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shayla ennis Oct 2016
(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
this is a drama playwrite
little ollie otter took a trip once more
to somewhere far away to a far off shore
he took a trip to switzerland
he just love to ski
skiing down the mountains he just long to be.

skiing through the snow skiing down the side
with his skiing skill ollie he would slide
he climbed a snowy mountain so he could have a go
ollie he set off sliding through the snow

going very fast on each and every bend
using all his skill till he reached the end
ollie he was happy it gave him such a thrill
he just  long to ski down a mountain hill.

ollie he went home his hoilday was done
then fell fast asleep and dreamed of all his fun
ollie was an octopus he lived in the sea
always very happy a happy chap was
he had lots of friends in the ocean blue
the sea horse and the squid lots of fishes to

one day he was swimming along the ocean floor
when he heard a noise from a shipwreck door
ollie swam inside to see what it could be
he saw his friend the crab very stuck was he

the little crab was crying he was frightened to
feeling very scared in the sea of blue
ollie said dont worry i will set you free
octopus reached out.  and said just hang on to me

ollie pulled and pulled till the crab was free
crab he gave a smile happy now  was he
ollie he had saved him from the shipwreck floor
crab he swam away free again once more
little ollie otter he lived in a brook
oneday he got bored so a holiday he took
he travelled off abroad where other otters stay
to the land of canada so very far away.

headed for the forest and the rivers near by
suddenly he heard another otter cry
ollie he got closer to take closer look
there the little otter he was firmly stuck.

he was in the river tangled in the ****
trying to break free very stuck indeed
ollie he jumped in as brave as brave can be
chewed away the **** and set the otter free.

otter he was happy he had got away
otter he thanked ollie they began to play
swimming in the river underneath the sun
happy and content having lots of fun.

ollie he was happy with is holiday
glad he saved his friend that was stuck that day
ollie he returned to his homeland shore
hoping maybe oneday he would see his friend once more
Ollie had an attraction to Molly
he though she was a cute dolly
Ollie said to his sweet Molly
you really send me off my trolley
jeffrey robin Feb 2014
The cat's  out of the bag

WE'RE  DOOMED!


On this mystic afternoon

••

Weaponized satellites in the skies

••

Tweeting love letters to
The hate

••

The cat's out of the bag

••

We just pretending that it ain't

••

The boot upon the face
The sword that dangles above our heads

••

Ain't no
"I love you"-s
Without faux pain

Only vague shadows on the walls

••

Eat THAT apple

Let go

The free FALL

Will take us to where

We

Gotta be
reisedvngill Apr 2015
You said you love me but I would not understand your situation.
How could I understand if all I can see is you going down to your self-destruction alone?
Bring me to your level of understanding,
let me explore your thoughts,
open the gate to your heart widely,
I am standing right in front of your wall, knocking on to the gate of your heart.
Let me in, let me show you how much I care about your beautiful being.
You are not alone, so do not shoo me away.
Me… too want to carry the burden you have been carrying.
I will go with you to Heaven, earth even hell, no matter what.
Please do not hide anything from me…
Just hold my hand, as long as I am with that tall figure for me to follow, that broad shoulders for me to cry on, that gentle heart for me to love, that man’s soul for me to adore, I will spare my whole life with you.
Ollie, I love you.
jeffrey robin Aug 2014
(  )
)      (
(       )
)        (
+
-----

tired ole world
The vainly proud wounded fellow travelers
Riding the waves of indecisiveness

To the harlot's den

:/:

LOVE !

used as the Shield -Impenetrable

LOVE !

the ****** tears
Pretensions of innocence

//

LOVE !

If there ' s any here

How would we know ?

//

Tired ole world

Wondering

What has happened to us all ?
jeffrey robin Jun 2014
///    ;;;
))))))))   \\      •    ((((      
<>

/  *   *   \
/\
/    \
:/:/:/:/:

Wild
(Free)

••

Will you dare ?

••

Love ?

••

See
All the children are crying

All the children
( every single one )

••

The warriors wander

Confused

••

The people are so
Listless

Sedated

Bemused

•••
••

It is all so

-------- out of shape ! ---------



Wild
( free )

Child

ESCAPE !



The warriors are willing

But you've got to awake !

You've got to show yourself

As unafraid

And ready to do

What's got to be done
Tommy Johnson Jan 2015
You and I are going to settle this score
Now that you've abandoned your special snowflake campaign
And overcome your Stockholm Syndrome

A dynasty has been created
The snowball's chance begins to take effect

The short order cook has taken a tall order
A citrus feast for a ship of marauders
To prevent scurvy

The  maitre d' disarmed them at the door
And allowed them to infiltrate the dining hall

The captain sat and twiddled his thumbs while his crew cut loose

The first mate drank fire water and shot it out of his nose

The quarter master ordered some fiddlesticks served on door glass

The boatswain ordered the insemination of a cow so he could eat the cow and all of its offspring
It was his first day eating meat again
He remembered his vegan salad days

The carpenter and ****** constructed a shrine of after dinner mints
And conducted a seance to talk to their old crew mate, Black eyed Ollie

He squandered his life searching the sea for a doctor to restore his sight
They planned to revive him and allow his spirit to possess one of them

And sure enough Black eyed Ollie entered the ******'s body and they took turns controlling the fleshy vessel
Black eyed Ollie got every day of the week that ended in "Y" and the  ****** got the rest

The filching crew of blighters finished their meal and went on their way
They left quite a tip
"Actions speak louder than words and money talks too
Yet talk is cheap
But time is money
So every burning second counts
Then let's freeze time
Take action and buy all the talk at whole sale price
And sell it at retail price"

So pay up man, I told you working here would be interesting
there was once an otter Ollie was his name

he loved to do graffiti and sign it with his name

he would travel round for some where he could spray

then began to paint as he sprayed away.



drawing many pictures of many different things

especially the eagle with its great big wings

he like to do a mural so he could fill the wall

doing all the background his favourite thing of all



he used lots of colors to make his paintings bright

when the people saw them it filled them with delight

ollie he just loved it as they began to smile

knowing that is painting is really all worthwhile
Maple Mathers Feb 2016
Just a Game. . .

In the comfortable stockade of my mind
Hide and seek cannot be won
Tip­toe away and find a hollow,
The solitary spot
Slipping between turmoil
Festering in alcoves
Always waiting; back tensed,
Adrenalin sheathing the silence
If I remain undetected
Perhaps the seeker will ease off,
Forget the ollie ollie in comfree
Leave me stowed away.
Much later, I could creep into safety
Call a truce, change spots...
Yet unmarred, the same old rules;
Vicious whispers that ask of unknown.
Meaningful glances and gritted teeth,
The shock of lush green eyes chasing down memory lane.
Wake up, Maple. Wake up.
But I wouldn’t, and it didn’t matter.
Because the stabbing whispers would continue inside;
Dueling emotions I long ago left at bay.
Reside there, waiting.
Counting.
Watching.

*Ready or not,
Here
We
Come.
(All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016.)
Now Ollie was a clever Owl
who knew a thing or two
but his answer yet to anything
was just a twit awhoo
this clever two part retort
he posted liberally
just sounds like a owl a hooting
to those brainally free
just ask him for a answer
for a crossword yet to fit
and the total of the question
is equal to a twit
you say that's not a answer
and you need another clue
we can tell what the Twit stands for
the Twit it stands for you
Hillary B Apr 2018
I, like any normal human
keep a list of future names
I started it when I was young
then it was Landon and Ashlynn
kids I knew from school
written in gel glitter pen
in bright pink hues

my list is sorted alphabetically
genders separated as well
it’s followed me from Lisa Frank diaries
to pdfs files
sometimes I add to it often
other times I leave it alone

my list is heavily masculine
I'm not quite sure why
I like boys named Max and Marlon
I like Oskar and Gale too
I have a thing for Old English names
like Arthur and Holden
just to name a few
my boyfriend prefers Ash or Astrid
I like those as well
but, my favorite name is Olin
with one or two L's

I discovered this name on a lost blanket
draped over a fence post by the bay
I'd call him Ollie for fun
Ollie Ollie Oxen free! We’d play
he'd have red hair and freckles
I’d knit him many things
I'd sing him to sleep at night
I'd bake him lots of treats
when he cries I'd hold him tight
whisper that everything is alright

tests continue to be ordered
blood, ultrasounds, and more
results are coming forward
I refuse to see the score
It’s the very thing I’m dreading
I worry that it’s true
seems this list is fruitless
seems I am too
Maple Mathers Feb 2016
When I was six, my grandmother enrolled me in ballet class.

     This choice was the first of many attempts to negate my tomboyish nature. Perhaps, she’d hoped that instead of collecting insects and cutting apart Barbie dolls, the pirouettes and glitzy attire might spin me. I was spun, eventually, but that had nothing to do with dance.

     Blame it on my peers; blame it on the tutus. Truth be told, my time was generally spent out of sight; but I got my kicks sneaking a reptiles home, playing with dinosaurs - never dolls, or - of course - taming earwigs. Alone.

     I don’t remember the classes, or the other little girls. In fact, the sole (no pun intended) impression left behind by those dance classes was why they'd end.
It was to be my first recital. The whole class had been coaxed into flashy leotards and uncomfortable tights. We’d been instructed to skip in a single file line onto the stage, which catalyzed my predicament, as I hadn’t a clue about the routine.

     As the girl preceding me danced into view, I floundered in terror – my turn had arrived. I fumbled along in her wake, passing the curtain and reaching the stage.

     The stage!

     An arena of ruthless lights, unveiling my anonymity. I faltered in terror, registering the audience registering me. How vast the auditorium looked against my tiny body! Betrayed by those blinding stage lights, I cowered at the mercy of the whole world.

     The instructor, a faceless female, was showing whose boss as girls began skipping around me.

    And yet, there I stood. Petrified that moving forward negated any hope of escape. My proximity to the curtain merited two options... the bright side of the curtains, which would soon claim everyone else in the vicinity, or the dark. I engaged in a mental game of Tug-a-war that lasted all of about half a second.

     The dark curtains won.

     So, dodging around the obnoxious ballerinas, I descended back into safety. It mattered not where I went, as long as I put distance between myself and the audience. Distance between myself, and detection.

     At some point, I discovered a backstage crevice, in which darkness sheathed me. For, even at five, I understood dark and safety to be synonyms.

     So, I crawled inside, and I hid.

     I don’t remember who went seeking. Nor, do I know who found me. Nobody is a possibility; it was an “Ollie, Ollie, Oxen Free” forfeit, perhaps. A rule that defeats the point of its own game. For at six, I was young enough to obey that “come out, come out, wherever you are” nonsense. But, such rules were dropkicked long ago.

     For, your existence – dear hide-and-seek – all but defines me. This game, that darkness, possesses my psyche.

     Some days, I ponder the uncertainty of memories. Vexed, for where memory dies, illusions are born. Illusions romanticizing reality – a reality in which I never came out, lost and unfound, a reality in which I’ll never come out, out, wherever I am. Hidden beneath the darkness.

     For, in truth, I have been hiding ever since.
(All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016)

Excerpt from my novel, Pretense.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2016
they never tell you about the seagulls and the pigeons, do they?
sure sure, they have the bees and the birds covered,
your #mama and your #papa - you overheard them doing the
piston orchestra and said: the sort of onomatopoeia that
sounds just like you, that silences the sort of: just like you.
but why not listen with covert  benignant anticipation -
i did think English was a rotten
tongue, but i think French is worse...
                                                        ­  endear you? sure:
                 they put these additions
to the encoding, but never, ever explain how it works...
if dialectical is gone then diacritical
remains...
                                          ­                               and it's there,
a pink ostrich doing the go-g'ah dance
imbecile pigeon: neck a strut and half
by half nearly hanging off a desecrated body that's in limbo
on the scaffold where Charles I met his first cousin ******
thanks to Ollie Cromwell.... none of the Versailles
i have you know....
                            there should be a Greek
                   Kn                  symbol....
             not K as in potassium... something more.
and i'd never hear ****** jesus' i'm
the mountain                            on the radio,
thank you advertisement.
               but that thing about Jihadist French?
well... it's here,
                               i thought the English
were bad with not using diacritical marks,
second in command? diacritics,
first in command? dialectics?
abandon the first, the second is hyenas' razor
sharp: bite and smile at the same time.
           no, i'm not joking...
i'm choking you.
                             this is what the Jihadist in France
saw...
                            main example? how diacritical marks
**** around the syllable laws...
             bypass them straight... past them...
             main example? they never teach this...
i was never taught this, i was taught this in
an anti-alphabet ruling - it's not atomic
(but it really is), hence it's compounded -
but it's really atomic,
               where are the ancient atomic scientists now?
nowhere.
                         all of this came from
a footnote from maldoror, by isidore ducasse -
i too thought about putting Uruguay on the map -
                    in the notes, the use of "accent",
yes, a revelation from on high -
                      look at the French, how they speak it:
aplatissement
                             apply diacritic revision
and cut off the excess: aplatissemą -
                             (humiliation) -
          if only the French, then only the French know
how to create dyslexia... excess spelling
where distinct phonetic units should exist -
they never teach you how diacritical marks change
the syllable cutting up, the butcher's or forensic's inquiry -
                 they never teach you the use of diacritical
marks like they might teach you punctuation markings -
                  they never do the science of liberated pause -
liberated i.e. understood -
                                    you're just given the fudge
and told... CHEW! CHEW! CHEW!
                                    they never tell you how to
cut-up words as they should be cut up..
                                   never did they say
colon = umlaut over u and means prolonged
   i.e. uu          or omega
                                        because never was the
current aesthetic questioned...
                             Dictator Blue, adherent of
the dictionary bible said: already said, rex, rex, ego rex.
                    but there's this thing going on
from above - on high -
                           and all they want is to understand...
                  even i would hate to be left out...
still from the notes from the book maldoror -
                s'arrêter à             (to dwell on /
                                     stress) -
ê (circumflex) is like the grave approach -
                 the circumflex is binding -
            i.e. the -er is optional, but a necessary
aesthetic for the form to be written, but not said -
meaning the sound units disappear -
                  hands on the joints, a book is closed -
ê represents this: s'arrêt
                                                         ­  (-er) -
                   saret -
                                            ugly, isn't it?
well, if you wrote             saret
                rather than      s'arrêter               you wouldn't
be looking at the Louvre -                again, even without
diacritical marks you don't say     Louvré -
                                          but Loùvre -
               so the ê
                                     binds the r and t
   and makes                  the   -er obsolete -
which is why French is worse than English:
it utilises diacritical marks
                                       for odd syllable intakes
and other surgeon oddities -
    to learn the proper use of diacritics (using French
as a canvas) is to learn syllables again, and again...
all over again... one might say:
at least the English do not use diacritical markings
and subconsciously are so thoroughly
accommodating to alien cultures...
                       and that's justifiable, they are the fathers
of globalisation... they use phonetic encoding
without diacritical markings to enshrine
a Bangladeshi English, as much as a German English...
   they are the propagators of accents -
even the Scots are speaking proudly about the
matter of fact...
                            so indeed, diacritical marks
are not only concerns for aesthetic reasons,
but is pronunciation markings within words,
                          not between words:
intra                     v.                inter                  (wording);
they never teach you how to extend a sentence
with a semi-colon (;), because they only managed
to tell you that means wink: ;) -
                          in the same way that they didn't tell
you that a colon is (a) making a list, but also
       (b) an emphasis - the alternative to italics.
they didn't! i know they didn't because they didn't
teach me this!             i had to learn it myself!
              which is why i find diacritics so fascinating
that dialectics and its abandonment can rot in hell...
at least i don't have to deal with nuanced opinions
or the discussion or the non-discussion of
                 opinions...
                                       i can look at something
and see the blatant pronunciation dynamics at work...
            not between words, but inside words...
French is the best to investigate...
                        maybe that's why the Jihadists are
attacking France, from sheer frustration at not being
given access to the cordiality of speech when
settling into their envisioned Caliphate misnomer -
                    but diacritical marks are precisely that:
and when amateurs teach they never bother explaining
the atoms, they just say: turkey! gobble up that frying pan!
and you do! you are never given the most basic units,
you're never told what the time-span between a
full dot (.) and a semi-colon (;) is...
                                        ****: you can run a mile or
100 metres in under 10 seconds, but when it comes
to an aesthetic pause you're told to start
the hyperventilation sequence or blame it on asthma
rather than
                                 what's actually the archaeology of
rhetoric - these are rhetorical symbols...
                                   and that's the foremost question
that needs a debate: how to make rhetorical puncture
symbols into aesthetic symbols -
                   how to steal from rhetoric and do a Robin
Hood for aesthetic? primarily because there are
punctuation signs above letters, or below letters -
                   < (more than)
                                 > (less than)
      and the circumflex and caron -
                                         tilde
  or approx. 5                              i.e. ~5...
            and the millionth additive to make decimals
shake...
                                you never get told this...
if i was told the basics of diacritical markings enabling
a smoother syllable dissection i'd probably speak German
fluently...
                       when i should have been given crumb-like
understanding of a language, i was given a whole
loaf of bread, for ***** sake; that ain't cool -
          teach me language from the basics,
on the promise of teaching me a language like i might
be taught penguin talk: on the promise of
an onomatopoeia deciphering: it sounds like this...
                   : + u = oo             onomatopoeia e.g.:
                       pool                    /                  pull -
yes, the quiet literal representation -
  but English can be ***** by this appropriation -
not utilising diacritical marks makes certain words
sound alike but be spelled differently,
            via the same methodology extending into
certain letters being pronounced as entire words;
e.g.                   why                                  &             y.
reason? missing diacritical marks.
             oh, and the most blatant form of Judaism
  given              y               h                    w               h
                   without Abraham, without Moses,
without circumcision         without Jesus...
                                                               choice is yours.
Grizzo Mar 2015
The sun came in
from the window behind
and as it touched his face
for the first time

he slowly opened his eyes, smacking
his lips and we

saw each other for the first time.
In that moment,

I saw God,
naked,
embarrassed like Adam,
cheeks flushed like Eve.

The sun glistened off vernix, and he
stared up at me, smelling like her.

I watched the world change, empires toppled, islands sunk,
transitioning from one age into another. I saw dreams
sparkle like firecrackers at midnight.

The lies I’ve taught myself to believe
would never be good enough
for him.

I kissed his forehead,
she smiled,
and God just stood there,
naked and blushing.
The first time I held my son
Carolyne McNabb Aug 2016
I hurt myself today...
Johnny Cash, he summed it up so well.
I hurt myself today
to see if I can still feel
anything other than sadness when
I fail.

What have I become?
Failure.
Everywhere, everything I do turns to ash.
I hurt myself today, my son.
You can ask Johnny Cash yourself up there
in heaven where you are.

I still think about the day I lost you.
Waking up in a pool of blood,
it wasn't long before I realized.
Then the tears began
and reason ended too.
It was a miscarriage, my son.

You were my second chance.
Now you've been ripped away from me.
What do I have left? Where can I stand?

I hurt myself today.
Missing you is all I feel.
Johnny Cash said it all,
And knew pain all too well.

It hurts so much to live
without my baby here.
Please forgive...
Please forgive me but
I have to let you go.
It's the only way I can survive.
I miss you, I need you.
But I have to live for you too.

I hurt myself today,
but I'm going to get better, baby,
I promise you that.
Sleep sweetly, my love,
and I'll see you again someday.

       Love,
       Mommy
Rest in peace, Oliver Sparrow.
Sleep sweetly, baby.
Sofia Von Jul 2014
Bewitched in the bass
Too much tail ta chase
Say he like tha way i slurp, no straw
Just Raw, Joint-click-lighter-flick
herb's tha word
mums out for the night slammin her beau just like the dough
to my room,
pop a shroom in Cancún
**** the doom of that mother ****** test.
due in a few
This ***** slew molly be on me
Pop an ollie
flip the switch bae
lets ditch this day and ****
like its flowin poetry SLAM
thighs thunder for dat lightning ****.
Crocs...
Imma bring that **** back.

We've seized this moment by storm
Now Lets tear the walls down
Rage
Pillage
Prosper
Party
This land is our land
Now let your freedom flag fly
Lets get higher than the sky
And cry cuz nothing tastes like forever

Baby's powder makes the urking voice louder to DO SOMETHING instead of this hollow nothing
I stuff with stories and dress in Lubriderm
Cuz that ***** soft, baked
this cake ain't delicious
Josie Nov 2017
Ollie the neighbor's cat peers in my window
Looking for love and a pet
On a cold autumn day
He mingles in the leaves
I wonder what tale he weaves
As he rubs on me
He believes
He owns me
Like a thief
He steals hearts
Like we are sweethearts
Ollie is a always hanging around my patio. He is a sweet cat.
little ollie otter decided he would go
to the local village to see a circus show
he saw the great big tent big and very wide
ollie got his ticket and sat down inside.

then the clowns came out to do there favourite thing
making people laugh running round the ring
followed by trapeze swinging two and fro
people doing tricks as through the air they go.

then the lions came  they began to roar
in a great big cage running round the floor
jumping through big hoops that were set alight
as flames began to burn burning very bright.

ollie he was happy with all things he saw
and vowed to go again when the circus came one more
Pandora dO Jul 2012
An ache in my chest
tells me that this is real.
The tears on my cheeks
show what I feel.

Somehow it seems
this pain will never end.
I'd never thought
I would lose a friend.

You were here with me
for fourteen amazing years.
I will remember you always,
with smiles and with tears.

Smiles for the fun we shared,
and tears because I miss you.
It's never gonna be the same.
Tuesday, July 3rd 2012. For our sweet dog.
Photos on my tumblr.
there was once an otter Ollie was his name

he loved to do graffiti and sign it with his name

he would travel round for some where he could spray

then began to paint as he sprayed away.



drawing many pictures of many different things

especially the eagle with its great big wings

he like to do a mural so he could fill the wall

doing all the background his favourite thing of all



he used lots of colors to make his paintings bright

when the people saw them it filled them with delight

ollie he just loved it as they began to smile

knowing that is painting is really all worthwhile
Charlie Chaplin, set the pace
Buster Keaton, old stone face
Groucho and the brothers Marx
Margaret Dumont for some sparks
Harold Lloyd, The Brothers Ritz
Did I mention Zazu Pitts?
Stan and Ollie, Keystone Cops
Chases that just wouldn't stop
The Stooges, Larry, Curly, Moe
and then theres Shemp and Curly Joe
Bing and Bob, and Dean and Jerry
Two could sing, while two made merry
Bud and Lou and who's on first?
Harry Langdon and Charlie Chase
I think who is on first base
Mabel Normand and Mack Swain
Always tied before the train
Pie fights, slapstick in black and white
This was when we laughed all night
Mack Sennet, Roach, and Our Gang
Spanky and Alfalfa sang
Words were twisted, spun and turned
People splashed and others burned
Remember back to days of yore
To when they had you on the floor
Rembember Baby Rose Marie
She started at the age of three
Many more could make the list
For many I know that I missed
Make 'em laugh and take a pie
Get sprayed with seltzer in the eye
Go and watch their films again
So comedy will always reign
Thank you to the funny folk
Who taught us how to take a joke....
David Jin Mar 2014
The loudest sounds most kids hear on a school day
are lockers slamming, or maybe the late bell tone
I hear all of those, but the loudest sounds by far
are those created by the lacrosse team
when they beat the **** out of me
every day,
after 8th hour, at the intersection of nerd street and **** avenue

The attacks were formulaic, more complex than Pythagoras
but simpler than Newton’s Binomial Theorem;
Two would tackle me, one would pin me down,
and the rest would kick me around as if it were soccer tryouts
and I was nothing more than a ball
and regardless of whether you derived or integrated this equation
you always got the same solution
me ******, and them ****** happy

I would go home bawling; so would they
but instead of tears they dropped floaters
And I had a rep as the kid with a concussion before the season even began

I was born five pounds tops, with no biceps whatsoever
and as I grew my arms didn’t follow
making me as clear a target as a corpsman in World War 2
To my doc’s urging I drank milk religiously
but that didn’t do **** when I tangled with Darren Shields and his Air Jordans on 4th and eternity
Instead of my ankles however, he broke my ribs; 6 of em’
Told me he’d **** me if I ratted
So I told the mother I fell off my skateboard
Because I didn’t want a rematch with Muhammad Ollie

I considered hitting the off switch on my life
at least three times a week
but I didn’t know how to tie a noose,
didn’t know where my dad’s shotgun was
and I wasn’t ballsy enough to try a steak knife
Which is ironic because if I was brave enough for that
none of this may have happened
I’ll even admit I liked to daydream about building
and bringing a bomb to school by backpack
getting revenge by leaving a crater
where my class was at

And though the bible said suicide was cowardly
I was too cowardly for suicide
So I reasoned that if I got into college out of state
it would be worth a couple more years
of broken bones, ***** dousings, and concussions
So I did nothing


Fast forward eight years
I gained two feet in height
Armanis replace my Reeboks
a multinational corporation, my 4.0’s
I’ve made the covers of Fortune and GQ,
my speed-dial list comprises of more celebrities than actual friends
my annual salary consists of two significant numbers
followed by double-digit zeroes

When I’m not working overtime I spend my days
pulling beautiful women and enjoying the pleasures
that God gave us
Every time I yank my shirt off, each girl gives me the
same wide-eyed expression and unspoken question
regarding the cruel scars all over my body,
to the point where I resort to answering every time with,
“I played lacrosse in high school.”

And I have never forgotten about high school
But Darren Shields has, and fate has him working several floors down
He HAS forgotten
He has forgotten me, my face, my voice when I pleaded for mercy
But I have not forgotten him
Nor have I forgotten my hatred
Nor my fear

I could hurt him
I could fire him with contempt
or disgrace him publicly
or to the very least, remind him of the good old days
and make him feel like the **** he was
But I don’t; I won’t

He must wonder why I struggle
to look him in the eye
or shudder when he cheerfully claps me
on the shoulder every morning  
As I am still haunted by them old days

And despite how I now spend my life in a huge office
surrounded by wealth, women,
and mostly absolute silence
I can still hear the sounds of lockers slamming,
of late bell tones
But loudest of all, I hear the sound of my body breaking
Thanks to Darren Shields on 4th and eternity
Entirely fictatious poem, no references to people I know. If you are reading this, try to imagine someone is presenting it as a slam poem, you know?
Rocket Mar 2014
I learned how to ollie on my skateboard today
(but I wish you also would have taught me

what your lips feel like

against mine)
B L Costello Jul 2019
A snob and a guy,
They should have been kin,
A scholar and a pedestrian,
An unlikely pair,
Two of the best!,
Indeed!
It was, "another fine mess!",
"Fine"-"Indeed"!
I don't know why.....
I loved it when the skinny one cried!
Even better...(I'm not so bad)
I love it when the fat guy got mad!
Together was genius,
Alone only half,
I am glad they met and made me laugh
©B L Costello 2019
An unlikely couple.  Stan was from a theater family, and Ollie was just a very funny man who liked to sing.  Stan was Charlie Chaplin's stunt double.  He wanted to Charlie.....he actually protested being part of this team.  I am so glad he became Laurel and Hardy.
john oconnell Aug 2010
2 and 2 is irrelevant,
3's and 4's are ridiculous -
feed your furry bears,
your Ollie Elephants and quack-quack ducks!

They are days
spent in pure learning,
though you may not know it;

no fractions, A-bomb formulas
or historical disorientations -
politics and religion
are mingled into one and nothing.
HanaMarae Nov 2019
I think I believed in true love for a second
but it was in a land of a dream
a dream that seemed so unreal
that it was true
that you loved me and I loved you

But that land was unreal
in a dream
where life
didn't exist
because
It hadn't stared yet
for it to be real
but the feelings
were

So for that moment
where
our hearts collide
aligned
satisfied
at your side
it was true
but with you
I recall for a moment
you're near
I feel it too
you're dear
but that feeling
-will never go away
for I loved you
and you truly loved me
for that time being
at my side seeing
there was no one else
but you
and me
A love from a land of a dream
-2016
Sethnicity May 2015
How
I retry
Backside Pen Slide
Lyrics spirits quips glide
Elbows Shins Blood Blot Dried
When Wind Blows Wicked Words Rise
Idioms Soul Grind Infinite rails Applied
Thoughts Ollie Pop Manual quill Pipe bomb
Ultra Stick Ink Drips 360 Plot Shov-it Twist
Push Kick I Pedal Prose Skate Tricks, Morphemes Stick.
Perpetual Pendulums Prop People to Place Peckers in Potato Grits

Times Up!
this is how I land A "10 Set" Bomb.
Experimenting with new structures.
Kick-Flip to Fakie Lyrical 180.
B Elizabeth G Apr 2020
Three Little Women were best friends from the start,

Even though they were two and four years apart.

Golden Brown locks, all three in a row,

All dressed alike, from their head to their toes.



The oldest was protective, a mothers right hand.

Next was a gentle wild child always in dreamland.

Last was the one who was giggly and small,

And looked up to her sisters that broke her every fall.



Three Little Women at play in grassy meadows.

A secret garden they made with dirt covered knees and elbows.

Bare foot in jeans is how they’d always be found,

Just happy to have the others old hand-me down.



Fireflies caught at dusk in a jar,

Their faces aglow as they wished upon a star.

They swung on their swings and sat down for tea,

And ran to the mailbox singing “Ollie, Ollie, Oxen Free”.



Three Little Women would lay awake at night,

Telling stories and secrets in the glow of a night-light.

A room they did share with two big bunk beds,

And prayers said together before they’d rest their sweet heads.



Knick-knacks they’d exchange after doing their chores.

Makeovers and dress up were their favorites for sure.

American Girl Dolls, Barbie’s, and dresses,

Six tiny hands together making messes.



Three Little Women are little no longer,

All grown up and a friendship much stronger.

One day they will have little women of their own,

And once again they can enjoy what they once had outgrown.



Forever they will remain each other’s best friends,

Until their time together here on earth ends.

Nothing can shatter a bond so pure and true,

Sisters who love each other more than most sisters do.
Micheal Bevan Sep 2010
I remember when I was a potato,
About to die
By the fry-
-ing pan,
And that was the devious,
Devilish,
Fiendish,
Plan.

They wanted me
Like lust from their bellies,
Their pillow lint belly buttons
Begged for my meat,
Calling for my ****
By boiling, rolling, heat.

I did what I could,
With my potato eye!
I rolled like Ollie
Away from the fry!

Went off the counter
Landed with a smack,
Swore to my potato skin
That I ain't going back!

I rolled across the floor
Right under their nose!
A small child saw me
Said to his ma,
"Mr.potato head, there he goes!"

I soldiered on,
Got dirt in my eye!
But swore to myself,
Never the fry!

So I was near the door
Rolling a lopsided way,
I could see the light,
The sweet light of day!

I tried to roll faster
And tunnel sighted my eye,
I was getting so close
I was screaming "Goodbye!"

Then between the counter and door,
A distance I mistook,
Out went the sun,
And I was squished, underfoot.

— The End —