Recycled#2: Gross Expectations

Gross Expectations Eloise hoisted open the flimsy door and paused on the threshold, screwing up her nose and holding onto the urge to vomit. Somebody already had, it seemed, and she surveyed the cramped and stinking landscape with a tactical eye. How to accomplish the necessary without acquiring more sewage than she was hoping to leave behind? Not for the first time, Eloise wished Glastonbury had a Business Class section. ©suzanne conboy-hill 2009 Continue reading Recycled#2: Gross Expectations

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Climbing for Jesus

Climbing for Jesus I went Up Pen-y-Ghent I was spent Dumb wit! A fool From Sunday School A mule For Christ There was a fox and Horses’ hocks Up there on the rocks No shit! Stupid boots Catholic roots Home to roost In wet tights Aren’t they all bent, Hunters of souls’ rent? Tally ho I went ©suzanne conboy-hill 2011 Pen-y-Ghent is a fell in the Yorkshire Dales. This happened. Even the fox. Continue reading Climbing for Jesus

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Philosopher Stoned

Philosopher Stoned He is brazenly, brilliantly, brassed off by the polished politics of the righteous right. He heats arguments on pupils bright as buttons of molten jet in eyes alive with intellectual trickery. He rolls concepts and ideas over the strop of his tongue like globules of mercury, loosed from the tedium of measurement. His love of chase is betrayed by tiny garnet blushes on nose and cheeks; cooing infants to his icy fire of victory. He scrubs the thoughts of neophytes with the steel wool of Socratic questioning. Deftly iterating incantations of hegemonies, he hides exquisite diamond cuts in … Continue reading Philosopher Stoned

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