There is only this marina and then there is the sea.
Nothing else is.
An apt enough analogy
for a myth dissolving town.

Shaded by storefronts half-expecting someone to arrive,
The hood- stripped wind
Gusts up solitary, empty alleyways
With only stroppy clatter boards to continue the conversation.

He took issue with the small gestures in life. The birthday message from a friend not seen in a decade, the idol chit chat that filled the cafe's, cinema's and other such places, proclaiming them fraudulent unthinking habit, a motion with no true sentiment and in return the followers of such social constructs took issue with him - or worse, pitied him.

He despised most human interaction because of this. Often being told that he 'rubbed people up the wrong way' or was 'too antagonistic' He just saw this as another excuse to expel him from the group (whatever that group was) All because he didn't partake in the usual social etiquette and fakery of the masses- this view only led to him being mocked further and neatly labelled as a stroppy, teenage rebel. His thoughts and voice cut down with replies of "Aaah stop feeling sorry for yourself!" "Stop going on about it!" " You're soo negative!" Because in all honesty nobody wants to be around a down in the dumps, killjoy, party pooper right?

He could find no solace in the little things nor understanding in the greater questions of life, so he drifted along. Bitter onlooker to a species so separate from his own. Desperate to somehow integrate into their ranks but convincing himself that such thoughts were mere acts of desperation.

And he was a desperate young man, desperate and despairing at his separation from the world and all others in it. Yet admittance to such feeling would rarely depart his form. No, he would mock and ogle at them from afar.
**He would rather be Outcast than Cast Out.

The night went away.
The sun came out to play.
The hedgehogs are hiding.
Until tonight.
The cats are not crying or calling and screaming.
They went back indoors and they're taking their cream in.
Along with cat biscuits and a little meat.
The dormice are sleeping until bedtime comes.
He's dreaming of Alice and teacups and fun.
In his dream  the Mad Hatter hides,
The queen of hearts decides,who's lives and who to dies.
Who at the end of the day is alive.
It off with his noddle said she.
Stroppy witch, she takes control of croquet games and rabbit holes.

The grub the hedgehog ate, destroyed his mental state.
It was nothing to do with dormice at all.
Somebody gave him milk and bread, instead of worms and garden bugs.
Gave him ****** weird dreams.
Went straight to his head.
Dawn broke.
Shuffled back into his home, under the bushes.
In a bit of a queer confused state.
He went straight back to sleep.
Hedgehogs don't eat bread and milk.
(c) Livvi

Sat in the car at the back of beyond.
Beyond reasoning what I'm doing here.
I fear.
Anti clockwise rhythms, rhyming with the guy who's nice.
My head's obliterated and my heart is cool as ice.
He's a box of soppy.
She's a box of stroppy.
Confusing muses puzzling.
Nudging.
Percolating.
Brewing.
Never beer or whine I fear.
She supposes she can maybe love him again.
After the sunshine blew thunder and rain.
Maybe a little love be retained.
Enigmatic future.
(c) Livvi

It was not as good as the internet
with all that ten four for a copy
and some of the people you talked to
well, they could get right stroppy

There I used to be
with my Midland 80
with my DV27 in the loft
pressing the key and saying
ten four for a copy

Well it was better then smoke signaling
that was a messy business
now I have a computer
and there's no ten four for a copy


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

There be a tavern in the town.
Today, will be such a special one.
Sunshine and roses.
Several carnations.

Wedding party, out for fun,
Intermingled with everyday drinkers.
Outside in the sunny weather.
Smokers and drinkers,
Men in blue jeans and eye catching black leathers.

Today, should be a special day.
Women in fanciful fascinators, tight fitting dresses, silky tights.
Dancing on tables.
Long into the night.

A flagon of beer, a bottle of wine.
Discussing everything ironically.
With the rest of the crowd.
Which, one of them is mine or hers or even his.
Their drink that is.

Opinions change as the beverages flow.
Talking regular bull as the drink feeds the flow.
The flow of the conversation that is.
Loudly.
By the end of the night, knowing everyone's biz.
There is no volume control, evening flows on twisted tongues.

Look left, look right, straight in front of you, they're starting a fight.
Noise is enhanced by the wailing of sirens,
Those harpies with hairpins, sat on cheap plastic chairs.
Look out you lot, the blues and twos are coming.
Invading your space, just at that moment you're slapping her face.
Such a disgrace.
Bundled into the back of the van.
Two wrecked wretched women.
One stroppy man.
If nothing else fuels arguments, drink sure as hell can.
(c)LIVVI

A feeling of fear engulfs the world, as the clash of the titans builds.
Who knows what's going on, while these supermen clash.
What is to be done?
The parental solution of nations as punishment for stroppy children,is taking all their toys away, with-holding their allowance.
Vlad, turned on his heels, as he poked out his tongue, at the powers that be.
Cameron,  acted like his usual snotty ****, hiding under posh boys hat,oh my God what a prat.
Obama thinks he's got it right, ready up and raring for a fight, a stallion whose got the bit between his teeth.
A situation of ridicule, based upon controlling fools.
What fear hides behind the spoken word on the world of  dashing Crimea?
(C) LIVVI

From the depths of my pain,
you have shown me that beautiful flowers
grow in the midst
of the cosmic chaos I was in.

You were the twinkling spark,
the light in the shadows of my sadness,
the encouraging voice that metamorphose
my black and white world into something kaleidoscopic.

You sifted the specks of dust
that revealed the darkest secrets I hid.
You were the sun that illuminated
during the twilight of my incoherent thoughts.

I was composed of the ephemera of depression,
the hushed air between my teeth
when my lips were sealed.
I remember the time you told me,

things will get better.
I sighed and responded,
I don’t think so.
I thought you were going to give up

for I was stroppy, cumbersome teenager
but instead, you smiled;
you morphed my cynical perspective
into a superlative of optimism.

Every time my voice trembled
with the curse of anxiety,
your words nursed my soul
casting me with courage.

Your words I kept,
in hollow crystallised bottles,
like encapsulated messages of importance.
Spilled thoughts were the reminiscent

of my favourite brisk days with you,
filling the fragments of my loneliness.
I seem to be on the sentence
of the last paragraph where you wrote:

things will get better.
written in the crisps pages
of my sad blues chapter,
dipped in ink;

I believe and trust you wholly,
because things do become better, no matter what.
You were always there for me,
if only you knew how much that meant to me.

The  sky hung full of ******, above the execution bell.
The crow circles overhead irreverently, dressed in his Sunday best.
In the bar the dead men fought.
From the counter outside they flew.
Spilled into the street in front of a few.
Two cowboys, guns in both of their hands, wrathful and vengefully meeting demands.
The young lady with the mess of blonde hair, was heard to squeal,
"Oh Jimmy, fight not over me, let him go, let him go free".

The lady in the emerald hat cried "Jimmy and Jason, please stop that."
I hate it when you play with guns.
One of the problems when you have stroppy twin sons.
Their weapons discarded into the bin.
After the gunfight that no brother won.
(C) Livvi

Don't analyse me,
nor criticise me.
What you to see is what you get.
It matters not a jot to me how much you try to extricate.
I love the fact the world is trying,
*******, it's great.
I analyse myself regularly.
For once in a lifetime,
I actually know me.

The dark poet has a softer side,
It's hiding.
There it will stay,
it's really not playing today.
Sometimes it hides away.
Every so often, a visible ****** of a mischievous child at play.
Once in a blue moon a poetic stroppy mare, will kick up her heels and run through the sand pit,
Kicking at dust, and twirling her hair.
it's too short to be a mane at the moment,
But it sure as hell will grow again,
And I'll go dancing in the rain.
With or without my pen!
(C) Livvi

For my first born daughter
Motherhood began with you
I didn't know what love was
Till I looked into your eyes of blue
Always know that I love you
And I'm proud your part of me
I'll always try to protect you
Even when we disagree

For my middle daughter
This one is for you
You showed me unconditional
And that love can really be true

For my youngest daughter
beyond your years so smart
you will always be my baby
and my monkey wonderheart

I think its important
for those you love to know
just how much they mean to us
so I'm giving it a go
I wrote this for my girls
so they know how much they mean
I want them to know how loved they are
Even when there being a stroppy teen.

(C) Julie Murphy

Bet you that
the jet-stream brings,
the split ends of
old hurricanes,
pensions off
their stroppy baggage,
coughing up their
weeks of rain.

Feels wrong
without the cold

without Siskins,
without Redpolls...

...no outside chance
of white-winged gulls
appearing down
the bay...

Another Autumn reigns,
cold metal blue,
Evergreen Matador steps out again
looking for his Bravo Toro.
Stroppy Labrador,
surrounding you with love.
Spirits having flown,
with the Northern star.
Portly headmasters blunt with scorn.
Ravenous Ravens a plenty,
fill the void

They ... HATE IT Don't They ... ?!?

When You ...................................................... IGNORE Them .....

Or ...
Choose To ........................................ DISMISS ....
Their .............................................................. " **** Hips " ..... !!!!!

And DO NOT Chase ...
But Walk ............................................................... AWAY ...
Because of Games They LIKE To Play ...

I'm Talking About The ... " PRETTY Ones " ...
Who LIKE To POUT And Run Around ...
As Though THE SUN SHINES From Their *** ... ?!!!?

They're USUALLY ... " Dumb " ... !!!
With ... LOTS of FRONT ... !!!

In OTHER Words ...
A STROPPY Girl In Her OWN WORLD ...

TOO MANY Now ...
ARE Female CLOWNS ... !!!!!!

"You WISH that I, was your girlfriend !"

"No, I Just wish, you had some sense !"

"You don't mean that, so take that back !"

"Actually I do, so don't be fooled,
who'd you think you're talking to ?"

"I'm talking to you, you're not that cool !
In fact you're rude, and not the type of man i'd choose !"

"Thank god for that, dunno what i'd catch,
from a girl like you, whose trap and ego are so huge !"

See Girls like THESE Do Little For Me ... !!!

OF COURSE I'd Like To SEE Them **** ...
Doing The Do ... In MY Bedroom ... !!!!!!!

BUT When Their Heads ARE IN The Clouds ...
I Dress Them DOWN WITHOUT The ... " *** " ...
ESPECIALLY When They Get ... UPSET ...
Because They WANT TO ... " SHARE Your Bed " ... !!!!!!

They HATE It Don't They ... ?!?

When You WON'T Just Come WHENEVER They Say ...
Like You're A DOG ... LAP Being Your Name ... !?!

They Make That CLAIM ...

"Men ARE DOGS !"

But Seem To WANT ONE ... !?!

Something Seems ...
To Be A Bit ... WRONG ... !?!

They LIKE To Sing Songs ...
About Men Who WRONG THEM ... !!!

Because of PROBLEMS ...
With Their EX Boyfriends ... !!!

So WHO CHOOSES Them ... ?!?

Is It One of Their FRIENDS ... ?!?
Or BETTER Yet ... Let Me Guess ... ???

"He messed with her head !"

Well DON'T Get Me Wrong ... !!!

But Their HEADS Are MESSED UP ... !!!
And They're ... PRETTY DUMB ...
To PICK These Men Then Get UPSET ... ?!?

They ... HATE IT Don't They ... ?!?

When You're ABLE To Say What You Want To Say ...
WITHOUT Being Afraid of NOT Getting Laid ... !!!!!

But SOME Men TOO Are NOT So Cool ...
With MEN Who Choose To ... BREAK The Rules ...
of Being NICE Just To Get A SLICE of That ***** Pie ... !!!!!

"You shouldn't say that !"

"Why not my man !
If she won't give it up, i've got two hands !"

"Man you're too ******* !"

"Maybe for you, if a girl, can't take the truth,
I'll show her the door, and that's for sure !"

See ...
They DON'T Like it Do They ... ?!?

When They KNOW You've HAD ENOUGH ... !!!
of ALL The Games They Like to PLAY EVERY Single Day ... !!!

Just To GET An indication of Whether ******* ...
Will Be BETTER Than The TOUCH of What They KNOW ...

They ... REALLY WANT ... !!!!!
A TASTER of Some SERIOUS Fun ... !!!!!

The Type That MAKES Their LIPS Get ... " WET " ...
And MAKES Them Wanna' S P R E A D Their Legs ...
Get Some HEAD Then YES ... Have *** ...

They ... KNOW They DO ... !!!
And That's The TRUTH ... !!!

NO MATTER What They TRY To Pull ... !!!
STUDY Their Moves Then Make Yours TOO ... !!!

They'll ACT As If They ... " DON'T Want it ! " ...
But TRUST In This When You've FOUND A **** Miss ...
Who's Less Elusive And NOT So VAIN ... !!!

You Can SEE IT In Their Face ...
It's ... FAIR To Say ...

"They HATE IT Don't They !"