Remini also reveals in the book that Nicole Kidman’s adopted children Bella and Connor only spoke to their Australian mother when forced to.

The New York Daily Newsobtained a copy of Remini’s exposé, Troublemaker: Surviving Hollywood and Scientology. In the book, Remini claims that Suri, who was then seven months old, could be heard crying throughout the pre-wedding dinner.

Remini writes she went to see what was going on, only to find Cruise’s sister and an assistant staring at the child as she screamed on the floor.

Remini says the women were staring at the child as if she was [Scientology founder] “L. Ron Hubbard incarnate”.

Remini also writes about Bella and Connor Cruise’s strained relationship with Nicole Kidman. Sharing a ride to the airport with the then-teenagers after Cruise and Holmes’ wedding, Remini asked the two if they’d seen Kidman.

“Not if I have a choice,” said Bella, according to the book. “Our mom is a f*ing SP.”

(Within Scientology, SP is reportedly a Suppressed Person and designated enemy.)

Remini says that Cruise and Holmes’ lavish nuptials at Odescalchi Castle in Italy was the beginning of the end of her involvement in Scientology. Prior to the 2006 ceremony, Remini — whose mother and stepfather were Scientologists — spent 30 years in the controversial religion and donated US$2.5 million ($3.5 million).

But Cruise and Holmes’ wedding reportedly pushed the actor over the edge.

In the book, Remini recounts how she finally convinced the women in the bathroom to pick up Suri and give her a bottle of warm milk.

Remini reckons her actions infuriated Cruise, and she was then treated like an outcast for speaking up. Tensions reportedly flared as church workers tried to separate Remini from close friend, Jennifer Lopez. Lopez was the daughter of a Scientologist, and the church hoped to use the Cruise wedding to recruit her to the cause. According to the book, Cruise reportedly even pressured Remini to invite longtime friend Lopez and husband Marc Anthony.

When Remini failed to co-operate, she writes that she was very publicly snubbed in the reception line by the famous couple as punishment.

The actor also describes in the book how Cruise was left at the altar for 20 minutes, waiting for Homes to show up.

As the 150 guests grew increasingly uncomfortable, Lopez whispered to Remini, “Do you think Katie is coming?”

Remini recalled the reception as being like a high school dance filled with amorous teenagers.

She writes that Norman Starkey, the Scientologist who performed the wedding ceremony, was “******* Brooke Shields on the dance floor”.

Remini was also outraged to see Scientology’s married Chairman David Miscavige treating his assistant as if they were on a date.

And she reported the high-level Scientologists attached to Cruise and Holmes, Tommy Davis and Jessica Feshbach, “were all over each other” at the festivities.

The two later divorced their spouses and married.

Remini also revealed that Cruise had seemingly replaced Hubbard as the church’s new figurehead. “Tom Cruise seems to be running our church,” she said.

After the event, Remini was summoned to appear at Scientology headquarters in Clearwater, Florida, to explain her wedding behaviour, with the most damning accusation made by Holmes herself.

In a report so punctuated with exclamation marks that it looked liked it was “written by a seventh grader,” Holmes contended that Remini’s wedding behaviour “disturbed me greatly. [She] made the party all about herself.”

Holmes recently apologised to Remini in a statement saying: “I regret having upset Leah in the past and wish her only the best in the future.”

After months of interrogation and a US$300,000 ($420,000) bill for the “auditing,” Remini was forced to launch an apology campaign.

She sent expensive gifts to all the important guests, including director JJ Abrams, who were reportedly upset by her attitude.

Remini also apologised to Kevin Huvane, Cruise’s powerful agent who also represents the likes of Julia Roberts, Meryl Streep and Jennifer Aniston.

She called to personally apologise after hearing that he was telling others how “disgusting” her behaviour was.

Remini considered leaving Scientology at the time, but didn’t as it would have meant cutting ties with her mother, stepfather and the many friends central to her life since joining the church as a teenager. Ultimately, Remini’s family would also leave the church alongside her.

After Holmes left Cruise in 2012, Remini aggressively ended her relationship with Scientology a year later by filing a missing persons report on Scientology boss David Miscavige’s wife.

In Going Clear, Lawrence Wright’s damning HBO documentary on Scientology, he dates Shelley Miscavige’s disappearance from public view to 2006.

Los Angeles police closed the case with a statement that Remini’s report was “unfounded”.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses

They were happy
For the first time in their lives
A window of joy
An instance of hope
She was so beautiful
A baby girl
But happiness is a kind of sorrow in itself
Nothing in life is free
The mother was bleeding
Her life slowly ebbing away,
slipping through her fingers
she paid for her daughter’s life
with her own
they could have saved her
she could have raised her child
but there was no blood

He had lived this far
only by a miracle
all those years of chemotherapy
slowly decaying his body
his spirit, willing
his flesh, so weak
since birth
his own body killing itself
leaukimia had taken its toll
they said he had lived too long
that he was a fighter
eight years old
but he needed the transfusion
to live eight more
he could have lived longer
he could have had
his first date
his first dance
his first kiss
he could have walked down the aisle
with the love of his life
he could have known life, love and happiness
before he knew death
he could have known the joy of bringing up his children
of watching his grand children grow
but now he can’t
he sits in a hospital bed , surrounded by those who love him
awaiting his fate
for there was no blood

an unborn baby
getting ready to enter this world
this beautiful world
not knowing how much
sorrow his coming brings
his mother sheds tears
though not of joy
it was either him or her
a mother forced to decide
the life of her child
or that of herself
but there was a slim chance
he could survive
they had to operate
she agreed.
The operation
A success
The baby was saved
....well almost saved
they tried every corner
looking, searching
hospitals, dispensaries
they even appealed to schools
but they got the same answer
his whole life ahead of him
now lay behind him
he was six months old
prematurely born
pre maturely dying
he could have lived
but there was no blood

They were to wed in two weeks
Exchange vows
Walk down the aisle
Sound familiar
But war came up
He went to fight for his country
To keep her safe
She remained
Praying each day for his return
Then they brought back his body
Mortar fire, shrapnel
had shredded his flesh beyond hope
They had to amputate his leg
He bled to death
They could have saved him
She walks down the aisle
But as a widow not a bride
A dirge instead of the wedding march
Haunts her steps
She carries lilies instead of roses
Black-clad instead of white.
The brightes of days turned to
a night as dark as midnight’s face
the vows she would have said
had been fulfiled
till death did them part.
He could have been by her side
Kissing her
Watching as she threw the bouqet
Watching as their first child learned to walk, ride a bicycle
As their first child got married
They could have sp[ent the rest of their lives
Together as they ought to have been
But there was no blood

We preach water and drink wine
we excpect to be saved
when we refuse to save others
we take on the role of executioner
executioner of the innocent
i’m afraid, it will hurt, i don’t have enough
i can’t do it, i’m too old
We **** the innocent with our decision
We **** our future, our hope, our dreams
We **** those we love

You say none of these apply to you
Then Let me dash your dream world
Your fantasy, your bubble that you call life
Let me dash them on the jagged teeth of reality

Your brother lies dying in an ambulance
A knife sticking out of his heart
He has been mugged
Your father lies, dying, after a heart bypass operation
His only chance of life becoming one of the many for death.
Your mother lies sick in a hospital bed
Anaemic and slowly slipping away
Age caught up with  her
Your sister lies in a clinic
An accident cut a major blood vessel
She is losing her life
You could have saved them all
But you didn’t
Maybe you still  can
Or maybe its too late
Did i forget to mention
You lie in the bed next to your mother
Wishing, hoping, praying for life
Weak from a car crash
You have lost the very blood you refused to give
The very blood you wish could save the lives of your loved ones
The doctor walks in
Clip board in hand.
What do you think he will say.

What will your ending be.
You may
Choose your destiny
Or choose your death
But remember,
Greater love hath no man
Than to lay down his life for a friend
How much more if it were a stranger.

origionallity spfigionallity
complicated mess
to come up with something new
and so unlike the rest
it may be so
or seem impossible
even when giving your best
but perhaps like me
today you'll see
i write this all in jest

F
A
T
H
E
R
                       WHAT
           D
           O
           E
           S

THIS

                                                        ­  WORD

MEAN?



IT MEANS

           CHALLENGE

STRENGTH

                               C O N N E C T I O N
                                                       H
                                                       R
                                                       O
                                                       U
                                                       G
                                                       H

LOVE



                                       BUT
                                    NOT
                     ­            LIKE
                              MOTHERS
                      ­           LOVE
                          

                              ­                       DAD
                                                     LOVE
IS

            DIFFERENT



HARDER                                          ­TO

                                  SP
                        ­         OT

CONTAINED

                               C O N T
                                           A
                                    G     I
                                    N I N

HARDER

                                       LIKE
                                       A
                                       WALL


BUT THERE  N O N E  T H E  L E S S

like a flowing river

THAT LEADS TO THE SEA

         TO THE ANCESTORS

                   TO THE  S O U L

                            OF A MAN

I presse not to the Quire, nor dare I greet
The holy Place with my unhallow’d feet:
My unwasht Muse pollutes not things Divine,
Nor mingles her prophaner notes with thine;
Here, humbly at the Porch, she listning stayes,
And with glad eares ***** in thy Sacred Layes.
So, devout Penitents of old were wont,
Some without doore, and some beneath the Font,
To stand and heare the Churches Liturgies,
Yet not assist the solemne Exercise.
Sufficeth her, that she a Lay-place gaine,
To trim thy Vestments, or but beare thy traine:
Though nor in Tune, nor Wing, She reach thy Larke,
Her Lyricke feet may dance before the Arke.
Who knowes, but that Her wandring eyes, that run
Now hunting Glow-wormes, may adore the Sun.
A pure Flame may, shot by Almighty Power
Into my brest, the earthy flame devoure:
My Eyes, in Penitentiall dew may steepe
That bryne, which they for sensuall love did weepe:
So (though ‘gainst Natures course) fire may be quencht
With fire, and water be with water drencht.
Perhaps, my restlesse Soule, tyr’d with pursuit
Of mortall beautie, seeking without fruit
Contentment there; which hath not, when enjoy’d,
Quencht all her thirst, nor satisfi’d, though cloy’d;
Weary of her vaine search below, above
In the first Faire may find th’ immortall Love.
Prompted by thy Example then, no more
In moulds of Clay will I my God adore;
But teare those Idols from my Heart, and Write
What his blest Sp’rit, not fond Love, shall endite.
Then, I no more shall court the Verdant Bay,
But the dry leavelesse Trunk on Golgotha:
And rather strive to gaine from thence one Thorne,
Then all the flourishing Wreathes by Laureats worne.

dark storms rising
as electricity
crackles up my spine
in ascent of moonspell
as I trip through
            my own wires
                 my inner sense
                     of flesh
      reverberating  
in waves of
magnetic fireworks
      and suddenly
I am spinning
     my fibers
all splayed out                
for you to see
a cartographer
of emotion
mapping your veins
               and arteries
and we hold citizenship
of a private inner land
a country              
    that we share
as we into light expand
my inner goddess in tune
with your
molecules and carbon
your cells rushing like
                a river
into my estuary
in landscapes of longing
blissfully unaware
but for our souls'
secret language of
pumping blood and fire
from here, it's uncharted
but for the rhythms
                   of desire

invisible to the naked eye,
we exquisitely penetrate
the surface
descend into the
depths of bones
the most primal core
where lava licks
push spirit's will
            straight up to the fore
and I am the spark in
your most opaque rage
ready
to give it up
in dust and magic
as pulmonary exhale
flows the blood
and we dissipate , slowly
into uninhibited flood

Take me apart,
dark love
pulverize my limits
fly with me
to the opposite
of loneliness
where
    every
        millisecond
  breathes

grandeur—
starlight trickling
into sea; she nodded
beside me, gracefully.
she fell into never,
beside me.

some day, i'll see your face and
it won't be revulsion that bubbles out of my mouth.

someday, i'll see your face and
it won't be hatred banging against my skull.

someday, i'll see your face and
it won't be brokenness that i feel.

someday, i'll see your face and
nothing will happen.

sensSssssse_ d you
<before> i heard you [gasp]
<before >
i ^saw ^you
<before> i//just//knew you
were there
walk _ing by
{allstripes/greeneyes/purplehair;}
&how;¿come¿really
as》if
hundredsofmiles
thousandsofbodies
aren't 》enough
funny _ how
we-could-both-pretend
to| not| see|
the second. biggest. lie.
of them
all
ex {c} cept that
it didn't
mean. a. thing.

By AB , FA & SP


AB :
Living life on Roses to make a trip on the way to
Salvation,
I'm losing my head and my consciousness is
Shifting in and out of existence,
My mind is now gone,
I'm on my own,
On my lonesome,
It's the time of the month when my emotions
start to elevate,
What is there to love when it makes you put a
Gun to your head,
What is there to love when it rather abandons
You instead,
Making daily rounds for heartbreak,
I'm on round 16 and I'm still not turning over
In a grave,

FA:
Standiing tall...
Nothing is dragging me down
anymore.
No more insecurities  Learned how
to love myself Forgave my father and mother  
Apologized to everyone else.
Staying positive all the time And realizing
everything happens for a reason.
No longer blind,
I see the world differently.
........ I guess its true,
Demons have good in them too,

SP:
They put a gun to my head and said this was
the end But I laughed in their face and just
rose again  Because at that moment I realized
this where my life was meant to begin And all
the pain that coursed through my veins were
just meaningless distraction So allow me to just
detach these evil contraptions That were
created by the men who attempted to trap this
And by this I mean me  The beast that remains unseen  
Because he is living free in the land that
Was thought to be dream,
But no,
Positive energy is a real thing and it flows through
Me like something you wouldn't believe and with
That I end my meaningful rambling but before I
Go, allow me to reattach your sanity.

Masculinum Hyppeastrum,
monstrum;
the man eating
botanica,
the endlessly flowering plant,
had enough of me.

Went to sleep,
or worse,
he perished.

I must have said something nasty
about his size;
doesn't flower anymore,
all dried out,
doesn't do a thing,
his onion is weeping.

Christmas roses,
as I call the girls,
lost the will
to live.

All my,
previously green, flora
is pointing her leafless finger
at me.

I've done nothing,
that's the problem.
I forgot all about my green plants;

the environment is wrong,
there is too much acidity,
and that's my fault.

I will search
under the garden snow
for snow drops,
I left to themselves
two years
February,
my snow tears.

For colour,
I have lemons and limes,
green and yellow;
sitting on a traditionally,
blue, hand-painted
Chinese china platter.

River Yangtze
is still running through my mind.
Chai,

Lemon tea and lemonade.

~
Author Notes
Flowering plants from Bahia : Hyppeastrum sp.
From the 1970s, many plant novelties from Bahia
came to light with the expeditions carried out
by Howard Irwin and collaborators
of NYBG (USA) and by Raymond Harley
from RBG-Kew (UK). This provoked a renewal
of interest, among botanists, in the flora of Bahia

(3-1-07)

left cup runneth over/

right cup half empty/

if I add my left cup size to my right cup size what will I get/ DD + D = DDD/I've never been great at math/but this is no/miscalculation/

I am 36 DD confined to a 36 D bra/

(D)Disgorges over the underwire/

D--you flaccid beach ball/I wish I could reinflate you/part my mouth around your ******/and/
breathe/

no one can tell/unless I wear a tight bodice/then/you are/obnoxiously evident/

I am afraid of introducing you to my future boyfriend/will he still want to undress me/will he still want to make love to me/

will he still want to touch you/

you/

sea urch/in/the palm of my hand/

even I am hesitant to hold you close to me/

you/

strangulated bagpipe/

moulting pompom/ B-O-O-B/
what's that spell/
what's that spel/
what's that spe/
what's that sp/
what's that s/
what's that/

what is that/

what/

who are you/

you/

waning gibbous/

my metaphors wane, also/it turns out there are only so many euphemisms that can be assigned to an/ill-proportioned breast/

itsy bitsy titsy/

you make me/

sad/

you/

teardrop defying the laws of gravity/

or/
is it the laws of gravity that defy the teardrop/so that it never falls into/
place/

I've noticed only/beautiful/things/
fall/

shooting stars/

autumn/

my left *****

.
                                 I will
                           love my body
                        I will be more sp
                       ontaneous I will d
                        iscover new erge
                        nous zones I will
                        be more confide
                        nt on top I will g
                        et out of the bed
                        room more I will
                        become a blow-
                        job diva I will no
                        t be selfish I will
                        learn what I real
                        ly love I will spe
                        nd more serious
                        time with my va
                        gina I  will  stop
                        over   analyzing
       I will get to                know my G - spot
  I will play out   my     fantasies I will stop
  faking ******* I w    ill just kiss more ofte
  n I will stop saying       something feels    
    good when                        it doesn't

Oh my gosh... confession time.

When I was married and he was married--we were both married, get it? Anyway, I started working for him on projects. Pretty soon, I got the feeling that he was just making up reasons to hire me.

There was no mistaking the chemistry the first time we were alone in the elevator together. It was just the way he looked at me. He had boundaries, but something else in his eyes had me captivated. I went back to his place of business over and over to do more work.

Once, in a meeting with the project team, I sat next to him. I had my notepad in my lap and was taking notes. Someone said something and I asked him for clarification. What I got was his hand tracing a diagram on the notepad in my lap. The diagram ended up with his finger pointing in the direction my crotch--all because he was explaining "how things worked."

Pretty soon, he invited me to share, with he and his friends, a certain sport. Well, I tried it and really enjoyed it. Fell in love with the sport really. As a group we would go out every weekend. A couple of times he and I went alone. One of those times we were in the woods together, alone practicing this particular sport. Actually for climbing you always go out into the woods somewhere, so that's not out of the ordinary.

He wanted to boulder by himself for a while and I just didn't enjoy it. So (and this is summer time so we were dressed minimaly) he takes off his shirt and starts out on one rock, while I sat back to wait. By this time the chemistry had built up to incredible near chreshendo (sp?). And I was just watching him, his muscular back and arms. It got so that I had to lie face down on the rock to cool my body off. He knew the whole time that I was watching him.

When he was done, we went off down the trail to find the perfect spot to ascend. Suddenly, he stopped and said, "look at that bird over there." Of course, I didn't see any bird and asked, "where?" He started pointing and then I realized... (you know how you have to line yourself up to see something someone else sees?) I realized then that he was trying to get me to come closer to him.

I did. We ended up about six inches apart. Both of us breathing heavily. Had we not been married, or maybe because we were married, all we would have to do is turn our heads and that would have been the end of it. I couldn't live with that on my hands--his and my marriage in jepoardy. So I stepped away... I wonder now if that was a good idea. Oh, the temptation. And on top of all that, we were both from a religious family.

Now that I'm not married any more, I often think of looking him up and calling him.

Do you all think I should? I wonder if he would remember.

The spring in your steps
And the spring in nature
Playing a match
That let me have a catch
Of a bit of happiness
In all my loneliness

In all my loneliness
This weather makes me
Light as a feather
Dreaming us together

I got a new tattoo today,
Of a cat peering round a corner
That Sylvia Plath herself once drew.

It was printed out and traced around
And then put on my arm
Up tight against my skin,
Where the blue ink could leave it's picture.

I sat on a stool with my arm outstretched
And he followed the trace around
With a needle dipped in black.
There was sharp pain
And tingles
And my arm started to go dead as he leaned on it.

He wore a sailor hat over his dark hair,
Tattoos up and down his arms,
Is that a tattoo of an oven?
Yes.
And we talked about old comics,
How they all started as horrors,
Penny gruesomes they used to be.

The ink was injected beneath my skin,
So that i could how onto Sylvia's drawing,
for the rest of life.
SP, it's signed with.

Guess I'm a literary type.

LIVEN ON THE RAZORS EDGE

Remember how we used to dream
      the things that we were not
I was your knight in shining armor
      in our concrete Camelot
We played so many different parts
      like actors on a stage
We’d escape through picture magazines
      just by turning page to page

Back when we had nothing to lose
      by taking a chance by breaking the rules

When we were dead end kids living on the razors edge
     and I was King of the streets and you were queen of the avenue
When we were dead end kids living on the razors edge
     our castle was a run-down candy store our kingdom the theatre Bijou

And it’s good seeing you again
     though it’s been so many years
Since I played your Lancelot
     and you my Guinevere  
I’m glad to see those special times
     neither one of us forgot
And that we no long need to dreams
     the things that we are not

Back when we had nothing to lose
      by taking a chance by breaking the rules

When we were dead end kids living on the razors edge
     and I was King of the streets and you were queen of the avenue
When we were dead end kids living on the razors edge
     our castle was a run-down candy store our kingdom the theatre Bijou


sp-theatre / English / theater American English

         By VjKelly  1993  © for my song RAZORS EDGE

This is not for substance
Depth, not pragmatic at all
emotional ******* when mentally I'm Lance Armstrong, wit blue ball

But wit *****,I mean thoughts, as I Tom Cruz through life, so an apology
Id owe myself if not against my policy
Cuz "I'm sorry" like Scientology

Don't make sense so astrology
Can try to map out my stars
I just hope Lady Luck shows up Before Chris brown, and she sees stars

What can I say, I can really charm
Like lucky charms I march mellow
I like girls who still say&count; their chubby bunnys...no marsh mellows

If I lost u there ....just mellow
like yellow,pop songs whorin out hello
So of course forced ******* lately seems endorsed ...pudding pop, jello

Can't be trusted bad enough kids aren't safe anywhere ...gone
I even over react at subway when my sons asked if he wants a foot long

I already know this is foolish
But the rule is ...the real fool is
Those schooled by the useless
at least I know I'm stupid

Taking it out of context, no contest
Your honor....Honest
That was the first time I promise
I hardly ever try to hit on prom kids

Wit tight grips to poke a Bonnet
Off the bun from poccohontis
When findin the island of *****
Oops "He Broke her *******"

That blood soaks on a sausage
....Just another day at the office
Where we process the obnoxious
til the world is my Hospice

A no knowledge college for knowledge to abolish the need
To be correct politically&bree;;
seeds Thatll bleed to succeed

Sp our goal, of bringing awareness
To the shortages pendin
As extinction of bent bananas grow
Straight, it's time to help bendin

bananas, but whats bananas is
ignoring real issues latched
To Muslim hate talks,instigated
Infiltrated so u won't go snap

When they send more of our kids to war, so if u hate, like they ask
When propaganda props the jenga, NVM...wait..look! Kim kardashian ***

That needs a cardigan...plaid
"Drugs drugs drugs! which are bad"
Ask your mom who made u at prom
Or ask your alcoholic abusive dad

Who thinks Itampons a small iPad
Where Dark and red bleeds
quoted Moses"a wifes rags a bonus, So like me  "part the Red Sea"

Will need are secure like cures
the government assures us do not
Really Exist like seniors ****, that
firmly sits, and not hip drop

implying the governments got
secrets but dont ask me ****
Cause wit metaphors, I'm never sure  
Maybe the govt has saggy ****

Some dictions descriptions givin has restriction or depiction's
equivocal, so ones vision of religion
Is another's flashback circumcision  

To an unforgiven rabbis hasty snip
No one Asked "may we strip"
The turtle neck ******* on your slim
priest teasing baby ****

But written permission maybe fit
When a baby's **** and crazy ****
Is so uncivil to fiddle and whittle the little middle, above my skittles it sits

And the initial riddle is, riddle this
What Is sprinkled with ****
And Often tinkles to spit ..
Full of wrinkles, it tickles... The hint?

If she swallowed and followed the
nutrients that hallows out ....
Ud still have wrinkles but it helps to single out,who's single⁢'s about

Time2see my psychologist who yells I need help...(yells) I need help!"
She said her head, lead her to bed
And said her brains dead &melts;

And to blame for her frame of mind
Is the frame of mine, it's the kind
That very rarely has thoughts that carry any logic&scare;; me but I'm

Just daring and not caring but im
sharing the mind of jerry
Where clowns fill towns with slide whistle sounds&priests; that marry

Donald trump And Carrie
Whos news was very scary
as Carrie had to carry a Kanye west hilter hybrid and Arbitrary

Is how arbitrary and arm pit hair be
Armed with hairy Italian yarn
That they wear as bare, but armed
Is bare **** arms that like bear arms

Bears a bears hair where arms
Are usually bare but bears harmed
Is how the thick hair I wear, where it's layered, but not the ****

Hair that impairs where my palms  
Look like they grow two beards
But it's not like i would blow deers
maybe Bambi...who knows were

Not gettin hypothetical to go near
How endearing a dear is it's queer as for my hairy palms I wrote them
Ahem, Dear palms: be calm I'm here

And I'm so sorry u resemble the
Essential pieces that are detrimental
For trump hair that trump wears but
His is authentic ******* Assembled

By the youngest child laborer, paid
less than the condoms for rapin her
So embezzle on levels of unethical
Devils black *** ...and kettle...sure

Let's move on to...Ernie, hey it's Bert
I don't discriminate
Support abortion, or the portion
supportin orphans who's cure

Is particular and par with a ****
Who's testicular inhibitors
Make him a prematurely Shirley
So surely he's early in visitors

So to recap the crap hid in were
Child labour jokes great!
Abortion, psychotic neurotic topics
******* that'll fill in ya, all the hate

Oh wait wait wait...Can't forget ****
Or what I call a bill Cosby date
Afternoon delight? You'll sleep past moon and right to the drowsy awake

State... Wait.. are u a ****? Great!
I never ***** one of those
That's enough Cosby dialogue
It's dyin off, so I'm signin off vogue

Strike a pose, like a ****** my
***** bled all up my skirt in
My ****** like I was al bundy,
****** as a ted bundy surgeon

So uncomfortable like twerkin
When you see 12 yr old butts
That makes me want to be free of
tv, but it makes r Kelly want to ***

So go hug or **** a tree
He'll, **** two, have a treesome
this abuse of my speechs freedom
Must stand alone cause these dumb

Words.. This world.. needs none
cheeses of diseases...egregious,
The weedless, read this,&say; Jesus
Is he nuts? It's Needless,

deep pits, of pre-mixed, ***-*****
Three ****... Please fix
demons *****, from a **** bleedin
Fresh out yeast infected sheep *****

Where we sit&read; this,
praise Jesus Allah and people
Cause were all just quirky, evil
Good, obnoxious naive deceitful

******* with **** smells that equal
Even if not the same
We all bleed, breed and feel pain
And love a good line of *******

No wait , ****, sometimes my brain
Can't contain the stupid
Do models use the same fingers to ******* that use to puke wit?

I know.... I'm ****** useless
An abused ego bruised nuisance
Like **** pics sent to fit chicks
When they want rich pics, so do this

Take pics of a receipt that u slip
From the machine you use, if
You really wanna know, if they'll
Blow whats in the pic u send, do it

Cause she'll blow all that u fit
In the pic u send her I'm sure
And if your still reading this,
Im meanin this,u need help..a cure

Mental stability, tranquility, and
The ability, to stop the instability
Convoluted, polluted, and stupid
Literature, it can cause infertility

And psychotic, psychosomatic,
Psychosis, voodoo and neurosis
poetry roaches Eye halitosis,
To erode the road wit your soul if

You ****-inue, reading soulless
Ambivalence, so belligerent
That insolence so Insignificant
Is magnificent,

A Malignant indignant, piglet, in a
predicament, that approaches
As I ******* my immaculate *****
So swallow this osmosis

insufficient like what I've written  or Tuberculosis, and oh ****!
The oppositions mission is fixing
The risen conditions, to position

***** induced, goblin puke
Gobblin through, all of the usual
Til I'm suitable for cubicles made of pharmaceuticals ...indubitable

Now I'm awful like waffles, made in a
bra full, of a mucus' nostril
putrid puke with stomach fluids,, a used ****** u chew in brothel

It's a cross between a re-run
Of *******'delinquence&bee; dung
Don't think Im gd ppls than be one

And my wise parting words
Are not the rise of farting nerds
Or pretentious self righteousness
Of those dry and artsy jerks

(The Art of Failing Goodbye)

I covet your closeness; how could I not? You were my world once upon a mime. Honestly. Though my pride will deny it, our demise left me discarded. Hiding amongst the few collateral souvenirs: stupidity and bitterness.

I bestowed to you the best of me; although you never asked me to. My heart, body, and soul - yours for the taking - a decision made on my own accord. Because you never asked me for any of it. You never asked me to do the things I did. But I loved you - innocent as that. Thus, relinquishing logic entirely.

Hardly more than a stranger, I felt I knew you; unaware of the lidded fabulist within. A mere tourist of my chassis; enthralled by my looks. Enthralled by just me. “In love” so deep, you attempted suicide twice. Upon my rejection – in theory. They almost beat you to death, and left you to the wolves. Deserved it? An understatement tenfold. And yet. My compassion was what saved you.

I protected the same entity who pulverized my own.

They all said you were no good – they said a mythomaniac would leach onto me until there was nothing left, ****** dry – then you would leave. Onto the next; life on the move. Daddy said you’d leave me in shambles. Was he right?

…Duh.

A question sheathed in rhetoric; absolutely. A black hole does not give back. Wake UP, m Maple – Ali – Oliver – whatever you are today.mWake up, you ******. And look here.

You ruthied(sp?) me last Halloween, took my body as your own, enabled a cycle I’ll no longer accept. The girl who cried ****…an alias to forever haunt me.

No one believed me then. Why would they now?

This final hurrah; a Halloween blackout. Wherein, you personified my worst nightmare. A cruel and unusual punishment – at best. And then.

You slithered and slinked away; no apologies – no goodbye for me. You’d taken all of me. Just like they said. All my value – dismembered and pocketed. Off you went…as predicted. Onto the next…life on the move.

You etched your gimmick; smuggling trust; squirreling intuition - these morals I'd entombed - you burrowed away. Promising Eden, you offered a map; directing me as I sailed the route. The garden, however, was not what I found. My catafalque(coffin) negated expectations you set; a utopia of dazzling, abundant nature. For, you'd devised a mousetrap; and I'd glissaded willingly inside…

For the very last time, gaze entwined. Blue on brown.

SNAP.