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Heather Gibbons May 2013
I once knew a Tazmanian Devil,
She was young, a little older than I,
A friend she was, we had such fun,
We’d laugh together ‘til we’d cry.

I loved this Tazmanian Devil, I did,
She always had me in stitches,
And when we weren’t laughing and fooling around,
We were messing around without britches.

And so this Tazmanian Devil and I,
peas in a pod as we were,
took a ferry to France where we’d laugh and we’d dance,
and pretend to be wine connoisseur.

Too much wine did this Tazmanian Devil once drink,
One fateful night that will never be forgot,
When with rose-tinted glasses I was seeing pink,
I bargained for not what I got,

This Tazmanian Devil, she pulled such a face,
As if she knew what were to be,
With a clap of thunder, the wind blew me away,
And the lightning, it struck right at me,


This Tazmanian Devil, in horror she looked,
As my eyes wide as saucers did tell,
Rarely speechless was I but no sound I could make,
Other than three words “What the Hell?”

I returned to my home with Tazmanian Devil,
Nothing said of that dreadful night,
We spoke the odd word here and there,
But only to be polite,

The Tazmanian Devil, the one from down under,
And I ended our little fling,
And I hope that encountering lightning and thunder,
Is a once in a lifetime thing.
Written at the age of 15.
Emerald Sapani Dec 2013
FLY
I once knew a girl called fly
A magical girl
One that could fly high,
Higher than the clouds,
Higher than the moon,
Higher than the planets,
Higher than the glazing sun,
Even higher than the highest things ,
Thoughts thoughts millions of them,
You'd be surprised to see all of them floating around you,
But when fly flew through the wondrous clouds,
Bunches of foamy fluffed shapes formed like candy floss,
Up until the highest thoughts,
From Tazmanian clouds to words on the page of a book,
fly died that day,
she never returned home,
her family was sick of worry,
years later her mother followed her little fly in death,
Her father and little brother Miikey, lived for a while but soon Miikey got stabbed with an axe by accident by an old man in the forrest chopping trees,
fly's father was the only one left, he soon died of old age at the age of 106,
soon enough people started to talk about fly's family,
thy said wow look at that kite fly,
fly was proud of that,
and now from this day people talk about fly,
some even say if you sit on the top of the highet hill in high vally on the night the moon is full and at i's highest point you may see a glimps of fly flying through the dead winter night  sky.
Requested a flying poem from my amazing,loving,beautiful,intelligent and kind older sis.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
this day made no sense apart from
   being polite to a surgery
receptionist  and downing a bottle of whiskey...
  birds? spring? colours? can i just go back
to england imitating alaska? the more i age the more
i realised: **** day! bring on night!
   and it's not like some horror movie scenario...
i'm not even conjuring vampire
to sell them to you...
   i just think my eyes are sort of: too distracted
                   by the light?
a bit like: am i serious about
buying this vacuum cleaner?
should i be serious about
buying this vacuum cleaner?
   i'd love to live in a matriarchal society,
turn all cannibal and ****,
go shrimp! go!
          swing *******! bite the railings
while you're at it!
            let's see if a gypsy tooth plops out
of your jaw, so we can cast a magic spell
turning the lead into gold!
the ****?!
             oh **** me, i'd love to live in a matriarchy...
it would mean that i wouldn't have to be a man
and have this social construct of
pampering to women... i'd be a lion
with a harem of females hunting...
             need a fridge? go **** yourself...
need a toilet? go **** yourself...
           need a blender? go **** yourself:
chew on a terminte mound...
                to be honest i have a fetish for the chance
to live in a matriarchy... it's almost like what islam
concerns itself with theocracy...
      i'd love to live in this wendol society...
    look how much less you need in a matriarchy!
i'm watching it going: giva'h more giva'h more!
            tazmanian bush-wacker aussie...
   god... i'd love to experience a matriarchy more than
i'd care to support a theocracy...
that's like patriarchy: or what's called
                                              second generation...
islam has nothing on me, i want to
experience a matriarchy... the amazonian
    queens 30ft women doing the new zealand
rugby team's haka!
   oh please let them have it! let them have
women football teams... i'll really want to ****
them afterwards!
                              what is man is what
allows man to internilise his emotions up to
the point that he's playing poker...
               what allows women to be women is
volcanic outbursts of unsolicited emotion...
                 funny how the genitals play a part in
the whole affair... or don't... whatever...
i woke up early today and thought to myself:
****! not enough whiskey!
        theocracy is just second / third generation
patriarchy...
                      there's nothing else to it...
imagine islam as it was originally...
     a matriarchy under the guidance of mohammad's
first wife... who was much older than
him and wrote the first koranic verses...
Khadijah...
                      mohammad is a ***** compared
to Khadijah, the matriarch;
mohammad is just a ***** teenager compared
to her...
               well... her stock did come from the myth
of the origin of the Arab race... namely from
Abraham's concubine...
                    hence the weaving of the walking
h
          arem...
                   oh forget it! the west does something
similar to a niqab... when was the last time you
spotted a beauty that fills the pages of a style
magazine on the street?
                             last time i spotted one?
i wanted to **** a donkey.
                               the end.
        the niqab is like a mobility scooter for women
who won't be stolen in the light of day
by some rich patron who suddenly forgot his
fetish for ******* choir boys...
                   let's level it out!
                     she was the literate cougar that wrote
the better pieces of the koran...
          after she died... the koran started shrinking...
i actually think that
  the last surah was written by Aisha...
                         so who wrote it, if not women?
this is a classical example of a matriarchy -
muhammad was just a useful idiot...
                well apparently he was illiterate, he couldn't
read and he couldn't write...
  like that joke about the police in england:
one can read, but can't write, the other can't read,
but can write...
                                     we have plenty of useful
idiots around here, what does the left mean in
western society when there is no economic policy
to support it? i come from the east,
                     what does the left mean in western
lands mean these days?
               well... if theocracy is only a second / third
generation patriarchy
then second / third generation matriarchy clings
to theosophy... a sort of oops-e-daisy: just one step
away from turning the whole thing into an aleister crowley
inspired movement... and where does that lead?
pi zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ah!
Calm the maniac signs, breaks the average  asinine, solid with the swift swine,
Cooking their bacon, til the grease is fine,
380 degrees, caps for ya decease,
Broke ya soul leased, now you at the dealership, negotiate with the demons,
Inner connects, with solar techs,
Beaming, I saw mankind scheming,
Dreaming, pass Mr Williams,
Got a hold of ya will son, Don of a legend, pledging to the assassins edging,
Highly trained, cant see the remains, every inch of a sword is grained,
No matter if its dry or the rain, the snow or the cain, the fire to the flame,
I'm still crowned as King, resting aside is my beautiful Queen, aim for cream,
Spray tagging my dreams, see the shadow theme, things ain't what it seems,
I saw the light, before the darkness see how many ears is peeping this,
Weeping bliss, not many been sunkissed, my styles deeper than the earth crisp,
Pass hells door, welcome the mediocre, flashes of the midevil torture,
Dont provoke the rapture, of souls closing in on the genesis capture,
Angels flying above, with the lighted gloves, with a slash through love,
So many holding hammers like Thor, sirens screaming at the door,
For more and more, I cant help it, I was built for the temples, of the Holy War,
Crush an empire, without putting forth a desire, check the coke rush sapphire,
Infinite Messiah, feeling like Isaiah a true rider, blazing trails, let the ships sail,
Where they may, soon to see mayday mayday, treats em like a baby,
Small timers, ain't housing up to my grit that corrupts, the savage in me,
Stingy with the Henny, draws of the jack honey, bees swarming round me,
But cant touch me, I'm legendary, like silent marks on the cemetery,
See the souls growing weary, eyes teary, cant stop the soldier in me,
Never been scared of death, I battled 9 gates, til the corners, of the earth shake,
Vibrate the purgatory, my clash braille eyes, like the solar flash,
Spirit bombs, spreads like ****** repeats of gore, graphic as Vietnam,
I turn tazmanian, aimming at this devils, tryna stay ahead of the levels,
No stop signs ahead, daily takes of dipping bread, in the ****** waters,
My own blood, was bottled for the heavenly throttle, chase destiny tomorrow,
Only to meet fate, for the quick swallow, turn sleepy heads hallow, from the hallow,
Gun measures the winds whistle, smoke ya flesh to the very gristle,
My sights like an MX missile, cover every issue no one will miss you, scope the visual,
No pretends, I put a cap to ya ends, cut off ya source, let the killers glory binge,

— The End —