence of shame.

Anxiety fills the heart while the mind bleeds, fire spits on your life as your mind races at careless speeds, **** that thing called fate, never neglect the hate.

Anger is your weapon drawn from the fire that surrounds you, brush the coals away from your eyes, look around and decide who needs to experience the perditious cries.
Anthony Perry Jan 2016
I am unsolved, I am a statue in mortality, my smile has had an impact on society but my life has never been absolved

All I wanted to do was entertain, but instead, someone betrayed me and let my blood fall like rain and with nothing to gain

Before and after, my eyes have always been open so while you figure out who's the killer wheather it was Rob, Ed, or that guy Hansen, I have to wait, invisible to the world and lost until then

I've been killed, tortured but you all just talk about which side they cut first or how my body tore, the name is Black Dahlia and that name has become a media *****

My smile has been smeared ear to ear, my body severed in half, my veins drained of every quart but I am still proud to say my name is Elizabeth Short
Anthony Perry Jan 2016
Coagulated blood dried out from the sun, footprints pressed into the mud from a night on the run, chased and ravaged, pressed against a tree with emotions gutted.

Mutilated and dying, I'm laying under falling stars, saturated skies and underlying scars, every conversation with you feels like being run over by a highway full of cars.

Blood screaming from a cautourised wound travels farther than your ability to listen to reason, wide eyed, your pasteurized white eyes seem cold but searing like the flesh of a steaming heathen.

Necrosis sets in on the heaping pile of me drudged upon the roots of my personification, watch the black blood slipping through the dirt like molasses as it climbs over your teeth and grips the lips before it passes, blood loss is creating a hallucination.

Watch as I become hollow from your cannibalistic lifestyle. Your desperation, human flesh you defiled, mindless separation, our family's bodies stuffed in a corner and piled, you became a Wendigo, a wicked transmorgification.
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