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Maple Mathers Jan 2016
Welcome to the house of addictions: please, leave your assumptions at the door. . .

             I emptied my pockets
I sorted the change
                My conscience receding
Mentality, deranged

                A straw in my nose
And a blade in my hand
                The velvet of breathing,
Crushed on command

                A line of white rabbit
Appears on my desk
                Clean, and well sorted,
Yet I am a mess

                If a substance is stronger
Than myself, alone,
                Perhaps I should ***** it
Addictively prone

                For, the path of assumptions
Undoubtedly leads
                To the house of addictions
In which you’ll find me. . .
All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016.
Cori MacNaughton Aug 2015
Rabbit sits lonely and still.
At first she had two beaus,
now none.
By herself in  her roomy cage,
never bred, never kindled,
a spinster at two and a half.
Dzienkuja, pronounced roughly jen-KOO-ya, is the Polish word meaning "Thank you," and is the name of the rabbit.

I originally bought her, a pedigreed Satin, along with two French Angora males, but now she is the only one left, and a solitary rabbit is a lonely rabbit.
Tahirih Manoo Jul 2015
May you tell me why it is that a magician pulls a rabbit out of a black top hat?

Why had that become such an amusing tradition?

What was he thinking?

What was his reason for this rabbit?

Is it because it is deemed adorable and thus he believes shall appeal to the crowd?

Or was it the only animal in the shop he could get his hands on at the time?

Maybe it was a borrowed neighbour's pet?

Was this new magician a former vet?

That white rabbit, pink-eyed and cute.. where does he go scampering off to off set?

Is it even really a rabbit or an impossibly tiny man in a hand sewn suit?

These questions are all important.

Why are they important?

Because they distract me from other real questions:

Why is it that us humans haven't recognized wholesomely our true purpose?

We have existed for centuries..
yet no firm, world wide acceptance and truth as to why we are here..

But there ARE news and breakthroughs about new technology, warfare gear, entertainment, pleasure, fashion, luxury and outer space.

We seem to know everything else except about ourselves ..

What is our collective purpose?

What is our individual purpose?

Is there is a purpose?

Of course there is.

Where can I find it?

How may I find it?

Honestly... I'll figure it all out...
and when I do.. I will tell you.

In the mean time...I wonder:

Why it is that a magician pulls a rabbit out of a black top hat?


11:11pm Tuesday 28th July,2015.
It's odd to be a peon.
To sit in a grey Office.
Blue tucked in button up.
Red tie.
My opinion is irrelevant.
It's hard, it's rough.
It's not safe.
I am disposable.
All face to face is false.
My red tie doesn't help me.
It only stands me up.
I look left and find a man
both dressed and sitting down.
Whiskers ***** from his chin.
Teeth behind them smile.
A bit lip, a burnt tongue.
From the coffee on his desk.
He doesn't seem to have a soul left.
This cubicle has leeched it away.
I too have bit lip and burnt tongue.
From coffee on my desk.
I too am dressed and sitting down.
Am I doomed to a similar fate?
I wear the costume, blue shirt, grey slacks.
I look like I fit in.
But I add a flair to my uniform.
White and pink bunny ears.
Not too silly
Just enough.
My foot thumps the ground at excitement for my call.
My nose twitches at the smell of strangers as they pass.
I may not nibble carrots or hop around grass.
But I'm the call center bunny.
I'd much rather be different.
It feels wrong to fit in after so many years of being different.
I need to be looked at, laughed at, loved.
I can't be cookie cutter.
But I can cut cookies and hand them out.
Being ignored just felt so wrong.
If i do this right. They'll remember me.
I started an office job.
Darren Scanlon Jul 2015
You'll often see them running
and chasing across the plains,
a rabbit skipping and laughing
at an eagle, in great pains.

But why's the eagle running,
surely he can fly?
Sadly he’s afraid of heights
and frightened he may die.

An eagle that can't fly,
well surely that's not right,
it's just like having an owl
who won't come out at night.

But then one day the rabbit stopped
and said, “I've had enough”,
he waited for the eagle
who by now was out of puff.

“Why can you not fly my friend,
there must be a better way,
all this running so doing you in,
especially twice a day”.

“I will not fly and I'll tell you why”,
the eagle had stopped for a rest,
“I have a horrible fear of heights,
since I fell from my mother’s nest”.

“It’s ok for you just sitting there,
chewing on your carrot
but just you try catching
a pigeon or a parrot!”

“Well why don't you just change your food;
try veggies for a while?”
The eagle replied, “Are you serious?”
and couldn't help but smile.

“It’s not as daft as you may think;
it's clever, if I may say,
it'll save you all the running around,
veggies can't run away!”

The eagle thought and with a grin
ran off as fast as fast as he could.
“Where are you going?” the rabbit called.
“I’m off to find some spuds!”


Written by Darren Scanlon, 4th January 2014.
Revised 18th July 2015.
© 2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Cori MacNaughton Jul 2015
Sadness and loss
from the death of a pet rabbit
The fifth of seven poems written this morning.
Cori MacNaughton Jul 2015
We returned from our trip
to our rabbit's sad loss
The second of seven poems written this morning.
Becky Littmann Jun 2015
I swear I'm leaving right now
Yet I'm still running around in a rush
&& STILL no pants on
They lie somewhere on my floor
If I don't leave now I'm going be late for sure...hmm got everything.. OH WAIT!!!
SERIOUSLY...again..WOOOOW
FUUUUCK quit messing with your hair & put down your BRUSH!!
****... 15 minutes later **** & I'm still NOT gone
Almost out the door...
*******...WHERE THE **** ARE MY KEYS..GREAT!!
Now speeding like a police chase
Weaving in & out of traffic lane by lane
Trying to beat the clock & it's tick tocks
A sound I  SERIOUSLY ******* HATE
I'm barely on time, a few minutes to spare
It is a WAAAY too familiar race
It's an endless ******* trend, driving me insane
It's like a whole day of me wearing matching socks
SOOOOO, SO WHAT if I'm occasionally always LATE
At least I'm always never not eventually there but still at least there
&& DOESN'T MATTER where it is I'm going
If there is a specific time of arrival expected
Don't tell me that correct time
UNLESS..... In all actuality the arrival time is actually irrelevant
Since I  know you have a "PARTY ALL THE TIME"  way to celebrate
Then please keep on shuffling when my face is showing
Lateness is something I've so EPICALLY PERFECTED
If I had a nickel for every time I was early, I'd have a MOTHER ******* DIME!!!
Being on time & I have just always been so distant
That's why punctuality &  I will never relate!!!

A WHITE RABBIT
GO, GO, GO
NOW IT'S MY ******* HABIT
WOULDN'T YA KNOW
ALWAYS IN A HURRY
YELLING "IM LATE! IM LATE!"
BUT I UNDERSTAND THAT FEELING OF WORRY
TRAGICALLY IT'S NOT THAT EASY TO ABOLISH OR ANNIHILATE
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