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Literature
Ballooning
MAN: (addressing audience) Ohh. When did we meet? That's a good question. Is it bad that I can't really remember? (looks to woman) When did we meet?
WOMAN: Are you telling me you can't remember? (addresses audience) Shocking, isn't it? (shakes head) Well, the truth is we met (pauses as she thinks)  quite a while ago.
MAN:  Three years ago!
WOMAN:  Yes, three years ago. Spot on.
MAN: Wait. Three years? Has it only been that long? I'd say about four realistically.
WOMAN:  I think it's only been about 2 and half years, three at the most.
MAN: Really? Well where did we meet then?
WOMAN: Was it at Rosie's? You knew Rosie didn't you?
MAN: Yeah, of course I do, I mean, we each knew her before we met each other.
WOMAN: Exactly and didn't we meet at her birthday party, 25th I think it was; With the chocolate fountain and those meringues.
MAN: Oh and the chocolate truffles. God, they were great.
WOMAN: Yeah, they were goo
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Literature
First
You are the first for me to leave,
And now it’s mourning for us all.
I’m unsure of how I should feel,
Unsure if I should feel.
It’s been a few days, I think,
For me it’s less surreal, more real.
I’ll recite Auden for you on Monday
Although, I’m not sure if it is fitting.
Maybe I’ll see you in the back row,
Or feel your hand on my shoulder.
I don’t think I want you to be there,
You’re free. You’re free; don’t return.
I’m glad I sat with you before,
It had felt right.
I sat with you for two hours, although,
I wish it had been three or four.
Clocks whizzed twelve hours on,
You were able to drift away.
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Literature
Requesting a Forecast
*Ring ring, ring ring*
Receptionist: "Hello, BBC Television Centre, Information Desk. How can we help you?"
Caller: "Oh hello, I was just wondering if I could speak to the weatherman, please."
Receptionist: "Er... The weatherman?"
Caller: "Yes. The weather lady would be just as useful I suppose, if that's any easier."
Receptionist: "Do you have a specific name?"
Caller: "Of course I do, I'm Tim."
Receptionist: "No, sorry, I meant do you have the name of one of the staff here that you would like to speak to?"
Caller: "Oh right, silly me. In that case, no, I don't."
Receptionist: "Ok, sir. Can I ask about the nature of this call."
Caller: "Well unsurprisingly, it's about the weather. I was looking to see if I could make a request."
Receptionist: "A request, sir?"
Caller: "Mhmm. You see, I've noticed that every time England has quite a grotty day, weather wise, France seems to have quite a lovely day; even more lovelier than when it's sunny in England. It works both ways, so when we have
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Literature
Swapsies
If I could poke your eyes out and replace them with my own, I would. I’d wear yours for a while and look at the world how it’s meant to be and you can see how it is for me. On nice days I’ll have them back and live as I would like to; we can swap on days that suit us both and we’ll decide our moods. If for a day I could take your brain I’d make the best of it and I’d try to train myself to think as you do, could you organise my thoughts too? I’d do all the work I seem to be missing and just sit and think without any interfering.  With your lips I’d see how wide I could smile and talk about everything I could see with your eyes and understand with your brain before I had to return them to you again. I want to snip off my ears and replace them with yours and not have echoes of reoccurring thoughts just silence or maybe the noises of the sea that would be quite comforting.
And you would sit there with my eyes. And you would sit there with
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Literature
Human Footprint
Let us start again, turn off the light,
Extinguish the stars that are out tonight,
Unplug the sea, run a comb across the land,
Let’s bury the mistakes, we once made, in the sand.
Switch off the machines, no beeps and no bongs,
Turn down the volume, no cries and no songs,
Destroy the new and reinstate the old,
It’s what we once had that matters, we all should be told.
Man must leave; the world must start again,
We’ll never learn we will only ever stain.
Let Mother Nature forgive our thoughtless sins,
But let us rest in peace to never rise again.
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Literature
I Wanted to be a Diver
I wanted to be a diver,
And swim to the bottom of the sea,
But I’m afraid of liquids and it explains a lot to me:
Why I quiver when I pee,
Why I scream at a cup of tea,
Why I shake at the sight of a river,
Maybe the sea is just not for me.
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Literature
Behind Closed Doors
He wasn’t the popular kid by far. Same dirty clothes everyday and the dirty underwear that was revealed when we changed for P.E. The clingy smell of damp which rose from every part of him as well as his ratty features didn’t help him either. His hands were often cut, bruised and worn and the same bags remained under his eyes the whole time I knew him. You raised your voice and he would quiver, you raised your hand and he would squeal. I never caught on until I was invited to spend the weekend at his house.
We would watch Star Wars. It wasn’t my favourite but I would put up with it anyway and slip my legs through the bars at the end of his bed and pretend to be in the cinema with him. When we weren’t watching the films, we would be playing with his plastic figurines of the various characters, rectifying the script how we saw fit or otherwise acting out our, mostly his, favourite scenes. The curtains were always drawn and the lights were either dim or out altogether w
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Literature
Pretty
He asks me what I’ve done today and expects precise, detailed answers; but I can barely remember what I did a couple of minutes ago.
Did I lock the  door?
Hour by hour I try my best to recite my footsteps from eight o clock in the morning, my alarm has been stuck at eight am for quite some time now, to whenever I go to bed. He knows when I lie and when I exaggerate.
Today I’ll do nothing. Then what will he think?
I spend longer on the more personal activities. He specifically likes it when I describe when I piss but there are also the more obvious favourites – showering, dressing/undressing and putting on my makeup. He likes my eyes, or to be exact, my eyelashes. He’ll sometimes bring some lipstick and ask me to put it on, wiping off my own first of course. He makes me feel normal although I know there's something different about me.
After I have explained my day or when he has tired of listening to me he asks me to show him what’s in my
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Mature content
Hidden City Festival Monologue :icondreadsdead:Dreadsdead 0 1
Literature
Ill?
I’m well, thank you for asking.
Anything you can do to help?
I’ve felt too good for too long and I’m tired.
Sneeze on me, let me lick your sores,
Bite me until I bleed then flood my wounds
With pennyroyal and bleach.
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Literature
How To Survive A Hallucination
Tense whole body. Lock jaw.
Dig fingernails into skin.
Introduce your eyes to the carpet.
Take deep breath. Hold. Go red.
Make loud noise as you exhale.
Make no noise as you inhale.
Close your eyes.
Feel them put their hands into your pockets.
Hear them whisper about you behind your back.
Open your eyes and watch them sink into the blurry ripples
- at the edge of your line of sight.
Feel your pockets deflate as the noises die down.
Allow yourself to breathe again, allow yourself a frown.
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Literature
Vial
Not sick. Not phlegm;
But an acid unknown to myself.
It arised from somewhere and presented itself as you.
You burnt like no other had,
Before this it was gentle.
It didn't scar; Nor stain.
A bruise for a day or two.
But nothing comparable to your tactics, my dear.
I tipex across the marks and I'm covered in this white toxicity.
It doesn't delete.
It covers.
Like the metaphorical acid; you were unknown;
And that's how you'll undoubtedly stay.
So, I place you back into your vial and drink you down, another day.
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Mature content
Love Me :icondreadsdead:Dreadsdead 2 4
Mature content
Bared Teeth and Sunburnt :icondreadsdead:Dreadsdead 0 3
Mature content
Trees of Burwood :icondreadsdead:Dreadsdead 0 4
Literature
Linings
Are the cows sitting down?
Are the clouds above us dripping?
I hope it rains today, for my own sake,
I want to drown this downhill city.
When is it going to fall?
Can't we topple the buckets now?
The sooner the better, it's best to be wet,
Let us pierce a hole in the cloud.
Is the one above us grey?
Is it dark and gloomy yet?
I want it to thunder, shock the city,
What's the forecast? -  I'd better check.
Can I be the first to feel it?
Why is everybody else sad?
The sky needs to fall, upon us all,
And then maybe smiling won't be so bad.
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Activity


deviantID

Dreadsdead
Jack
United Kingdom
Current Residence: Plymouth, UK
Favourite genre of music: Grunge
Operating System: Vista
MP3 player of choice: iPod Touch
Wallpaper of choice: Blue
Favourite cartoon character: Homer Simpson
Personal Quote: "It's all the same...Just, different."
Interests
  • Listening to: Common People - Pulp
  • Watching: Talking Turkeys!!
  • Drinking: Tea
I've just come back from seeing Benjamin Zephaniah reading poetry and MCing at the opening of the festival 'How To Change the World in Seven Days', being hosted by the miniscule (physically) Barbican Theatre here in Plymouth.

If ever I've questioned the point of being a writer I will no longer do it again. For those of you who do not know of him, Zephaniah is world reknowed poet and activist. The majority of his poems are political and he has come under fire as a result of this, but it is all wonderful. He hosted the event and introduced young writers throughout the evening to come up and read their poetry in relation to the title of the festival, I was too chicken shit so I withdrew my application. There was a lot of talent there and it was brilliant that all these people in the audience, some of them who I'm sure were shocked at some of the content, were being forced to listen to opinions of people that are usually ignored but were this evening presented in the best way possible!! The diversity of the 'Collective Voices' was brilliant; it went from pieces about abuse to pieces about war and hip hop (Which I NEVER listen to) which delved into similar areas and covered recent and current events such as the fighting in the Gaza Strip.

Go watch his stuff on youtube, now!! My favourite piece on there, which he didn't perform tonight unfortunately, is www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4AgPS… - Talking Turkeys

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Comments


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:iconinternaldiscord:
internaldiscord Featured By Owner Jan 31, 2009  Hobbyist General Artist
I very much like your gallery. You have a such a broad range of subjects! It was a delight to peruse your writing... thank you for sharing.
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:iconskatofily:
skatofily Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2009
You're welcome ;) I like the way you write
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:iconflobblem:
Flobblem Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2008  Professional Writer
Hey there, put you on me journal [link]
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:icondreadsdead:
Dreadsdead Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2008
Thank you :D
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:iconflobblem:
Flobblem Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2008  Professional Writer
Well i have read most of your gallery and i can't fully decide what i think about your poetry. I like the imagery you use, the way you make things seem somehow dirty and negative. Yeah i would probably say i like it.
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uber-bubble Featured By Owner Nov 16, 2008  Hobbyist General Artist
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uber-bubble Featured By Owner Oct 13, 2008  Hobbyist General Artist
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