After knowing her soul for so many years, he smiled at her sweetly then ripped off her ears.

I'll hang in there for you said she, as they cut her down from the tree. Memories filled with love.

(c) Livvi

In the last chance saloon, thou didst reach for the moon.
Caught it,
Sat it in an egg-cup.
While  everyone waited to crack up its head.

The moon his name was Edward,
Continued moving forward.
The moon met up with the light of the sun.
The light of the sun was served with a bun.
And a pint of the Bishops favourite tipple.

The yolk of the moon, it was somewhat lumpy.
Having his head smashed in made him so grumpy.
The corner shop sold him some scrumpy.
Left him in a tizzy.
As the pull of the tide left him soggy and dizzy.
He huffed and he puffed and he moved away.
Bringing on time at the eve of  the day.
He never appreciated the gravity of  the situation.
Getting caught by stupid and ladies and girls.
Still the sun shines and so the moon whirls.
(c) Livvi

I came and I ran and I saw and I fell.
In love with bright new grandson, and I knew.
(c) Livvi

A barren field, now I sit wasted.
Had my time, but it's passed.
The children have grown.
Boom, bang blast.
Breaking out as flowers bloom.
Forget me nots, they are not.
As in my barren field I sit.
Unforgiven.
Proliferating as an incendiary device.
A starter of fires deep in my heart.
Filled up my mother of wombs.
Once they burned out of control.
Curse my heart and my soul.
For me, myself, I die insolvent.
Wailing in maladies of loves lost attachments.
Why may this be, I hear thee say.
I disregarded them, I wanted to play.
The heart of the matter.
Who mattered was me!
(C) Livvi

That child of Monday, now so big and brash.
Crept under my skin as an itch and a rash.
He was indeed so fair of face.
At 6'4 now.
With heart created of solid gold.
As he got old.

The child of Sunday, now 24.
Quiet and deep.
Hell can she roar.
Lives on a diet of chicken.
Her finger's she's always licking.

The young man of Monday.
He bounds like puppy.
Full of excitement.

The ****** was born on Thursday.
Her ****** was born on a Monday night.
Silent and still.
For a moment or two.
And then inside he grew.
She pushed him out, my did she shout.
She was so brave.
Moments without sleep.
In safety she keeps her newborn addition to the family.
A much cherished little nipper.!
(c) Livvi

The magnificent mausoleum.
Resting.
Family immortal sleep under the house.
Silent as mice.
Not really so nice, but each to his own.
In holy boxes draped in green, and so they rest on in peace.
Deep in the cellar, his pitch is selected.
It's ready and waiting for his departure.
It is the way of their world.
(c) Livvi

The skipper clung on as a limpet.
He hung onto the rails on top of the deck.
His eyes filled with  sky and petrified.
The swell erupted, as did his belly.
That old wooden ship, my how she did lurch.
Rolled, while riding the tide.
Those breaking bows how they did move.
A ploy to escape the saline plethora.
Neptune, he wanted to sneer her, lead her crew to certain death.
The seabirds circled over head.
A portent that all on board soon would be dead.
The sea deceased, the sky clouds creased.
Wind and weather united together.
And still they became.

Those dangerous seas.
Breath of new morning crept into sight.
The grey man'o'war, he slid alongside.
"Ahoy" was heard, but only by birds.
As the modern crew cried.
An eerie air, greeted the crew.
The moment in time, when old did meet new.
In the galleon's galley, the crew all cremated.
What happened, nobody knew.
What ever happened the night the wind blew?
(c) Livvi

She lived too close to the wire
she cut herself.

(c) Livvi

On the top floor, outside the racket.
Slamming the wasted door.
Queue of men wanting more.
In the flat at the back one of two.
Where the air flowed dank and language blue.
Twelve feet by eighteen.
The ladies kept manacled in order to score.
Rustled from the bus in a hurry, after which, their dignity's left.
A super holiday, promised a gratis gift.
Collared and chained.
Shot up to the sky.
The ladies kept manacled in order to score.
By a friend, an imperious, imposer.
Not a cool guy.
Remuneration nothing for their suffering at the hands, of ****** deviants.
A slave to desire, captured in *******.
(C) Livvi

So what shape is love?
Is it circular and hollow in the centre?
Vacant and vacuous.
Perhaps it's square with sharp edges.
Keep catching yourself.
Making you ooze trickling blood.
Maybe it's rhomboid,
In the shape of headless female form.
Limbs intact, a matter of balance.
A diamond of course.
Will love cut glass?
Sure it will, it's edges are fierce.
Matters not what shape it is, it hurts.
(C) Livvi

Dragons danced through nostrils to hell.
A sick date with vulnerability.
Hit with luscious toxins.
Toxins clout, beat their heads about.
Push pure source abusers in.
Urging a voyage into the depths of happy hell.
Being sent to heaven in a vacant dream.
Black bubbles of rabid, rapid utopia.
In dreams collapsed,  slumped in a heap as night and day converge.
Creating ugly imagery.
Lured into dark hallows where dwell the land of sunken eyes.
You can try to escape, but hell it's futile.
Your life now belonging forever, coldly captured by the beast.
(c) Livvi

The undercurrents caught his drift.
Threw him as a shuttlecock, chucked into the wind.
The child laughed with crazy grin.
He raised and drew his bow and arrow.
Fired it hard.
Bang on target, rising.
Flying through the air.
He tumbled as a limp rag, whirling to the ground.
The child collected him.
Dreams of pigeon pie flashed before his eyes.
Gave mother the gift he had acquired.
Found a number so he wired.
Only found post mortem, as he grinned with childish wily eyes.
For he had shot the messenger!
Can you see it in your mind.
Seek it out and you shall find.
(c) Livvi

Blessed not am I, with financial wealth.
Treasures are given in souls of family.
Given a baby in perfect health.
Escaped from cossetted womb, now free.
A boy so precious, hair of down.
Dainty ears and tiny eyes.
May he never draw a frown.
Adore him even when he cries.
Aroma  of pure newborn scent.
Give him all the love you've got.
Darling boy, pure heaven sent.
Laid as precious treasure in his cot.
Stand up for him, henceforth defend.
On you may he always rely,his grandma and his friend.
(c) Livvi

There were blossoms and blooms expected.
The blossoms have opened.
In beautiful style.
To the world was given a gift of sheer joy.
A precious present, a baby boy.
With features so delicate, as if made of lace.
A packet of sweetness.
Wrapped up and kept warm.
Reaches for breast of mama, tenderly in hunger.
She holds him close.
I smile as tears trickle.
After hearing her screams.
A gentle release as baby into the world is eased.
(c) Livvi

As the sun doth rise today,I sit in reflection.
Such treasure was born of the end of the rainbow.
The softest of gentle moans and groans.
As blessed the atmosphere be in the room.
Gentle moans and groans, delivered in potency as banshee wails.
That child of mine in such sufferance delivered unto us a son.
A glorious gift the fruit of the loom, delivered within ambient room.
Not one earthly emotion could ever beat, bearing witness to crowning glory.
That beautiful boy is truly sweet.
(c) Livvi

Today the desperate parasite escapes.
The confines of the womb release.
The pain unparalled, as reported by my daughter, still just my baby girl.
For now in process the labourious task of being born into adulthood.
In giving up her soon born son.
(c) Livvi

The blazing sun strokes the summer beach.
Glittering spectacle, shimmering sand.
The obese sea lions burn.
The tide beckons inviting those whole lobster souls.
The **** of the sea, all saline, now dry.  
Mingles with the beach front junk.
The children run riot, they're hot and fed up.
Filled up with ice cream from plastic tubs.
While ***** husbands shoulders rub.
With oil of coconut, girls shoulders fry.

The end of the day.
The sun tumbles from the sky.
Look at the mess of a beach in distress.
The sea lions and whales all rolled off home.
To all the guest houses with children and spouses.
The gulls with rich pickings of sandwich left.
Chucked on the promenade, splattered with grit.
By the child who didn't want it.
The ice cream was better,she enjoyed it  far more.
(c) Livvi

In absolute silence at the top of the hill they dwell.
A houseful of memories, hidden from hell.
The dark rider upon the steel steed, creates more images on which to feed.
Walks up to the door, screams at the *****.
He is familiar, oh so familiar.

She does not listen,  cos she's too busy kissing.
Drooling over his tightened neck.
She's feeding again.
They see it daily.
Hiding tight lipped.
Just take it all in.
Pure violence and viciousness, flow throw her skin.

The papers said the hills had eyes.
They don't.
The fabric of cruelty is trapped in her bricks.
They think her so precious when she's out on the lurk.
She's hunting for victims, as part of her work.
An enchantress, a dream maker perhaps.
On the hunt for mortal chaps.
She is the lady, the vampire queen.
Demonic darkness, by mortals unseen.

Your lover left unexpectedly.
You know not where he went.
He was hell bent on fantasy.
She was blessed with beautiful allure and a get  anything she wants kind of face.
They've seen it all, they're just bricks in the wall.
They say nothing, nothing at all!
(c) Livvi

His name was Ray.
A handsome chap was he.
He was a secretive fellow.
My God, he got around.
A fellow wearing water wings.
The devil fish.
Washed up on the dock,
Carnage in Marissa.
Fishermen make hell hit earth
Ray, this poor fellow's brainless now.
The devil fish now angel, heads closer to the sky.
Left drying upon rooftops.
Medicine without proven pharmacy.
From the fellow of the sea.
Really cruel, he should swim free!
(c) Livvi

The noise of the seashore.
Screaming summertime children, drown out their decibels.
Those thieving flaming seagulls.
Still they hover over seaside dives.
Humming, squawking on the rob.
Fearless pirates steal from the unwary.
Not mysterious albatross or any sailor boys
These birds,they are true ancient mariners.
Sail not upon the sea, but bathe in harbour lights.
Flying on the warming drift.
Carried on sunshine.
Immense, scary birds.
Just to pinch a pasty.
Cornering a cornet, the eater hath no place to hide.
Tussled and tangled in flowing summer hair.
They want your pasty,  you are their victims and  they really do not care.
Fearless Herring gulls, not just after shining fish!
(C) Livvi

From the depths of the fresh whisky bottle.
Weltschmerz, (world weary), altered  his thought concoctions.
His pleasure filled coffee.
Invigorated by inspirational alcohol filled kisses.
Ode to being happy, as happy he's not.
To be loved is something, he truly forgot.
She's not a drinker.
She's just a deep thinker
She never forgot.
For she never knew, how love truly felt.
Then she met you, the angel  who drank.
Once she was lucky.
For once, just once she loved an angel.
(c) Livvi

The dragon of chest pain with infiltrated lungs.
Sits in the corner, he's coughing again.
He's twenty two, but that means nothing.
He tugs on his roll up and coughs up some more.
He says sweet mama, my chest is so sore.
Yellow jelly coughed down the sink.
Before he takes another drink.
He turns on the tap to release all the crap, that lays on his chest.
Says it's for the best, as it only gets worse.
When trying to quit, it's the smokers curse.
He seen all the adverts about beating cancer.
As dancing with death as nicotine necromancer.
Says the cigarettes make him feel magic.
Thinking it's tragic, he thinks so too.
He can't help it, he needs to smoke.
My son is a dragon, and  hell it's no joke.
How I hate to hear him choke!
(c) Livvi

You are the king of hearts.
In your dreams you try to be.
You do everything you can to help.
Jesus, this got kinda boring.
During conversation, she isn't listening.
She always ends up snoring.
She wishes, she could love you back.
In the real world she really can't.
For she has eyes for only one.
Her heart's ablaze, but he has gone.
She must say sorry and take her rest.
Promising him, it's for  the best.
(C) Livvi

She went upon a dinner date.
Tried to pursue that perfect mate.
Stood up straight, performed on stage.
Crazy words from paper page.
Went hunting, armed with nothing but words.
Most of them fellas out hunting birds.
Just wanting maybe, a rapid **** from some *******.
Went to the library to check all the books.
Sitting there silently.
Self absorbed, in their looks.
Took her wallet to the store.
In the hope that maybe  she will score.
After all, single men still need to shop.
Will that single woman ever stop.
Or must her quest go on?
(c) Livvi

The boys brigade are out on the lash.
Chucked away buckets of hard earned cash.
The missus she still sits sat home,
Insignificant as garden gnome.
Slides the bevvies.
Down their throats.
Lost somewhere between here and there and John 'O'Groats.
While little Miss Muppet's locked  safe up at home.
(c) Livvi

Whole again.
The lady is entire.
Amazed by the skill of a fellow artist.
The art of  dentistry.
The morning crept in shakily.
She is a coward, the lady.
Petrified of dental work.
Dentist is a perfect ****.
It's what he does his field of work.
He, the dentist, a genius touch,
I bet he can't write a poem or line.
That position is mine.
For him, an exception maybe invoices.
A choice I made.
I'm glad I paid.
I made the most worthwhile choices.
It didn't hurt a bit.
I didn't feel a thing.
Thank you dentist, see you soon!
(c) Livvi

Can I not just doss in scruffy jeans?
With hair not brushed.
Nails not manicured, make-up left on, never washed off.
Never rushed.
Can I not scream and shout?
Can I not be allowed to verse my P.M.T?
May I not grump at my kid?
As other mums do.
Must I keep my temper under the lid;
Stashed below.
My placid fascinator.
When I feel snappy as an alligator.
May I not cuss?
It's just not me, you know
The rest of the family are used to all this.
I do my best, but sometimes  need to hiss.
I can't release my outburst,  in emotions spoken.
They'd tie me up in metaphorical knots.
The press hounds would rip me and chew me to bits.
Spit me out, leaving, nothing but spiteful gravel.
I'm the Duchess of Cambridge, would you be me?
(c) Livvi

Sahara danced upon the roofs on sniffling, snuffling London town.
Piles of mess chucked all around.
Anyone fancy a cigarette?
Just puff on the choking smog,  will stuff your lungs a little more.
Makes your eyes itch , blood red *****.
Not a beach chair in sight, nor a flowing tide.
Come tomorrow the sand will die.
With the rain in will be washed away.
Wonder where will  it go!
(C) Livvi

A political party.
A chimps tea party.
Balloons and streamers.
Fantasy dreamers.
Stitched up firmly with red tape.
While as the lowly dregs, they ****.
Muppets and puppets, with tangled up strings.
Talk full on *******, 'bout all sorts of things.
Which ones are  the worst?
A political conundrum.
A chamber of Lords, full of bent swords.
Fanfare for the common man?
You'd like to think you flaming can.
Just a bunch of knobs and snobs!
(c) Livvi

Be with me, oh magic man
I am not begging, nor am I crying.
Please  love me because you know that you can.
If you said I'd cry for you, you'd truly be lying.
You, who I've wanted, for such a long time.
Time hath flown by at the tick of the clock.
My feelings only sent in rhyme.
For  you my darling, my sweet heart, you may my heart, unlock.
You need to hold me in your arms.
Hold me nice and tight at night.
Pray let me unlock thy charms.
Make my precious world feel right.
Wrap me in your cute design.
Wholly take me, me make thee mine.
(c) Livvi

It's April Fools today.
Thought a laugh I would relay.
As child of nine or ten,  was given some astounding news.
Heard news from my teacher, a wild Mrs Knight.
She relayed a curious tale.
The tale of the ***** gentleman, who maybe being a mental man.
Rode Victoria Falls from top to bottom fast.
Mrs Knight she told us, that black man washed out pure white.
Finding this rather hard to believe.
That a teacher could her class deceive.
She was a yarpie, sung her story as wild harpy.
I remember very clearly the image of Mrs Knight.
With the face of a teabag and blazing red hair flaming bright.
Teachers in training always beware.
Ex pupils remember your lessons.
Years after they were there!
(c) Livvi

Played on the stage.
A passion of poetry.
Wove it's magic over the crowd.
Got them excited, becoming quite loud.
Started off with "suicide", such a cheery note.
Followed it with "re-incarnation".
Thought I'd lighten up a bit.
Local pubs and babies impending, strange material, so never ending.
Comes to something, when this old dear, made the intelligent youngsters sit up and hear.
Begged me to come and play, feed them poetic pleasure another day.
Left the stage so I could go home, got collared outside by one who was buzzing.
Shook my hand, said I was cool and please to come again.
What more could I say with a smile and squeak.
"All being well, I'll see you next week"
(C)Livvi

Those butterflies at sunset lay dying in the grass.
Mistaken for fairies while they whirled and did their dance.
Children of men picked them up, shook off their perceived fairy dust.
Their vibrancy blanched, as they faded to grey.
The butterflies were lovers while dancing in the midday sun.
Miraculous phenomenal life span.
Died on the day that their life began.

We were those beautiful creatures.
Flitted in the midday sun.
Miracles filled with true magic.
Tossed away as children played.
Oblivious to what they'd done.
(C) Livvi

Here in the luscious land of England, the day of the mother, it came and just left.
Filled with ribbons and bows and twinkling toes.
Gifts given from real true lovers.
Odd thorns do scratch when tempers fly, and words they smack you in the eye.
Hell, they make you laugh.
They make you cry.
They make you hiss.
They take the ****.
But they're alright really, well nearly all the time.
Great big darlings wholly fine!
(C) Livvi

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t5D6Jh2RbpM&feature;=share&list;=UUMmzgb8NIQi9QzzIRVCnpJQ
Look it up as Livvi Kent if you like **
Thanks

That wicked naughty little girl.
She's bouncing on the bed.
Her footwear's rather sticky.
As it is a lava bed.
Her boots are breached by temperature.
Pooh,sulphuric smelly feet.
Cook yourself roast chicken.
A really stinky treat.
(C) Livvi

Love lay dormant.
Neath near extinct volcano.
Fire from earths bowels.
Curtsying, the delicate female form, confesses to the sorrow of a million sins.
Archangels dance in celebration in collaboration, at dinner for the dragon given in  the form of fallen gift.
Dragon kind screams at hearing lady wail,  the  whirling maiden impaled hung upon the spikes of a hundred shards of disrespect.
She was to be fodder for the dragon.
The dragon, he did so take pity.
The dragon lived in fantasy land.
His title was Sir Walter Mitty.
(c) Livvi

Oh what a beautiful morning.
Stunned.
Today the blessed clocks strolled on.
Into summertime they dash.
Yes, I remembered to change them .
I was really not surprised at all.
Woke at eight, was really nine.
Sun ablaze, did blessings shine.
Morning frost, it ran off with the clock.
Maybe they eloped.
Leaf dressed trees are glowing after night.
As yet, I know not whether or not the weather is hot, but potential hovers evident.
Happens every time.
An automated weather change, as hours melt or thereby grow.
(C) Livvi

A shooting pain fires down her arm.
A spot of magic, not a charm.
An arm that suffers muscular bites.
Obviously right.
Over used, in writes abuse.
Actually it hurts a tad, guess it must be cause she's bad.
A wild old witch, just a tad sad.
She has auburn hair, not ruby, as once was preconceived.
She dances not with devils, nor treads on angels toes, but the soothes the brows of wild ones as her nature's juxtaposed.
Only when she writes however; for she hath a tender touch, a gentle nature. For in the world of real land, she is really gentle, but when her pen plays upon the boards, she comes out rather mental!
(C) Livvi

Hold not my head in a dream.
Keep me locked tight in my field of ignorance.
Fenced in with barbs of silence.
Poison seeps from my mortal wounds.
Protection held close to my chest, so with thy dagger thy may not ****.
My friend at my store of convenience, she spoke, said to me,
"Why do you always write dark stuff"?
With a glint in my glass eye and a wry smile, I replied,because, "I can"!
(C) Livvi

You touched me,
You fed me passion, laced with sugar,
You touched my entirety.
You grabbed my heart,
You took my pen upon a wild ride.
I rode a short spin, a 45 rpm record.
Wish it lasted til I was 78.
You blessed me with integrity,
Urged me with intelligence.
Yet as a piece of porcelain,
You became fractured,now to smithereens.
Crushed then powdered and caught upon the wild wind.
(C) Livvi

The grass carpet, pronounces in blue, that never shall I forget about you.
I remember your garden complete with blue path, from those days of pure innocence, when we both had a laugh.
My lonely bed, in which I stumble alone is blessed with memories deep in her foam.
Once you shared my bed, but it played with your head, so now you are gone.
There were tears on leaving,  so willingly shed, the tears of sorrow emptied your head.
We said au revoir, knowing not how far our journey had taken us, me as I cried as I left on the bus.
I held you in trust.
Trusted your word no matter how absurd.
The end of our days of as two evaporated, as morning sun stole the dew.
Still, I notice the revered coat of forget- me -nots kissing my lawn, an ironic fine reminder that I am forlorn.
(c) Livvi

Run and hide from the summers eve thrill, while the sun's going down, Mrs Midge has her fill.
She gets in your hair as she buzzes in air, waiting to sup up your blood.
Um.
She leaves a strokes of hormone an invite to all her fuzzing friends,
Hey she screams come see me, these guys make for yummy feeds.
****** midges...****** women, they leave their men at home!
(C) Livvi

Over the geyser,on beds of algae they rest.
A  bunch of breeders.
Millions of them.
Bugs and mites that thrive.
Predatory bugs lay scrumptious eggs,
Eggs become grubs, all munch the algae,
Algae is chiselled away, chewed by hungry grubs and mites.
A stream of blistering roasting water, wipes them out again.
The cycle of life resumed!

I wish I'd met you at twenty.
Almost as if we were meant to be.
I met you too, late, and hell it was great.
To hug you to kiss you and to curl on the grass.
In a dream, all that it was was a dream.
Now you have a have awoken, having clicked the reset switch.
The buttons we clicked were just incorrect.
Now that it's over,I have no regrets.

A walk to death for the doggie that bit.
Dragging in fear at the end of the leash.
So sorrowful.
The question is why?
A profound dog loving poet am I, I am!
I can understand, the death sentence  tho' it seems so harsh.
I question what makes a dog turn?
How do these fierce tendencies occur?
Are they frightened?
Have they been hurt?
For some a dog is the love of their life, from whom love is mutually given unconditionally.
So sad when man's best friend turns!
Without ever having been violent, one thing, I scream, the dogs destroyed for being the wrong breed!
We all have  different genes, some violent, some aggressive, but humans with intelligence do they really have a clue?
Humans don't get put to sleep for having  the wrong religion or not fitting in.
After all, the dog warden almost looks like a bulldog too, some kind of crazy hybrid?
Led reluctantly to find the big sleep.
I cry, as this I write!
An innocent dog dies just a stroke on the head and a tender goodbye.
(C) LIVVI

Take a peep at re-incarnation.
Think a while.
Re-incarnated as a tree.
A beautiful thought.
Maybe!
Trees make paper with various uses.
From beautiful books to sate the readers,
Or shredded and mushed and put on a roll, used to sort the bottoms of the nation.
Don't fancy being re-incarnated as a tree!
Do you?
(C) Livvi

An umbrella's erected.
Will maybe keep the raindrops from her hair.
Before they turn into heavy flowing tears and storm into the drain.
Change the umbrella's position,  it guards her body from further assaults.
No matter the insults.
She will protect herself, hold close her being.
No matter what.
The galoshes she wears slosh through the puddles.
Mainly for a little fun.
Mischievous chick, she kicks the puddles back at the inconsiderate arrogant drivers as they pass.
Without a care in the world.
Maybe  just maybe there's a little pebble that may ***** the ignorant drivers armour.
Then the driver may stop and think.
Before they take another drink.
The umbrella can never save her from roadside splashes.
(C) Livvi

This is your final warning!
Got really scared when they said if you don't accept it, you'll lose it!
In a glowing shiny e-mail,  that screamed at me, you must accept.
Except, I didn't know how.
Tried once , twice, maybe thrice, could not accept their promises of honest riches.
Sons of *******, ****** pay pal.
Asked me to change my password a million times.
To log in tons of times!
Finally I did it, Eureka, payment of my royalties succeeds!
(c) Livvi