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Best WishesBest Wishes
I haven't written for many people before.
If this isn't what you expected,
Today is your birthday
I won't ask your age
Gentlemen don't ask
This is your once a year day
It's your time to rage
Go and do all you want.
Just be cautious
I'll be around if you need me.
From me and Puabi
Users ManualUsers Manual
Precious / semiprecious stones need to be polished
Use a small soft cloth and scrub gently until you see luster
No need to run under water
Unless the surface is dirty
Then place in a safe box on a medium shelf
For good access
Heart of woman needs no polish
Just tender care, lots of warmth
And of course true, sincere love
When she cups her hands over her chest
She means, as does Puabi,
"Take my heart and all my love"
Then take her heart carefully
Keep it safe and clean always
To clean a woman's heart,
Let her cry in your arms until she stops herself
Hold her tight
Kiss every part of her face
Let her feel your heartbeat
Be sweet but sincere like Clifford Rogers
"I am here for you always,darling"
When she smiles
When she looks into your eyes
Loose your hold a bit
She will never run away
Robbers (page 3)Robbers
4. Conclusion- Count Frederic Pursues
The two local men gaped for a moment, and then ran scared like jackrabbits for the gate of the mausoleum. But Count Frederic appeared there to block their escape. They screamed and shouted until Sir Keith and Malcom Townes joined them. But the two foreigners did not rescue them. Townes smiled for a moment, slyly, and said,
"Hold him back for a spell. We'll search his vault."
The locals stared at their employers in disbelief. Just before they headed for Count Frederic's vault, Sir Keith explained, slyly,
"You are hired to do whatever is needed to help us raid the vault, Franz Tesla. So stay there. If you're lucky enough to survive, we'll pay you at the airport before departure."
They gave no quarter for the two natives to reply; instead, they dashed off to Count Frederic's vault. Count Frederic soon made quick work of Franz Tesla, leaving his corpse bleeding upon the floor of the mausoleum. Armand bolted for the gate and almost
"you're my everything"
How is that true?
When I have you
I laugh with triumph
I cry with joy
I love with passion
I embrace and never want to let go
And you say
Hold me, beloved
Don't let me go
We both know
The ladders were right
To send you to me
My everything in one form
I adore you
And for me
Since I found you
I have found new meaning to life
My days are warmer than in my time
My nights are sweeter
Because you stayed
When others looked and departed
Only you agreed to love
I love you now and forever
Robbers (page 2)Robbers
3. Romania and the Expedition
Sir Keith Hargreaves disembarked at the international airport in Bucharest at the late hour of half past 11 pm.
Hardly anyone was thre except night security staff. He checked at security and rested at Arrival Lounge for a few
minutes. Malcolm Townes was with him, as agreed. He set out from the airport grounds to meet local people and try to employ a man or two for their purpose. Within about one hour, Townes returned rather excitedly and informed Sir
Keith that he found two lower middle class fellows who were available to help at low fee. He summoned them and one
man, aged 64 years entered.
"Do you know what we are going to do," Sir Keith asked slowly, so that the man could understand him.
"You are not afraid?"
"A little, sir. It is because of Count Frederic, sir."
"I have learned about him, a bit," Sir Keith assured him.
"That is well, sir. Shall we make our move, sir?"
"Yes, let us go."
The team of fou
Robbers (page 1)Robbers
1.As In Life, So in Death
The wealthy and the poor are divided both in life and in death. In life, the community of wealthy residents is landmarked by mansions . The poor may live in hovels or erect adequate housing, but it can never match the mansions of the wealthy. In death, the rich are in graves or mausoleums to one end of the cemetery and the poor lie in simple graves at another end.
Because of this division, the more degenerate of the poor choose to rob the rich graves, as they might have robbed the mansions when the rich were alive. Of course, robbing graves is a serious offense and whenever a robber is discovered, he is punished. This writer is not certain what the penalty is.
However, among the poor there are those not only uneducated but also starkly superstitious and fear that the rich dead will avenge the robbery. This writer has recorded one case.
2. How it Began
The case I am reporting was not a simple case of th
The GlyphsThe Glyphs
Strange glyphs upon a stone wall
The readers are confused
A time beyond our reckoning
"We were not created then."
"Indeed not. This is too old,
Too long ago."
"What of those figures?"
The figures told of creatures before our time
As old as the earth itself
Names strange and unearthly
At last, they turned to go
Cry of the JackalsCry of the Jackals
Those who have traversed the Sahara along the Egyptian stretch and wandered through the Valley of Kings might have chanced to hear the occasional cries of jackals. They sometimes hang out near the doors of the tombs. When this writer was at the nearest resort, a traveler such as I mentioned arrived and told me and a few others that he had seen or heard a clutch of jackals at a particular tomb. Naturally, someone inquired,
"Which tomb was it? Akhenaten? Ramses?"
"I am not really sure," he replied, nervously. "Neither did I see a marking nor did my guide know."
An unmarked tomb. An unknown mummy. Something very strange was going on out there. However, I was still on holiday and had no intention to investigate. So the inquirer, Edmond Tulley, an amateur investigator who occasionally worked with Scotland Yard, felt it was incumbent to go. The journey was about two days by rover.
When Tulley arrived, he and his guide, a native Egyptian, camped and checked provisions. Cert
Heart of the Woman IIHeart of the Woman
What will glow like fire every night?
What will shine like the stars?
What will glimmer so brightly
That one will see it from afar?
What will have value more than precious stones,
More than silver and gold?
What has a price so dear when bought
But never should be sold?
Men, if you don't know, then ask your wives; if they don't know, then ask Puabi.
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
I willI will love you
all the way to the place where ladybirds go to die,
to the lushest corners of the earth
that hold the secrets no man was meant to see
and we will find them, and know them together.
I will love you
all the way to the place where bubbles are made
at the bottom of a glass of cider
that blisters the glass with condensation
as we trade hats and laugh at the way the air smiles.
I will love you
all the way inside a branch where buds dream of Becoming,
where those one-day-flowers stir wooden hearts
into an uprising, into a blossoming life
and we will plant our ambitions there, in the blooming place.
I will love you
all the way to the square brackets that hold our boxes
because you are my best friends, and you will be
as we fold papery hands around paper-cut wrists and cry
and mourn eighty-odd years flown by too fast. Even then.
Even then, I will love you still.
Beyond LoveYou say 'beautiful' like a mistake -
like it slipped out unwarranted
from those dark parts of your mind
that you don't want me to go to,
you say it like that.
You caress like it's worship -
like if you pressed too hard
or took too much, you'd pay the price
and I love those urgent times when
you're willing to pay it.
You teach me love like I'll die without it -
like if you don't defrost me
and my frozen image of myself,
then I might stop breathing
and extinguish beneath my own icy damnation.
You kiss me like you have to -
like we're sharing an oxygen tank
in a toxic, broken-down universe
and you are trying not to breathe
to save me.
You kiss me like that.
You love me, like that -
how am I supposed to resist
a man who loves me beyond his own sense
and senses - beyond love ?
love didn't matter, but home was with youi.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebushes that
were too stained to be called
me that sometimes
love doesn't matter, and
i (did)n't want to
you asked me once if anything
mattered, a lighter
gracing one hand and a
cigarette lining your
lips. i wasn't
sure back then
and i don't know
if i am now
(but i think i want to say yes).
my body never felt
unarticulatedtonight I ask myself:
where are you going with all these names
in your pockets? syllables that taste
unauthentic in the desperate American
repression is a series of images
earthbound angels breathing
flame, starving hands speaking
in tongues, glazed eyes
asking are you fucking okay
pale skin becoming moonlight,
reflecting and refracting and
the quiet understatement
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
Diamond TearIn silence
I observe them
Laughing and having fun
While I'm in my corner
I feel out of place
I don't belong here
So I leave
And no one notices
Now I'm out on the street
A dark and silent one
Enjoying the breeze
Lost in my thoughts
Suddenly I hear a sob
And I look around
I see a girl
Sitting on a bench
A single diamond tear
Running down her face
I don't know her
No one else is around
I could just leave
But I can't
So I sit by her side and ask
Without looking her in the eyes
For a moment
And then she takes my hand
And we look
Into each other's eyes
And she whispers
SafeI clasped my hand tight shut around my mothers.
I was a possessive oyster wrapped around pearly fingers
bitten white by the freshly whisked air.
We braced ourselves against the frozen metal frames
that, although unmovable by infantile hands,
were not a substantial enough barrier against a tempest.
The sea lashed out its limbs in a fury
and the sky’s face paled grey with worry
at what that grasping anger might achieve.
It rose to greet us, stood on mighty churning haunches
and collapsed heavily around our shoulders
with the dramatic violence of a dancer
crashing down upon a splintered Tibia.
It drenched us, filling mouths and ears with water.
My mother’s hand squeezed mine, comforting,
and as the sea drew back again,
preparing to strike out at us over and over
until its very exhaustion point – and over once more –
As it readied itself to slash our raincoats,
with the force of an evening spiralling into true darkness,
over and over –
for a moment the smell o
Strange New World (edited)Strange New World (edited)
Memoirs of a Mad Poet Vol. III
I am a lone and a lonely alien
In this strange new world
From childhood I felt so much
Out of place
Sitting silent, staring dumbfounded
Family and neighbors all derided
Mother thought I was a
So was Einstein, supposedly
Mother exclaimed [to father]
"He lives in his own world!"
I do.Because it is better
Than this one.
Strange new world
I no longer know which one
That I do not belong in it
The citizens stare at me
I am not a monster
Truth to tell
I play better than them
At being human.
I am alien. Not just foreign.
My home world is not on Earth
I have tried for years to leave
Like a lone airplane in its hangar
In a storm
Waiting for the abatement
When it comes,
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More