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Old 06-28-2013, 11:17 AM   #15
Lars
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Join Date: Feb 2013
Location: Wolverhampton
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- The Winter Topical

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"Elephants Never Forget: The Elephant Never Forgot


"What a splendid head, yet no brain."
Aesop

http://www.unexplained-mysteries.com...ephant_man.jpg

From the age of five,
My face comprised, of distinct growths that ranged in size ..
.. and plagued my mind,
When I’d hear the hateful jibes, my classmates devised.
The torrential torment was often initiated by,
Bullies that would take the time ..
.. To state unkind, spates and lies, until they had made me cry.
Empty tears cascade the sides, of my craniums strange design ..
.. And with grace they slide,
Over my shapeless guises grey confines.
The great despise I faced at times, would duly strip away my pride ..
.. But Mother often told me,
“Beauty’s nothing but a state of mind,”
And I held her sweet words with me, up until the day she died ..
.. As they were right,
And I was stronger than the pain I faced inside.
My father would later find,
A stately sprite, to make his wife ..
.. Who placed her spiteful talons, well in view of his grateful sights.
Her waves of white,
And ageing lines, had made her face refined ..
.. But she was as cold and calculated, as a sculpture made of ice.
Her severe disgust was noted,
Through each of her weighted sighs ..
.. And she’d leave the room at the faintest sight, of my heinous plight.
For months she gamely tried,
To exploit this great divide ..
.. Culminating in the deft ultimatum that came to light,
“It’s either I go, or he goes!” she’d proclaim with spite ..
.. And I raged inside,
When asked to leave our estate that night.
I found myself out in the cold world,
With no place to hide.
Followed by the japes and snipes, of children that raced me by.
My deformity meant,
Looking for work was a waste of time ..
.. As nowhere would accept such a disfigured face as mine.
Then to my ornate surprise,
A fly-poster graced my eyes ..
.. About a travelling freak show that sought my distasteful kind.
The pay was trite,
But so were most jobs in these days and times ..
.. And I felt somewhat insubordinate as they caged my hind.
The steel curtain was raised in time,
To meet the publics scathing pries ..
They never saw me, just the disfigured mask I’m portrayed behind.
When one day a saintly guide,
Would enter to change my life ..
.. “Dr. Treves” he stated quite, profoundly. I remained uptight.
His gaping eyes,
Fell on my hideous growths that had stabilized ..
.. And he informed me,
He could help to investigate their rise.
So I moved to Whitechapel Hospital, where I’d the greatest time ..
.. And Doctor Treves,
Removed pockets of flesh from my face and spine.
I yearned to be ‘normal’ again -
To sleep as I faced the sky ..
.. A comfort I hadn’t known in years, due to my heads weight and size.
It was during my attempt in the dawn of one fateful night,
That upon my own stupidity,
I would suffocate and die.
Empty tears cascade the sides, of my craniums strange design ..
.. And with grace they slide,
Over my shapeless guises’ grey confines.
The great despise I’d faced at times, had duly stripped away my pride ..
.. And Mother had told me,
Beauty was nothing but a state of mind.
I held those true words with me, up until the day I’d died ..
.. But these people never saw me,

Just the disfigured mask I was portrayed behind.

- Joseph Carey Merrick
5th August 1862 – 11th April, 1890

"The Nightmare Before Christmas”

http://www.picturegrill.com/images/c...tachimney.jpeg


Don’t you just fucking HATE it when Christmas arrives?
That meticulous time,
When soft mittens comprise, snowmen of formidable size ..
.. From the thickets of white,
Sitting astride, the distant horizon.
The winds cold, briskly respite, navigates deciduous pines ..
.. Whistling by,
On its mission-less guide, where with pure intuition it finds ..
.. A lonesome snowman,
That glistens with pride, deep in the dark midst of the night.
Abandoned by his creator,
The young girl was forced to kiss him goodbye ..
.. Leaving him cruelly exposed,
To the adoration of which he despised.
His movements restricted,
By the barren branches that stick from his sides ..
.. And so he sits in the silence,
Bitterly frightened, with his pummelled face missing an eye.

I used to love it.
Christmas had always been a favoured fixture of mine ..
.. And often I reminisce on the times,
When anticipation meant the hairs on my neck would bristle and rise.
Mother was quick to surmise,
That I had to be asleep before Saint Nick would arrive ..
.. But I’d sit with my eyes,
Firmly affixed to the blinds, awaiting the glorious gifts he provided.
I awoke, both betwixt with surprise, and of startled relief ..
.. Heading downstairs,
Where my father would be, clutching the star for the tree.
With his assistance,
I’d place it on top as he marvelled at me ..
.. Then open up my presents as I sat perched on the arc of his knee.
I made a metropolis,
From our laminate flooring that was sparkling clean ..
.. My remote control car,
Traversing the length of our house and all parts in between.
Elated rapture exuded,
From my smile in the most ardent of beams ..
But one year in particular,
I could sense the pretence in her parlance of glee.
It was only when I witnessed,
My dear Mother starting to weep ..
.. That I realised,
She was harbouring me, from the darkest of secrets…

And I guess this is where my hate of Christmas derives,
I was six at the time,
When it broke my heart into pieces.
My dear Mother tried her best to guard the fact,
She proved hard to crack,
And when she did - I still struggled hard to believe it.
All that me and Mommy could then do,
Was start from scratch,
The void left was filled with only stark incompleteness.
And this is why I fucking HATE it when Christmas arrives,
Cause now I’M the lonesome snowman,
Out in the dark midst of the night.
That puerile pile you’ll find out on the distant horizon,
Cold
Heartless
Unable to move on, and sitting in silence.
Abandoned by my creator,
But with his memory’s still rich in my mind,
I was six at the time,
And it broke my heart into pieces.
My dear Mother tried her best to guard the fact,
She proved hard to crack,
And when she did - I still struggled hard to believe it.
All that me and her could then do,
Was start from scratch,
The void left was filled with only stark incompleteness.
My father had died from a multiple heart attack,
And that’s why all I want for Christmas THIS year is my father back...



"Washed Up!"


.
.
.

Do you remember when you would call me yours?
When I was the savvy sailor navigating those stormy shores;
And you were the burlesque barmaid we all adored,
The first female that I’d fallen for...


“...All aboard!”


...I guess I’d always been too afraid of letting go;
‘Cos you never know what can happen when you’re caught in the ebb and flow.
But I was carried away by the current and swept to the side;
Where I found myself drowning in the deepest, dark, depths of your eyes.
As their replenishing grace lashed over me,
I embraced it strong,
And with a sharp intake of breath, I would gladly take the plunge.
You were the mermaid on the barnacled buttresses I braved collision,
As I courageously steered my stern vessel on its maiden mission.
But simultaneously I found myself in a strange position;
Because I’d always been careful not to go overboard with inane decisions.
Yet our relationship was as open and free as the oceans and seas;
From the moment you seized my heart,
Gone were my loneliest needs.
And I was thrown in the deep end where you left me amazed;
Where I leapt in elation while riding on the crest of that wave.
I was so desperate to make a splash, I kid you not, I did the lot...
...As you were the beacon up in the lighthouse,
That guided my ship to dock.
But I soon found it wasn’t all plain sailing attached to you;
Even though I’d gladly choose to do what you asked me too...
...And sometimes I’d call you a “Beach” behind your back, it’s true.
But much like the incoming tide,
I’d come crawling back to you.
Yet there was a lot more to me than the guy you’d always see;
Beneath the calm surface lay a cold, scathing, storm at sea...
...You’d drifted into the arms of another as I watched you float;
And up fecal firth with no paddle,
I decided to rock the boat.
But my emotions turned like the tides, and I fostered regrets...
...As you probed my turbulent mind, for what had got me upset.
And then I watched as you wept, on the docks with the jetty;
Before dragging your body down to those same rocks where you met me...
And waves of anger crashed over me alone where we stood;
As I thought to myself “If I couldn’t have you, then nobody would.”
But I was already in too deep,
And that much I’d admit.
I tried pushing her onto the rocks, but during the struggle – I slipped!
And I fell backwards, hearing her gasping screams suddenly stop,
As I hit the ground –The true meaning of Love On The Rocks.
Now I’m just deadwood,
Tossed and thrown around these stormy shores...
...And you’ll forever be the only female I’ve fallen for.
But you’ll never wash my blood from your hands,
No matter what you pass them through.
And much like the incoming tide,
I’ll come crawling back for you...


Beach.



"Deflowered Rose"

http://img1.imagetitan.com/img1/1/16/vandam.jpg


Under the guise of darkness, lies a heartless, guy who hides the carcass ..
.. of a seven-year-old school girl back in his high rised apartment.
She’d tried her hardest,
To escape the ropes he’d tied her arms with ..
.. before the tyrant started to divide her garments,
And molest the child regardless.
The violence started, once she’d rejected his evil suggestion ..
.. he beat her ‘til her cries for help, were little more than silent yelps.
The pungent stench of his stale breath, clung to her pale flesh ..
.. and she balled her fists at each sordid kiss,
Placed upon her by his morbid lips.
A single finger prised open the pink insides of this shrinking violet ..
.. and as his assertive hand plundered her cervic glands -
He barely blinked an eyelid.
Rose couldn’t bring herself to meet the glare of this demon,
So, tearfully, she stared at the ceiling - Feeling her innocence tearing and bleeding.
Her tormentor had climbed, the lengths of her thighs and ventured inside ..
.. Clenching the sides of her face -
To reveal the dark intent in his eyes.
Tensions were high, as the monster snarled through pristine dentures of white ..
.. And spat in the young girl’s face,
Where a mass of fear and resentment preside.
The animal lengthens his strides, as beads of sweat secrete from his pores ..
.. The heathen ignores her pleas for remorse -
His sickening lust still eager for more.
With arms that are strong and sculpted, and veins that feed him copious strength ..
.. he gropes for her neck, holds her over the bed, and chokes her to death.
Poor Rose had tried her hardest, to escape this violent hardship ..
.. Now her lifeless carcass, sits on a dirty mattress back in his high rised apartment.
And under the guise of darkness, lies a heartless guy who’s prides departed ..
.. His lone physique roams the streets,
While looking to find his targets…



"Neurasthenia"


My father raised us responsibly;
As great threads of gray swept through his rich waves of mahogany.
And he also worked as a salesman, so I safely acknowledged he
lied for a living and this was why he hated dishonesty.
His way was the common theme.
But this dictatorship remained a hit due to his smiling face of authority.
He wages on comically, playful and folly free,
While saving a stolid beam for the occasional modesty.
Pops was as neat and organised as any page from a glossary.
While my brother and me would disagree while playing Monopoly,
and David would often leave to create a ***ophony.
Heaven knows our Father must have had all the patience of Socrates.
After a stern talk from dad -
I was more ‘forced’ than ‘asked’ to make an apology.
While David was scooped up and placed on his knobbled knee.
Spluttering threats under my breath, I laid the table with crockery,
“Dad,” David sniffled, before I heard him say -

“Why did mommy leave?”


The atmosphere in the room grew so tense,
I prayed someone would hand me a knife.
As his candid, refined Cheshire grin became sadly resigned.
Before his so called stone-jawed expression was cracked and he sighed.
I sat at his side,
And he frantically tried to explain what had happened and why.
It didn’t make him any less of a man in my eyes,
to stand there and cry.
Because since her departure over a week ago, we’d been a family divided.
Standing in silence as empty tears traversed his great frown,
There was an upsurge of raised brows at the words that came out,
as his lips trembled “Your mother’s had a nervous breakdown,”
I reared up from his beer gut with a sneer but
my austere look was a mere bluff
to mask the disbelief which had sphered up in my tearducts.
It appeared such a clear-cut thing when dad had said she'd gone away,
So what was grating at me,
Wasn't that he made us believe she was on her holidays,
Nor the ensconsed distain which dislodged the pain,
But that he'd lied to me.
To us.
To himself on the odd occasion.
And because of his jejune job where the selfish fool
delved into whichever velvet ruse would sell to you,
Me and my brother held the view we should always tell the truth
When infact, honesty was a welcomed tool he seldom used.
I felt dispelled, deluded, cozen and course
as I spent a moment marauded in total discord with the sobering thought
that the grown man's tears he so nobly fought back
were the coldest I'd caught.
His eyes opened once more.
The pain etched within stretched the skin on his weathered face,
But given his present state,
And the wisdom he'd resonate,
I knew lying to his children was the hardest decision he'd ever made.
Yet even with his troubles part-considered,
I grew sullen, dark, and bitter.
And felt I'd lost the trusting father figure I'd loved with heart and vigour.
I felt crushed with hardened rigor.
But this huge hysteria soon deteriorated and grew inferior,
When I thought of the Mother I loved, being claimed to her Neurasthenia.
And I'll never get used to seeing her reclined in that chair,
When all that remains of the woman I knew, are the eyes that we share.
The pride isn't there.
Inside it's unbearable, but I hide it with care.
Yet since it happened I feel closer than we had been before,
Because I too have no real sense of who I am anymore.
My mood's altered by drugs,
The difference of course is you're administered yours -
While we'll both sit in our rooms 'til feeding time or a visitor calls.
So I'm glad when you'll send me letters,
to write back and pretend you're better.
But most of all i'm just thankful for the time we manage to spend together.

We never had much in the way of duckets or change, just the occasional pudding made for our cousins who stayed a couple of days. When our cupboard’s contained less than Old Mother Hubbard’s, lets say. But you would never hear our Mother complain! No matter how often we struggled to pay the bills, or budget, and save. No matter how often, or emphatically, she tried to juggle her day. No matter how hard she’d just worked to serve a hot meal up on our plates, you would never hear our Mother complain. Not even through the ruction we made! But maybe us being so dysfunctional gave us that strong, solid, structural base. That sense of family values and well-being you just couldn’t replace. And when you have nothing to lose, you start looking to gain. This is how me and my brothers were raised. We were told to go for the jugular vein, to give back as good as they gave, but that good things come to those who have the gumption to wait. Sure there will be punishing days, where you’ll have taken just as much as you’ll take. Where you’ll feel like a blundering great lummox that makes a hundred mistakes. But these testing times are where Mother’s are humbly made! In their multiple roles as a chauffeur, housewife, a cook and a slave. And you’ll stumble or stray asunder some days under the strain. But you’ll do anything to see a smile on that childs wonderful face, no matter how laborious the task or how long that it takes. This is a full-time job with no time to be squandered on breaks, and could even result in you taking a cut in your pay. Sometimes it’s all too easy to shovel the blame, but these testing times are where Mother’s are humbly made, and so I’m asking, if the roles were reversed – Could I really stomach the same?

I doubt it.

Thank you.
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Last edited by Lars; 06-28-2013 at 11:21 AM.
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