(Scene:)
The Victorian house painted brown with red shutters, a porch that’s large, a white porch swing and a purple rocking chair on this porch. Where grandmother Daisy may sit when the day is sunny or rainy. The house is on a side street covered up and down with trees so green that even in the coldest weather the leaves look as if they are still blooming. This place is called Applewood Road. To see the dark black paved road late in the fog covered night, there is a bright Victorian street lamp. A woman named Daisy the granddaughter of Nelly, who has spent most of her life going to college and having to struggle with learning and finding a place to belong.

Lawyer: writing to Nelly telling her of her grandmother’s death. Giving her news that all her grandmothers’ assets and property are hers.

Nelly: realizing she does not need to stay at college.

(Narrator):
  Due to this unexpected news Nelly has decided to quit college and move to her grandmother’s place. When she gets there she sees that on this property there is the house and a smaller building that could be turned into something else, so she decides that she will as the new owner opened an herb shop called Crystal Fairy.

Nelly: [places fliers around the town.]  I will be open for ten hours every day at Crystal Fairy selling my plants and herbs.

(Narrator):
This being Nelly’s first day opening her business, she sees that she only has three customers.
Enter Lorelei: she brings her purchase up to the counter

Nellie: oh, lavender! Do you know the properties?
Lorelei: I just saw it and the smell reminded me of a perfume my mother wears. Why is it useful for something else?

Nellie: yes!  It helps with cuts, bruises, and also functions as an antiseptic.

(Narrator): Ollie enters the store. Looking around at the plants.
Ollie: looking at the lemon balm plant. I think I’ll buy this one, going to counter.

Nelly: you wish to buy this?

Ollie: yes!

Nelly: Very well. Do you have any questions about the plant?

Ollie: yes I do.  What are its healing properties?

Nelly:  it helps with anxiety, insomnia, wounds, insect bites, and an upset stomach. It also speeds the healing of cold sores,

(Narrator):
In the back on the far left side of the shop there is an older man wearing plain black pants with a red shirt; he is looking at the plants on the shelf to his right. His name is Samael. He turns around and looks in Nelly’s direction.

Samael: this plant called chamomile what are its properties for healing?

Nelly: Samael this plant can be used for infusions and salves to relieve indigestion, colic, skin inflammations or irritations to the skin.

(Narrator):
Samael turns away because he sees the other patrons waiting to pay their bills and wanting to leave. Knowing soon that he will be all alone in the store with Nelly you can feel the tension building from him and the excitement rapping its way around his mind because of what he is thinking about. Just at this moment Samael plans out his plot to ****** Nelly. Samael looks around to see what he can use as his ****** weapon, he finds a heavy ceramic-clay bowl that he intends to use. To hit Nelly over the head. He makes sure the store is empty and that Nelly has her back turned so he can lock the door. Once the door is locked he pulls down the window shades. Once this is done he turns in her direction while her back is still turned.

Samael: [hitting nelly over the head]

Nelly: ouch!

(Narrator):
She falls to the floor!  Samael starts talking loudly.

Samael: I’m going to rip her blouse and jeans apart.

Samael: [Tatter… rip………]

(Narrator):
He wants to show her how much he loves her and to show her that ignoring him and his presents will only ensure their relationship.
Nelly: [staring at him with utter fear].

Samael: [he pulls a blade out from the back counter and puts it to her face].

Samael: I’ll cut your pretty face then no one will want you or look at you. You will have to come to me for comfort I’m the only one who will understand.  

(Narrator:)
Nelly looks up at him crying and pleading for him not to hurt her, that she does not even know him so what could he be talking about? Suddenly Samael reaches for her and strikes out at Nelly’s face, leaving a bruise that causes her to scream out in pain.

Nelly: [ouch!] Please don’t no more.

(Narrator):
There is a sudden silence as Nelly realizes that Samael is crazy and nothing she says or does will make a difference. As Nelly remains on the gray tile floor of her shop with Samael hurting her, she gets a sudden burst of energy, and she starts to fight him to break his hold over her.
Nelly: looking around where she lays for something to use as a defensive weapon.  That will allow her to free herself, to get to the green wooden door of her shop.

(Narrator):
Seeing a statuette of a flower in a *** Nelly grabs for it. She slams it into Samael’s face. Gaining her feet, she runs to the door trying to open it in order to scream for help.

Nelly: [screaming at top of her lungs].

Nelly: [ha………]

Nelly: help! Help! Somebody help me please!

(Narrator):
Samael stopping her, throwing her hard against a red wooden shelf. Then taking this same statuette he hits her even harder than before, only to realize that he has just killed her. The sound of Nelly’s fall so close to the door causes the neighbors near her property to turn the lights on in their homes.

(Narrator):
Samael: [seeing the lights turning on in the neighborhood becomes scared. Running for the metal door in the back of the store, he takes off down a dark alley way. Just as this happens, Lorelie, a neighbor and friend, opens the store’s front door. Coming inside, she steps forward to turn the store lights on. Suddenly seeing Nelly’s body lying on the cold tile floor with her head smashed in, her body at an odd angle because of the way she is laying and blood pooling around her, she also sees strange foot prints that don’t belong, and then she screams.]

Lorelei: oh! Oh my god! Oh what has happened?

(Narrator):
Lorelie’s screams cause Ollie, who lives across the street, to come running over to the store. When he gets to Lorelie’s side he sees what’s wrong and starts looking around trying not to disturb anything. As he is looking around trying to find out what has happened to Nelly he turns to Lorelei.

Ollie: Lorelei call detective Walter he will help find Nelly’s murderer

Lorelei:  pick up the phone calls detective Walter

(Narrator):
Ollie continues looking around the store. He finds the ceramic-clay bowl broken, and the statuette believing that in some way they are the answers to Nelly’s death or at least a start. Turning back towards Lorelie, he sees that Walter is coming up the street with Beatrice, his partner. Ollie goes outside to meet them. The detectives come into the store called Crystal Fairy, seeing the dead body of Nelly. Like Ollie, Walter starts looking at the scene around him noticing specific things. The turned over book case, the broken bowl, and the busted statuette, but most of all the back door gets his full attention because that’s where the ****** footprints lead. Leaving Beatrice behind to ask questions

(Narrator): enters Walter

Walter: [following these footprints outside and down the back alley. These prints lead him to a house’s back porch. There he sees more ****** prints and comes to the idea that the person who is responsible for Nelly’s death is inside.]

Walter: going into house [squeak- silent slam]

(Narrator):
Inside the house looking around, listening for any sounds and sudden movements. A sudden sound catching his attention, he looks up to see a cat jumping from a window.

The cat: [thump, bang thump again]

Walter: [making his way down the hallway and up the stairs, sees a door to his left with lights on.  It opens with a slam.]
Sound of door: [crash…]

(Narrator):
Samael rushing out at Walter with an iron bar.

Samael: [swinging the bar. [Swish……..] missing]

Walter: [stepping back, moving out of the way].

(Narrator):
This causes Samael to stumble and fall down the stairs, crashing to the bottom.

[Enters Beatrice]
Beatrice comes through the front door she sees Samael and goes to check him out. Walter and Beatrice pick him up off the floor, waking him up; this causes him to start confessing to what he has done.

Samael: [tells them that he was only trying to show his love to Nelly, but that she wouldn’t listen and thus he had to **** her so he could have her to himself. He didn’t want anyone else to love her or for her to love anyone else either].

(Narrator):
The detectives hearing this confession look at Samael completely surprised that he would confess so easily and without having to be drilled about the truth. But what gets their attention is how he confesses.

Samael: I love her; she would not see me or love me back. I just want her to see me.

Beatrice: So you frighten her and torture her, then **** her.

Walter: Beatrice, he’s crazy can’t you see that. We’re wasting time.

Beatrice: I know he’s crazy. I just feel sad that he could be so stupid and think that killing someone shows feeling for them. Poor woman, she was so young.

Walter: From what I could get from the neighbors, Nelly had just moved here after her grandmother’s death due to inheriting everything. Her life was just getting stated.

Samael: I love her; I’m the only one who can.

Walter/Beatrice: Will you shut up already! We get it. You love her so you killed her.


                                                                The End

Just a cousin and the stars
and talk of you, and 27 jail-years;
'Forgive or stay behind bars.'

But Nelly Mandelly,
I've got sand in my eyes
and lead in my belly.

Oh Nelly Mandelly
we do things with the best intent
yet hurt each other terribly.

I've got blood on my lips
and grenades in my belly.
Oh Nelly Mandelly:

as Johnny sang, who can blame
the voice of youth for asking:
what is truth?

Everyone I know wants
to be more free,
including me.

We've got songs on our lips
and the sky in our bellies.
Oh, Nelly Mandelly

Oh fair Milly Brandon, a young maid, a fair maid!
  All her curls are yellow and her eyes are blue,
And her cheeks were rosy red till a secret care made
  Hollow whiteness of their brightness as a care will do.

Still she tends her flowers, but not as in the old days,
  Still she sings her songs, but not the songs of old:
If now it be high Summer her days seem brief and cold days,
  If now it be high Summer her nights are long and cold.

If you have a secret keep it, pure maid Milly;
  Life is filled with troubles and the world with scorn;
And pity without love is at best times hard and chilly,
  Chilling sore and stinging sore a heart forlorn.

Walter Brandon, do you guess Milly Brandon's secret?
  Many things you know, but not everything,
With your locks like raven's plumage, and eyes like an egret,
  And a laugh that is music, and such a voice to sing.

Nelly Knollys, she is fair, but she is not fairer
  Than fairest Milly Brandon was before she turned so pale:
Oh, but Nelly's dearer if she be not rarer,
  She need not keep a secret or blush behind a veil.

Beyond the first green hills, beyond the nearest valleys,
  Nelly dwells at home beneath her mother's eyes:
Her home is neat and homely, not a cot and not a palace,
  Just the home where love sets up his happiest memories.

Milly has no mother; and sad beyond another
  Is she whose blessed mother is vanished out of call:
Truly comfort beyond comfort is stored up in a mother
  Who bears with all, and hopes through all, and loves us all.

Where peacocks nod and flaunt up and down the terrace,
  Furling and unfurling their scores of sightless eyes,
To and fro among the leaves and buds and flowers and berries
  Maiden Milly strolls and pauses, smiles and sighs.

On the hedged-in terrace of her father's palace
  She may stroll and muse alone, may smile or sigh alone,
Letting thoughts and eyes go wandering over hills and valleys
  To-day her father's, and one day to be all her own.

If her thoughts go coursing down lowlands and up highlands,
  It is because the startled game are leaping from their lair;
If her thoughts dart homeward to the reedy river islands,
  It is because the waterfowl rise startled here or there.

At length a footfall on the steps: she turns, composed and steady,
  All the long-descended greatness of her father's house
Lifting up her head; and there stands Walter keen and ready
  For hunting or for hawking, a flush upon his brows.

"Good-morrow, fair cousin." "Good-morrow, fairest cousin:
  The sun has started on his course, and I must start to-day.
If you have done me one good turn you've done me many a dozen,
  And I shall often think of you, think of you away."

"Over hill and hollow what quarry will you follow,
  Or what fish will you angle for beside the river's edge?
There's cloud upon the hill-top and there 's mist deep down the hollow,
  And fog among the rushes and the rustling sedge."

"I shall speed well enough be it hunting or hawking,
  Or casting a bait towards the shyest daintiest fin.
But I kiss your hands, my cousin; I must not loiter talking,
  For nothing comes of nothing, and I'm fain to seek and win."

"Here's a thorny rose: will you wear it an hour,
  Till the petals drop apart still fresh and pink and sweet?
Till the petals drop from the drooping perished flower,
  And only the graceless thorns are left of it."

"Nay, I have another rose sprung in another garden,
  Another rose which sweetens all the world for me.
Be you a tenderer mistress and be you a warier warden
  Of your rose, as sweet as mine, and full as fair to see."

"Nay, a bud once plucked there is no reviving,
  Nor is it worth your wearing now, nor worth indeed my own;
The dead to the dead, and the living to the living.
  It's time I go within, for it's time now you were gone."

"Good-bye, Milly Brandon, I shall not forget you,
  Though it be good-bye between us for ever from to-day;
I could almost wish to-day that I had never met you,
  And I'm true to you in this one word that I say."

"Good-bye, Walter. I can guess which thornless rose you covet;
  Long may it bloom and prolong its sunny morn:
Yet as for my one thorny rose, I do not cease to love it,
  And if it is no more a flower I love it as a thorn."

Once upon a time there was a brave girl called Alison Parker. She was on the way to see her mum Michelle Ramsbottom, when she decided to take a short cut through Wyre Forest.

It wasn’t long before Alison got lost. She looked around, but all she could see were trees. Nervously, she felt into her bag for her favourite toy, Bunny, but Bunny was nowhere to be found! Alison began to panic. She felt sure she had packed Bunny. To make matters worse, she was starting to feel hungry.

Unexpectedly, she saw a kind werewolf dressed in a black skirt disappearing into the trees.

“How odd!” thought Alison.

For the want of anything better to do, she decided to follow the peculiarly dressed werewolf. Perhaps it could tell him the way out of the forest.

Eventually, Alison reached a clearing. She found herself surrounded by houses made from different sorts of food. There was a house made from carrots, a house made from biscuits, a house made from cakes and a house made from pancakes.

Alison could feel her tummy rumbling. Looking at the houses did nothing to ease her hunger.

“Hello!” she called. “Is anybody there?”

Nobody replied.

Alison looked at the roof on the closest house and wondered if it would be rude to eat somebody else’s chimney. Obviously it would be impolite to eat a whole house, but perhaps it would be considered acceptable to nibble the odd fixture or lick the odd fitting, in a time of need.

A cackle broke through the air, giving Alison a fright. A witch jumped into the space in front of the houses. She was carrying a cage. In that cage was Bunny!

“Bunny!” shouted Alison. She turned to the witch. “That’s my toy!”

The witch just shrugged.

“Give Bunny back!” cried Alison.

“Not on your nelly!” said the witch.

“At least let Bunny out of that cage!”

Before she could reply, three kind werewolves rushed in from a footpath on the other side of the clearing. Alison recognised the one in the black skirt that she’d seen earlier. The witch seemed to recognise him too.

“Hello Big Werewolf,” said the witch.

“Good morning.” The werewolf noticed Bunny. “Who is this?”

“That’s Bunny,” explained the witch.

“Ooh! Bunny would look lovely in my house. Give it to me!” demanded the werewolf.

The witch shook her head. “Bunny is staying with me.”

“Um… Excuse me…” Alison interrupted. “Bunny lives with me! And not in a cage!”

Big Werewolf ignored her. “Is there nothing you’ll trade?” he asked the witch.

The witch thought for a moment, then said, “I do like to be entertained. I’ll release him to anybody who can eat a whole front door.”

Big Werewolf looked at the house made from pancakes and said, “No problem, I could eat an entire house made from pancakes if I wanted to.”

“That’s nothing,” said the next werewolf. “I could eat twohouses.”

“There’s no need to show off,” said the witch. Just eat one front door and I’ll let you have Bunny.”

Alison watched, feeling very worried. She didn’t want the witch to give Bunny to Big Werewolf. She didn’t think Bunny would like living with a kind werewolf, away from her house and all her other toys.

The other two werewolves watched while Big Werewolf put on his bib and withdrew a knife and fork from his pocket.

“I’ll eat this whole house,” said Big Werewolf. “Just you watch!”

Big Werewolf pulled off a corner of the front door of the house made from biscuits. He gulped it down smiling, and went back for more.

   And more.

      And more.

Eventually, Big Werewolf started to get bigger – just a little bit bigger at first. But after a few more fork-fulls of biscuits, he grew to the size of a large snowball – and he was every bit as round.

“Erm… I don’t feel too good,” said Big Werewolf.

Suddenly, he started to roll. He’d grown so round that he could no longer balance!

“Help!” he cried, as he rolled off down a ***** into the forest.

Big Werewolf never finished eating the front door made from biscuits and Bunny remained trapped in the witch’s cage.Average Werewolf stepped up, and approached the house made from cakes.

“I’ll eat this whole house,” said Average Werewolf. “Just you watch!”

Average Werewolf pulled off a corner of the front door of the house made from cakes. She gulped it down smiling, and went back for more.

   And more.

      And more.

After a while, Average Werewolf started to look a little queasy. She grew greener…

   …and greener.

A woodcutter walked into the clearing. “What’s this bush doing here?” he asked.

“I’m not a bush, I’m a werewolf!” said Average Werewolf.

“It talks!” exclaimed the woodcutter. “Those talking bushes are the worst kind. I’d better take it away before somebody gets hurt.”

“No! Wait!” cried Average Werewolf, as the woodcutter picked her up. But the woodcutter ignored her cries and carried the werewolf away under his arm.

Average Werewolf never finished eating the front door made from cakes and Bunny remained trapped in the witch’s cage.Little Werewolf stepped up, and approached the house made from pancakes.

“I’ll eat this whole house,” said Little Werewolf. “Just you watch!”

Little Werewolf pulled off a corner of the front door of the house made from pancakes. He gulped it down smiling, and went back for more.

   And more.

      And more.

After five or six platefuls, Little Werewolf started to fidget uncomfortably on the spot.

He stopped eating pancakes for a moment, then grabbed another forkful.

But before he could eat it, there came an almighty roar. A bottom burp louder than a rocket taking off, propelled Little Werewolf into the sky.

“Aggghhhhhh!” cried Little Werewolf. “I’m scared of heigh…”

Little Werewolf was never seen again.

Little Werewolf never finished eating the front door made from pancakes and Bunny remained trapped in the witch’s cage.

“That’s it,” said the witch. “I win. I get to keep Bunny.”

“Not so fast,” said Alison. “There is still one front door to go. The front door of the house made from carrots. And I haven’t had a turn yet.

“I don’t have to give you a turn!” laughed the witch. “My game. My rules.”

The woodcutter’s voice carried through the forest. “I think you should give her a chance. It’s only fair.”

“Fine,” said the witch. “But you saw what happened to the werewolves. She won’t last long.”

“I’ll be right back,” said Alison.

“What?” said the witch. “Where’s your sense of impatience? I thought you wanted Bunny back.”

Alison ignored the witch and gathered a hefty pile of sticks. She came back to the clearing and started a small camp fire. Carefully, she broke off a piece of the door of the house made from carrots and toasted it over the fire. Once it had cooked and cooled just a little, she took a bite. She quickly devoured the whole piece.

Alison sat down on a nearby log.

“You fail!” cackled the witch. “You were supposed to eat the whole door.”

“I haven’t finished,” explained Alison. “I am just waiting for my food to go down.”

When Alison’s food had digested, she broke off another piece of the door made from carrots. Once more, she toasted her food over the fire and waited for it to cool just a little. She ate it at a leisurely pace then waited for it to digest.

Eventually, after several sittings, Alison was down to the final piece of the door made from carrots. Carefully, she toasted it and allowed it to cool just a little. She finished her final course. Alison had eaten the entire front door of the house made from carrots.

The witch stamped her foot angrily. “You must have tricked me!” she said. “I don’t reward cheating!”

“I don’t think so!” said a voice. It was the woodcutter. He walked back into the clearing, carrying his axe. “This little girl won fair and square. Now hand over Bunny or I will chop your broomstick in half.”

The witch looked horrified. She grabbed her broomstick and placed it behind her. Then, huffing, she opened the door of the cage.

Alison hurried over and grabbed Bunny, checking that her favourite toy was all right. Fortunately, Bunny was unharmed.

Alison thanked the woodcutter, grabbed a quick souvenir, and hurried on to meet Michelle. It was starting to get dark.

When Alison got to Michelle’s house, her mum threw her arms around her.

“I was so worried!” cried Michelle. “You are very late.”

As Alison described her day, she could tell that Michelle didn’t believe her. So she grabbed a napkin from her pocket.

“What’s that?” asked Michelle.

Alison unwrapped a doorknob made from biscuits. “Pudding!” she said.

Michelle almost fell off her chair.

The End

I remember, it was summer. I handed everybody my homemade pizza sandwiches. The smell of crispy baked bread with warm melting mozzarella cheese and sweet rich ripe tomato sauce. My friends and I were on a road trip full of leaping laughter. Laughter that grew six packs in our cheeks. Highways I call home. Songs we sang that came to life. We called ourselves the six pack. Driving an endless road down Lilly-stocks green fields and corn crops, jokes are made that make the day spark with amber. Hugs and kisses made our heart explode. The hugs and kisses that our parents no longer gave us anymore.

“You can run away with me any time you want.” We kept singing to the good and bad beats tuning out the radio as our voices warmed the air. Making the best of them, and making the air fresher than it actually was. Smelling no more than a flower in disguise. The girls lip gloss smiles and the boys lose leather seats shined. The girls laughed and chained while the boys sang their favourite songs. Their voices lit up the day more and continued a jubilant bumpy road. I remember my boyfriend putting the car in park. We all jumped out onto the warm concrete as we had our running shoes and gear ready. We walked in the forest and jumped over big streams of spring water. He held my hand and kissed my cheek. A perfect world on a perfect day. A photograph that would last a million years. Love and good times was our culture. We sang to the beat of our hearts.

“Cruising down the highway with my friends, top down and we're all on our way to the beach. And everyone keeps laughing at those cars we are passing, as we're ******* down that funny, funny ****. Oh yeah… oh yeah! We're rolling up to sand, take your shoes off, man. We are skinny dipping underneath the sea. And it's a chicken fight clan, throw your dukes up, "wham!". We are splashing in the water to the beat. Oh yeah… oh yeah! Crossing sandy dunes, hot day, mid-June. Naked kids, running wild, and free. It's summer time fun, relax and stay young. You could be home, with Oprah Winfrey. The water feels nice, dive deep down under. The ships, and treasures make reef. Just one of those days, had a blue, perfect wave. Come out, and join. You'll see. We are lying in the sun, when you’re done find a towel. Now we're thinking of where we're gonna eat. Back corner table, order lobsters and Black Label. Raise your glasses, here's to living out our dreams.”
We all ran with full stomachs down the beach to unpack in our clean house cabin. We all clunked on the couches and flicked the television on. My boyfriend Billy was laughing about bad pranks on the beach with his two best friends Dalek and Tanek. Nelly’s dating Dalek and Quinns dating Tanek. My two best girlfriends. Chatting away we heard a shattering noise. We all give each other looks and rush to the startling noise coming from the bathroom.
“It’s coming from that vent.” Billy pointed and looked at me. A huge metal vent with blue spirals. The vent shook the wall and the vent cover fell off. Billy saw a green creature run down the vent and took his flashlight. “I saw something! There! Down there!”
“Yeah let’s go in there and catch ‘em!” Dalek dramatically spun.
“There is no way on earth I’m going in there!” Nelly poked Daleks shoulder.
“Yeah, there could be..” I took Billy’s flashlight and held it under my face. “Aliens!” I said deeper in a jokingly manner. Everyone knows Daleks consternating fear for aliens.
“Aliens?” Dalek blankly stared and fearfully jumped in to Taneks arms. Billy wrapped his arms around me.
“No way on earth you’re going in there without me Betty babe.” I snatched his flashlight again and crawled into the small space. “That’s not a good idea though, come on Betty, come back.” Billy worried.
“I’m just looking!” My voice echoed down the humongous vent as I suddenly slipped. “Billy! Help!” I slid down the vent and rolled on my side as Billy shouted.
“I’m coming Betty! Wait there!” Everyone decided to follow and by the time I saw Billy, Billy and I heard the girls screaming and the guys laughing down the slippery vent.
“We stick together!” Quinn fainted in Tanek’s arms.
“Yeah, now who’s gonna get the magical rope and magically bring us back up?” I knuckled her hair roughly.
“I’m freaking out guys. I don’t want to be here. It’s *****. It’s rusty. I like these pants! Dalek! Why’d you push me down?!” Nelly heated.
“Shh! We can’t wake the aliens.” Dalek gulped and held her head tightly to his chest.
“There it is!” Billy shouted. The wrinkley green face ran out a different vent outside.
“We’re okay guys, look. We’ll go outside that vent, there, and we’ll be okay.” We crawled in relief and I was the first person to fall. I fell in the sand as well as everybody else mocked.
“Damit Dalek, I can‘t believe you got me into -” Nelly choked on the sand. The green alien appeared and spoke.
“Greetings!” it giggled. “I’m alien here harvest your brain.” It chuckled. It spat a big laugh and spoke again “Just kidding, my name is Jungalo. I see you’re in danger. You shouldn’t be here.” I look up into the bright sky light as I shadow my eyes with my hand. It’s definitely not human. But a male creature I assume. He stands awkwardly with a cup of fresh sardines in his awkward hands coming from the purple lake as the wind whistles. The warm peanutbutterflies flutter in the peanut fields. Millions and millions of peanuts. The green alien walked us down the trails of snails and over a few bridges. The lake’s shore was covered with sardines. Jungalo grabbed the purple well water took a bucket full of sardines too.“Hey there Jungalo!” The purple kids shouted from a distance; little goats apparently allergic to fish. I tried catching the peanutbutterflies to eat, because Jungalo said they tasted good. The creatures tasted scrumptious. We stumble across the rocky trails and jump into his tree house. Not any old regular tree house. A door on the tree that has a staircase. An underground house. Jungalo puts the sardines in the *** and lets it boil. I find these white fluffy candy planted around the tree. It’s shaped like a mushroom but we call Jungalo says their marshmellowshrooms, AKA double M shrooms. I love the feeling and smell of them so I pick them.
“Don’t! Don’t! Put that down!” The little green alien’s awkward fist monstrously hit me and I fell to the floor. Not just that, but I blacked out.
*
My breathe escaped and I jumped off the couch. I looked around the living room dizzy and unaware of my surroundings. The wooden floors were scratched and there was tomato juice spilt on the carpets. I had a feeling that tomato juice wasn’t the only thing we consumed.
I was too frightened to move. Seeing the empty bottles laying everywhere, I fell to my knees once more and weakly fell back into my sleep.
A food I once ate. In my kitchen when my mom baked. My taste buds had an overrate. To the flower and powder in my mother’s cake. On and on I express about things that make no sense. But I still move my lips to the beat of the tense. Riding up and down the hills of confusion. Maybe there could be a lack of resolution. Make it count, make it count. My mother in blue says. I’ll remember her words for the rest of my days. Take a nap, take a nap for goodness sakes. I’ll warm you the light to discourage the shapes. I love you darling, never forget. The tears I cried when I had my baby brunette.
My eyes slightly open. Where am I? With my feather head, I stand up and see Billy. I wobble and try shaking everyone up. Nobody moves. I stumble to Billy’s face and try to wake him last.
“Please wake up Billy!” I shook him and topple beside him. I try getting up even though my paralyzed legs try to stop me. I grabbed cold water from the kitchen and dumped it on his face. I watch him moan in pain and sickness.
“Billy!” I had enough energy to pull him to my chest. He looked up at me and spoke.
“Betty, what’s going on?” He grabbed me.
“I don’t know. I think we need to call for help.” I held his shoulder
“Are you kidding? We’re not doing legal things here Betty. We have to wake everyone up and we have to go home.”
“Billy I’ve already tried.” I teared. Billy tried moving everybody hard but nobody even flinched.

We heard hard loud knocks one after another behind the front door. We glance at each other quickly and clumsily walk to the door. Billy opened the door. A woman dressed in white stood there which pinched my pupils. It waited patiently just around the corner, peeking out from over the horizon. Death.
“Don’t be scared. Come with me.” She turned around as her wings fluttered like the fins of angel-fish. “Don’t worry you’ll see her very soon.”
My mom flashed before my eyes. "You're beginning to drag the ones you love down. Maybe you should just fall, and leave the world and lose it all. Maybe that's what you need, to finally see, I loved you through it all. It may feel like God went north, and left you to be. But all you need to know, is you have everything you need. It's just a blink of an eye, until the next time we meet. I'll hold you 'til the end, I'll hold you 'til you're free.” She hugged me.

When I wiggle, wiggle wiggle,
People giggle, giggle, giggle.
In the middle, middle, middle,
I'm not so little, little, little.
When I jump, jump, jump,
My big old ****, ****, ****,
My rear end ****, ****, ****,
Goes bump, bump, bump.

Once skinny as a rail
I’m more like a whale.
Because of what I did
Ever since I was a kid.
Any old kind of candy
To me was simply dandy.
Follow me around and
I’d eat it by the pound.

Mom would bake, bake, bake.
By belly would shake, shake shake.
I couldn’t flounce, flounce, flounce
My gut would bounce, bounce, bounce.
Now I’m round, round, round,
To the ground, ground, ground.
I eat just like a pig, pig, pig,
That’s why I’m so big, big, big.

Once skinny as a rail
I’m more like a whale.
Because of what I did
Ever since I was a kid.
Any old kind of candy
To me was simply dandy.
Follow me around and
I’d eat it by the pound.

When some say diet, diet, diet,
I reply to them quiet, quiet, quiet.
Every time I try it, try it, try it.
My body doesn’t buy it, buy it, buy it.
So i just live for lunch, lunch, lunch.
I love to eat a bunch, bunch, bunch,
And I have a basic hunch, hunch, hunch,
The same will go for brunch, brunch, brunch!

Once upon a time there was a special girl called Sonya Randall. She was on the way to see her Dad Tristan Godfrey, when she decided to take a short cut through Hyde Park.

It wasn't long before Sonya got lost. She looked around, but all she could see were trees. Nervously, she felt into her bag for her favourite toy, Laura, but Laura was nowhere to be found! Sonya began to panic. She felt sure she had packed Laura. To make matters worse, she was starting to feel hungry.

Unexpectedly, she saw a naughty Uni-pug dressed in a blue dungarees disappearing into the trees.

"How odd!" thought Sonya.

For the want of anything better to do, she decided to follow the peculiarly dressed Uni-pug. Perhaps it could tell him the way out of the forest.

Eventually, Sonya reached a clearing. In the clearing were two houses, one made from peas and one made from cakes.

Sonya could feel her tummy rumbling. Looking at the houses did nothing to ease her hunger.

"Hello!" she called. "Is anybody there?"

Nobody replied.

Sonya looked at the roof on the closest house and wondered if it would be rude to eat somebody else's chimney. Obviously it would be impolite to eat a whole house, but perhaps it would be considered acceptable to nibble the odd fixture or lick the odd fitting, in a time of need.

A cackle broke through the air, giving Sonya a fright. A witch jumped into the space in front of the houses. She was carrying a cage. In that cage was Laura!

"Laura!" shouted Sonya. She turned to the witch. "That's my toy!"

The witch just shrugged.

"Give Laura back!" cried Sonya.

"Not on your nelly!" said the witch.

"At least let Laura out of that cage!"

Before she could reply, the naughty Uni-pug in the blue dungarees rushed in from a footpath on the other side of the cleaning.

"Hello Big Uni-pug," said the witch.

"Good morning." The Uni-pug noticed Laura. "Who is this?"

"That's Laura," explained the witch.

"Ooh! Laura would look lovely in my house. Give it to me!" demanded the Uni-pug.

The witch shook her head. "Laura is staying with me."

"Um... Excuse me..." Sonya interrupted. "Laura lives with me! And not in a cage!"

Big Uni-pug ignored her. "Is there nothing you'll trade?" he asked the witch.

The witch thought for a moment, then said, "I do like to be entertained. I'll release him to anybody who can eat a whole front door."

Big Uni-pug looked at the house made from cakes and said, "No problem, I could eat an entire house made from cakes if I wanted to."

"There's no need to show off," said the witch. Just eat one front door and I'll let you have Laura."

Sonya watched, feeling very worried. She didn't want the witch to give Laura to Big Uni-pug. She didn't think Laura would like living with a naughty Uni-pug, away from her house and all her other toys.

Big Uni-pug put on his bib and withdraw a knife and fork from his pocket.

"I'll eat this whole house," said Big Uni-pug. "Just you watch!"

Big Uni-pug pulled off a corner of the front door of the house made from cakes. He gulped it down smiling, and went back for more.

   And more.

      And more.

Eventually, Big Uni-pug started to get bigger - just a little bit bigger at first. But after a few more fork-fulls of cakes, he grew to the size of a large snowball - and he was every bit as round.

"Erm... I don't feel too good," said Big Uni-pug.

Suddenly, he started to roll. He'd grown so round that he could no longer balance!

"Help!" he cried, as he rolled off down a ***** into the forest.

Big Uni-pug never finished eating the front door made from cakes and Laura remained trapped in the witch's cage.

"That's it," said the witch. "I win. I get to keep Laura."

"Not so fast," said Sonya. "There is still one front door to go. The front door of the house made from peas. And I haven't had a turn yet.

"I don't have to give you a turn!" laughed the witch. "My game. My rules."

The woodcutter's voice carried through the forest. "I think you should give her a chance. It's only fair."

"Fine," said the witch. "But you saw what happened to the Uni-pug. She won't last long."

"I'll be right back," said Sonya.

"What?" said the witch. "Where's your sense of impatience? I thought you wanted Laura back."

Sonya ignored the witch and gathered a hefty pile of sticks. She came back to the clearing and started a small camp fire. Carefully, she broke off a piece of the door of the house made from peas and toasted it over the fire. Once it had cooked and cooled just a little, she took a bite. She quickly devoured the whole piece.

Sonya sat down on a nearby log.

"You fail!" cackled the witch. "You were supposed to eat the whole door."

"I haven't finished," explained Sonya. "I am just waiting for my food to go down."

When Sonya's food had digested, she broke off another piece of the door made from peas. Once more, she toasted her food over the fire and waited for it to cool just a little. She ate it at a leisurely pace then waited for it to digest.

Eventually, after several sittings, Sonya was down to the final piece of the door made from peas. Carefully, she toasted it and allowed it to cool just a little. She finished her final course. Sonya had eaten the entire front door of the house made from peas.

The witch stamped her foot angrily. "You must have tricked me!" she said. "I don't reward cheating!"

"I don't think so!" said a voice. It was the woodcutter. He walked back into the clearing, carrying his axe. "This little girl won fair and square. Now hand over Laura or I will chop your broomstick in half."

The witch looked horrified. She grabbed her broomstick and placed it behind her. Then, huffing, she opened the door of the cage.

Sonya hurried over and grabbed Laura, checking that her favourite toy was all right. Fortunately, Laura was unharmed.

Sonya thanked the woodcutter, grabbed a quick souvenir, and hurried on to meet Tristan. It was starting to get dark.

When Sonya got to Tristan's house, her Dad threw his arms around her.

"I was so worried!" cried Tristan. "You are very late."

As Sonya described her day, she could tell that Tristan didn't believe her. So she grabbed a napkin from her pocket.

"What's that?" asked Tristan.

Sonya unwrapped a doorknob made from cakes. "Pudding!" she said.

Tristan almost fell off his chair.

The End

Once I lov'd a bonie lass,
Ay, and I love her still;
And whilst that virtue warms my breast,
I'll love my handsome Nell.

As bonie lasses I hae seen,
And mony full as braw;
But, for a modest gracefu' mein,
The like I never saw.

A bonie lass, I will confess,
Is pleasant to the e'e;
But, without some better qualities,
She's no a lass for me.

But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet,
And what is best of a',
Her reputation is complete,
And fair without a flaw.

She dresses aye sae clean and neat,
Both decent and genteel;
And then there's something in her gait
Gars ony dress look weel.

A gaudy dress and gentle air
May slightly touch the heart;
But it's innocence and modesty
That polishes the dart.

'Tis this in Nelly pleases me,
'Tis this enchants my soul;
For absolutely in my breast
She reigns without control.

My great aunt,
Tia Nelly,
Her gentle presence hasn't changed
Her soft hands that reached for mine to hold and kiss.
Her sweet glow she has when she smiles
Comfort.

She took me to her bedroom window,
Her favourite place.
"I can see all." she says
Indeed she could see who comes
and who goes
Her favourite summer flowers were in bloom
They grew just by the front gate
A perfect view

A quiet moment.
"Growing older is a lonely, sad thing."
She still hasn't let go of my hands
She's so small
"I can't do many things anymore."
I had never heard her speak like this.
I squeeze her hands
I look at her not being able to respond.
Comfort.

"You may not see me again."
She had always said this when we parted
We joked about these things
However
It seemed that
It could be true this once

She doesn't stop looking at me
Her eyes are scanning my face
Comfort
"You are so pretty you know."
She let go of my hand

We, the rescued,
From whose hollow bones death had begun to whittle his flutes,
And on whose sinews he had already stroked his bow-
Our bodies continue to lament
With their mutilated music.
We, the rescued,
The nooses wound for our necks still dangle
Before us in the blue air-
Hourglasses still fill with our dripping blood.
We, the rescued,
The worms of fear still feed on us.
Our constellation is buried in dust.
We, the rescued,
Beg you:
Show us your sun, but gradually.
Lead us from star to star, step by step.
Be gentle when you teach us to live again.
Lest the song of a bird,
Or a pail being filled at the well,
Let our badly sealed pain burst forth again
And carry us away  -
We beg you:
Do not show us an angry dog, not yet -
It could be, it could be
That we will dissolve into dust
Dissolve into dust before your eyes.
For what binds our fabric together?
We whose breath vacated us,
Whose soul fled to Him out of that midnight
Long before our bodies were rescued
Into the arc of the moment.
We, the rescued,
We press your hand
We look into your eye-
But all that binds us together now is leave-taking.
The leave-taking in the dust
Binds us together with you

**Nelly Sachs

We met at that UES Pub
Almost three years ago
And we ended up getting closer
Than she who introduced us to each other.

So much history engraved
In the diamonds we sold.
Moments when it’s just us in a room typing,
Talking about our past and common dreams.

Laughter and our hold on our faith
It’s what glues us together.
All the late nights at the office with music blasting
We sing along and continue working.

We were made to be in sync,
From knowing each other’s thoughts without speaking
To that silent, judging look we share
Then chortling because things happen for "a reasons."

You are the other half of me,
From our same decibel laugh and partner appetites
To the fact that I fit in your clothes
During unplanned sleepover nights.

I might not have replied
Mostly because I was too busy hugging you and crying
But yes, and I know your heart knows this
You are my NY best friend too.

Delicious-traces
still linger
on my tender-fingers.
But pace yourself darling,
I want to see that same look on your face,
again.

Just ******* Nelly
and **** a fat **** Pitbull.
I want some Nick Drake.

I’m sitting in a lawn chair
At the edge of the moon’s well cratered chest
I’m facing a woman whose company is pricy and measured by rounded hours
She sits full lotus
Supple legs twist in a curving swirl
Seated on the glass surface of the coffee table
Young and slight enough to have no rational fear of it shattering beneath her

I ask to ask her something
She simpers
Anything
So I begin my slurred inquiry
If there was a God
And
And it told you that
Today was the day you would die
But it would spare you and let you live on well
Well
Into old age if you could give a good reason why
It should let you live then
What would your reason be
I belch a pig’s roar
What would your reason be

She simpers again
Ooooh **** that’s a good question
She toys with the starched mass of her hair
Flailing to be remembered by me and gain another loyal customer

I guess
I guess I’d say that I had a daughter and
Do
You have a daughter
She’s nineteen at the oldest
Yesss I do
I blink
What’s her name
Her name is Nelly
So
So you’d say you had a daughter and
And that she needs me
She loves me
I love her
I can’t leave her alone

In the center of the dark and lashed ellipses that halo her hazel eyes
I’m finally seeing a woman

She tilts her face
Her bangs silk to her jawbone
What would your reason be

I unscrew my flask

I wouldn’t give one
I deserve to die
However
Luckily for me
This life is unfair and unjust
In reality
You can plead to God all you want but even if it hears you
It won’t stop what it’s already made
And what it’s made is death

We’re both still facing each other
But we’re not looking at each other anymore
We’re both staring at space’s unfathomable darkness
The all consuming black

I know from where she is
She can see the Earth
She can see the spins of white puff
The emerald and umber chunks
The deep sapphire that coats the planet’s skin
Maybe she’s thinking of Nelly

From where I sit
All I can see are the tiny scabs of distant stars
Moth bites
In an all swallowing cloak

I check my watch
My current bill is approximately 1,600USD
I hear her voice
For the first time today
Her voice is genuine and entirely naked
Are you saying that God doesn’t save anyone

The weight of the knife in my pocket
Feels heavier than it should be
Especially here
The craters of the moon are yawning wide
They’ve always made perfect graves

I drink the last gulp of bourbon from my flask

Before I answer her
I wonder if her question is also asked by the others
The high piled and shallow buried
Crisscrossing one another
Overlapped like piles of pottery pieces
Or shards of shale
They lie
Trapped on the sun’s mirror
Lifelessly embracing and lying upon each other
Coincidently kissing each others wounds
Stuffed in the stony rings of the craters of the graying moon

Some I left floating in lakes
Both here
And back on Earth

Are they all wordlessly asking each other
Screaming through sunken faces
Won’t God save us
Doesn’t God save anyone

I toss my flask to the side
It takes forever to fall

Well
Charlotte
As far as I’m concerned
He hasn’t saved anyone yet

Life’s a *****, you must surely agree,
There are so many reasons that show this to me,
For instance, I just get the hang of the words to a song,
Then I find out the words I’ve been singing are wrong.

And why when out to dinner to impress a young lady,
Does my sleeve end up doing the “crawl” in the gravy?
Or sat at the bar; comes the moment to kiss,
Do I lean forward coolly and utterly miss?
Toppling face first from that three legged stool,
As I grin up inanely from a best bitter pool.

I remember my sports car, fast and blue,
With the wind in my hair, she really flew,
Strong and good looking, and to my touch, compliant,
(Though I did once get “burnt off” by a Robin Reliant.)
But “No” I digress, the story to tell,
Is the first time I took out a young girl called Michelle,
She had a nice smile; I thought she was great,
I walked her from her door, and held open the gate,
We got in the car, and made ready to go,
For a meal for two in a candlelit glow,
I turned the ignition and clickety click,
Nice time to choose for the starter to stick,
Under the car with a spanner and torch,
Whilst Michelle spent the evening sat on her porch.

And when I got married,
Thought thank God that’s all over,
Now for a life of roses and clover,
Ha, Ha - not on your life, not on your nelly,
Not like it is when they do it on telly,

I mean, when they’re in bed and they fancy a nibble,
You don’t see them smile and then start to dribble,
So your lover has hysterics, fit to bust,
Which doesn’t do much for the ***** of lust!
And in romantic movies - where are the tissues?
You see, for me, these just aren’t small issues.

So one thing I’ve learned and drawn a conclusion,
Is that life being perfect is just an illusion,
And it’s best not to worry about small imperfection,
For deep down philosophy’s just pure conjection,
So a far better line to put an end to this fable,
Is “Just laugh and just love as much as you’re able”.

Bands a make her dance.  
A dollar will make her holler.
So she must be worth a pretty penny,
to flip open your wallet just to call her.
"Hey baby, how much for a dance? Oh slow motion, yeah I like it like that."
Her stripper name must be Visa for her rewards and her cashback.
She can flap her wings to get your mind on track,
of you spending your money all Welly-Nelly,
and swiping your card down the crack.
She's got you running to the private room like she's running game.
If you fall in love with these strippers that's a tale of Two-Pains.
How could a dime be worth a stack and arouse your spending range?
I mean her game so tight she has your whole money roll entertained.
And all she has to do is something strange for you to come out your pocket change.
By: Thrystan Tate

Where did you go to, Doris Stokes?
Do you  still talk to ghosts?
Doris is now a ghost, folks,
Did she just want to get on the telly?
Did the ghosts ever get on her nelly?
Or was she telepathic,
Or only telepathetic?
So, who now talks to ghosts,
Or erstwhile Doris Stokes?

Yo Donell you know whats up
Kept putting you down but you rose back up yeah
Joe told you to ride with me
We had street dreams but you kept s-s-s-stuttering
Craig David was walking away filling you in about his last 7 days yeah
Bump and grind with my man R Kelly
It's getting hot in here take your clothes off for Nelly Yo

There once was a time when music was life
The rhythm and the bass made me feel so right
Take it back to the time it was R&B;
Back with all my homies in the SUV
Take it back to the times we rocked a G-Shock
With the jeans hanging low, and the air force ones
Take it back to the times you would chill with your boo
Usher made me wanna get freaky with you
Take it back to the times when we fell in love
With music, we gotta bring the R&B; back
We gotta bring R&B; back
We gotta bring R&B; back

Yo jagged edge where the party at?
Walked outta heaven now we're bringing it back
TLC didn't want no scrubs
Independent women don't be falling in love
Say my name say my name
Cos my girl Beyonce got me going crazy crazy
Oh Blackstreet ya got no diggity
Room one twelve where the players get jiggy with it

There once was a time when music was life
The rhythm and the bass made me feel so right
Take it back to the time it was R&B;
Back with all my homies in the SUV
Take it back to the times we rocked a G-Shock
With the jeans hanging low, and the air force ones
Take it back to the times you would chill with your boo
Usher made me wanna get freaky with you
Take it back to the times when we fell in love
With music, we gotta bring the R&B; back

We're take take taking it back
Take take taking it back yo
We're take take taking it back
Take take taking it back yo
We're take take taking it back
Take take taking it back yo
We're take take taking it back
Take take taking it back yo

Bring back the music
Take it back to the music
Let's go back to that time
Baby try to rewind
And let's go
Let's go
Let's goooo
Let's go and take it back
There once was a time when music was life
The rhythm and the bass made me feel so right
Take it back to the time it was R&B;
Back with all my homies in the SUV
Take it back to the times we rocked a G-Shock
With the jeans hanging low, and the air force ones
Take it back to the times you would chill with your boo
Usher made me wanna get freaky with you
Take it back to the times when we fell in love
With music, we gotta bring the R&B; back
We gotta bring R&B; back

Patrick (Lucky Stars) O'Hara set his disabled grandson up on the old horse's back. Contrary to his moniker Paddy was anything but. His luck had run out. His son had just died of leukemia, and his grandson was now fatherless. His "daughter-in-law" had run off long ago. Couldn't handle having such a disabled son, and a sick husband. Paddy had never liked her anyway.

Patty looked at the child's wizened body. The cruelty of scoliosis. The doctors said it would cost vast thousands of dollars to straighten Bobby O'Hara's spine. Money Paddy absolutely did not have.

His sad gaze shifted from the boy to the horse he was sitting upon. Oh what a magnificent creature you were, 8 Ball! His own retired racehorse. What was once a stone black coat was now mottled with white. The figure eight shaped blaze on his forehead had given him his name. Not to mention the way he took off at the Starting Gate. As if someone had goosed him with a cue stick! And he bounced off the turns in the track as if he had a spin on him that was absolutely deadly. 8 Ball loved to run! He was unbeaten in every race that he entered. A real Dark Horse. With no particular lineage whatsoever. 8 ball just had Talent. And the track owners hated it. Most races were rigged. And Paddy O'Hara didn't play the game.

So they set up a race. With a big race horse named Red Rodger. This horse was also unbeaten, and had a promising future. But Red Roger's jockey was told to lay his horse down... Right in front of 8-Ball. So lay down he did. Killing Red Rodger and severely injuring 8-Ball. There was a lot of speculation about the race. Especially how the jockey riding Red Rodger had jumped from the horse just before the accident happened. He said his foot had slipped the stirrup. No one could prove otherwise. So red Rodger was dead, and 8-ball was very effectively out of the game.

8-Ball, being a sweet natured horse, stood stolidly as a little boy patted his withers. He looked back at him with his gentle dark chocolate eyes and nickered with what Paddy could have sworn was tenderness...

He heard a frustrated whinny behind him. Looking back he saw what he expected. The F-tch was back.

Lady Genevieve Summerfield-Fitch looked down her long nose at Paddy. Astride the most magnificent jumper O'Hara had ever seen.

Gentleman Jim was an astonishing animal. The dappled grey of rainclouds on a milk white sky... and his lines were flawless. Not to mention his lineage. His dam was Proud Nelly, and his sire was none other than Seafront View. And The Gent was as good as his name. He wasn't hare- brained like some horses which became ******. This was a well-tempered, almost intellectual horse. He worked WITH his rider. Practically thinking his way through a course. And it was no surprise that Gent won more awards than you could shake a club at!

But Gentleman Jim's rider was anything but his counterpart. She owned him, but she was no lady...

All of a sudden Paddy's gaze shifted again... this time in the far distance to take in an apparition. A small blonde girl... hair the length of her knees! Running like the Hound of the Baskervilles was after her! She closed the distance between them so rapidly O'Hara was almost dumbfounded!

"I... must... buy... your horse", the child panted.

"He's not for sale..."

Suddenly Paddy saw who the youngster was running from. Back in the middle distance was an ugly bald-headed creep. The spider's web tattooed over the left side of his face was enough to change Paddy's mind... he'd give the girl TomTom, though. He was a good, swift horse....

... then, before he knew what happened, his grandson was sitting on a chair by the stables and Blondie was astride 8-Ball!

"Hey! That horse is old and LAME!

"Not anymore." The blonde girl said simply. She pressed something hard into his palm. "And he's now mine".

As 8-Ball wheeled around to go out the gate something... happened. Was it O'Hara's imagination? The Ball's coat got darker! And shiny! His "game" leg seemed to... straighten...

When he made it out to the trail with his small rider he bunched up his flanks and took off Like a bat out of HELL!

The young blonde girl's long hair streamed out behind her like a sail as she took on the seat of a hockey... PERFECT FORM!

Paddy looked down at the hard object the girl had pressed into his hand. It was a classically cut emerald, dark as the hills of Kentucky. And bigger than any Paddy had ever seen...

Were they always a metaphor
for depression?

The green women
living always in the
ice-sluggish river,
waiting with thorn
teeth for those who
don't know better than
to approach their world?

Postpartum mothers who
pull the children back
into the quiet womb?

Every river seems
to have one:
Jenny Greenteeth,
Peg Powler,
Nelly Longarms.

Step out of the water, Jenny -
shake off the cold, cut your
hair, your nails. Toast some
cheese and bread, drink cider.
I won't ask you to smile,
or promise to save you,
but maybe just sitting
on the bench is enough
to keep your feet dry.

Oh the cat is out of the hat
the maiden has lost her knickers
and my aunt Nelly blimey
oh what a kerfuffle

My wife just put ****** on the sausages
and one from the oven has shot up the dogs ***
oh this is not good, at party like this
oh what a kerfuffle

There must be at least twelve saints here
those that must be revered
yet they are dancing like nutters
oi the beers are over here

God look at peter paul and dingo
don't they act like plebs
I would not dance
if I could get the beat out of my head

Lets take it to the garden
and do the moonlight shuffle
let's be foot loose and fancy free
oh what a kerfuffle


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

I woke up this morning hitting the snooze button at least ten times and not wanting to wake up. But then I finally dragged myself out of bed and as soon as I walked upstairs I could hardly open my eyes because the sun was shining so bright.

I got ready for work, and left the house. As soon as I started walking I put on “Hey man" by Nelly Furtado and immediately started crying. Not because I’m sad, but because it occurred to me that everyday is another chance. Another chance to live, to grow, to feel the sunshine, to try and make our lives and our world a better place.

I was crying because this time last year I was not waking up thankful, I was waking up and dreading every waking moment. I was waking up and wishing I were dead.

I just can’t explain how amazing it is to wake up and feel LUCKY just to be alive. I have SO much love in my life and it is actually a miracle. This feeling of complete peace and gratefulness is so pure and beautiful and I’m writing this down so I can always remember that I felt it once. And if I felt it once, I can feel it again. Because miracles work that way. They happen a few times and then things get bad but you always remember that they will happen again. Things will be good again. And they are.
Life is good. And if it’s not good, it will get better. I am living proof.

"Hey, man, don’t look so scared
You know I’m only testing you out
Hey man, don’t look so angry
You’re real close to figuring me out

We are a part of a circle
It’s like a Mobius strip
And it goes round and round
Until it loses a link.

There’s a shadow in the sky
And it looks like rain
And **** is gonna fly once again
And I don’t want ambivalence
No more."

there you go yosef
with that stupid flow
that brings out the hoes
cuz they got exposed
dont give a **** about the studio
or movies they show
tryna get me bent in the system lyching
****** mentality in reality
expect a fatality .if ya try to battle me belitttle me
made a g gangsta at the start
got no heart cuz it fell apart
once i got marked
son of makaveli
nine shots across ya belly
now ya body bleedin red jelly
country as nelly ghetto like rallo
suckas tried to swallow
me but im too hard to touch
cuz this world i clutch
with my own bare hands
just a nother common man understand
i was made to **** this mental slavery system my minds gone
get my blaze on while busting raps to this song
so im just lettin ya know if ya wanna go
to another funeral
sit the **** back as i go
slow flo

like Pac said first there's pleasure
then comes the pain
sunshine from thunderstorms of rain
across your brain
I give ya that raw ****
that you don't get from the pulpits
nothing but puppets
who follow man made rules
**** the rules I brought my own
along with my tools
tryna eradicated the double R dynasty
y'all can find me
in the hood puffin Mary
kind of scary I envision myself in a cemetery
foes grow worry once I let shotsoff they buried
death carried
there's souls to unknown destiny
who wrecking in me?
it's the Don coming back as the luminous
plus my ammo weighs a ton
I shine like the Sun as I glow
sick flow made for the war
I gain joy from gore
left ya body permanently sore once more
got many troops in store yo
talkin bout there Yosef Go'