She wanted to travel Unravel the world Like famous explorers Who's wandering was all the will to ask If there was anything beyond the horizon That they could see.
Now shes everywhere -
Frozen stare, pigtails and grey red uniform, Tie needling south with the straightness of a compass And shes lost.
Where is she? Everywhere anyone turns Trapped in the undergrowth Where cans and cat **** go to pasture Her wrinkled smile Is caked onto the branches Paper machet - ed and as brittle As an old map. She breaks apart like bread crumbs That will never lead her home.
Have you seen her? Not tumble weeding her news Across the m2 Or pinned to a lamppost Weeping her ink into the missing like a watercolour.
Have you spied her? Not tied with weak ribbon to brown stalks who's little Notes speak of hope And other things, like Angel's and innocence, The innocence shes frozen in.
Can you find her? Not hopefully Flying her flag of the forgotten On the tv Budget crew Remaking her last seen With shaking cameras And discount queens of the smaller screen Hoping for Hollywood.
Is there a tangible Left to her name Thrown as it has been across State lines, and small places That only the locals know. She has Columbus - ed the globe And she only left home Walked down her drive And disappeared.
Ten little soldier boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were nine.
Nine little soldier boys sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were eight.
Eight little soldier boys traveling in Devon; One said he’d stay there and then there were seven.
Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in halves and then there were six.
Six little soldier boys playing with a hive; A bumble bee stung one and then there were five.
Five little soldier boys going in for law; One got in chancery and then there were four.
Four little soldier boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.
Three little soldier boys walking in the zoo; A big bear hugged one and then there were two.
Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun; One got frizzled up and then there was one.
One little soldier boy left all alone; He went and hanged himself and then there was none.
This is not an original poem. it was written by Frank Green in 1869 i found it in a book called "And then there were none." it is very good. i recomend it. if you want to know it is about 10 people who are stuck on an island called soldier island after being tricked into going. one by one there are all **** by a madman disquised as a guest. ther is a lot more to the story but i dont want to spoil it.
Take a lonely stroll through the park of life Why not kick a stone whilst you’re there to enjoy the mood? Turn and face the oncoming sweep of hatred with pitchforks at your throat All you did was kick a little stone. The rope is tight, it cuts and you bleed But try to smile as the hateful hands stroke at you with enviable despise. They drag you through dirt that scathes your façade. But still you show what’s left of your smile. The ropes pull and off you fly behind hooves of hatred, gored and disfigured you cheerfully drag yourself up from behind the horse. The horse **** tearing at your wounds as you try to stand. Such a crowd You wave at your fans and they pelt you with vinegar, acid bubbles into the bastardised crevices, your legs buckle as you’re yanked from behind , your eyes falter as you watch your essence snake out into the rabble. They lick at your heels as your mind begins to wander. Back to the block. You come to, the crowd is cheering They’re happy and so you thank your audience. Your eyes adjusting to the love as the axe blade cracks your neck through to the jaw leaving your disfigured skull rolling down into the dispersing gathering.
Hello all and welcome, Today is the day of learning. My name, not important, you'll soon forget it anyways. My work original, Yes but overlooked. For you see it only speaks to me. None past the realm of our eyes can see. Yes I'm angry, Yes I'm sad. Yes I'm crazy, and Yes I too can be glad. I think I'll take a break now, perhaps write another line or two. For the readers is who I owe it to.