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Edna Sweetlove Feb 2015
Wee Angus McSporran, the world's most accurate marksman, is deployed  to Afghanistan and Iraq as a ****** in the Royal Scots Guards. In spite of his diminutive stature (4ft 8in), we see him skilfully shooting men, women and children by the score, convinced they are terrorists and a threat to our freedoms in the West. He becomes emotionally involved with the gigantic ginger-haired Pipe Sergeant-Major **** McKnob, the loudest piper in the British Army and a famous poofter. We see Angus and **** in some of the most explicit ******* love scenes ever shown in a mainstream movie (tastefully filmed in soft focus and sponsored by KY-Jelly).

When **** is blown to smithereens by a roadside bomb planted by American freelancers in order to implicate the Taliban, Wee Angus goes into deep depression and becomes obsessed with his skill as a ******, often shooting "allied" soldiers in so-called "blue on blue" friendly fire. After each shooting we see the image of the ghostly dead Sergeant-Major appear as in a dream, his kilt a-swirl and his pipes wailing a tragic dirge in scenes reminiscent of Braveheart.

When Wee Angus triumphantly notches up his 500th **** (including over 75 US military personnel and several important Afghan politicians), the British government decide it is time to withdraw him from active service. In order to gain patriotic press coverage in the run-up to a General Election in Britain, it is agreed that Wee Angus shall be awarded the Victoria Cross by HM the Queen.

We see Wee Angus, in full regimental uniform, marching up the Mall to Buckingham Palace to receive his medal, his telescopic-sighted ******'s rifle looming heavily on his childlike shoulder, being cheered on by crowds of thousands of wellwishers. Tragically, when he is crossing the road in front of the Palace, he does not hear a new environmentally friendly eco-diesel double-decker London Transport bus approaching (his hearing has been seriously impaired by the noise of battle) and he is mown down, his scream being amplified to eardrum-splitting levels of horror. The camera lingers lovingly on his crushed body and we see scenes of unimaginable grief in the crowds who have taken Wee Angus to their hearts. His lover, the strapping Pipe Sergeant-Major **** McKnob, appears as an angel and weeps by Wee Angus's squashed corpse.

In the final scene, reminiscent of the closing minutes of Slumdog Millionaire, the massed marching pipe bands of the Assembled Scots, Irish and Welsh Guards appear as if by magic and the entire crowd cast all inhibitions to the wind and indulge in a life-enhancing Highland Dance and Ceili around the Victoria Memorial facing Buckingham Palace. The film ends with a heart-breaking shot of the Queen coming out on the balcony in front of the Palace and having a fatal heart attack with the shock of what she sees before her. Prince Charles is seen gleefully rubbing his hands together in the background: at long last, he is King! *(end titles shown over a shot of him groping Camilla's naked sagging ****)
This is the first in my new series of Film Scripts for the 21st Century.
Mikaila Aug 2017
"Please listen to me, don't go to art school. You'll be depressed when you can't get a job.

Please listen to me, don't live in a city. You'll be depressed when it's expensive.

Please listen to me, don't get tattoos. It'll ruin your job prospects, and they never come off, you know.

Please listen to me, don't date that girl. She'll break your heart and then you'll be more depressed than you are now, and I'd rather not deal with you being even more depressed, it's so unsettling.

Please listen to me, why don't you live at home for a while? You could save up and then start your life in a few years.

Please listen to me, I don't want you to have a Hard Life(™).

Please listen to me... you have to get out of bed...

Please listen to me, you look like a plant that's been kept in the dark. I'm scared.

Please listen to me,
I know what's best for you.

...Please say something.
Hello?"
Àŧùl Nov 2016
If you decide to come back,
With an open heart,
I'll keep my tools ready,
Performed will be an open-heart surgery,
Where an incision into your heart,
Will be made to remove the blockage,
Then love will flow unobstructed in your heart.

The various crap you read about love I meant,
That surely is the chief restricting factor,
It has cost you the pure true love,
It did cost you the caring nature of mine,
I've lost the will to live,
With my sad heart,
If you will rather not come.

My body has started revolting,
Pushed I am closer to oblivion,
Though my arms still long for you,
I have my second thoughts too,
Because if I die soon after marriage,
As is already most probable,
I don't want to widow you.

So I give you the modern window you seek,
The window to happiness & harmony,
Go ahead and grasp the opportunity,
Worry not about the blame,
Because I bear the responsibility,
Cost it would more lot of money,
I fear cancer for the expenses.

Fear I don't the cost,
There are few wellwishers,
Relatives and acquaintances,
Who might help me bear the cost,
Fear I do the ensuing loneliness,
**** me it would for sure,
I fear a quiet seclusion.

Because once I could bear it,
Twice it would rather **** me,
For I am not the immortal god,
Scared I'm as ending days ****,
Beckon me does a lonely death,
Death which I no longer fret,
But loneliness is a threat.

For she failed to cease my heart once,
She might as well fail even twice,
Death has had old scores with me,
Averted she was the last time,
Coz I suspect my own body now,
My happiness destiny will mow,
Give me it will grief of loneliness.
HP Poem #1257
©Atul Kaushal
Pranya Mar 2020
Sometimes or maybe everytime,
I feel like crying;
Without any reasons,
Or withouty tears.
Tired of stuff,
Everything and everyone.

It hurts more,
People and there trust issues.
Sometimes things which they expect,
Maybe attachments are the ones,
Which are reluctant.

Everything is fake,
Everyone is fake.
Fake soulmates,
Fake wellwishers,
Fake emotions,
Fake care.
Is anything pure and real,
Like my bliss.

You worry i dont talk?
I can cry,
But i won't express.
I can write it down,
But cant tell.
I can talk,
But not conversate.
I can care,
But only for you.
I can help,
But not me.
I can worry,
But only for you.
I can smile,
But only fake.
I can advise,
But not to myself.
You worry i dont talk?

I keep telling myself,
You wanted then you would.
If you wanna talk,
Ego on top.

I am not ignoring,
I am just not in a position to justify it anymore.
You think i am drifting?
No, am not,
I am just trying to be alone, lonely.

No fears,
No emotions,
No fake,
No toxicity,
No cares,
No howling.
Only me, my feelings,
My tears,
My broken heart,
My soul,
My uncured feelings,
And a sense of loneliness.
It might sound depressing,
But its not.
Its the reality.
If you wanna talk,
Ego on top.

No cry,
No tear,
A heavy heart overthinking,
And a lot of fear.
If this doesn't understand me,
Then i dont know what does.

You ask me if i am okay,
You now i am not.
Then please stop this formality,
Cause i don wanna fake.
If you really care,
Look in my eyes,
Hug me tight,
Cause you know am not fine.

Sometimes i hate to be this close,
Cause when you pull even a slightest bit,
It appears as if the world is splitting in two.
I may care,
I may care a lot.
But once you are courageous enough to part,
Then i am reluctant enough to come back.
Maybe thats why,
Am not a permanent person in anyone's life.
But i assure you i am the best temporary you will ever meet.

I try,
Not cry.
But i  weak enough,
To let it all go.
Am tired of opening myself,
Again and again.
But now i am just done.
I dont know who to trust,
Whom to prioritize,
Whom to avoid,
Whom to love?

I know i have friends,
But i don't,
Who talk,
About the ****.
That goes inside mu head.
Cause i know they just cant take it...

I dont know why the people i prefer the most are temporary,
Sometimes,
The memories,
The thoughts,
The late night conversation,
The feelings
Just become like ghosts.
People are there,
But not present.
Few are the tried ones,
Who are broken,
And are long gone,
Before you even realize.

I may care,
A bit too much,
A bit too soon,
Never think.
I ignore you,
If i do so,
Then only for your good.
.
.
.
Gone??
Gone, is the wrong word,
For someone who was never there for you.
You love them more than yourself,
Maybe thats why you lost yourself a long time ago.
Its the time to wake,
And not feel guilty.
For the things you never did.

Why do we have emotions?
Why do we have feelings?
Why do we care?
Just chill out,
And care a little less.

Blade in my hand,
Cuts on my limbs.
Broken heart,
And a lost pet.
Is there anything else you wanna know??

Yes,
Yes i am obsessed with death,
Cause there is no reason of living such a meaningless,
Pointless life.
So once and for all,
Let it all go.

People come and say,
Its gonna be fine,
Well i know its never gonna be...
Is it just about the moment?
This hour?
This day?
This weak?
This month?
This year?
Or my whole life?

Is there a chance?
Is there a hope?
Because all the darkness cannot extinguish,
Even a single ray of light.
But now even this philosophy,
Goes above my head.
Its my life,
Which you cannot change.
So dont give me hope,
Cause there is no scope!
Raj Bhandari Jan 2020
I am fighting this world alone,
my wellwishers,own, all gone!

— The End —