To everyone that has supported me and my writing, thank you!


George StreetGeorge StreetGeorge Street
Veins rushed too much blood
to an eyelid squeezing a lash's point
against a snot-coloured iris jerking frantically
as he clutched two headlines - mom & pop cog store bought by magnate and flimflams a price a penny
fingers leapt onto his neck
wrangling it,
dropped the paper, and rubbed his forehead,
while loosening his navy with white dots cotton tie; Leonard winked hi but he was too busy mourning the loss
of the word-puzzle on page 12 -
bus grinding up George Street,
the road could've been gravel &


Painting PaintingPainting
She somewhat grins with master strokes - Curved lines carved roads winding over each other in search for ways to express the moment when she twinkled.
Her portrait is a lesson in geography, mapped texture symphony, different shades imposing on each other -
harmony in gradients and contrast.
Run your fingers up her coarse hair and ripe-less nose, a hand's etchings into canvas, the steady story
where copper hills meet an oily river of tan and burgundy:
Paths groove through a valley - wrinkles


Morris the oxMorris the ox
Morris the ox
In thought-filled stillness under a dull U-shaped snout it pondered the new surroundings over grass kneaded
'till it was fine as grease.
Morris, I told it. You are free.
Leg twitch, Snout-fume stuttered spurts, a hoof beat against the ground -
muddled clanks
reminiscent of nature's linger. Perhaps an absence of cart ropes pulled its balance apart - a lightness in worn-wood shoulders never known -
or it could be that
the lulling strokes of
its masters


Birth CollageBirth Collage
Birth Collage
Embryo True love, the bud,
cushioned by membrane, in mindless nurture
consumes nutrients
for embryonic development.
A lipstick mark on the cheek from a mother's kiss, it is an imprint of the past.
Fetus Embryo evolved. It is a flower that opens its leaves as a story unwraps, revealing what is to be waited for - what once was future.
Trees Two trees stand a field away, laughing at each other. Differences in their barks' patterned facade have them slap


devotiondevotion
. devotion .
in the dew of morning’s rise drips wonderous
lure
soft delicate breaths
enter my
slumbering being awakening eternal dreams
gazing into deep puppy browns
lifting me up
in flight like wings
floating atop auspicious clouds lustrous touch love’s enduring caress
roll back
ocean’s wave over me tide’s ebb ever flowing
drifting back into sun’s setting this love’s rose
never fades
away …


The Masks We WearThe Masks We WearThe Masks We Wear
I seem to see masks, flasks of unasked Queries, like a series of theories,
Trying to explain existence, without assistance,
With stubborn persistence, they distance
Their smiles miles away, choosing a style Of seclusion, living on false delusions,
Wading in this confusion, they blame the intrusion Of society, claiming sobriety the cause for their anxieties,
The poor souls, seeing life through wooden holes,
They lack any goals, barely in control Of their emotions, they drown in oceans of demotions,
Mocked by those who are


when atlas shrugged-when atlas shrugged
parched mountaintops shake loose their ancient roots and slide eagerly across the vastness of an earthquake trembling shoreline into the tumultuous gaping mouth of a deep blue sea, quenching their ageless thirst on the foaming waters, churning and raging with the erratic quivering of the earth. in a gargantuan sigh the mountaintops cascade into the violent waters, sinking swiftly through the assailing sea to settle amongst their blissful aquatic brethren. a seashell picture frame of timeless family memories are awoken and shake delicately across a reflective glass table reverberating an irritating tap drowned out
mines .. busy.
<heart> dae
Ah well, here's a nice message for you when you might return one day
HI!! Have a noice dayee!
--
Matt wanted one of our props to symbolise alien DNA strands, but I told him that was too highbrow for our audience;I mean, they're just kids...We tried to get Chris to act as Mrs Punch, but he told us to piss off, sadly - Dom Howard
--
Tots and Teens: The Children's Literature Contest --Amazing literature and amazing prizes!!
--
Waste not want not
-- The Mask
--
Tots and Teens: The Children's Literature Contest --Amazing literature and amazing prizes!!
--
Waste not want not
-- The Mask
--
we live thinking we will never die.
we die thinking we had never lived.
cut it out.
--
Matt wanted one of our props to symbolise alien DNA strands, but I told him that was too highbrow for our audience;I mean, they're just kids...We tried to get Chris to act as Mrs Punch, but he told us to piss off, sadly - Dom Howard
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