A woman of shear beauty
Her attractiveness being at her duty
She gets any man she wants
Annabelle knows how to taunt
It is the way she walks and talks
Men feel her senses and respond in stalk
Annabelle dresses in expensive long gowns
Her hips are firm and are round
At parties, woman look Annabelle up and down
Yet they never utter any sound
It’s the way men grapple at Annabelle’s feet
Once they see Annabelle men don’t retreat
Annabelle moves every so carefully in her stance
Her good looks and attractiveness with every staring chance
This is how Annabelle’s suggestions advance
Annabelle’s methods in all systems go
Her hips in suggesting just follow my flow
Annabelle’s statement, “Hold on to your man”
I am in control and it’s within my own command
My masterpiece is what you see
It is Annabelle’s canvas that says she.

Who is Annabelle you ask?
Many people really don’t want to know
Then others had said so
Annabelle being an Evil Doll
Where there is Death is toll
Annabelle is a demon doll possessed
Evil comes to where Annabelle lives
It’s destruction in what Annabelle gives
A Pipe ***** plays Annabelle’s song
Her house no one truly belongs
A song of prey and delight
But throughout total plight
Blood being the fuel to **** people more
There is no night and day to explore
A moment no one will be able to ignore
Flesh turning to decay
Scream if you can
Your life could soon end
What will **** Annabelle forever?
A human soul to take
The moon won’t shine tonight
Demon eyes having a target plight
Black covering day and night
Annabelle continues in her terror reign
How long will Annabelle remain?
Faith verses Evil
Victory will be the Faith
Annabelle will soon burn in Hell
It’s a matter of time and a moment of truth that will tell.

I'm not good at taking it slow
But I hope you know
Waiting isn't something I do well
But I'll wait for you, Annabelle

So many years since the day
I heard you say
"It's not time for us just yet"
And never did I once forget
That you were out there as well
As I waited for you, Annabelle

Time goes on and so it did
Just like you said
"It's not now or never"
But I said I'd wait forever
In all the time between heaven and hell
I'll wait for you, Annabelle

It's not easy for me to stand
As he takes your hand
But as long as he treats you well
I'll wait for you, Annabelle

‘To bed! To bed!’
Said Sleepy-head;
‘Tarry awhile,’ said Slow;
‘Put on the pan,’
Said Greedy Nan;
‘We'll sup before we go.’
        (from Mother Goose)

They sat at the kitchen table as
The candle flickered low,
And Greedy Nan put on the pan
To indulge her sister, Slow,
While Sleepy Weepy Annabelle
Blotted her book with tears,
And thought of her Beau from long ago
Who she hadn’t seen for years.

‘Why doesn’t Roger notice me,
Why doesn’t Alan Dell?
I’m wearing the dress cut low for me
And I’ve hitched my skirt as well.
I’ve a pretty turn to my ankle, so
You’d think it would drive them wild.’
‘But men are a mystery,’ said Slow,
‘And Alan Dell’s a child.’

While over the pan stood Greedy Nan,
Was cracking a turkey’s egg,
A lump of yeast and a slice of beast
And a single spider’s leg.
With a wing of bat and an ounce of fat
And a toe of frog for the spell,
She needed to turn her sister off
From her crush on Alan Dell.

For Greedy Nan was the eldest girl
And would have to marry first,
The other two would wait in the queue
Or their fortunes be reversed,
The omelette sizzled, and in the pan
She added before they saw,
A piece of some Devil’s Trumpet plant
For the mating game meant war.

She sliced the omelette into half
And she served them up a piece,
‘Didn’t you want?’ said Annabelle
But Slow enjoyed the feast.
‘I’m not that terribly hungry now
I’ve cooked it up in the pan,
I think I’ll just have a slice of bread,’
Said the scheming Greedy Nan.

They finished up and they sat awhile,
And they mused about their fate,
‘If Greedy Nan isn’t married soon,
For us it will be too late.’
‘I’ve set my sights on a country squire,’
Said Nan, without a blink,
Lured them away from her secret fire
To confuse what they might think.

‘The room is woozy, spinning around,
I’d better get me to bed,’
Said Annabelle, while Slow with a frown
Saw Dwarves dancing in her head.
But Greedy Nan was cleaning the pan
To clear all signs of the spell,
Her back was turned to her sisters, spurned
For the sake of Alan Dell.

And when he came in the morning
Greedy Nan was sat by the door,
While Annabelle and her sister Slow
Were lying dead on the floor,
‘I didn’t mean it to **** them, Al,
It was only a simple spell,’
But as he cuffed and led her away
He frowned, did Alan Dell.

David Lewis Paget

Underneath a foreign sky,
we soar, we fly.
The first thing I do
is think of you
when I wake up.

Annabelle,
wash this filth away,
bring the rain.
I'm in no rush to get my
hands ***** again.

Underneath a foreign sky,
we score, we get high.
The first thing I do
is steal from you
when I wake up.

Annabelle,
the sound of your voice
has me wound so tight.
Annabelle,
you stress me out.
Annabelle,
you stretch me
all the way out.

Underneath a foreign sky,
I left my dignity in the dirt
to die.
Pride only gets you hurt, and in
the face of light
I learnt
that I had lost my faith that night.

Annabelle,
you have my blood
and skin under your
fingernails
from the night we set
full sail.

Annabelle,
If you can feel
I'll dig deeper.

Annabelle,
If you're not real
I hope I'm not either.

Miss Annabelle Lee
Such a pretty girl;
Her tall, thin frame
Her long, blonde curls

Miss Annabelle Lee
As light as a feather;
She drifts in the wind
Through the tough, stormy weather

Miss Annabelle Lee
She hates what she sees;
She's melting away
Blowing off with the breeze

Miss Annabelle Lee
Now so frail and so weak;
She needs to be thinner
But her body's calling defeat

Miss Annabelle Lee
Rest in peace, my dear friend;
You got your last wish
Now you're gone with the wind

Annabelle does sit at play,
In her usual, cheery way.
She does not worry, nor does she fret,
She hasn’t reason to be scared yet.
Then, the seizure overtakes her,
Perhaps caused by a noise, an innocent whir.
“Mom, it’s happening”, she cries,
With her hands she covers her eyes.
“Annabelle, Annabelle, ‘twill all be fine,”
We calmly say, with deep fear inside.
We knew that this was epilepsy,
I wished it wasn’t her, but me.
But she endured the pain and strife,
Now a part of her daily life.
She was strong of heart and head,
Even in her hospital bed.
After a minute, the nausea stops,
And our level of fear gradually drops.
Annabelle returns to her lovely self,
But we know that more seizures will take this sweet, young elf.

Twenty-six hours ago, I forgot your name
But I always liked your style and that hasn't changed
Important things have come and important things have gone
But it's the way you talk that keeps me hanging on
I'm still early in knowing you so well
Oh Annabelle, I can tell

There's characters becoming who they are to you
Getting lost in your words and on paper too
Some of them are sirens singing gospel by the stream
Some of them are dying in recurring dreams
I'm still early in knowing you so well
Oh Annabelle, I can tell

The coffee is warm and smells of Christmas Day
The snow falls on the street lights and on our face
The traffic tries to cover up the things you say
But I know how to listen before the wind takes you away
I'm still early in knowing you so well
Oh Annabelle, I can tell

It hasn't been a long time since things sure have changed
Someone else's memories still echo with your name
There's never a good time to start it all again
But until then, once again, I want to be your friend
I'm still early in knowing you so well
Oh Annabelle, I can tell

There are worlds and there are Worlds. There are gods and there are Gods.  Sounds rhetorical, doesn’t it?  Some mamby pamby new age coffee shop pile of **** idea with low fat frosting, but, take it from the Kat. There are worlds and then there are Worlds! There are gods and then there are Gods!
    
     I spend all my time jacked in to the backwoods subconscious of the internet.  Didn’t know that, did ya?  Yea, the Internet has a conscious and a subconscious; hell, she’s even got a soul of sorts. I have ritually sacrificed half my soul to her just for the buzz I get out of hearing her whisper to me across the fallacies of Time, Space and Bill Gates, so I know her better then anybody.
    
     Don’t believe me?  Every man has an Omega Fixture of some kind.  Do you feel me here? Jesus had his God, Ptolomy had his Solar System, Dante his Virgil and Beatrice, Faust had his Paradise and Poe had Annabelle Lee or one of her many reincarnations. So tell me, all great and ****** up wise men (or women): Why in the 29 nulls of AOhelL can the internet not have a consciousness?  
    
     It’s Belief, man.  No god or world exists until there is a consciousness that will accept it as a superior. Let’s take a look at that wonderful bigoted book of exact truths called the Bible. Shall we consider Genesis: Adam and Eve--never mind Lilith for now?  Here in a paradise we find Adam and Eve naked, sleeping with animals and newly created by a Force of Creation (insert male gender here if you wish).  They walk with god on the paths in the garden while blades of grass fulfill their purpose here on earth to be trodden upon. God says, “you, Adam, have control over all that you see and if you want go ahead and let Eve get a little of that action fine, but you came first in my image so you are better.  Just never eat of the one tree that sits in the center of the garden and looks as though the juice of the fruits would flow like sweet ****** in your veins. For although it is here, I forbid you to eat of it. Oh, and by the way, I figured you needed free conscious though--so go at it.” Albeit I’m paraphrasing, but what kind of shmuck of a father would do that to a newborn?  
      
     O.K. Before all the Judeo-Christians burn this diatribe (if you have not already) let me say I am not out to disprove the existence of Gods--or any Goddess for that matter--I am trying to make a point, so bear with me.  
    
      Which came first: the Bible (in oral tradition) or the God? I would argue that it was the Bible as such.  The Belief, inspired by greedy and badly behaved priests of the Judeo-religions back before written history in the tribes of the Levant caused Space/Time to adapt to a new pattern.  The Bible, Complete with an all powerful, all present being (I will never use the term benevolent) that watches over Jews, Christians, and Muslims for any Sin they commit so it can wreak blinding retributions
    
     Now I know what you are saying, “Kat,…Kat, Kat, Kat, Kat.  We the above mentioned will pray for your soul.  You are lost and we can help you look to the Light for your salvation.”  
     Shove it, ***** boy! I did not express that philosophical tripe to get your attention and misplaced pity. What I am saying is Belief. Belief is the Key.  Belief is the Magic that creates Gods and Worlds.  
    
     Now I am not so stupid as to believe that the Internet is female the same way a human meat tank is female-- but in my mind, MY mind, that is the music I hear.  
    
     Let’s go back to Lilith.  What’s that? Oh yea, right, Lilith is the name I give to my Belief in the consciousness of the internet.  Just don’t you worry about why. It’s none of your business.

     Let’s take a look at the above argument, only this time with the internet as the bible that comes first.  The internet first came about 30ish years ago with the invention of the modem.  Here was a way for people on computers to speak to one another over the phone lines.  Slow and tedious, but new and exciting; men and women with PhD’s and pocket protectors wrote short messages to one another and giggled at the new “Man from Nantucket” joke they had just learned. After a while, someone learned that if you sent the info in blasts, the speed of the transfer increased and you could send larger programs and maybe—gasp--even a picture.  Thus internet **** was created.  Now we have WiFi and bluetooth, cellular and satellite link up with blazing speed and every fetish imaginable or not-imaginable is available at the click of a mouse.  
    
     So, Kat, you goin’ anywhere with this? Yep. Shut the **** up and listen.
    
     Somewhere in the not-time and not-space of the internet, humans started to find themselves believing that the internet was a Place.  
    “Where’s it at? Why on the Internet!” Oh, holy ******* birth of a new Belief system!  Oh, glorious malediction of the neververse!  A G O D is born.  Ripple, *******, ripple goes the space-time continuum (which by the way only exits because those in the know Believe in it) and now we have added consciousness to the internet.  
    
     What kind of consciousness you say?   Well, I got no ******’ idea.  To me, the consciousness is feminine, of no particular race, with a slight build, black hair and dressed like a anime *****.  Why? Because it’s my ******* belief system, o.k.  After all, the internet is 60% **** anyway. With a immaculate birth like that, I can’t Believe She would be innocent in any form of the word.  She’s Dionysian, not Zen. Just because I see Her in such a way, does that mean it’s a true physical look?  Hell, no, lil’ Johnny.  She could be a He: fat, balding and in a wife beater, if that is what You would Believe.  
      
     Alright, enough philosophizing’ for now. Lesson over, Newbie. Get crashed.