P.T.S.D.

In a panic of mindless execution.
Power mongers poured their scorn on brothers.
Brothers in arms.
Comrades, friends, acquaintances alike.
All brothers in the band.
Field of war a blaze of claret.
Grass no longer green.

Was a killing field.
Seen all for real.
Now a dream.
A nightmare.
A ruinous one.
Crying.
In sweat of chill he awoke.

Seen too much.
Seen too many.
Destruction in a black robe.
Hub-bub banging in his head.
Night until dawn

The racket ran in side his head.
Visions through childlike eyes.
Disturbed by evil images of war.
Friends massacred as martyrs.
Fight for hopeless cause.
It was meant to be the war to end all wars.
They all lost their lives.

His friends.
Nowhere left to turn
Put a gun against his forehead.
How he felt that bullet burn.

She placed solitary rose of red upon the remnants of his head.
Kissed his memory goodbye.
Dropped to her knees.
Started to cry.
No one could tell her why he died.
A true love.
A good life.
Gone in a gunpowder flash.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

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

Feelings are a fantasy,
Star studded,
Very stupid game,
Emotions are just power blessed,
Laced with blood and brain.

A rare exotic tiger,
Love,
She hides in long grass ,
As he dances,

On graves of darkness,
Crouches,
Ready to destroy.

She,
That's me,
A beautiful trinket,
Locked in encrusted jewel box,

Not playing for peals of wedding bells weals,
Wedding bells just give me hell,
In a hotchpotch mess of fools desires,

I am your weeping cross,
Laid by the wayside,
Please repent,
Hell,
I'm not begging you.

Weltschmerz,(world weary)
In this whisky bottle world,
Heart pain,
The fantasy in which you hang,
Not a real man,

Just mixed in with life's emotions,
Spilled over,

Stuck in spiders web,
A dream of online lies.
While indecision cries!
A fool I am,
A fool you are!
Adorned with mania's crown,
Wrapped up in satin dress!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Drifting, drowning in obsession,
Well, maybe, not really,
Able at last in words,
To release the one and only, Livvi,
Welcome in the real me,
On the way to feeling free!
Don't do religion,
Never will,
Biological science, my believing thrill,
Human being...or been,
Perhaps,
Hold my job down,
Don't always know how,
Sometimes work's my holy cow,
Provides, milk ,meat and honey,
Time and time again,
Hormonally,
If only,
Good God, I wish I could be free, not really blasphemy!
From mediocre life's constraints,
****** brighter picture paints,
Lost in a fog, panic mode, abused,
All too stupid to lose independence, it seems,
Stuck mid ladder, can't hit up,
Can't go down, frozen in space,
Inspiration fading fast,
Sat in land where cloud cuckoo's sing,
Music feeds my head released,
Corrs, sing love some more,
Well maybe some less!
Chilling on a sorry , sunny Sunday morn,
Can only be the best!
Livvi Kent 28/04/2013

You looked into my  eyes from across the crowded bar.
Enslaved by spellbinding attention.
Chemistry present but never passed a spoken word.
You left.
I left.
United hearts very alone.
Untied.
And still the music plays it's tune within my head.
St Valentine plucks at my very merry heart.
(c) Livvi

This is a very dark write
A Day in Forever :Rhetorical Question!

Lily death banners,
Scent strong,
Almost pungent,
Spangled with stamen oozing sun pollen,
Noses drip allergic to the thought of death and pollen akin,
While eyes cry last goodbyes,
Pollen's drips into the valley of death's dark dreams,
A funeral dirge in sombre sobriety,
There is no fun in funeral,
The dead won't awake,
Their leave they do take,
Escape from the mortal trials,
Tell me,
Are we dead or just sleeping?

Sleeping so soundly,
Eyes shut tight,
Dis-budded as wedding carnations,
As wreaths laid on tombs,
Of those entombed,
Folks embalmed in deaths dark hallows,
Resting today in forever land!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Relinquish not the love shared in mid summers' heat.
Love only in the light of the sun.
Bathe only in the glow of the midnight moon.
Magnificence displayed majestically, as if the plume of the peacocks tail.
May the peacock strut eternally.
May the arrogance and malificence, you hold within.
May they not control your imperfect soul.
For you are the pauper, dressed in your robes of gold.
For there are no perfect souls.
(C) Livvi

Fallen Angel Part 1

Lived a life of rich success.
There she stood.
Black wedding dress.
Decked out in jet.
Indiscretion hidden under veil of lace.
Hiding her dark disgrace.
Polished jewels.
Given by him from hell.
Crystalline teardrops.
Shining as dark stars.
Cold as ice.

Fallen angel.
Married Lucifer.
A gift to her from hell.
Suave, sophisticated.
There he stood.
Hair slicked back
A knowing smile of harsh delight.
Captivated angel's heart.

Her wings unzipped.
That's how she fell.
Now lived in devil's den.
Those wings were shredded.
Stuck there for all eternity.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Typically British, rather insane.
English men do walk on water.
Ha ha, jolly hockey sticks, snooty noses up in the air.
A game of jolly cricket, in the middle of the sea.
Just an annual event; as  tide resides and holds up a bank.
Supporting stumps and a scoreboard.
The water got scared and bailed out.
A gang of weird cricketers stroll across the Solent.
In between the smiling waves.
A quick match indeed, for after the sea recedes, the tide creeps in, the pitch is gone.
Jolly funny posh folk, trot home for a scone and a bubbly fizz as stags and hens, they head off to the shore.
In their cruisers of pleasure, hey **, off they go!
As when the tide is in they cannot walk on water.
To hold posh debate on the final score.
To muse of experience just left at sea.
Guess no groundsman needed and pitch never weeded.
(c) Livvi

Red ones,
White ones.
Even ones that nip ones.
Even annoying ones with wings.
Running wild through the fields.
Partying in the garden.
Or dancing on air.
In swarms they come.
Avoiding wrath of beaks of birds.
Or heavy feet.
Insects in miniature.
Lifting strength of Hercules.
It has been said in fantasy.
A line of white upon the floor.
Will keep these creatures away from the door.
All in folklore.
If in your kitchen them you find.
A cruelty of water boiling.
The only way to them dispatch.
These creatures they are clever.
Ingenious in fact.
Nature's survivors.
By ladylivvi1

© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Frustration.
It's not a child's game.
Frustrated.
She's messed up inside.
Realisation that love is decried.

Swung from the sky on an elastic noose.
A scaffold of porcelain holds it *****.
She's ready to snap.
Her feelings are brittle.
She's ready to crack.
She wants to love him.
He can't love her back.

She swings on springs.
Adorned with legacy of heavy regret.
Dinner of dark chocolate warmed to the core,
Luscious delicious, but making her sore.
Desserts so just, just so not deserved.
Waited nearly a lifetime for one with such passion.

Like an old movie went clean out of fashion.
Once was a need to find a good reason.
The time is not right.
Love's not in season.
She hurt him.
We hurt him.
All womankind.
Fears all things will hurt him again and again.
This frustration bleeds and it's causing such pain!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

And the question is, what would have transpired between Sandy and Danny?
Should their paths maybe  not have wandered back into each other.
One hell of a collision, met face to face.
Sandy; cute Sandy, would she have settled with ****** Jo Bloggs?
Manic Danny, a soppy dude with heart of gold, around his revolution of teenage mates.
Did his life revolve?
Must of been his age.
Would Sandy still have been quaint, perhaps sickly sweet?
Whoever knows; after all Grease was just a movie full of teenage dreams and raging teenage angst.
Sandy;  would she still have been a corrupted wild child?
What would mom and poppa think?
Gee whizz, if this were real; perhaps her parents , well they might have flipped their lids.
They rode out of the movie on a flying fairground ride, did they stay together, or was it never ever?
We never found out, the faithful audience.
For in Grease two, no mention of Sandy or Danny.
(C) LIVVI

One missing thing.
A final kiss goodbye before we expire.
Not a word of thank you.
As you now lay dying, impaled on love's fatal spike.
Thank you for moments.
And for measurable pleasures, once or twice.
Jesus Christ they were so nice.
What were silken ribbons, turned in strings.
Frayed at the edges, melted to seal.
The way once two did feel.
From you there were no thanks for times of worry spent.
I realise now in ignorance your heart was only lent.
Hope your birthday was a blast.
To worry anymore is daft!
(c) Livvi

I shall not invade your space.
Except of course with words.

Unless I am invited.
I shall not post my comments.
To the man who appreciates it not.

I see your face and feel you.
Always close at hand.
Darling, your sweet soul.
I no longer demand.


You should have called me in.
When you had the chance.
Wanted but, a distant love.
With minimal romance.


Words of love,
A mere ripple in the distance.
A revolution of crumbling temples.
Sword heated and tempered.


Blocked from the book of two faced love.
By the tiger dressed as pussycat .


Lay down and purr in my lap.
I shall stroke your sorry belly.
Twist your tail around my arms.
Bite me not my sweet friend.

Teach me to love again.
As my soul could teach you too.
While you have a chance.

Love has left the dance hall.
Emotion, hell she remains.


Want not roses.
No more than words.
Lost too soon.
A barren love.

Once was strong.
Such as kindling could renew.

Hang on in there.
Until the time,
That time herself ends!

She speaks not with toxic tongue.
Her words genuine and true.

Hell be wreaked on Earth.
She will not chase you.
Ever never.
The pursuing's up to you!

VVV Glory to Poetry!




By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Necromancer dances,
Casting capricious echoes in his wake,
He stirs his melting *** as he conjures up his brew,
Whatever he is cooking up,
He wants to share with you,
For he made a love potion,
To fill you with desire,
What he's after most of all,
Is to truly stoke your fire,
Needs to show you what he's got,
Heaven be praised, he's really hot,
In a cauldron full of burning spice,
Good Lord this man is really nice,
This delicious wizard man,
Is really really sweet!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

EX.
Dressing in raindrops and wearing the wind.
Naked flowers are windswept, the petals their fell bare.
Bare naked as lovers exposed on first date.
Exposed as true love that created such hate.
The raindrops are tears, they got caught in her hair.
Making her smile and he's unaware.
Her body cold, naked it's very unfair.
Wasted time apologies, once born ochre kisses, that bought her to her knees.
He needs to grovel,to bow and scrape, for an empty relationship holds no escape.
Sexless ,loveless, honourable in temper.
The falling from grace of the arrogant emperor.
Injustice accidental.
Love is life , life is mental.
Once upon a time a fairytale began.
Once upon a time there was a man....
(c) Livvi

Somewhere out there, on the other side of our troubled world.
The sky fell in.
The snow rolled in, covered in it's unpleasant murderous icing coat.
As mountains collapsed the weight of the world landed on the heads and shoulders of the bold and truly brave, pray let the weight be lifted.
Brave souls and people true.
The Western world here,thinks of you.
May those lost.
Here ever after rest in peace.
(c)Livvi

The night went away.
The sun came out to play.
The hedgehogs are hiding.
Until tonight.
The cats are not crying or calling and screaming.
They went back indoors and they're taking their cream in.
Along with cat biscuits and a little meat.
The dormice are sleeping until bedtime comes.
He's dreaming of Alice and teacups and fun.
In his dream  the Mad Hatter hides,
The queen of hearts decides,who's lives and who to dies.
Who at the end of the day is alive.
It off with his noddle said she.
Stroppy witch, she takes control of croquet games and rabbit holes.

The grub the hedgehog ate, destroyed his mental state.
It was nothing to do with dormice at all.
Somebody gave him milk and bread, instead of worms and garden bugs.
Gave him ****** weird dreams.
Went straight to his head.
Dawn broke.
Shuffled back into his home, under the bushes.
In a bit of a queer confused state.
He went straight back to sleep.
Hedgehogs don't eat bread and milk.
(c) Livvi

Orb of light rose in the east.
Jade blue sea sparkled.
Glistening at dawn.
Atmospheric scent of the sea.

Laid on the shoreline in relaxation.
A maiden.
Glimmering hair of gold.
Splayed as fan across the rocks.
Hair stroking the rock pools.
As she found her rest.
Where dwell her marine friends.

Relishing dawn's tranquility.
Magical moments.
Self-assured in their silence.

He staggered, bladdered.
Night on town complete.
Where beautiful lady he did meet.
Stumbled across her.
In drunken totter.

She felt his presence.
Was not required.
Breach of peace and quiet.
The powers that be then set her free.

He looked up again she was gone.
The beachfront carved with marks peculiar.
As the sea did give the maiden lure.
Seduced the mermaid, oh so pure.







By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Mr Earth meets Madame Fire,
A stable man of intellect,
Charisma very much intact,
A logical fellow,
Manners of perfection noted,
Meditating on his issues,
Sometimes rather pessimistic,
Very sensual,
Rather ****** by design,
Tested waters thoroughly,
Before strolling into my bright light,
Not giving into love initially,
Can feel jealousy bite,
But **** he won't admit it,
There was another poet born on his special day,
Philip Levine,poetry must be written in the stars,

Madame Leo,
So dramatic,
Writes with mental pen of magic,
An uncomplicated soul,
Like him, She strives to be the best,
Loves to take central place in his affection,
Offers adoration as well as admiration,
This strong honest leader,
Likes to dominate,
With patience in care,
A masterpiece in passion,
This leonine lady will cross the ocean to find him,
So she can share her tender touch,
Whenever the time is right,
A four star combination with lots of light hearted love!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

To Battle!

To battle they flew.
Broadswords in hands.
Wings open fully.
Standing ***** in glory.
With broadswords swinging.
As they lash the clouds.

Creating joint forces of thunder and lightning.
Bruising the sky.
Making it ebony rich.
They will ****.
Any who stand in their way.
Will decimate a million images.
Presented to their eyes.

The end of war is near.
Their word is spoken.
It is their final will.
A testimony to the work of angels.

Seraphim and cherubim.
Stand to protect their unholy comrades.
Full camaraderie.
Brothers in arms.
Wings extended in protection.
Guarding world from extinction by idiotic men and their stupidity.


By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Off into the van.
A jolly holiday.
The sun is shining pleasantly.
Hi **, hi **.
It's off to market we go.
Wearing yellow wellies on a summer day.
Must be ****** hot.
Feet are probably a little pongy.
Turn to my mates in the back of the van.
Grin at them,
Ha ha.
Look at that stupid man.
Wellies in midsummer.
The farmer opened the back of the truck.
They're all set free.
Jamie and Hubert.
And of course me.
Ushered into the hotel reception.
A terrible pong.
Overheard the farmer say we're going for a song.
Everywhere a riotous flipping racket.
Hit on the head.
A bolt right out of the blue.
The rest of this poem is up to you.
(c)Livvi

Venom!

Carry not venom in sharpened fangs;
Which pierce peace.
Bring not scorpions madness unto the kicking tail of abnormality.
Nausea sickens impolitely,
While walking through a softened heart.

Be not bitter as I am not.
Tells me that I am not forgot.
Each time with words you crucify.
A public notice not denied.
Cannot deny in whinging and whining.
Powerful hearts are both entwining.
Smash and grab,

A stollen heart.
That was Stollen,
Well bread.
Not stolen,
Straight rye bread,
Stolen from a German fantasy.
Fruity, spicy full of fun.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Nirvana

Heart hopes enlightenment is found.
Nirvana for a loving friend.
To fly the sky on angel wings.
Seeking joy in all she brings.

Pleasure for taking.
Deep inside a story book.
Divinity in serenity.
Held tight in heaven's arms.
An obvious work of art.
Serendipity prompted.
Antiquity in reason.

Wishing on a starry night to catch a dream.
A dream for you.
Succeeds in a moment.
Another to come.
Second breaths carried on eagle wings.
Strong supporting.
Bridging time.
From catching past in a butterfly net.
No releasing wild child from nylon net.
Sequestrate heart.
Seek our sequel shortly.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

TLC!

Black night sky stippled with lights.
Falling in showers of passions delight.
Forest deep where lost dreams do live.

In the forest there can be found a treasure chest.
A golden chest.
Wherein dwell a collection of hearts.
Ripped out, but tied in sinewy *****.
Encased by perfect vessels.
Sent there for a spot of palliative care.

Abandoned by souls of lost lovers.
Romeo and Juliet's both stuck in there.
Still captured in love's young dream.

Maybe the souls of poets trapped.
We are a weird bunch.
Stranded inside the land of words.
In the land between light and dark.
Somewhere lost along the way.

Within our play on words.
Summed up in a pun.
Such fun.

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

A smell so delicious,
Persues the kiddies around the lounge.
Wafts from the kitchen.
Such luscious aromas.
Fresh pastry, as mince pies she's baked.

The tree pined longingly for a special relationship.
This Christmas had to find itself a home.
Where it was warm and cosy.
To stand outside no more.
Safe indoors from winter's storms.
It stood as a puff ball of needles.
Malachite and emerald.
Peridots of stars that sparkle.
Free-standing tall, stuck in a *** of soil,
Waiting to be decked in tinsel.
Let the belled garlands ******.
While the tree top lights twinkle

Where peeping neighbour's could be nosy.
To spy in through the windows of the house next door.
Check out their tree and their presents for sure.

While the turkey roasted in the foil.
Smell the children's excitement.
Senses all a flare.
Sound of ripping wrapping without even a care.
Excitement of children and adults.
Ready for Christmas day!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Lips, so soft, echo silent sounds,
Crying kiss me,
Bang on,
Stroke me with those lips of yours.
Adorned only with brightly coloured lanolin,
trying hard to preserve their satin touch,
Lick them not unless hunger draws you in,
Hunger for me, that is,
me the precocious one,
The one that dared to love you,
Warrior king,
I am your queen,
The queen of your heart, who kisses your lips,
A mosaic of of chapped lip colours,
Dry and sore, as you too are,
Fk me with your lips as you fcked me with your pen,
Too much to bear, seeing your chapped lips unsatisfied!
(c) Livvi

Homeless in Dreams!

Blanket crumpled on the deck.
A mouldy mound of grey.
Tin discarded empty.
Disregarded on the floor.

The hollow echo of the subway.
Thunder crashes rhythmically overhead.
A hundred commuters tear down the stairs.
From train where he laid his head.
And he lies.
Disregarded as the empty can.
No body cares.

In dreams.
He sleeps.
Cares not.
As no one cares for him.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

A poet is a strange creature.
Filled with such eccentricity.
Inspired by fire.
Dancing with diamonds.
Playing with devils and fiddling with flowerpots.
Fighting with mischief, sobbed into a handkerchief.
Mopped up by words, carried away on the wings of birds.
Making babies every day.
Babies of poems, made out of all things.
Let us poets see what the next line brings.
(c) Livvi

My Darker Side of Writing! (Not Nice!)

Writing skids down razor wires,
Screaming,
Too close to the edge!
At times,
Taut wire bites,
She's cutting!

Blood spurts stemmed,
Quelled by wires, diathermy's hot,
Sanctified by lovers art,
Sanitised inside a heart,
Words never massacred,
As lambs present for slaughter,
Squealing in the field,
When their days are nearly done,
Writing dark on tissue shreds has only just begun!

Heart's contorted,
In ivory, as dry crumbled bone dust,
Revealed by dissection!
Revered resurrection,

Savour not badness,
Created in my mind,
Love my joy,
Not my darkness,
Take the alabaster view,
Panoramas visualised in forthright fortitude!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Cordant! (Heart Shaped)

What shape is a caring heart,
Is it elliptical, as thin as a fragile egg.
Is it thin and breakable.
Is it round as ball of rubber.
Being bounced from pillar to post.
Or does a heart contain a ghost.
A spirit of love once gone.
Maybe it's square around the edges.
Or it just a box of tricks.

Is it a cuboid, devoid of emotion.
Or a triangle may be it.
With all sides equilateral.
Does Pythagoras control the angles.
Where the angels of true love lay.
Sleeping silently through silent nights.
Until the shape of love is right.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Trees strung with Catkins.
They hang on tight, bewitching the eyes of the watcher.
The observer, who so sees them twitching in the breeze of spring.
Perhaps, they belong to the Manx cats who left their tails behind when they played.
Or perhaps they're just the tails of mischief making local kittens, their tails got snagged when out at play.
Poor *******

The woman from the florist shop stopped.
Picked one or two.
Such a perfect accompaniment too.
A few spindly twigs.
To concoct a springtime creation.
For the lords and the ladies.
Of this great nation.
(c) Livvi

A purple carpet.
Sharp.
Spiky.
Cold shrugged off.
It's used to it.
The girls name's laid upon the grass.
That girl so lucky,  
Feels the gypsy's pinch.
The lady peeks up the Scotsman's kilt,  to see just what he's hiding.
(c) Livvi

The chrysalis unfurls.
A bundle of rolled up rags that wriggles at times,
The photographs speak volumes and photos never lie.
He is a miniature parcel of ****** expressions, breaking free.
Not walking, but moving.
My amazing grandson,
soon to find his wings and fly.
Six months old today.
(c)Livvi

Lavatory Humour!

Okay.
The question is,
Who was it?
Who ate it up?
Were they hungry?
Obviously desperate,
Spent many pennies.
Used up in one hit.

Does it really take whole one to clean up one little s**t?
Was it used to pad a bra?
To stuff in hamster cage.
To keep the varmint warm.
The residue of standing tree.
Final destination.
Degree in wiping ***!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Crouching over bubbling cauldron,
Laced with essence of dark arts,
Dark arts of untrue lovers lies,
Kissing once fake lips,
For I do not despise,
For I now realise that his lips never lied,
'Tis not him,
Nor is it me,
Never denied!
Ferocity of dreams appeal,

Cauldron spilled in sulphurs stench,
Essentially clears,
When,She as metamorphosis,
Dressed in sweetness' scented hazy mist,
Provoked a vicious love spell,
To trap him in her power filled world,
A world of wishing wells,
Revealed, the effect of her luscious sorcery upon his sweet black heart!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Alone?

I stand insular in my world,
my wings are clipped,
It's my only option, Hobson's Choice is mine, no fears,
No more tears, hearts divisions, between one or two, only, not going to be lonely,
I eternally seek his lust, as a sin it's a must, same with my envy,  heralded sin in emerald green,
Not really a sinner, to me, myself, I,
I am ever the victor, I do as I please,
I sit in sight of a future, fulfilled , extricated from a bubble once burst,
Burst.....long in the past,
I am myself, my own figure head, my own mast, my own support,
Guide myself through, stormy seas, tremendous turbulent tempests, always out to get me, not,
Last word on the subject, Forget me not!
Plummet into darkness, so deep,
Then rise, rise once more,
Up above, as the dragon fly flies,
where butterflies flit on the wing, in the sun,
A solar eclipse greets my sweet lips, when we fall in my bed, fed each others' sweet heads!
Only one soul shares my bed, he's the one lives in my head,
He makes me feel sincere unto myself, always,none filled with bigotry,
Bounce right back, with self-esteem, always feeds my mind,
Walk along the tightrope wire, taut with desire
Feelings strong, feeling keen,
Mind aphrodisiac based within in myself,
Chains of resentment, rusted , dusted, deconstructed,
I love myself with all my wealth,
The chemistry I feel for me is freekin, so unreal,
Emotions, never thought I'd shatter,
Copyright Livvi Kent 24/03/2013

Glorious day.
The Sabbath day.
Saw my little daughter.
Probably shouldn't oughta.
Cost me dear.
Gave her payday loan.

On the way home peeped over the bridge.
Down in the docks magnificence stood.
A queen and traveller.
As mountains in dock.
Waiting until the bells on the clock.
Decree it's time to leave.
To set them free.
To rove the seas again.

Tall and silent they stood no evidence of kerfuffle.
No brass bands just silence.
As cavernous funnels scratched the sky.
The queen had funnels.
The traveller none.

Appear like a tower block on the dock.
The Venturer was truly a giant.
Queen Mary minimal in some strange comparison.
Beautiful and elegant in their domain.

Got home.
Sat on my bed.
Delighted as my stomach was fed.
Looked out of my room.
Over the gardens.
Up the path.
More sunflowers .
Than were there before.
Many more blooming like solar majesty.

Queen of the gardens v queens of the sea.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

The walls are watching,
they have eyes and ears,
in each and every crack,
they listen through  these cracks,
cracks escaping from plaster,
they don't ever discuss what they see or hear,
with any other,
living soul,
however,
they are on the astral plane,
chatting with the lady of karma,
she who make decisions,
based on what the house bricks saw,
and the things that those cracks in the walls,
tried to ignore,
at times,
when they couldn't handle evil things anymore,
they tittled- tattled tales to the Goddess of Karma.
she decides what will happen to you?
in love and luck,
wealth and health.
The cracks in the walls,
with the ears and the eyes,
report to the Goddess of Karma,
the foundations of life,
based on what the house spied,
from the inside.
(C) Livvi

Darling was a fruit cake,
soft,
moist,
sweet,
always very fruity,
crunchy,
Demerera sprinkled on the top,

sat on the lawn,
had a picnic,
my darling fruitcake,
oh my beautiful fruitcake,
I left my fruitcake,
on a plate edged,
with gilt,

All of a sudden,
awe,
shock,
and horror,
all of a sudden,
a weird bird came,
she pecked away my lover,
she stole his eyes,
he could not see,
she fancied him as her ****,
that bird!
(C) Livvi

Youth is fading.
Like a flickering candle, manipulated by the breeze of summers lick.
Inside the self not long ago.

Ageing was unthinkable,undrinkable.

Today,

Stiff joints,
muscles buzz,
stretched in wretched torment.
Knees red as blazing rugby *****.

Broken hips as crushed up glass, cheap market glass.

My greatest wish would be.

To wrestle with the beast of age,
Half Nelson?
Smash it neatly out of the way.

A role reversal of all powerful father time.

Oh well,
We can dream.
At least I can still drink it up.
Use of the pleasure.
This sweet thing called life.
(C) Livvi

Take me away from the sharp icy heather.
Come walk with me.
Pray take my hand.
On the craggy land, may our feet be liberated.
For I want not to slide unto the land of Duncan.
May my feet be firmly anchored, upon the hills where Robert walked.
Should we focus our eyes together, as we give due regard to the fowl soaring in the firmament.
Then to the smoky tavern we shall go.
To drown our sins with a warming dram.
As the evening will stoop, fast becoming night.
We shall slumber into the morning.
Tomorrow for the loch we shall depart.
Once again shall we march.
Escorted only by the rising of the winter sun.
©Livvi

It smells like love is in the air.
Shower gel and perfume sent.
Diffusing attraction.
Air conditioning unit.

Thinking of thanking the wearer for brightening every day.
Oh forever,
Heaven scent.
(C)LIVVI

Crystal lake sparkling.
First explosive as lightning strikes.
Now moving softly obeying moonlight’s touch.
Warm breeze.
Chased the heavy storm.
After clouds played with Thor.
Drenched.
Bones almost soaked.
Standing in the free rain.
Hair leaden with liquid moonshine…
Coat clings as limpet sponge.
Stuck in situ!

By ladylivvi1



© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Where is it?
The unspoken inertia's setting in.
Searched high and low.
Under the cushions.
Beneath the settee.
On the bus.
In the car.
In my bed.
Must be in my head.
My stamina has gone down the drain.
Such a pain.

I found my answer finally.
Deep in a can of fizzy drink.
Loaded with sugar.
Hell what a ******...
All those calories they buzzed me up.
And then increased my waistline!
(C) LIVVI

Mary Jane Kelly was maniac's final victim,
From land of Ireland she hailed,
Moved to Cymru when a child,
Mastered fluent Welsh,
Well to do family,
Gave her fair start,
Was reported by a friend,
By all accounts a buxom gal,
Five feet seven with eyes of sparkling blue,
Ginger hair maybe blonde ,
Skin gentle as the morning dew,
Fair of face or so they said,
When she had a drink or two,
Language would make the air turn blue,
Always wore an apron clean,
Never wore a hat,
Really into studies, artistic soul,
Caught in high class brothel,
From where she sold her soul,
Went to live in France awhile,
Wasn't very happy there,
Came back to her demise,
Poor thing,
Met a grisly end in her room,
Last captured sight was with a stout man in a bowler hat,
Showed a trace of ginger hair,
Seemed to be a gentleman,
A little out of place,
'Twas mentioned that the last sound Ms Kelly ever made,
Was in a song' A violet I plucked from Mother's grave when a boy',
A strange song to behold,
At four a.m, was heard a call ,
****** nobody reacted,
It was commonplace, in this area of town,

Mary's rent was overdue,
Rent collector called to collect his dues,
Greeted by the awful sight,
Poor Mary Kelly,
Torn to shreds,
In darkness killer burned her clothes to illuminate his crime,
The fires of hell he did ignite,
Upon that most disgusting night,
Sliced her, diced her,
Left her liver between her legs,
Propped her head up with one hewn breast,
The other breast left by her feet,
Severed her crichoid process, was unable to breath,
What a dreadful way to die,
Intestines laid piled as snake upon her right hand side,
Her spleen remained upon the left side,
What an evil individual he was,
Face was torn to ribbons, not of silk or satin,
Her nose, cheeks and eyebrows taken,
Lips were left unkissable ripped in bits as well,
Almost like autopsy began before the lady died,

Interred in Leytonstone, East 11,
St Patrick's Catholic Church,
Nov 19 1888, a lonely lady,
Suffered solo death and a solo funeral,
No trace of kin for sweet Mary Jane Kelly,
The youngest victim aged twenty five,
May she rest in peace.

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

In the darkness they lurk,
The shadows of deceased in spirit form,
Wandering through darkness looking for soul salvation,
Life had been no blessing for these tragic mortals,
Was a lifetime of night times nightmares,

There was no love,
An intrepid raven shouts abysmally,
Playing an off beat funeral dirge of his own,
An omen that evil ran amok,
Hidden out of sight,

A scream rang out,
Bloodcurdling howls
Fulfilling the very air,
Thick, dank,
Stench of rotten death,

From the depths of this despair,
Came forth a good soul,
Sweeping the filth from the cavern,
To be cleansed by the fresh spring waters,
Lain undiscovered for millennia,

The wind whirled through these vile caverns,
Propelling freshness through the dark air,
Darkness diffusion infiltrated with sunlight sparkles,
The good soul made incantations of peace,
Blessing the dark spirits,

Enabled them to rest in peace.

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Together they huddled atop the old tree stump.
The worldly wise woman, she stopped and she spoke.
Two birds listened intently.
She asked their advice on the state of the world.
Still they listened intent, as her tongue spilled words,
Words tinged with tangerine sorrow.
They nodded their heads knowingly.
Uttered no responses

She reached into her scarlet shoulder bag.
The bag with coloured glass beads on.
She fetched some worms from the bottom.
She presented them to the beautiful couple.
Maybe they were a wedding gift.
They savoured the worms.
The wise woman removed her magnificent heavy ebony cloak,
Removed her raggedy black dress.
Kicked off her shoes.
A glint in her eye.
A caw and a noisy squawk.
Away they did fly.
Three birds, free birds.

Passing stranger found the discarded attire.
Put his hand into the bag.
Seeking nothing more than information.
Sadly all he did was opened up a bag of worms.
Worldly wise,worried worms.
(c)Livvi