Two Birds and a StoneIt was an intermittently bright afternoon in spring, and outside a fashionable cafe near the city centre, two women sat, lattes in hand. One was around thirty five years old, wore smart, thick-framed glasses and a knee length, tight, pencil skirt. The other was a little older, a little more rounded and carried a shiny, red leather handbag that could have fitted a kitchen sink, three Chihuahuas and a complete ‘Encyclopaedia Britannica’. Occasionally the first lady’s eyes would flick towards it with a look verging on the disdainful, her own small purse clutched delicately on her lap.Two Birds and a Stone
They met here for lunch every Wed
Spindleberry GroveIn a sea of nailsSpindleberry Grove
and tacks and spurs there lies the island
of Spindleberry grove. Where princesses lie and sleep, to wake
one thousand years later when their skin hangs from their bones
and their knotted, endless hair spreads out choking everything
and the Spindleberrys poke up like pine cones,
waiting.
Afternoon TeaAfternoon TeaAfternoon Tea
The children in our family come out of the womb already lovers of tea,
It’s probable that we’ll all die
of stomach ulcers.
Fingers I, II + IIIFingers IFingers I, II + III
Fingers tucked round the steering wheel, pulled over on the side of a road, not sure why (maybe). The phone’s out and I’m scrolling through names, names of people who mean everything (nothing). I’m tracing the routine of my ice dance on the grey seat covers. All the time I’m swearing, sobbing, not sure why (maybe).
Fingers II
A handful of severed fingers articulating what they want in some strange semaphore of twitching. I’m crouched like a shaman trying to interpret the story of their liberation, the time when they had a connec
cranes
time time time
A Girl NamedI once knew a girl named Coma, her kisses tasted like television static, and her spine was hidden like roots, like love letters carved in trees(nature,cover oursecrets.nature,coverourselves.)A Girl Named
Andshe’d whisper to me:
“Things are
Breaking, Things are Broke. Whatisthiswasteland? Whatislife,but-a-prescription? Lover-o-Lover,tellme
Molotov-fairytales,touchme Withyour sedatives,your tongue Islike opium, Lover-o-Lover,helpme Forget,helpme Never-Wake-Up”
I once loved a girl named Coma, &
Lots of poetry
--
Fuck the Faux.
"My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori."-Wilfred Owen
I appreciate it a lot
--
http://ninasundberg.com - Twitter - Facebook
'you're the only secret I have'
xo!
--
You are not responsible for anyone's happiness but your own.
mucho appreciated
--
I like my coffee
Markus
--
Markus
RL: Real Life, also known as "that big room with the ceiling that is sometimes blue and sometimes black with little lights"
Founder of *360degree - deviantArt's Panorama Group
--
Lara Jade.
larajadephotography@gmail.com
l a r a j a d e . c o . uk
--
MY GALLERY © [link]
Hitomii: Sabrina E Hackett Photography
Nature and Macro Photographer
My Most Popular Work - [link]
I believe in a Watch for a Watch
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