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Olivia Kent Oct 2015
Venom be spat from the tongue that blinds.
Twixt the lovers.
Whose hearts, no longer entwined.
Words tied and tangled.
Twisted and lost.
Love becomes mangled.
Crumbled to dust.

No words dare be spoken.
The lovers that were.
Invoked the monster of Lady Medusa.
Screeching siren.
Lady's on fire.
Don't dare put her out.

Her eyes surely saved for you.
Muted sounds.
Exploding fear.
Hearing her dear.
Utters last squeak.
Unable to speak.
Bit his own tongue.
As she turns him to stone.
With eyes that don't see.
(c)LIVVI








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Olivia Kent

9 hrs · Daily Mail Online ·



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I rarely use Costa, I will be working back at Winchester hospital shortly.
I will use their canteen, the food is generally very nice x














Revealed: The squalor inside Costa coffee shops

A total of 23 Costas got two or less stars in their most recent inspections, including a hospital branch which had paninis at risk of contamination with bacteria which can cause paralysis and death.



dailymail.co.uk



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‎مستر صلاح السعيطي‎ likes this.
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Olivia Kent







Olivia Kent Ward , starting Monday x

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Philip McCarthy







Philip McCarthy Good luck with the job Olivia, But Im a bit of a coffee freak but will never use Costa it alwaysgives me bad guts ache afterwards.

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Olivia Kent







Olivia Kent Thank you Philip **

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Philip McCarthy







Philip McCarthy Hey I'm at the Cafe Reflections for the first time. It's good here x Photos to follow

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"Super cool."

"My boy"

Jade Xuereb's photo.


"A big shout out to everyone at the Amy Winehouse Foundation gig last night! Did two sets, first just me and the second backing."

Gray Ian's photo.

Waritsara Karlberg's photo.


"Storm Journey * unbreaking stone the key that unlocks the sky, and something races lionlike from beyond he thunderclap and the forest thrashes and waves like the choir in a Pentecostal church "yes, Jesus! Thankya, Lawwwd!" yes, there will be water if God wills it, so 'tis said. i read something in the living strokes of skyfire, the dance of something both benevolent and dangerous, and i can taste it like wine on the breath of the onrushing storm. it tastes like life, pouring into my lungs so fiercely i feel like i might be consumed by an overabundance of vitality. i can see that vitality all around me, the fecundity of Summer, relentless in its upward-thrusting, blossoming, breaking from the loam, bursting from the chrysalis, defying the arid winterlock that held the ground mere months ago. i walk from miracle into miracle, from myth into myth, the Universe enlarging with each step, until i'm carried like an infant in the arms of a loving storm."

Angie Colvin's photo.

Sean Creed's photo.

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Karen Wilmott
Mitchell Mar 2014
We have dinner two weeks later after the phone call at a place called Spencers. It's a hole in the wall with 50 cent oysters, cheap drinks, and a single waitress that isn't hard to look at. She tells us her name is Olivia, that she grew up around town, and went to school in Boston to study something. We both nod when she tells us this, but we don't say anything, nothing like a congratulations or feign of interest. We've both had this conversation too many times to show genuine interest anymore. I think about this when I order the hamburger with no cheese and avocado on the side and it makes me sad.
"How would you like the burger cooked, then?" Olivia asks me.
"Medium rare, please. Thank you." I hand her the menu and smile.
"And for you?"
"Fish and chips," he says, "With a small cob salad on."
"Great," she says, "And it was great talking with you guys."
"Yep," I nod, wanting her to leave.
"And those drinks will be right up."
"Fantastic," he grins, his eyes lazy and looking away from her.
Something in me tells me that maybe it wasn't a good idea to order drinks this early. It's only 10am and I haven't even had any coffee yet. Perhaps a ****** Mary will do us some good? A kick to the nervous system with tomato juice and ***** and a little hot sauce may be a better way to wake oneself up rather than liquid brown *******. He didn't show any signs of hesitation, so all seems to be well...keep it to two, maybe three if conversation is easy. Above us, the sky is light blue and clear. Trees line the sidewalk with seven feet of distance separating them, birds filling their branches, chirping wildly.
"How are things, my friend?" I ask.
"Things are," he pauses and looks at a passing dog and their owner," Good. Been working a little bit as well as working on some other projects."
"What kind of projects?" I know he's been making movies and I've seen his latest, which I liked, but he rarely embellishes on anything else.
"Scripts and movie stuff. Some music. Working on a website."
"I'd love to see it if you would be comfortable with that sort of thing."
"Yeah," he says, watching the waitress as she puts our two drinks on the table, smiling as she does it," I'll have to send some finished stuff your way." I know he won't. I know that he'll forget, either on purpose or by accident, but I nod and say that that would be great.
"I'll have to send you some my stuff. See what you think." I've been working on some small writing projects, trying to piece a book together of short fiction. It's been coming along, but I get distracted, things come up, more "important" things that I feel guilty for doing later. Normal pains.
He nods his head, digging his straw into the tomato juice and ice, swirling it around a bit, forcing the pepper to the bottom.
"They put too much ****** pepper in this thing."
"Yeah," I agree, "I might say something. These ******'s are expensive."
"Don't bother," he tells me, "They're fine. Let the ***** work her magic for a minute. Olivia seems to like us. I wouldn't want to upset her."
I look over at her behind the bar. She's making a large tray of mimosas for a table of women at the back of the restaurant. From the pink banners scotch taped to the wall and mound of presents, someone is having a baby shower. A baby...good God...how would I survive that? Good thing I'm single. Olivia struggles to pick up the tray and for an instant, I have the urge to get up and help her with it. He sees me staring at her and kicks me under the table.
"You like her?" he asks.
"What?" I laugh, "Who?"
"Olivia, you goon."
"I was watching her try and pick up that flight of mimosas. I was sure she was gonna' drop the thing. She's so tiny."
"Why don't you go help her out?" He teases, looking up at me as he takes a sip of the Mary from his straw. "She's alright." One of his eyebrows inches up.
"Nah," I say, "It's too early."
"I just read somewhere that no one is ever actually living in the present. The reason I say that is because I was just about to say something cheesy like "YOLO" or "Live in the Now", but then I remembered that article and it stopped me dead."
"Why can't we?" I ask him. He seems suddenly perky and intrigued by his own memory of the article.
"Something like every human being is living at least 80 milliseconds in the past. David Eagleman believes that our consciousness lags behind actual events and that when you think an event occurs, it has already happened before your brain has a chance to create a cohesive picture of the world."
"So what we're seeing right now has already happened in the natural world 80 milliseconds ago?"
"Something like that. I guess you could equate it to looking in a mirror that reflects an image that's always slightly behind."
"But the time is so small, one would never notice or really know anything was lagging behind in the first place. Everything seems present right now, right?"
"Yeah," he says, "It does, but I can see the argument that we are all slightly behind our brains and our eyes and the world outside. It's all just too much."
"Overwhelming," I mutter, taking a large pull from my drink."
"Let's get another round. You want another round?" He picks up the drink menu that was hanging off the edge of table.
"Yeah," I nod, looking out on the street, "I'm good to go."
"I'll get her." He raises his hand and Olivia sees it. She comes over, smiling, grinning like mad as usual. We order two more drinks and wait for our food.
Ma Cherie Jul 2016
Mr. Mole
stayed in a basement
but lived inside a tent
and everywhere that he went
took this cute little thing
he took under his wing
a hedgehog
named Olivia!

It was not really sad,
not really bad
Not terrinble at all
this basement it was finished
no comfort was diminished
some furniture and plants
this was his sanctuary

A little scary...
Mr. Music
this was his real name
no one knew and such a shame
no one he could ever blame
as he played guitar
she was quite tame
Miss Olivia
his life
he thought so lame
but at least he had her

and that were
true
until the day
Olivia said had to say Goodbye
only time
I think he cried
the day she left
the day she died
tears, fears...and years
streaming down his face

and then he sighed
her death implied
time to do other things
let people hear your voice, go sing
And so..
Mr. Music
he decided to go to work
duties no longer can be shirked
off in a Volkswagen Vanagon
Painting houses
As a star employee
worked at times, he did...for free
Dedicating his labor
to his Little Miss Olivia :-)

Called himself
a Mole he did
Never grew
up
that great big kid
he is still living this tale today
perhaps a slightly different way
without dear Miss Olivia.

Cherie Nolan© 2016
A funny, sad bit ironic little Tale and totally true :)
preservationman Oct 2018
“Weights to the body that want all too exercise
Your Muscles want you to energize
Two Fitness Enthusiast were known as the “Iron Brothers”
The movie was centered around Exercise, Physical Transformation, Muscles and Bodybuilding
Yet it was a creation forming a Fitness Enterprise and Bodybuilding Affiliation Organization
Weider Muscles want your attention please
Stand and Flex but move with ease
But there was Rivalry between two George and Joe Weider all having a mission for Bodybuilding with a Higher Recognition Bodybuilding Prize
The convince being a hard realize
So George had a title that was called “Mr. Universe 1940”
Bodybuilders were all competing for the title
However, Weider was denounced to have anyone from his organization to compete, and there was a struggle
But Joe Weider saw a bigger picture of Bodybuilders in creating the “Mr. Olympia 1950”

Victory being on Joe Weider’s mind
But having a magazine that will enhance
The mission was about giving all Bodybuilders the competing chance
Bodybuilding Magazine relaying Bodybuilders and Bodybuilding coverage
Expressing to the world Bodybuilding was a sport
But don’t cut the sport short
It was going to take persuasion and instilling Bodybuilding appreciation
So the journey being a determined mission

Yet, it was on to discover Arnold Schwarzenegger Whose name Joe Weider had heard of
This Writer actually met Arnold Schwarzenegger personally when he was competing during his Bodybuilding days and the title was “Mr. Olympia” in New York City
I met Mr. Schwarzenegger at the Mid-City Gym in New York City
Arnold would often have trouble saying my name Anthony
Today, he would have no trouble saying my name because he was once a California Governor and a Movie Star
However, I was intrigued to see Sergio Olivia, Jr playing his Father in the Movie, Sergio Olivia, SR
What a combination?
Now the Sergio Olivia, Sr was a Cuban Weightlifter, and became a high Ranking Bodybuilder standing with Arnold Schwarzenegger
What makes Sergio Olivia, SR was when he posed in the ***** pose with humongous Lats when it came to Bodybuilding competition
So Sergio Olivia, Jr was following in his father’s footsteps with destination being stardom
But the Mr. Olympia is still the number one Bodybuilding competition today
Joe Weider saw the vision and how Bodybuilding will make the Mr. Olympia competition worthwhile
Are your muscles pumped to perfection?
Joe Weider’s legacy left behind, “Muscles pumped to Victory”
There’s training to be done
It’s Bodybuilding Victory I want all too be among
Yet, remember what I accomplished in looking upon.
The colour of her lips were so deep
That I could not leave the room to sleep
For her beauty made my soul leap.

I could not forget her lovely eyes
Or say my goodbyes
For in her mind held all the skies.

Her laugh filled my heart
To the point I could not part
For she spoke the literary art.

Yet I no longer needed to sigh
For there, a clue, on her thigh
As an orchid did lie:

Just as the sun loves the moon
Again I shall have the ultimate boon
With the new day I could again enjoy her rune.

So as I bid my adieu
I pondered on the truth I now knew:
We will speak again after the morning dew.
She says I shouldn't love her;
She says she’s not real:
Just a pixie girl, a
Nymph of my dreams.

Indeed, I questioned her
Reality from the first day
And I finally decided believing
Was better than her not being.

She says I shouldn't love her
Because her job isn't the
Most respectable and I
Should find someone better

But one does not judge a book
By the cover, or how many
Fingerprints mark its glossy bindings,
But instead based on what’s inside.

Her appearance may have been
What first caught my eye, as the
Covers of books usually do,
But when I began reading

Page after page, I knew
I had fallen in love, truly
In love, with the content
Of the book called Bex Olivia.
Ask the Channel to his Promised Heart's Best
And Glad you shared his Spirit with your Song
Closer, then keep your Cherries fresh with Zest
So both can Savour each Flavours for long
How Fair you took his Living Supplement
Where these Vitamins need your Fresh Support
But Remind him; Of Minerals and Nourishment
Are what is Needed for his Best Report
Then the Grandfather whose Wise Hands will tell,
Strike the Gong to when their Wrapped Hands hold fast
But knowing his Flute which charms your Bell,
His Pickfold Numbers win your Lots at last.
Tally him Softly; And he makes you Proud
To harvest Best Fruits whilst singing out loud.
#livwrightyay #benjdaley
MoonChild Aug 2016
Her name is Sarah
And between her legs
A flower.
A Begonia
Lush, Desirable, and Sweet
Beautiful.

Her name is Olivia
And between her legs
A flower.
A Bird of Paradise
Exotic & Captivating, Deep
Beautiful.

Her name Tanya
And between her legs
A flower.
A Calla Lilly
Intuitive, Dreamy, Refined
Beautiful.

Her name is Sumi
And between her legs
A flower.
A Dahlia
Grace, Strength, & Valued
Beautiful.

Her name is Diana
And between her legs
A flower.
A Moonflower
Delicate & Feminine
Beautiful.

My name is Hannah
And between my legs
A flower.
An Azalea
Fragile, Sweet, & Tender
Beautiful.
Used this site for Symbolism:
http://www.universeofsymbolism.com/flower-symbolism.html
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
.akin to a reply within the respect of Olivia Gatwood... these are not war chants... these are not war invitations... what deserves the hostile, is what bears an answer... these statements? they're only preliminaries; apparently two freedoms of the same argument, have the right / are expected to coexist: mind you, thinking, is the antithetic argument supporting talking... oh ****... right... i "sound" condescending... the clicking sound of my keyboard is condescending... at what point... did you arrive at the paradox... of hearing, before seeing? airplanes... i see, prior to the dragging "echo"... who said what who said who said what? i didn't say anything... i typed... keeping in line with: freedom of speech... what an exhausting right... esp. in a time when speaking is equated to thinking, and "speaking" is relegated to the opportunism, of writing being equated to "thinking"... talking... simply a tabloid freedom for the populace... i said ****... if this is not in the comment section... who said what who said who, who said when? when? maybe i delayed posting this... having thought it... a thinking, liberated from the cognitive schematic of a moral ought... a cognitive schematic to parody the enshrined freedom of speech, deviating from being forced to ask the moral ought? what is freedom of speech, by comparison? you are given the sort of freedom that implores you to speak... you are actually being given enforced rights to be compelled to speak... but not to think... to speak... at the exact same time... you didn't equate thinking with speaking... oh... right... this, "freedom"... was exacted when... quiet a large number of people were still deemed illiterate... and they were illiterate... but i'm literate... so... why would i need a freedom of speech... when, by writing, i have the higher right / freedom, to think?!

reworking a vindaloo recipe...
what sort of madman...
writes a recipe,
that includes 40 grams of
dried chillies?
i weighed them...
around 30 came in at 30 grams...
i had to revise...
the recipe...
a hopscotch chilli...
two fresh red chillies,
8 dried chillies,
and some Kashmir chilly
powder (much milder,
slightly sweet,
than usual)...
    it's a ******* meal...
it's not a competition as to
who can east the most spicy meal...
you play that **** while drinking
*****, not eating dinner!
mind you... vindaloo?
the most specifically scented
curry in the world...
you lift the lid off the...
baking tray? cooking utensil?
you're immediately hit by
a whiff of... sour spiciness...
can't describe it...
it feels like lime chilli...
hot & sour...
counter to the Chinese
sweet & salty...
   **** me...
     Indian cuisine...
                 it's like...
         what pepper,
salt and horseradish did to
European cuisine...
thank you England...
well... since i'm doing all
the cooking around this house...
i guess... a woman can just
sit pretty, and pretend to be
an ornament of the mantlepiece,
playing candy-crush saga...
works fine for me...
i wouldn't trust a woman
in the kitchen to begin with...
she might under-cook
the potatoes,
over-cook the pasta,
and over-salt a sauce...
so... yeah...
  women are not welcome
in the kitchen.

but, hell, they can bake, women can
do one thing right in the kitchen:
they can bake...
i hate baking, because it involves
waiting... i hate waiting...
a woman in a kitchen has
perfected the role of baking,
but that's about it...
figure this one out...
all this anti-white male rhetoric...
where are you going to
get your rhetoric...
when we die off, died out,
become the prime suspect
of the dodo project?!
    who's going to replace us...
and make the same argumentative
reprisals of your little,
tirade, symptom of
being borne by a real daddy,
and not a *****-bank
donation?!
   mother daughter relationships
must, really really work out
so well..
mind you, mind me...
i really need to ***...

when cooking, i hate waiting...
i don't like making
something, and then guessing /
waiting for the end results...
i want the whole fling...
the whole translation
of organic chemistry into
a heston blumenthal kitchen...
  i want...
the many aspect of transfiguration,
cooking no less an art,
but more a science...

women can bake,
they can also walk around pregnant...
can they cook?
you really want women
to return to the kitchen?!
seriously?!
under-cooked potatoes,
overcooked pasta,
following a vindaloo
recipe word for word?
you sure?
    in the army...
women didn't cook...
the men cooked for the men...
sure... a feminine role...
but...
   and this this is a pretty big but...

makes no fighter on an ill
stuffed gut...
           men cooking for men...
while the girls play the role
of the trophy mantlepiece...
"jogging" along to flirting
with candy-crush saga...

please, please... come into the kitchen
when you feel like
baking a banana bonanza...
otherwise... *******!
Sarah Anuar Nov 2017
“When they call you a *****, say thank you, thank you very much.”
I got cakes;
On my menu,
I say baby;
There's nothing sweeter then you...
Cake,Cake
I like sweet cake
She make my heart pound;
At some wonderful speed rate.....

I'm very energetic;
So I love chocolate cake;
Eat it for breakfast;
Red cherry on top;
That's some blossom red lips;
I love rich cream, So baby
Bring me a whip....
You the number one on my menu....
Cake;Cake;
Chocolate Cake


Olivia Brown Vanilla Cake;
My spectacular lunch break;
With a nice cinnemon flake
Pound of cake;
She a dream cake
Cool me downn,
with some strawberry
milkshake;
She's second on my menu;
Cake;Cake;
Vanilla Cake


Supper time;
more like super time;
Everyday my birthday;
End it off with some cream cake;
I love cake;
look like dream cake;
Whip my cream,
with semi-sweet wine;
Cool me down
with ice cream
Cake;Cake;
Cream Cake....
This is a poem I've written after listening to Trey Songz Cakes.   well I then played round with my words(As I always do) and got this piece... #Peace

Dedicated to all the single ladies out there
Arcassin B Jul 2016
By Arcassin B & Olivia K


AB: As long as the earth turns , let auras fly into the abyss,
Just to get a hug or a kiss From a loved one,
OK: To find you waiting at the end of the world to carry me
through in a pastel pink rosebud,
AB: I feel the flames of Hades calling me ,but I
Woke when heard angelic presences,
OK: calling to me with ****** song, harps be strummed for all to hear, harp strings tug at heart strings,
AB: too much decadence for everyday people to comprehend on the
Bliss that is heaven cringed,
OK: Painted in raging scarlet, heaven vibrates simplistically, causing rolls of thunderous applause and so those rains fall, releasing the reins of horses wild,
AB: And while we lives wondering what have could be a historical moment, Flower grow like stallions flowing through the grass so surreal,
OK: and here we live in dreamlike skies as love be cultured as grown pearls before our sparkling eyes.
Together we ride the smiles we share, a surreal helter-skelter.
Known only as true love.
©ABPoetry2016




http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/07/turn-ft-olivia-kent.html
chelle Nov 2019
Olivia Olivia
have you seen Olivia
Olivia the bearded lady
when your skies are gray
She'll make your day
Olivia the bearded lady

Noah Noah
Have you seen Noah
Noah the tattooed gentleman
when your skies are gray
he'll make your day
Noah the tattooed gentleman
Nina McNally Jul 2016
Day- September 15, 2015 Time- 3:06am
When you were born
With those BIG blue eyes
Looking up at your mommy and daddy.
Just wanted to wish your BIG sister, Avery,
A Happy Birthday and what
A beautiful birthday surprise!
With your cute little button nose, like daddy
And your cute little fingers, like mommy.
5 lbs. 10 oz. 18.5 inches
You were a small baby, who was excited
To take on the world
And have tea parties with Avery, and your cousin, Sarah!
And your cousins, Mike and Connor,
Will be there to PROTECT you!
Born into a big family,
Who will always be there and protect you!
We'll have to wait and see
what you decide to be!
So now all I have to say, baby girl,
"Welcome to the world and the family, Olivia!
**WE LOVE YOU!"
So I wrote this last September but as I 2 nieces born last year I only put up one and forgot this one.
This is my 5th poem, I written one for each nephew (2), and all my nieces (3), and any future ones...which might not happen until I have kids someday.
Hope you enjoy this piece. Family is everything!
©9/2015
McNally/Flanders, Inc.
Panda Jan 2019
Olivia Marie, a moonbeam.
She must be.
Sent straight from the stars to me.
A practically perfect twinkle, in a green eye does glow.
This tiny spirit brought with her all I need to know.
Sitting in the abyss, dark and lonely.
This delicate flower growing inside me only.
My speck of stardust to cherish and hold, from here only beauty will unfold.
Panda~
For my daughter Olivia
Trevor Gates Sep 2013
Polished nails and faint fingertips
Soothing touch, but quaint red lips
Almond-shaped eyes, hazel iris gleam
Fair skin worthy of the loveliest dream

These words on paper
The very first
Starting the rhyme and verse
With more moments
And stories
All so poetic and stoic
Bleeding ink to fresh paper
Bleeding hearts to woeful ears
Tracing the lines
Of my formative years

Ashy mist skies nestled over
Bleak sleeping mountains
Ghost wood trees likes hands
Reaching from the earth

A girl named Olivia
Sitting in my grade school class
Dark hair woven
Threads of black silk

I never knew her as she grew up
Just an illusory form of a forgotten past
Imagining her as she could be now
I could walk up to her
And say:
      
       “Hello Olivia, It’s been a while
        You changed since being a child
        Your beauty’s been enhanced
        Maybe you’ll give the chance
        To talk and reminisce
        I just can’t resist
        Everything I see and hear
        Has never been so clear
        You make me feel content
        Whole, serene and free
        I just wish this wasn’t a dream.”

All things I wish I could say
To a person I could never forget
Where you simply forgot me
Because I moved away
And you lived your life

Stupid poems of love
Stupid songs of strife
I don’t want these things in here
On here
On these new pages
These quips don’t represent me
The way I want to be recognized
These aren’t the things I want to
Talk about.

Let these crisp pages tell of mutant women
And ******-****** fiends frolicking fiercely
Distorted, cathartic characters collapsing
Rippling, regal rodents ******
And cesspools shaping  
Bubbling, contorting, boiling, simmering
Cow intestines infused with cake batter
Incestuous fairies hopping and dancing to screaming metal
Crunching, chugging riffs and thunder-booming bass lines
Frightening, fulsome, fearsome, ******-up fire starters
Worshiping, boars and their tusks and piling carcasses
Blasting kick-drums and rolls of stomping toms
Orchestra of darkness, Symphony of Hell
Masquerade of puppets and angel witch choirs
Demon women and devil men, swamping
Over bodies and pulling me into the pits
Where the pleasure my body and tear my flesh
Eradicating goodness and lights
With blood, pain, salivating mouths over hardened *****
******* **** and trusting in and out like wild men
In a lake of burning coals  
And sins

I observe these happening(s) in this modern day
So I must write them and you shall read
And in the process
You will be
Shocked, surprised, disgusted, appalled and desired
Your body reacting to these words and phases

    Ever wonder what my voice sounds like?

I do too, at least in your mind

This is my voice.
This is not your own.

Bourgeoisie dinner parties fit for cannibals
White weddings stained with septic blood
Children racing across the burning fields
Chasing the reaper and his friends
rapid heart beats
cold sweating hands
stomach pains churning and squealing
forcible labor to invisible babies
pulling back lips and gums
and retracting teeth
sinking into warm necks
******* and stretching
moans
and beauty through depravity
animistic, egregious
brutal love and subtle kisses
bleeding hearts
and
bleeding pens


This isn’t bad.

I like this

Would Olivia find this mind attractive?
Maybe
Maybe not
It doesn’t matter
These scribbles and dabbles
On these ****** pages
Are the beginnings to something more
All sprouted from the memory
Of a girl.
There are road maps and guidelines to writing. Sometimes, the greatest adventure and experience comes from ditching the map and taking that off-road journey into that never-ending horizon.

I try to think of goals and themes to tackle when composing new poetic compositions, but as I struggle I come to see that nothing seeps through the mind easily when it is forced. Presenting dictation to your thought process is the bare broken mirror to your psyche. Later in life, it can be a useful tool for any artist.

Be honest with yourself, don't try to accomplish just one thing. Never aim to please others and don't conform to rules laid before others.

Breaking away creative spontaneity, discourse and unmeasured wonderment.
Jimmy King Oct 2013
"Hello Olivia,"
My fountain pen
Drunkenly demonstrated
In my dad's kitchen,
Which the girl who sat
Behind me in math class,
Carefully collecting lists
Of favorite words
(Penultimate; ephemeral),
Cautiously observed
Was not my kitchen too
Arcassin B Aug 2016
By Arcassin B & Olivia K


OK: On a cold March day I was stranded.
In a place all lined with darkness. Walls enclosed me real tight, I have a huge desire to fight, They say there are responses, one or sometimes two, fight or flight is what they say, looks like I'm here to stay, a cell phone in my pocket shines just a little light, on the wall to the right in silver pen be wrote, welcome to the wishing well, is this heaven or is this hell,
AB: Trauma speaks in silence letting me know in a state of euphoria, Things are not what it seems by any and all means When your own people ready to Bury ya, looking at the four walls like "how are you doing sir" never felt more than a burden in vain to the rest of the planet of sleepless individuals with no time on their hands just walking around for the next transit.
©ABPoetry2016

http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/08/closing-walls-ft-olivia-kent-by-saray.html
Olivia Kent Jun 2013
Injustice!
Posted by Olivia Kent on June 4, 2013 at 3:11pm
View Blog
Suffer not thy children,
In a waiter service world of injustice,
Nothingness in a world of tragic poverty,
In a drizzle of tears,
The children drown
Emaciated children,
Not smiling as they die,
In world of war-craft,
Dying,
A little more each day,  
Not smiling as they should,
Punished,
Living in a punitive  world of cruelty,
Where craft of war is rife,
Screams,
Imagined in heads of strangers,
Insanity,
Piercing with horror,
Ears sickened,
By violent imagery envisaged,
Emaciated child,
*** bellied,
Gaunt,
Virtually lifeless,
Dead before death,
Snatches,
Life blood vanished,
Without request!
There is no youthful exuberance on this face,
Overjoyed,
Delighted,
I don't live in this place!
Copywrite Livvi Kent 04/06/2013
SøułSurvivør Jun 2015
A TRIBUTE TO HELLO POETRY

This will be a long write.
There are so many I wish
to honor and thank.

Please, if you can, pull up
Bruce Cockburn's song
Maybe the Poet on YouTube.
Listen to the words as you read this.
It will greatly add to your enjoyment.

I play no favorites...
you ALL are class acts!

Here's a tribute. Yep. It's long!
But listen to Bruce Cockburn's song.
I want to emulate what's sung
Yes, not miss a poet, one!

ryn has got a range of art
Ded Poet's got a poet's heart
elsa angelica's soul resounds
Bhumika's a dove
with a golden crown!

Wolfspirit's pen can spill his love
Wonderman's ink from up above
sjr...1000 words so wise
Scarlet Pimpernel's talent's
not disguised!

Joe Malgeri's a spiritual gent
Paige Pots' work is heaven sent
Tivonna has love for natural things
Helena's work has roots and wings!

Pradip, in my eyes number one
as is Thomas A Robinson
jeffrey robin's style is loose and bold
Rupal has a heart of gold!

John Stevens has an earthy wit
Pax means peace, his candle's lit
Tryst's ballads are a perfect fit
and I love Lidi Minuet!

donna's sweet as honeydew
Jason Cole fits like a shoe
Prttybrd sings songs with style
Day Wing flies! He has a smile!

Deborah's walking on her beach
her talent has a range and reach
Rapunzel let's her hair way down
Weeping Willow
has a pleasant sound!

Joe Cole loves all fantasy
SSilkenTounge has a mind that's free
Solaces is a very old friend
I hope to see Botan again!

Urmilla writes beyond her years
Chalsey Wilder writes bring tears
Tonya Maria and I share pain
Wise is K Balachandran!

CA Guifoyle lives in my town
Adam Childs' the best around
SE Reimer can put us in the mood
Musfiq us Shaleheen
Is so VERY good!

Richard Riddle honors with poetry
Love my collab, Arcassin B!
Sally A Bayan's good and kind
Hayden Swan's a real find!

Love comments from Joe Adomavicia
zik, I'm always glad to see ya!
TGWLY has a heart that hurts
Erenn Y does heartfelt works...

Elizabeth Squires has classic writes
Frank Ruland's fights
for what is right
And if a scare you want to see
just look up POETIC T!

Oh! There are SO many more!
There are poets by the score!
I don't want to be a bore
But read them ALL! You will be
FLOORED !!!

MORE POETS!!!

Lori Jones McCaffery
Kalypso
Niamh Price
Mya Angel
Mike Hauser
Vicki
Ignatius Hosiana
Frankie J
Chris Green
mark cleavenger
brandon nagley
Winn
Puds (Pete)
Deborah Brooks Langford
Timothy
Marian
Hilda
Harriet Tecumsah Watt
it's gonna make sense
mybarefootdrive
Dark n Beautiful
WL Winter
Margaux
Pamela Rae
Venusoul7
Eddie Starr
Olivia Kent
Brenden Thomas
Zoe
Raj Arumugam
Elijah
Sukeerti
Manny
M.A.N
Jonny Angel
Dylan Mitchell
James M Vines
bulletcookie
i am miss brightside
Chris Fracc
Cat
Ocean Blue
Phil Lindsay
Mike Hauser
PearlSy
Christi Michaels Moon Flower
Raj Nandy
SPT
PoETEPETE Now RePETE After PETE
Makayla Kelly
Paul Gafney
Nan Trapp Messer
Chloe
Steven Langhorst
Daniel Palmer
Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul
C A Guilfoyle
TRAVELLER
Soul
GitacharYa VedaLa
Rosalind heather Alexander
S R Matts
Paul Gattney
Danny Mak
patty m
liv frances
Gary L
Ngamau Boniface
IOWA
Earl Jane
ber
Justin G
James
ste'phanie noir
born
Aztec Warrior


Last but not least... olestoryteller
and Francie Lynch! Ketoma Rose!
If there's someone I've forgotten
PLEASE TELL ME!

Also please read Hello again, Poets!
I wrote more! Also please read the poem 'diamonds'. There are many tributes to people who i missed in this write.

I'LL WRITE A SPECIAL POEM
JUST FOR YOU!

---
Hawk Flight May 2014
I see the car
driving off the cliff
down
down
down
down
it goes.......

But my day didnt start out like that

I woke up
to my mothers sing songing voice
Victor wake up hunny we're going on a trip!

Olivia comes squeeling in
jumping on my bed
Trip! Trip! Trip!
her three year words tumbling out

Getting ready we all hop in the car
Mother
father
son
daughter
in that big old Caravan

where are we going

A cross country trip

Summer time is here
lets make the most of it

We got across a few states
sightseeing as we went
camara flashing
marking our journey

Grab a motel room
spend the night

next day get up
eat breakfast
on the road again

Then it happened.
A moose in the middle of the road
Dont ask me the state
my brain has blacked that out

But it never bothered to block out the accident

Dad tried to aviod it
but it was to big
He hit the back end
and went spinning over the cliff
tumbling down
and down

glass shattering
twigs getting in

the car settles at the bottom
upside and smashed

I try to get my bearing
my six year old self freaking out

SOMETHING attacks my face
To this day I dont know what it is
But now my left eye is dead
my vision destroyed
claw marks rake that side of my face

with blood in my eye
I try to find my parents
They are still not moving

Dads neck is bent funny
so is moms

I hear my sister calling out to me
hanging upside down
reaching out to me

Something is wrong with her chest
She wasnt wearing a red shirt
she was wearing Yellow

dont worry Livy
Everythings gunna be ok

with my promise on my lips
I unbuckle my seatbelt
surprised it still worked

I crawled out of my seat
and to my father
trying not to look at his
dead eyes.
I love you daddy, Goodbye

reach into his pocket
grab his cell phone
whats that number again?
Oh right
911

call it
cry scream
tell the people
HELP ME, HELP OLIVIA
Mommy and daddy went to heaven already

Olivia, shes fading
***** hold on they're coming
Her whimpers stop
and her body goes limp

NOOOOOOOOOO
I shout and scream
shrieking into the night

The flashback fades away
I wake up
in my own room
18 years later

I survived
My whole family didn't

Whoever is out there
God? Alleh, Goddess, Whomever
Why didnt you take me with them?

Why did you have to leave me here?
why did you have to break me?
My first tim ever writing or talking about the accident that killed my whole family when I was only 6. I am the only survivor. the doctors still can't figure out what attacked my face, They suggest that somehow a bird got into the car and clawed my face trying to get out.
Hawk Flight May 2014
I havent spoken of you
Since the day you died
My baby sister
Ripped way
I couldnt save you
I should have saved you
You counted on me
I was your big brother.

The Crash
The car flipping
Once
Twice
Three times
Four

Mom and dad
dead before
we hit the cliff's
floor

I was only Six
you a mere three

You cried out for me
sitting in your carseat
BUT I COULDNT GET TO YOU
my little arms could not ******* reach

I failed you
I failed you
I'm so sorry Olivia

I will never forgive myself
The day my life changed. The day My life become a living Hell.
Dawn of Lighten Jan 2014
Ilion Gray:
http://hellopoetry.com/-ilion-gray/
my personal call sign, Kronos/Cronus
Obviously the Titan among the writers of the Hello Poetry,
He has probably the highest viewership, and most commented amongst the poets.
It becomes very evident after reading his work why he is the Titan of poets,
And reading his poem is like historical masters revisited among mortals.

Harlon Rivers:
http://hellopoetry.com/-harlon-rivers/
my personal call sign, Poseidon
Poseidon was very fitting with Harlon River,
due to the symbolic nature of the water in their names.
I have only read few of this gentleman's work,
But I can assure you his work is very much a gift to the audience,
And like Poseidon that gift is fire to humanity.

K Balachandran:
http://hellopoetry.com/-k-balachandran/
my personal call sign, Zues
After thinking and pondering,
K Balachandran is the Zues of hello poetry.
His work is always top notch,
And it has so much layer of meaning in his ink.
I admire his compassion in his work,
And his generous response.

Nat Lipstadt:
http://hellopoetry.com/-nat-lipstadt/
my personal call sign, Apollo
Nat is this exciting charismatic youthful writer like Apollo,
And his vigor is unmatched with his writing.  
His writing is passionate,
And has such strength.
It is so hard not to notice his work,
But when you do read his work,
You will know why I had him as Apollo of Hello Poetry.

Soul in Torment:
http://hellopoetry.com/-soul-in-torment/
my personal call sign, Hermes
His work is like a trickery,
When you think you got it,
You see another layer in his work.
To read his 10w poem,
As simple as it may seem,
You will do double take to see more meaning  in 10w.

Timothy:
http://hellopoetry.com/-timothy/
my personal call sign, Dionysus
Probably the most festive,
and warm poems you will ever read.
Timothy not only write awesome poems,
But also gives lot of positive feed back to many.
More I thought about Timothy's work,
It just made sense to have him as Dionysus.

KMae:
http://hellopoetry.com/-kmae/
my personal call sign, Gaia
Another Titan among the Hello Poetry,
And like Gaia, KMae is like the Mother Earth of poets.
Her wisdom and knowledge is vast,
And her writings are warm and very expressive.

Shaqila:
http://hellopoetry.com/-shaqila/
my personal call sign, Athena
Her 10w is so amazing,
I became Dumbfounded by her work,
Because it's so thought provoking.
She has vast repertoire of her style,
and it is unmatched by many I have read.
I can only wonder now a days how she is doing,
Since she has been Mia for awhile now.

Olivia Kent:
http://hellopoetry.com/-olivia-kent/
my personal call sign, Hestia
Very down to earth,
And calm resting of poets.
If you want a ink with purity,
Check her work out!

Sally A Bryan:
http://hellopoetry.com/-sally-a-bayan/
my personal call sign, Hera
Her work has so much strength,
And love with thoughtfulness,
It felt only right to align her with Hera.
Highly recommend to those who seek love and warmth,
And very hospitable response as well.

CA Guilfoyle :
http://hellopoetry.com/-ca-guilfoyle/
my personal call sign, Artemis
Just like Artemis,
And her work is untamed beauty.
Graceful and amazing to read,
Her work is innocent,
But very strong.
Try to catch her work,
But beware, her newer inks are harder to come.

Jasmine:
http://hellopoetry.com/-jasmine-9/
my personal call sign, Aphrodite
Her work is elegant,
And quite beautiful.
Has a perfect feminine quality about her writing,
And gives lovely expression that empowers love!

Noose:
http://hellopoetry.com/-the-noose/
my personal call sign, Hade
Always great with darkness,
And convey disparity like no other,
Hade perfectly convey Noose's work.
If you ever want to read decay at it fullest glory,
Noose has this covered for you.

Atul 'Drona' Kaushal
http://hellopoetry.com/-atul-drona-kaushal-1/
My personal call sign, Cupid
Probably one with most profound love poetry I've read
And his work is dedicated love poems.
His work are marvel to gaze upon,
And strong display of Eros.
Highly recommend for those who like to read love poems,
If not, check his best poem of all "Angel?"

Pradip Chattopadhyay
http://hellopoetry.com/-pradip-chattopadhyay/
My personal call sign, Helios
In my eyes poet Pradip seem to be the sun of the poets,
Always filled with bright energy.
Very mystical in this poet's ink of ray.
If you want a poem that will brighten your day,
I recommend Pradip's poems!
Please don't take it too personally to my call signs, just wanted to add dimension to my writings with individual characters, and by adding a layers to convey the best description with gods and goddesses metaphor.  Some were really hard to distinguish with the characters, and some were already taken by others.   With limited 12 gods, it wasn't perfect, while some were dead on!

This is to recognize some of the best poets I have met and read, and while everyone is good in their own rights, these few people really stood out for me as the pantheons of Hello Poetry.

This may change after 2014 review in 2015, and make a completely different list when the time comes.  Who knows, I might just stop after this one!

This isn't completely finished, but for now this will do.  If I want to add more stuff I maybe inclined to do so, but with limited times as of late due to work we shall see where my attention spanned will take me.
Riley Schatz Sep 2015
when i see you i see zinnias
your hair and your eyes and your rosy cheeks
grow tall and strong and flourish
and know that rainstorms will only make you stronger

i feel like Thumbelina
taking shelter under your leaf-umbrella
and watering you with my tears
in turn i will take care of you when you wilt
and shed many a tear-petal if you need to
(because it’s okay to be sad)

when i see you i see zinnias
your words and your smile and your lovely voice
grow tall and strong and flourish
and know that rainstorms will only make you stronger
a poem i wrote for a lovely friend
Ray Jun 2015
I'd like to applaud the dickwads who found the need
to stomp on my toes and bring me to my knees
only moments after the emotionally crippled girl
superglued the final pieces of shattered knee cap bones,
Bravo to you former close friends,
for setting off the final fuse of complete self destruction in t minus ten.

Mental snap, Olivia Addams is back

— The End —