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Martin Narrod Jun 2014
Most peculiarly of most things was that I thought all of this very fishy, daudry, drab, and boresome. This is where I turn on the second table lamp...

In a muster I arrived to the home of my aunt, where at once she drew me into the back of the house, down a flight of stairs made of tusk and bone into a catacomb where she kept a alive collection of wooly mammoths. She said the upkeep wasn't awfully horrendous as she had an invisible backdrop which led to a lion, a witch, and a wardrobe sort of thing. I stood in the gangway behind 10 foot high thigh bones waiting for one of the monstrous red beasts to come greet me, but what arrived was a very large elephant with longer tusks than usual. None of the red sillyness which I had dreamt of seeing in my previous years.

She could see I was not that impressed, and so I was led to another part of her home. Around the corner walked in my uncle in is superb and luxurious dress, reminiscent of 18th century British military fatigues. He said, "I bought the E.T. ride from Universal Studios, but as bringing the whole ride to my home I had them adapt a more suitable version to fit the property. A hangar opened and inside there were four chariots of orange and blue, diamond shaped school buses with their undersides aimed at withholding a V-shaped street. Then in two and two single file order all the classmates of my K-12 years arrived and took seat into the strappings of this 'ride' we were to take. Music played, John Williams even was produced by hologram, and after the ups and downs for several minutes we arrived to what I thought would inevitably be the forest, but rather was what I perceived was a Finnish town. The chariot I was in was stuck in the street, mud, rain, and soot entrenched us. I unbuckled the polyester straps and when I stood I realized that though the seats had built in urinals and toilets they were utterly noiseome to the senses. I followed a local girl to a food mart where I asked how I could find where I was but no one spoke a drop of English.

I corraled the group and told them to wait for me. I followed this girl who seemed quite younger than I to a small apartment in the uppermost floor of a very unsturdy chapel-like home several suburban blocks from our ride. She immediately removed her pants and I saw with my very own eyes that she was hairless and nubile. She insisted that we have a ****, and after I caressed her and complained too that she was far too young, she insisted that the age of consent in Germany was actually 13 yet she was 16. I remember it clearly. The most gigantuous feelings of pleasure as I mended a studio closet for my dining room furniture inside her ripening channel. Eventually after an hour we finished, she offered me a towel and some biscuits, which I consumed joyously.

Upon leaving her home I remembered that she had said we were in Germany, and so I produced a measure of Deutsch that I had been saving in my repetoir for the right moment. As Finnish is not my strongest language I was pleased of this and became instantly popular among the other candidates of our journey. This  E.T. ride is far different than  I remember it having been. Moments later I awoke quickly, a tuft of her black hair on my eiderdown comforter and a veil of tears from the merriment of glee shrouded over my face. After I rolled and balled into the soft feathers of my bedding, I twisted myself again into a knot, and allowed myself to rejoin the soporific treatice I was aiming for.

This is now where I turn off both lamps and go on watching films of a similar style.

Wishing You The Very Best,

Sir Martin Narrod

I keep my family of conscience
I shred my folly of heir
In case of torment or fondness
I never wear underwear.
Traci Eklund May 2014
There's that point when you look back
and all you see is the reflection.
I remember when those cliffs flew by in the rear view
where the red dust kicked up on brand new shoes.
Those coastal waters
crystal blue
the evergreens before me....
Those winding roads that changed me once before
changed me again.
The docks were closed off, as was him.
All those promises...
All the innocence, dead.
Because we are older
we grew farther
he grew bigger
and I was leaving.
Saying goodbye.
When before I was already grieving
I knew it was fleeting.
Those moments covered in snow
footprints covered
no one would ever know.
The path in the sand would blow away
the love in his heart would fade .
One day when I'd love myself I found my way.
One day ill forget that love
there is nothing left to say.
Young love under covers
started off with lies and mistakes.
I was a loose canon
my flaws were larger than life.
My innocence and ignorance
gave me no right,
to be the way I was
but our youthful folly and love
is an alluring drug.
Captivates the soul
but soon drains from your veins.
Then your left alone in the cold... broken and old.
Forgive and forget.
Ill walk away one more time...
with tears in my eyes,
as there is anger on your face.
I've doubt you've found inner peace
I cant hate you.
I just pray for your soul...
Chano Williams Apr 2014
I believe her to be insane
because she's listing her requirements
and I've managed to meet most of them,
but I'm still her Windex-ed glass window

I believe her to be insane
because she claimed she was jocking me
though she'd only met my voice
and lived near my Cali family

I believe her to be insane
because she liked me when she annoyed me
and was quick to end the years
after I said she was skinny

I believe her to be insane
because she could be straight up with everyone,
but whenever it came around to us
her mouth remained completely shut

I believe her to be insane
because I was more natural than her ex
Then suddenly she became work-obsessed,
but found time to marry the ex

I believe her to be insane
because she ******* up her life to get my attention
She was always beautiful, but deader inside
Another stereotypical trailer park girl

I believe her to be insane
because she searched the mall parking lot
to leave a bocay of daises
on the windshield of my car

I believe her to be insane
because she sang "Before You Walk Out of My Life"
more beautifully than Monica herself
exclusively to me late at night

I believe her to be insane
because she walked miles to see me at work
with bruised, sore, raw feet
to be somewhere safe away from him

I believe her to be insane
because she let me go in a heartbeat,
then she pleaded for my forgiveness,
then she let me go in another heartbeat

I believe her to be insane
because our poetry complimented perfectly,
but I wasn't the one she pictured
because of not being the desired ethnicity

I believe her to be insane
because she cherished me so much,
poetically revealed me to be the catch,
but she's the one that lost touch
High school poem

— The End —