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I love boobs. They’re fun to play with, feel, suck and look at. Boobs are great fun. That’s not where my love of them stops, though. My point of view about breasts is controversial, though it really shouldn’t be. They serve a biological function. Let’s forget all about the fact that they’re sexy and fun to look at and play with. The fact is, their primary purpose is for feeding babies. It’s always baffled me why men can c...

Dream Journal

A Journal of my dreams about Aliens, UFOS, black helicopters, Satan, and futuristic things.

I used to have these two repeating dreams as a young girl . Dream 1 The dream would start at my grandma's home. I would be outside on the third top deck and there was a huge enormous dark helicopter arriving in the sky from afar . It was huge and dark. As it would come nearer it would get louder and louder. I understood that the helicopter was after me. I saw that the helicopter had tinted windows, so I couldn't see who w...

I Don't Get It

Why do people bully

What is your reason for being hereIs it just to write poems and storiesOr are you here to cause tearsAre you just a bully marking your territoryWhy do some people like to cause hurtTo people, they don't even knowThey like to treat you like dirtThey put on an annoying showPerhaps they get a short time outTheir victims are made to look like foolsThey cast their stones all aboutYou have to wonder are there any rulesYou hear...

Will You, Please?

I wish I no longer care.

If I were not hard to please or too aloof to say the least If I were to care less with judgements to be at ease If I were too insensible to notice or deaf and blind to see If I were strong enough but no, my heart crumbles to hear thee And now I am wishing I was a person who is far from me Then, I would have never tried holding back my tears I would have never have even to wipe it dry I would have never have to hear re-ech...

On-line is so much different than real life People put on a mask and be who they like Spatting their words can hurt you like a knife You never know when the nastiness will strike Some people are quite egotistical And love to hear themselves preach They love to be very critical Dictating and giving you a speech I’m just looking for friends Who want to laugh and have fun Friendships that will not end Selecting the special o...

Work

Written in the break room waiting for the day to start.

Another day, more work.Tiredness looms around the corner,yet I do my duty. People buzz around,coming and going. Everyone has their own agenda,their own mission. Mine? To write poems. Data entry just fills a dull hole,but stories and poemsfill my soul. I watch as people watch me,unaware that they may featurein a story or poem. The wet and windy day outsidejust serves to inspire me more,though I do wish the wind would shut...

Musing on a Bus

I had nothing else to do, so I opened up a text editor and typed away.

I fucking hate my poetry. I love it, too. It's so bloody banal. It has been said that poetry reveals what is in your heart... Or was ir your soul? Whatever. My heart must be filled with weird, comic, lovely, shite. It has also been said that poetry is so subjective, that it is difficult to accurately judge. So... Why am I judging my poetry? Because I'm a harsh judge of my own self. If that sentence was any less well-writt...

Honest Deception

The lies that people weave

Lies that we weave through our fingers The words that are spoken through our lipsWe find out one day what we thought was true isn'tThe ones we loved so muchThe ones we called familyWho cares when they don't Why should I careI do though I cared very muchI'm brokenNow it doesn't matter what I thinkI can't get hurt anymoreI have reached my point and there's no turning backSo who cares because I don't

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There it was, a viscous blob of limber elasticity capable only of thought and some kind of irregular nebulous form of motion, perceiving the world yet barely influencing it. It spent its time floundering around the park, observing the quotidian routines of the proletarians in their mundane and monotonous undertakings, yet it felt drawn with interest and was intrigued to know more of the lives of these hoi polloi. It desir...

Life After Retirement

Much to my surprise, he was wearing only cowboy boots.

Life After Retirement You wake up one morning, the sun is shining and it looks like a beautiful day. What could possibly go wrong, your children are grown and your husband is retiring from the United States Army after 33 years. You're actually looking forward to living what's known as a normal life and boom, it just falls all around you like a pile of rocks. Those first couple weeks of the hubby under foot, you say to you...

People come and go. And after they go, after they've imprinted themselves into your heart... And finally leave... What happens next?You just move on, meet another person along the way... Have fun with them, make experiences.. Memorable ones. And then they leave. Or you do. And then the cycle goes all over again. Is it worth it?:(

Sitting on a bus, top deck,He looks down upon the populace,they look like a buch of wee specks,all milling about, scrofulous.Music blaring in his ears,the singer talking of her fears:Abandonment, betrayal through the years.He gazes into space, writes this piece,hoping that one day, she will find peace.Time to exit the bus now,navigate through the sow,pigs everywhere, through whom he'll plough. On another bus, he continues...

Shame on Us

When the shooting happened everyone tried to use it to promote their own agenda.

We use clever pictures, witty words,And celebrity quotes to say the things We are unable. Tragic moments bringOut the worst side of us. There is noHeart in what we say, only the convictionOf what we believe to be true. Are weRight? Does it matter in times like these?The blood of innocent children had not yetTurned cold and we proclaim our rights.We are like a child too, guilty to the pointWhere we have to make a stand bef...

Today!

my new year gift to myself.

Dear Friends, The silence was drowning me into my innermost thoughts that seemed to sprout from ‘second week’ at my new assignment. The cream and maroon cubicle with an entire glass wall on one side and an endless stretch of green reminded me of the museums I frequented with dad as a kid. So much beauty, only to be ‘seen’. I hated the butterfly corner they had in the museum back then…beautiful, rare (endangered some of th...

In order to gain any sort of stability we must first begin to understand each other...but understanding why some people do what they do is difficult...oh, believe me, believe us, it's difficult. Let's divulge for a minute by making a list (and checking it twice, three times, four times, and on and on and so forth):The angry drunks, who drink until they are pissing fumes...who, if you should so much as look at their girlfr...