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Kathleen D Weibe Nov 2009
Here is a little poem of love sent your way
to the four most important people in my life
in your lives my love grows and here you all will stay

From the time of each of your births I was in bliss
holding you for the very first time
with tears of happiness on your heads I did kiss

Couldn't wait till I held you in my arms
counting each finger and every toe
from this day forward I knew I had my lucky charms

So precious and beautiful; from me you will not be taken
I'm so very proud to be called your mom
my wonderful girls Brittney, Tiffany, Bridgette, and Laken

Years have gone by so quickly it seem
your all almost grown to live your own lives
no mater the distance you will always be in my dream

Brittney your 20 and your a beautiful woman in college now
I give you support and do your best
what ever you do please don't throw in the towel

Laken your 18 and you too are in college just like your big sis
set your goals but too far where you cant reach
even though were miles apart I send you this kiss

Tiffany your 14 and your first year of high school wow where did time go
don't be breaking those boys hearts
but,  always remember let your true self show

Bridgette your 13, andmy youngest and the last of them all
so pretty and smart hope to follow your big sisters
just remember if you need me just give me a call

As for my truly wonderful girls I love so dear
I miss you with all my heart and soul
Please do your best and don't have any fear

Happiness is the way to unlock the heart with a key
never doubt yourselves my loves
Love to you my precious ones Tiffany, Laken, Bridgette and Brittney

Love always Mom
Alexis J Meighan Dec 2012
Knock knock
Who's there?
Mr.Harris
Mr. Harris who?


Mr. Harris whom lead women with elegance
Tied minds and hearts with verbal excrement
Pondered their looks as well as their flesh
Decided to touch which lead to a mess
For his brain and hands were shaky at best
Floundered around inside of their chest
Slicing and skinned the meat of the breast
The last thing they saw as they took their last breath
An extreme way to deal with life and its stress
Just a mad insane killer you couldn't reject.
Harris is the  man who is there at your door
Knock Knock! Who's there?  Not you any more.
Mr. Harris with blood on his shoes
Mr. Harass you that's who!
Love.
-Xin-

Jessica;
Behind close doors he was a cruel brute.
In the public view he smiled and spoke soft
Laid the trap with a simple hello.
Sprung it with a slash
Took his trophies and placed it in his stash
Tonight he stalk a petite country gal
A texan tone and expecting child
Brunette, fair skin and smile you could eat
Perky, quirky with dainty hands and feet
He sat in her car and stakeout her yard
Sneaked in her house while she bath and smelled her towels.
She was a standing appointment on his to do calendar
For 3 months he pondered how to handle her
Caress her flesh and kiss her toes
Asphyxiate! Hand over her mouth and pinch her nose.
Or
Suckle her perfect breast, brush her hair with short strokes
Look into her wide eyes, face to face, then slit her throat
She passed him on the train and he became,
Paralyzed by her fragrance, almost ashamed.
It became obvious, now that her baby bump showed
He had to **** her fast before it grew any more
And like that 9pm drew near and on his table she appeared.
She begged for her life but he didn't care "please I'm pregnant" I said I don't care
He chose option one for his method of ******
Soft and polite until life ignored her.
Now all left to do is to savor the taste of her essence
Then into the river and on to the next lesson
She was Jessica.
-Mr H.-


Bridgette:
This night his head ached, he sipped wine and ate
Clenched his brow and grunted and tried to concentrate
This night his heart ailed for a particular face
Some one he knew from a particular place
Blonde hair, tattooed skin and frequent bizarre encounters
A spunky one she was, always on an adventure
She constantly moved which made it a task to learn her
But he was persistent and eventually impaled her.
5 years he tracked her with laid roots just to leave again
He even befriended her friends. But nothing came through them
With every new home she kept, and new ink she bared.
He would be right there sharing her air.
A secret adoration, a crush, a unrequited love
He would scale walls to procure her safety and guard her till she was his alone.
Outside her window snapping photos and collecting her things
Setting coincidences and craving her limbs
He's sneaked in one night and restrained her to the bed
Counting her ink from her honey *** to the kissing undead.
Rubbing her hour glass and slicing through her haunted castle
Penetrating her clover and stabbing her dracula.
For she was his best creation.
He mourned as her flesh he torn
When it was all said and done every tattoo was massacred
Her body of work now a body of hurt
Bled out at the hands that knew her the most
From a distance so close from a distance so close
She was Bridgette
-Mr. H-

Jen:
She was so much more than a craving
More than a friend.
Its by accident that she met her end.  
They shared a bed, shared a home, shared there love
Now they share his secrets, but not her tomb
She stumbled on his collection of trinkets
And he confessed all thinking their bond and life together would lead to an exception
Shame on him, as to his surprise she screamed and grabbed a weapon
"who are you" she yell and ran to the door.
He screamed in response "I don't know but don't go"
Frantic she struggled with the door lock
Panicked he hit her face with the cutting block
Oops
She fell
So did his heart down his throat
This was his partner, his lover, his other half
In every day before his reason for life, his only plan
No way to recover this act of passion so he finished the job.  
Crying and kissing her asian lips
Squeezing her neck till she was gone gone gone.
She was Jen
-Mr. H-

Kaylani:
As he progressed and perfected his method
He broadened his pallet and obsessed on this venison
He heard her words sent men to their knees
Both in praise of her power and to lap at her Mahogany
She was clever and sharp like his finest cleaver
Voluminous in her cleavage, firm in her actions like a verb, Poison to her distractions
For him it was her words that overwhelmed his desires
Call to arms, yell to god,do my bidding and "I promise I'll be yours"
She wrote poems like he did, spoke truth like he do
Broke hearts like he could, and swept the world away like he should
He sent her a poem she accepted with joy
Blew her mind with crafts he assembled like schemes, plots, and ploys
She gave him a secret, he gave her a line
She confessed her emotions, he confessed a lie
She showed him her body, he shrugged and denied
She caved and gave more, he enslaved her with compliments, task and more endeavors
She wanted him so bad that for the first time she fell to her knees
He arose from his own. Succeed indeed
He gave her one night, yes one night
8 years of famine, for only one night
He kissed, massage, fingered and caressed
Demanded her mouth as he got undressed
His contact was of malice and encounter of a deranged mind
An anomaly of his needs, a poetic way to propel her demise
He entered her slow made her safe in his glow
Then with a wicked grin the nightmare did begin
He took control, pinned her down, put big things in small spaces
Made her a scream queen with no crown as he laughed and mocked her desperate faces
A little cut here and a little punch there he accepted her fear
On the night stand he had a special potion
A blend of deadly poison
Told her it would end once she breath no more
"Its your choice my dear" then made her scream some more
He took a break said he'll be back
Went to the kitchen to get a snack
"When I come back we'll start again"
Upon his return he gazed the beaten, ****** goddess
She drank her escape route, now she is lifeless
She was Kaylani
-Mr. H-
This is actually something I wrote for one of my close friends Justin Harris. His Birthday is on Xmas so I've been writing people stalker letters and death threats and signing them with his name and address.
Some may not see the humor in this but if you knew the dynamics of my friendship circles you would know that this is normal behavior for us.
John F McCullagh Feb 2012
He had just sat down to dinner
at the Heart Attack Grill.
The fab Las Vegas nightspot
where the fatties eat their fill

A place where the morbidly obese
and Summo wannabees
can chow down to their heart’s content
cause Fatties eat for free.

Nurse Bridgette brought his burger
and he started feeling ill.
As he slurped his triple milkshake
did he feel a sudden chill?

Was it the unfiltered cigarettes
He went through by the pack?
Or the triple bypass burger
that brought on his heart attack?

He started turning purple
and was rolling on the floor.
He was regretting his decision
to bypass that health food store.

Nurse Bridgette practiced CPR
and dialed emergency.
Thanks to her ministrations
He'll make a full recovery.
A patron suffers a heart attack while dining at the heart attack grill. thanks to the staff he was saved and the prognosis is good for a full recovery.
I stayed inside most of today
And watched Netflix
Somehow, as soon as I envisioned you as Colin Firth
In Bridgette Jones's Diary,
I couldn't help but think
"Am I your Renee Zelweger?"

I certainly ramble a lot
And say things I end up regretting
I don't make sense sometimes
I do silly things
I get into uncomfortable situations a lot
I certainly believe that I embarrassed you as well
But we didn't end up together
Like Mark and Bridgette

Every time he kissed her
My toes would tingle
As I remembered the way you kissed me
And when they went to bed together
I remembered things about you I have tried hard to forget

You are my Mark
And I used to be your Bridgette Jones
But I am not her anymore
You have a new girlfriend
But she is more like a lost puppy
Than your leading lady
JR Potts Oct 2013
Lincoln Highway moved
more like a dance than a road
It drifted like the wind
corroded the earth
to guide me home.
The colors of the coming autumn
careened down, painting
the asphalt canvas below.

I had left Latrobe less than an hour ago
but crossed into a distant world
where the overgrown homes of old
remained among the ancient trees
breathing and watching me.

Weathered red paint running down
dilapidated barns like wax
melting from a candle's wick.
So star spangled Americana
it would not do it justice
to refer to it as just the sticks.

There was something profound happening;
the "American Dream" was dying here
and I was to bear witness
as the shinning city on the hill
fell into the metaphorical sea.

Spellbound in this catastrophe,
my ego still finds a way
to make it all about me.
I could not help but wonder
if Andy would remember
our talk about technology;
if Eamon and Bridgette would forget us three
walking hand in hand through the wood
and down the tracks,
battling back the inebriation
in the cold, hard black of a September night.
If these moments meant anything
to anyone but me.

My eyes locked on the horizon line
that rested atop a mountain peak.
I thought about how I left you,
left you three words short
of having me complete.
And I'd be lying if I didn't say
I contemplated running back to you
to speak what went unsaid
because home is not a place
but a thought in one's head.

You were home but I kept on driving
past the bones of a dying dream
letting my dreams die a little too
quietly inside of me.
KathleenAMaloney Apr 2016
Fog Horn
                                  Crowning Light
                                Upon the Unseen

                                   Revealing Star
                                 Sorrows Journey
                                Broken Promises
                                     Flesh Dyin
                                  Gods Promise
                                      Still Alive

                                        Rubin....
        ­                         A Man By the See
                                         A Lover
                            
.......and a Friend
Life unfolding
Two Paths Now


                                                           Cry For Me Lover


                                                     Pain
                                                     Of a Shattered Kingdom
                                                     And The Violence
                                                     Of a Stolen Heart
                                                     A Wife's ****
                                                      Rothko­'s RED

Caste Out
Before
The World
For Nothing..

                                                     Unwillingness Betrayed
                                                        ­          Heart Torn Open
                                                            ­                    Refusing
                                    ­                                   The Violations
                                                      ­                Of a False God

HORROR Unveiling
Fighting for Life
Fires of Dismantling
Families Betrayal
Eternity I keeping

                                 Power of Prayer
                               CLAIM  me NOW
                                        AMMA
                ­                         Mary
                                         GAIA
                                      Lakshmii
             ­                         Bridgette
                              ­            ISIS
                                     Demeter
                                        KALI
            ­                           Rachel
                                 GoddesSes All
                            And Yet there is only
                                        ONE
                ­                        

                                      
­                                    Marry Me
wordvango May 2017
found she had broken in
was naked but for my dress shirt
unbuttoned but covering her shoulders
on my bed
reading  my copy of Dostoevsky

I had the NY Times in my hand
the cigarette burnt down
my finger like a
reminder to wake up
let it burn

pain had left my being
blonde and sweet , not the blonde of Marilyn
Bridgette but the sanctified
sweet of Faye Dunaway , smoke lingered

wafted tobacco and burnt flesh simmering
told her, anytime, didn't expect this,
she paid me  no attention acted
or read like she was engrossed

in the greatest thoughts of social reform
or the realisms of crime and punishments
maybe debating socialism and capitalism
there naked in my shirt

taking the novelists cue I undressed
laid down acting casual worldly when
she asked me the oddest  question
you like  Dostoevsky

we debated the rest of the day week
night dark and days bright
she left such a sweet scent
on my shirt

the window she busted has never
been fixed
The girl struck
up
a conversation with
me
and before I
checked
my clock again
we'd
talked for ten
minutes;


I simply didn't
care
where the time
went.
Dale R Husar Mar 2019
Sitting on a bench by the river,     alone,                                                     deep in thought, wondering,
Soul stretching back, delving into the years, and then,
You.
May I join you?
Years on your face, like me, but the smile and the light of you instantly draws me in, my heart racing, but all I hear is the river and your voice and I embrace it, the beauty of another human being drawing me into their life.
Peashoot Jul 2014
It feels strange with you not here
not quite right,
the room is still,
but for the sound of little ones, playing, squeals of delight,
it's hot,
an empty space & for some reason I am not at ease ......
Then they are gone 1 2 & 3 toddlers, gratefully to be alone.
then, my mother on the phone,
her voice calm but direct, "Mello is missing -
what ?
nothing is clear, my heads in a whirl, what did she mean ? how could this be ?

brother, rail staff, pharmacist, painter all searching but no sightings anywhere - she has gone. 
 Ok, I am on my way !

Brian Bridgette, Bootle, blind fear - Mello's missing - I need her here
I cannot breath, heart is pounding, a silent fog wraps itself around me,
home - I must get home

panic I become frantic, hot, traffic, car, stay calm but I am dizzy,
she'll be ok was all my friend could say.
sick to my pit, I stutter and stammer, my mind is a soup,
........ please lets not delay

midday & eventually home, I open the door, the sticky air a blanket of suffocating heat, "Mello!" I cry, MellOOOOOO, across & above the blue empty sky
nothing, no wild shaggy beast to greet me, stillness, Mum, friend, chatter, I feel sick, irritable, anxious, its true, where is my Mello ? I so love you ......

a few feet away, just over the fence a train draws into the station, the screech of heavy brakes, its murderess horn sounds twice as this metal machine slowly comes to a halt. Silence, its not reached the station.
My mother is chatting, they are blissfully unaware.
"That was Mello" I muttered to myself, that was Mello ......... I felt,
but no one was listening, no one had heard. We went into the house .......
"No, I don't want tea!"

Into the garden in search of clues, the compost is high the wall low, no genius to work out how she escaped,
stolen or did she run ? why had she gone ? after a cat or a bird or just for some fun.

Phone, Mike, Mello's gone ! -
......... what will I do, I cannot bare to consider life without you,
Your perfect my friend, my little girl,  so very wise, too young to be taken, my soul mate my rock, you gave nothing but pleasure, please return to me safe & unbroken.

My ringtone sounds,  "is that ......... ? there has been an incident"
A dog, white, on the track, can you come ?
Tears frozen round my heart, in shock & disbelief, oh no you've been taken
YES, a railway official, orange suit, stands waiting, he carries your carcass, she's heavy with sweat, he lays her at my feet, please leave me alone.....
I fall at her side & hug my friend, still warm she lye's silent & still, beneath the roots of the old copper beech, in the dirt, I cry, not believing but breathing.
Lifeless my best mate is slipping away,  

Why, oh why???? ...... did I abandon you on the 10th July ?
RIP Mello x
In the movie Don Juan (1973): Bridgette Bardot held a lit cig 3'' from Jane Birkin's bare bush. It happened in a ***** yet no one died; no hairs were singed; no men were implicated; no courses were diverged; no plans were scotched; no blood was transfused...
Hakikur Rahman Sep 2021
(Continued from 6/10)

The forest was so dense,
he could not recognize
whether it is day or night-
but, suddenly he realized that
some kind of bright light is
emitting from the lucky charm
which was hanging from his neck,
so that he could see the front clearly.

Gilbert never realize
how many sun sets and rises
in between, but
he never stopped-
as if some unknown power
is giving his all the strengths.

That bright light lets his way
towards the darkest corner
of the forest,
where the spiritual ghost lives-
“no one is allowed to pass by
this portion of the forest…”,
he heard a heavy voice,
as if talking over his shoulder.

He mumbles, shivered in fear,
but kept himself cool,
rigid, confident-
he asked, ….(something in whisper…),
however, before asking anything,
the voice said, “I know you Gilbert,
son of Ryan and Alice,
you came here for bringing back
the soul of Bridgette,
your younger sister..”

They talked a lot-
a lot about life,
a lot about after life,
a lot about the creation of life….

Continued….
Pure fiction. Any similarity should be treated as mere coincidence.
Chablis is number 2 in wine
White is the cheapest of pine
Bauxite is the hardest to mine
Careful, Natashka, your fork's got a bent tine
Nylon screening comes with substandard spline
Prostrate yourself to digitize my spine
Let us sup as we communalistically dine
No one proceeds to ten without acknowledging nine
Though ivory be bright—ebony do shine
Alice Babette Toklas conceived Gerty F. Stein
Vitamin B17 renders cancer curably benign
Words long-neglected grow hard to define
Around a willing neck is strung a line;
   around the block: electronic soup line
If it be not yours—it be not mine
zebra Sep 2021
what happens when
Dark Fetish meets Radiance Sutra

finding it is like looking for a needle
in a haystack of needles
a dog meowing
night park astral planes with erections

a chromosphere with starry swollen labium
a purity purge, then taking it back
a pro life run away embryo
Debbie Dare and Bridgette Beware
with 3rd eyes blinking like traffic lights
trying to become tasty
while turning up their bottoms
for starving breatharians
who can't resist the allures of
Pandora's portable rubber genitals
they bought
at the five and dime tinsel towns  
Queen ***** Emporium

not everyone can walk in the light of truth
some people burn
like country fair corn fed Iowa lesbians
clucking kisses
asleep and awake at the same time

donut bumpers expecting the unexpected
in an unfathomable matrix
at a witches broom barn dance
during partner swap night
among straight couples
who only like rococo

Jekyll & Dad Samadhi
health, wealth & unhappiness
licking, spitting on each other
and having tantric *** the wrong way

you're safe now bwahhahhahaa

codependent sadomasochists
drift infinitely upward like psychotic marble roses
while Queen Opalala  @ ****** University
gets **** buttered and buckarooed
during the downward dog
to the music of the spheres and poems to **** by

a red head
bed head
**** in a cinematic pillow of flames
mouthing her ruby red lips
in a soft voice  
saying
a day without being forced to her knees
and a slap across the mouth
is a day without sunshine
This among other things is connecting the higher with the lower
Feet below the hells and head above the heavens
Ashly Kocher Dec 2018
Since as long as I can remember
Christmas Eve, we as siblings, exchanged our gifts to each other and we would get our Christmas pajamas from our parents. We would all go to bed as “Santa” would arrive filling our living room with presents. As Christmas morning approached, we wouldn’t come out of our rooms until mom gave the “ok” to come to the top of the steps as we waited for dad to turn on all the lights and decorations throughout the house. In anticipation we would try and peak down the steps as our giggles filled the air. Before we were allowed to see the magic that filled the living room, we had to take a family picture on the steps together. For years and years the steps were filled, but as the years went on, our family dwindled down to only a few as my older brothers and sisters got married and moved out. We even included our pets to the pictures because, of course, they were part of our family.
As the youngest one of my family, of course I was always in the pictures but it felt empty as the years went on. The last picture I remember was of my mom, my oldest sister, our dog Bridgette, and myself. Even though the tradition was kept alive, it felt empty, just us, as it used to be 7 of us plus our pets.
Now, we are married and most have started their own families and traditions, but our tradition still remains close to our hearts.
Families grow up, families grow apart but traditions and love stay close to our hearts.
We have gained a bigger family, but lost some along the way... but we keep them alive with us everyday. Just because they are gone, and no longer here, our traditions, not only during the holidays, stay alive throughout the whole year.
Keep traditions alive and love growing strong, saying a prayer to the ones we have lost. Be thankful for the life you have and the life that continues.... Merry Christmas to all....
conceived Gerty F. Stein

Jane Birkin's Bare Bush
Chablis is number 2 in wine
White is the cheapest of pine
Bauxite is the hardest to mine
Careful, Natashka, your fork's got a bent tine
Nylon screening comes with substandard spline
Prostrate yourself to digitize my spine
Let us sup as we communalistically dine
No one proceeds to ten without acknowledging nine
Though ivory be bright—ebony do shine
Alice Babette Toklas conceived Gerty F. Stein
Vitamin B17 renders cancer curably benign
Words long-neglected grow hard to define
Around a willing neck is strung a line;
  around the block: electronic soup line
If it be not yours—it be not mine

In the movie Don Juan (1973): Bridgette Bardot held a lit cig 3'' from Jane Birkin's bare bush. It happened in a ***** yet no one died; no hairs were singed; no men were implicated; no courses were diverged; no plans were scotched; no blood was transfused...

Jinsei Iroiro
Catch a ship, one that won't tipple
Get a grip, one that's metagrippal
Poison without sincere apology
**** as a practitioner of cancrology
Steel yourself to the futility of frustration
And feel the freeze of useless cryo-ablation
Have cannibals taught us nothing?
Nothing that McDonald's hasn't disproven
Over a Happy Meal, Ronald preaches the word of Lord Jesus
Honesty was the policy of Murray Humphreys
Let us sway beneath the palms
Sing of Christ through hymns & psalms
On the backs of Jews we exploit their good will
Tricking them into paying for everything

Cup my bra while I snap your *******
On the backs of farmers ride the urbanites who target to pillage
Leftwardly along the left-handed path bores not a missed turn
Through a borough, a hamlet, a class-2A city and a dumpy village
it's legislated to fluoridate each brook, well, spring & cistern
without regard to code, codex, exception or percentage of millage
Should I lance, squeeze, ablate, extirpate or let this cyst burn?
Helpless dejection, abject poverty, silken hose put me in a mood
to wring the necks of stolen chickens; to raise cats on dog food
I rise not by the sun in perigee, nor by the tolling of a church bell
not by Nicky of Cusa on squaring circles or the harrowing of hell
Dermatologically, chiggers and mites nourish by parasitic function
So unlike priests & bishops who decree extreme Catholica unction
It's the affront, prayer-toil & misery what feeds a cold compunction
Hydrogen peroxide is keen for punctured wounds & blisters busted
For disinfecting Negroes and Hebes who muse with brown mustard

*** Phillips has crapped out!
With what shiftily amounts to disgustingly sycophantic loyalty
The teleprompter readers drool over themselves praising royalty
When Lizzy scratches her fragrant, pocked *** to satisfy an itch
Brown-nosing T.V.-types stoop & curtsy to the devil-loving rich
Who better to rut, whelp & back-scuttle than a back-alley *****?
Who better to cut the throat of, eviscerate and toss into a ditch?
Who better to ****** than a ***** in an alley as black as pitch?

— The End —