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ready to be heartbroken
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Snakehips

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Snakehips

Snakehips            Andy's friends started a band called the Waverley Wearers, and since he couldn't play an instrument and they needed a drummer, they let him play drums. But he couldn't keep the beat and soon they grew tired and replaced him with a snake-hipped washout who claimed he was almost somebody once, but this was probably not true. On their first gig without Andy, the Waverley Wearers and their new old drummer got spotted and signed and were on their way to world domination. Or so it felt to Andy. Really, they were stuck on a bottom scraping small town tour opening for a band you've never heard of, unless they have "the poor man

Skellington

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Skellington

Skellington               No one knew where the skull had come from. It might have been in the drama store for years. It didn't really matter anyway, as, for the moment, no one was paying it any attention. They were too busy preparing for the school play. Jocelyn was running over the final script, crossing out the references to anal sex the year twelves hoped she wouldn't notice. It was a bad move to let them write it themselves, but the class was so enthusiastic. And it would have been fine if the head hadn't decided that they should perform it at the end of term for their parents. At first Jocelyn was thrilled, until she realised the amou

A Lecture On Bears

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A Lecture On Bears

An extract from “Giving Bear-th – An Exploration into Recent Revelations Regarding the Migratory Habits of the Ursine Genus in Search of Parental Fulfilment”                  It is not yet common knowledge, but all bears are born in the same place. It’s true. We found this out only recently. Somewhere out in the wilds of Alaska - nowhere you’ve heard of, nowhere you could get to easily, and nowhere you’d want to, certainly not at the end of winter. That’s when they congregate. We used to think they hibernated the whole time

Random Stuff

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Random Stuff

I like cake much more in theory than in practise. I pepper my conversation with it but I never buy it. I like cakes that have breadcrumbs up the side but that's it. Maybe a gateau too. But apart from that. I don't like icing or buttercream or jam. And I hate marzipan. ESPECIALLY marzipan. Marzipan's for the birds. *** Take the last road to Reykjavik We'll meet again in Reykjavik On the streets of Reykjavik We'll be together again Where rooftops are tipped with ice Where little kids wear hats and gloves We'll walk on frozen lakes with care Reykjavik - let's go there I've never been to Reykjavik I've never been with you But m

Morte

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Morte

When he died, he was asked to come up with a sentence that embodied his existance. All he came up with was He went to the toilet and sat in the cubicle so he wouldn't fall asleep in the open-plan office.

Noyfriend

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Noyfriend

The only German I know is Ich Liebe Dich. It gets me into a lot of trouble. Ich Liebe Dich, liebling. Ich bin ein Berliner. Kiss me. Kiss me. (That bit's international.) And then he's still hanging around But the moment's gone and I'm gone too but he's close behind calling to me in words I don't understand, clutching my hands and my face and other things too so I have to say Nir ist publick! As though it means anything to him. Never give your heart so freely. Why would I want his when I don't know what to do with my own? Das ist nicht my boyfriend. Das ist mein noyfriend.

People Are Awful

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People Are Awful

People Are Awful                  If I’d known what was going to happen that day, I probably would have broken up with him by phone. It’s not even my problem. It’s Ben’s problem. He was late. He’s always late. Not so much now, but anyway. He was late, and he knew I’d be angry. But I wasn’t angry because I knew that all I was going to say to him was:                  It’s over, we’re finished, I’m ending it, I never want to see you again, we’re breaking up, you disgust me, I’m leaving, don’t call me.                  So it didn’t bother me whether he was five minutes o

Art Star

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Art Star

                 Daniel stood awkwardly in the gallery. He wasn’t looking forward to this evening. In a sense, he had been waiting for it his whole life, but now that it had arrived, he felt ill. He had spent an exhausting afternoon installing his paintings, but now they seemed to wilt among the ultra-realistic, ornate landscapes or elaborate bowls of fruit exhibited by other artists. There were even uncanny facsimiles of homeless people, drawing attention to social issues. Daniel’s abstract slashes of paint seemed as complex as finger painting in comparison.                 He had completed a circuit of the exhibition already, fe

This Actually Happened

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This Actually Happened

We walked through darkened midnight streets past terraced houses frozen in a.m. bliss. It was neither cold not breezy; the first and so far only mild night of the year. We were the only living things, or so it felt. We walked on, and spoke of piffling things; love and fear and jokes only we understand and stories we think we heard - - - - then draw to a simultaneous halt. There is a front window, there is a sheer gauzy curtain. There is a TV set. On it, we make out the image of a pneumatic blonde, dressed in pink, though not for long, as she peels off her bra to reveal a pair of potentially inauthentic, magnificent but indistinct breasts, c

Puddleduck

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Puddleduck

Puddleduck My girlfriend is going to break up with me soon. Before, she used to jump in puddles so I'd think she was cute. Now she does it so that she gets me wet.
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Snakehips

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Snakehips

Snakehips            Andy's friends started a band called the Waverley Wearers, and since he couldn't play an instrument and they needed a drummer, they let him play drums. But he couldn't keep the beat and soon they grew tired and replaced him with a snake-hipped washout who claimed he was almost somebody once, but this was probably not true. On their first gig without Andy, the Waverley Wearers and their new old drummer got spotted and signed and were on their way to world domination. Or so it felt to Andy. Really, they were stuck on a bottom scraping small town tour opening for a band you've never heard of, unless they have "the poor man

Skellington

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Skellington

Skellington               No one knew where the skull had come from. It might have been in the drama store for years. It didn't really matter anyway, as, for the moment, no one was paying it any attention. They were too busy preparing for the school play. Jocelyn was running over the final script, crossing out the references to anal sex the year twelves hoped she wouldn't notice. It was a bad move to let them write it themselves, but the class was so enthusiastic. And it would have been fine if the head hadn't decided that they should perform it at the end of term for their parents. At first Jocelyn was thrilled, until she realised the amou

Words of Love

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Words of Love

Words of love and words of pleasure Forever I regret that I did not measure The lengths you went through to make me smile Sometimes I end up in tears As photographs recall the years Long gone when you tried to make me smile. Screaming to the sky for you to wake up Screaming to the sky for you to look up And see me smile because of you. I can't pretend I hate your photograph But all I truly loved was the sound of your laugh I fill the room with lilies And they whither on the sill There's a hole in my foot where I stepped on the plug There's a hole in my heart I can't fill. There's the painting you once gave me A nightscape forg

Something...

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Something...

Something old is new again . . . Something once destroyed is Vital now Something came up and we're not the same We need a name and we need it quick For the posters now And the vital sounds throb and set the world Aflame As debris comes raining down So much hassle over one piece of land and The piece of mind If it's easier let them have A piece of mine I won't need it where this train stops And all the drops avoid me 'Cause mindlessness is protection Where I come from. They mark a black X on my hand "Never forget where you come from" And the beaten drum, and the stars above, and the taps above, they smell so sweet or mayb

Hidden Minerals

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Hidden Minerals

Where am I going, what am I doing, And why do my wrongs come to haunt me so? In me, you saw eternal afternoon And by night, I was the moonlight's sweet glow. For you, I was jewels, precious jade and jet. You made me rich as I faded away. Secretly I was minerals of earth Hidden, unmined in the cool breeze of day. I said I was beach, when really was cliff, Storm provoked waters pretending serene. Through this, I prayed your fingers weren't cut on My precious glass shards, the black and the green. You are not me, but the reverse is true: I am part you, forged for pleasure from pain, Keep me seperate, it's easier than To join. The

Extracts from 'Emilyn'

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Extracts from 'Emilyn'

My Emilyn. It's strange to say it now, but for a time, she was mine. I wouldn't say that we loved each other - we weren't naive enough to call what we had that, but what we did have...it was something...I don't know. Even all these years later, I don't know what we had. A mutual longing for something we never found, somebody more poetic than I might call it. But we did have something, and she was etched into my mind, whether I wanted her there or not. Emilyn died when we were eighteen years old. And I had mourned for her. I never understood death. Before Emilyn, it had never meant anything to me. My father had died a few years before I me

Extract 01

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Extract 01

My friend who's five foot two, Whose life is in descent, Since they won't let her sing Using her own accent. And I long to find a soul Who will share my punishment But I'm stuck with fools who work To negate the government.

Extract 02

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Extract 02

I woke up in the dark I tried to slip away Til I remembered the place was mine I looked onto the street I tried to hide away Til I remembered the world was mine. * Where were you when I needed you? I'm not one to be filled with doubt But love shoudn't be left at home Listening to music with lights out. * I dabble in confidence, But the quiet treatment fits So everyone thinks I'm shy While I try to get a grip.

Love is Death

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Love is Death

My darling boy, you have killed me. In little time, you have filled me With the kind of icy cool touch That no one but I longed to see. You see? Why indulge me so well? I deserve to be dragged through hell, Torn and ripped out the other end, Seeing things I could never tell. But my unworthy soul of ice Has softly melted, all is nice. Why did you go and love me so, And, at last, kill my life of vice?

or...Life and Death in Circles

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or...Life and Death in Circles

"A Dull Poem Looking Forward To Autumn, or Life & Death in Circles." Why curse the summer night For emptiness of sky, Or that the breeze can't sigh Like love set you alight? Welcome the russet trees Instead. Watch the leaves fall. Take time to count them all. No death, when this brings ease. Take comfort in death's cost. There's joy within the strife: Take time, grow love for life, Mourn those you think you've lost. (Forever will you yearn When the lady won't turn.)

sonnet of returns

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sonnet of returns

Come to me now, before I forget How to view you in this morning light. Battle-worn, young, and prepared to fight; No more excuses have I left to bet In the stale ring of old apologies. Come close, with cheeks warm with that nonsense blush, As if you were afraid that I would shush The words your body speaks only to me. I welcome you, as I am sure you know Your warmth is one I barely understand; While usually iron grips my hand, I yearn the livelier kicks passion bestows. Forget me the cold thoughts within my head And let us create new ones in your bed.

A Brilliant Day

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A Brilliant Day

Last week there was an awesome day where I had my hand on her knee, sliding slowly up her leg, willing her not to stop me before I got there, when the kid Ellen banged on the window and shouted some bullshit telling us to come out ‘cos we had to go shopping. She couldn’t see in, but it meant Lucy got straight up out of the settee and ran over to push aside the net curtain and tell her we would be out in a minute. She turned around and smiled sheepishly, and then she bit her lip saying sorry like she wanted to continue, grabbed my hand and took me outside. Sunny day. Ellen stood on the path with traffic roaring behind her, her face

Untitled, 28-10-07

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Untitled, 28-10-07

I give up. Whitworth, Merritt, Cope, it's all been said. I love you, this you know. Come to bed.

an obituary

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an obituary

He was weathered; having lived through 4 (5?) dictatorships and communism of the most obtuse. A penut farmer, former herder, former boy. and we are left one six-billionth of a whole.

Daybreak

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Daybreak

Lift your eyes. Reach out your hand over borderlands and oceans. Rest your hand in mine. I love you through black and white postcards and back again. Turn over the songs written before we were born In the shadows built before our city had a name. Put your lips to mine. I love you through circuses and flowering cherries, I do. An instant that never had to sign its name in tippex A kiss that needed no key grip or gaffer To brand itself into our hereafter. I love you through tears and Roman candles, my only. I have felt the day break around us I've known the capturing ascent of your touch, your breath an absolution on my cheek. I r

Spotlight

Blues

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Blues

Blues                                She was sitting on the bus and she was crying. She began by crying the way they do in the films, with fat tears rolling down her cheeks, framing an impassive face. And then she cried like they do in real life, eyes swollen and set deep within red blotchy skin. The girl struggled to control her breathing, alternating deep, calm gulps with near-hysterical choking, air catching in her throat.                And he was sitting directly opposite her, feeling obliged to react. He shifted from the window seat and swung his legs into the aisle until he was facing her. ‘Don’t cry,’ he said, full
12Comments
  • United Kingdom
  • Deviant for 14 years
  • She / Her
Badges
Llama: Llamas are awesome! (3)
My Bio
Current Residence: London Town via Northern Ireland
Favourite genre of music: Eurovision written by Serge Gainsbourg
Personal Quote: Sic transit gloria

Favourite Movies
Rushmore, Now Voyager, Une Femme Est Une Femme, My Favourite Year, There'll Be Blud
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Franzes, Belles & Sebastians, Pulps, 1990s, Guillemots, Bow Wow Wows, Monkees
Favourite Writers
someone wonderful
Tools of the Trade
Unwavering sense of entitlement, pick n mix.
Other Interests
Writing, dreaming, crying myself to sleep, speaking softly

Moving on...

Moving on...

Writing here played a huge part in my development as a writer (boke) and in my life. It is hard to remember a time when I didn't understand how to write, to beaver away in silence for hours, tearing out pages, giving up on beloved characters for the greater good, and sometimes for nothing at all. The writers and artists I encountered here mean a huge amount to me. But one by one, life gets in the way, people move on. I move on. I think it's time to attempt something new. In future, all new writing will appear here: http://bronaghfegan.wordpress.com/ Do stop by if you want to say hello. x

Comments 93

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Maybe more cornrow-y if you have time.
I went crazy awhile ago YOUKNOWJUSTFORFUN and I unwatched everyone, but I want to watch you again because I like you because your hair looks cool and I want you to do my hair like your hair but greener and uglier.
thankyou for the favourite on moustachesRawesome =P
congratulations on your DD- and i really enjoyed reading your work :)
Thank you so much, that's really sweet to say.
mode-de-vieStudent Writer
Congratulations on your daily deviation! :) I've placed a link to it in the sidebar of my journal page.