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Olivia Kent Nov 2016
The morning made it once again
All hallows eve nothing, but a make up stain left on a costume, somewhat theatrical.
Today the autumn sun is up, praise be.
Glinting glamour on the trees.
Cobwebs tangle laundry lines.
Dream catchers,
Dew catchers.
The flies have no dreams.
Spiders sated.
Crystal fall.
Guy Fawkes will, but ******* remove.
Christmas coming with vitess.
New year.
2016, total mess.
(c)LIVVI
Thank you Stephen Cole ,for the inspiration for the
Olivia Kent Nov 2016
Fairy dancer in the lilac dress.
A little bit like me, as was once.
The youthful spirit.
Benevolent soul.
A skirmish in skittish, as tornado whirls.
Oh the young girls.
Faces buzzing as impromptu gnats.
Beauty personified.
My time fizzles like a failing firework.
My exuberance has gone.
Hers begun.
Girl in the lilac dress.
The green monster bit.
I find failings in me.
(c)LIVVI
Olivia Kent Oct 2016
See that zombie stood over there.
Caked in fresh blood.
It's under his hair.
Found a fella with a hole in his head.

Sad zombie fella.
Found a slice of mouldy old bread.
Used it as a soldier.
Dipped in his head.

No fun.
Newly made zombie.
He's always hungry,
Now he's dead.

Peeps at Mr Majestical's testicles.
Fancied chewing them.
Loved the juice.
Succulent as strawberries.
Raspberry sauce.
Blood of course.

Derwent fancied a bit of breast.
Loving mother told him.
Breast is always best.

Julie's just a crazy chick.
Fancied a nibble on the dead guy's ****.
Yummy, yummy.
Really sick.
Or should I say she ****** it.
As if it were a straw.
Special days of living.
Always was a *****.

The kid in the corner is popping out eyes.
Never really worked out why.
Perhaps he was thirsty.

Eleanor.

She fancied a nibble on the bladder and kidney.
Of a once fine chap.
Whose first name was Sidney.
***** tasted of peach lemonade.
Eleanor the dead chick.
Her day was made.
Got really drunk.

That Zombie's really ******.

Mum's over there.
One of them?
Or still my mum?
You know what?
I really don't care.
For the first time in my life.
I feel really scared.

Hell.
I digress.
They're chasing me now
I'm making a mess.
Run out of puff and all that stuff,

They're trying to eat me.
That's quite enough.
I'm feeling quite numb.
The dead ******* won.
Stripped all the tissue clean off my ***.

Chewed though a bit of a nerve.
Partially damaged.
You feeling the image?
Bled me near dry.
He did.
*******.
Made me cry.
For a second or two.

Lucky me.
One ate my eye.
So glad.
I won't see myself die.
With a skeletal hand.
I'm waving goodbye.
(c)Livvi
Repost
Olivia Kent Oct 2016
Watching the truffleumps down by the sea,
With their mommies and daddies, they're running free.
Having fun.
They love to play.
They wore swimming suits made from green string and lace.
The brightest thing on their bodies was the smile on their face.
They paddled in rock pools.
Fished for wriggly shrimps.
They put them in buckets made out of bright yellow plastic.
Those truffleump imps.
Just by the water, mom saw some bright fish.
The truffleumps went in for a swim.They put the shrimps back in their pool.
To take them home would be unkind.
The sound of the bassoon whistled out.
Telling the truffleumps, it's soon time for tea.
They picked up their towels and buckets and spades.
Home they went, drinking pink lemonade.
Past the houses.
Past the shops.
For today the truffleump day stops.
The truffleumpty trees were loaded with donuts.
So mom, dad and truffleumps got off the bus.
Baskets filled up with donuts for tea.
Heading home they go at the end of the day.
(C) LIVVI
You need to read my TRUFFLEUMPS poem to understand this.
Olivia Kent Oct 2016
In my house there is a huge black hole.
In said hole, hide a million toilet rolls and a few stray socks.
Search as high and low as I may,
the toilet rolls and socks are out to play.
The loo rolls have been eaten by a mega munch machine.
Half of all the household socks, mislaid when they are clean.
Or maybe when still grubby.
Perhaps they're dubstep socks.
With minds of their own and they just want to rock.
Maybe they're good looking socks.
Heading out to mate.
Did you ever hear such things.
Single socks out looking for a date.
They seem to just have vaporised,
before the household eyes.
Expensive business.
Loosing socks.
I need these toilet rolls.
Need to cry.
Must be off out partying together.
I really don't know why!
(c)LIVVI
Olivia Kent Oct 2016
Through the Truffle Umptty trees, cute truffleumps run free.
The smallest local children come along to see, if they can glimpse the truffleumps , go swinging through the truffle trees.
The Truffleumps eat donuts.
They love them so, you see.
The man in the bakery shop.
He makes quite a few.
Some are pink and others blue.
Sometimes, he does green ones.
Other times they're red.
He serves them up with ice cream that is really, really cold.
The baker gets his bassoon out, to tell the truffleumps.
Their donut tea is done.
He hangs them on the Truffleumpty trees.
He doesn't hang them high.
As everybody knows, that truffleumps can't fly.
It's great to capture fresh donuts, as soon as they've been hung.
They're always tasty tea time treats.
Before they go to bed
Everyday at five o clock.
The Trufflelumps get down from their trees.
Waiting for the donuts, which soon will be their tea
They carry wicker baskets, to take their tea away.
Their trufflemummies watch them, as they go collect their tea.
As all good mummies know, it's not safe climbing trees, even if they're bouncing through the branches of their favourite wood.
Happily hunting donuts in the Truffle Umptty trees is really very good.
(c)LIVVI
Olivia Kent Sep 2016
Life belongs to Monday morning.
Still, I'm haunted by Sunday teatime.
Scones in the parlour at the back of the house.
With mamma and poppa and sweet baby Jayne.
Toasted crumpets together,and drank hot  cups of tea.
The crumpets were toasted upon a huge open fire.
Jayne had been sleeping in the cot by the door.
Too young to eat crumpets and scones, she's not allowed tea.
The baby still sleeping remains in the parlour.
It's warmer in there.
 
And so to the drawing room with round rosewood table.
Nature of the cloth thereupon changed.
It's marked with the symbols of a, b and c.
A painted on canvass that ends with a zee.
It's crimson, edged with gold.
In the centre a YES  and a NO.
Centrally placed a wine glass.
 
Knock knock on the door.
Now there are five.
Tonight the table may come alive.
They're hoping.
A standard lamp, rather dated stood in the corner.
Had a scarlet shade with golden tassels.
 
They sit round the table.
It's just what they did.
Fingers on glass.
They're calling out.
"Is anybody there?"
The room becomes chilled.
Atmosphere stifling.
Glass moves around the circle.
A...R...I....E.....L.....spellbinding.
'Twas the spirit of the dark poet,Plath.
Darkness from sorrow, no more tomorrow.
Another spirit  in attendance.
Takes Sylvia by the hand.
Into the light, escorted by guide.
Goodbye sorrowed poet.
Walked into the light.
Goodnight.
Sleep tight.
(c) Livvi MMCV
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