doodlemania

hoopoe

I'd love to tell you what this meeting was about but I don't seem to have any recollection of it. Sorry (I was).

by Justine Schwarz

Old wizened trees gazing on forever
their eye-leaves slowly drifting in a velvet haze
extend their praise to blackness
while the grass tips bow with the wind
a thump is pounding closer and closer
the sound of footsteps come
to cut and hurt the trees until their wizdom-sap
oozes like thick black blood
but the creatures smile with glee
their pointed features pointing, their laughter steady
they suckle and suckle and suckle
until satiated they fall to the ground
the trees are not bothered
they've been through worse, have many stories to tell
they are saddened though
by the steady vampiric suckling of life
due to which the earth is salted and white as ice
its crystals are shimmering like diamonte
and this is the place
where I SCREAMED
I was growing, ever changing
a very promising maiden
the orphanage near the woods
thought so at least
the woods so close to hand
it would be natural to become inquisitive
so i waltzed out with all my possessions:
just a matchbox
and an old economically unacceptable coin
what happened next and why i am undressed
my money gone and my body black
the charcoal crumbles
and the wind blows me away in the breeze.

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release up my job

On the third day they crossed the Mazzambimbi at Monk’s Fjord and found themselves in the badlands. Trudging through the sand on zir two pairs of legs, stepping gingerly over the rotting carcasses of dead donkeys everywhere, JillJack found it heavy going. “Stop pissing in my ass” ze told zirself crossly.

Soccermom sniffed the air with a pretty disdainful nose. “Golly, it sure stinks,” she opined in her high pitched fuckable squeek.

Fearlessly they entered the territory of the Sunni tribe. A cheerful bombing people, sunburnt and sweaty, the Sunnis wore their famous Shaydee hats everywhere.

Humbly the mutant outlaws entered the tent of the Sunni Chieftain, Islimiri. Inside it was dank and dark but they made out the bearded hatted figure of Islimiri lurking in a musty corner on a rustic rug of mystery.

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