Ms Niphantomy

Mr. Dinfinsanto is shinty-six years old. His hair is a morshugish colour and he has blispique eyes. He spends a lot of time tendaffing and cardoodling and often he goes out with his friends for a little tinkle tonkle. He works at Fundoon in a factory that makes mospans and dimpickles. But Mr Disfinsanto isn't like you or I. There's a reason for this and the reason is that Mr Disfinsanto has a condition that effects him. Now this in no ordinary condition because its a different sort of condition and the different sort of condition makes Mr Disfinsanto sort of different, which is why he's not like you or I. But Mr Disfinsanto dosn't mind too much because he's an individual and he likes being different. Other then that Mr Disfinsanto is exactly like everyone else. Now one day when Mr Disfinsanto was cardoodling in the park he found a dog who was drowning in the pond so he rescued it and gave it to the lady who had lost it. The lady had a name which was Ms Niphantomy and she was shinty-seven years old and she had purduntable coloured hair and blispique eyes. Ms Niphantomy asked what Mr Disfinsanto was doing in the park and he told her he was cardoodling upon which Ms Niphantomy asked is she could join him because she was an earnest cardoodler. For the next few weeks they both came to the park to cardoodle together and quickly became fast friends. Ms Niphantomy also loved tendaffing and she even joined Mr Disfinsanto for a tinkle tonkle with his friends who were all very happy to meet her. One day Mr Disfinsanto told Ms Niphantomy he would tell her a secret if she promised not to tell the secret that he told her  (provided of cause she promised not to tell) and when she promised not to tell the secret that he was about to tell her he told her about his condition. When Ms Niphantomy heard the secret her blispique eyes opened wide and exclaimed in a symphonetical voice that she also had a different sort of condition but had never told anyone because she was sort of different and it made her shy so she never had many friends except her dog who was called Kaplink. After that they both went out for a drink of specondriate and twentington days later they got married and joined names in the Fundoon church. After that the Diphinsantomy's bought a blispique coloured house and lived spolishously ever after tendaffing, cardoodling and going out for a tinkle tonkle every garfday with their espatulated friends.

The End

May 3.

May 3. David Waterhouse
What you thought was working for you wasn't correction.
So basically what I thought you were saying is that... Even though we build sandcastles and continue to do so... In life.. Luckily there is something grand and positive that washes those things away..

May 3. Elijah Paddington
Well yeah, pretty much.
When I read your piece I thought it was so wonderful I had to say something
I love to say that one of the most beautiful things is autumn leaves drifting down from the tree, it never lasts, then they land and its over...
Is a sandcastle any less meaningful then a stone sculpture because it wont last as long?
I appreciate sunsets better when I dont take pictures of them...
I want to go through my life and think that what I do is meaningful and beautiful, and I dont have to keep it or look back...
"like a little girl throwing daisies in the air as she skips along..."

May 3. David Waterhouse
Oh you funny boy, - no I thought the sandcastle was suppose to be something negative... Since it's being washed away by the ocean of answers... That's why, and just because something doesn't last in our concept of space and time... Doesn't take away it's timelessness... I see infinity in the falling leaves. *Throws knife at the little girls daisy* *Devout looking zen master *

May 3. Elijah Paddington
I seriously love building sand sculptures, its so beautiful to me that I know it wont last. Its refreshing and freeing like when you have a shower, the hot water on your back is wonderful but you couldnt enjoy it if you worried about it going down the drain and losing it.

A Changing of Purpose

The air smelt of evil and deceit and nicotine smoke glowing red from paper lanterns. People crowded all around and besides bumping shoulders everyone is alone lost in the isolation of their own selves. All faces are unseen, hiding beneath hats or hung toward the ground. The gloom is quite intoxicating; dreadfully so in fact. Ideas and philosophies dwindle into insignificance; what is purpose? Point of view twists and inverts. A carpet of money and newspapers litter the floor. In each booth, at each table, on each chair warped ideas and words, deals and schemes are exchanged. Everyone man for himself, no one notices anyone else because they're not looking for them. I notice a man in a suit and top hat sitting on a chair, somehow he seams more alone and separate then all the others. I'm drawn toward him like a boat down a stream. He has one leg crossed and is filing his fingernails. Without looking up he says "So, you're finally here Mr Black. Take a seat; much we have to talk about." I take a chair from a nearby table "I'm not Mr Black." I say sitting down. "So why sit down beside me?" The man queries, "Mr Black, there is a woman, one Ms Starlight. She has been watching for demons from her window." I pull my hood over my face, "I remember her as a child; she doesn't watch for demons, she dances and sings like a fairy. She wouldn't notice them let alone look for them." The man uncrossed his legs and started the finger nails of his other hand, "Very true, so why do you remember her Mr Black?" I wet my lips, "I know not." I didn't finish my sentence because I knew he already knew why. "What is her name?" the man asked "I won't say it." I replied. He stood up and turned "Then don't. Now come, we are already late." I followed him to a door in far wall. Once through the fresh air made my head spin and I felt my sense of purpose return like a wet dog. "Are you coming Mr Black?" beckoned the man. As we walked down the quiet street I felt in my pocket, the photo was still there.

For Growly Bear

Growly bear is sad. But he will get better because the tall man gave him medicine. Were you worried that Growly bear would die? It's okay, there, there *cuddle* "mwa!" don't be sad, I'll take care of you and love you. The nice lady will walk you home now because she has a fancy umbrella. She's nice you'll love her. Then when you take care of Growly bear we can have tea. Because we don't want to upset him and the nice lady makes a smashing cup of tea and scones with blackberry jam. So you don't have to worry. *Cuddles you tight* here's a kiss, put it in your pocket and you can put it on when you need it okay?

I

Black.

Breathe deeply.

Dusty, musty, inky black.

Standing still for fear of tripping.

Kneeling down, feeling stony ground.

Crawling, cringing, fumbling bleeding hands.

Following a rusty chain through darkness to hope.

Heavy wood, cold metal. Light seeps through locked door.

Time stands still, feeling of no consequence, only hope for freedom.

Dry throat choking, fall to ground, broken fingernails bleed.

Darkness closing in, despair is creeping, crawling.

Angels fingers guide hand to something small.

A key! Anxious, fumbling, try the lock.

Stiff at first then slowly turning.

Joy of the light ensues.

Breathe deeply.

White.

Susan the Princess

Once upon a time there lived the most beautiful princess in all the land called Susan who was banished to the top of the tallest tower of the tallest castle on the top of the tallest peak of the tallest mountain which was in the farthest corner of the most distant land, all in all she was very high up and very far away. Now the princess’s mother who was called Janet used to be the most beautiful woman in the land but had actually died when her daughter Susan was a baby. So the King who was called Graham and was the wisest and bravest man in all the land had married another woman called Shirley who was a vain, cruel, devious and deceitfully wicked witch.
Sally loved to pick huge amounts of flowers and give them to George to show him how much she loved picking flowers and George would put them in the compost to show Sally how much he loved composting. Now Sally and George who were simple villagers had just been married about seven years ago and lived in a small house in a small village with each other but nothing ever happened in their lives which was as some would describe rather dull, so they don’t get mentioned much in this story at all.
Now one day when Susan was a baby sitting on a chair in her room talking to her dolls her nurse who was called Rose came in and tidied up as usual and went out.
About an hour or so later Shirley came in with a wand in one hand and a diamond flask of green sparkling liquid in the other which she gave to the princess to drink as medicine, which unfortunately it wasn’t. The vain, cruel, devious and deceitfully wicked witch had just given her gorgeous stepdaughter a frightful spell causing her to become dreadfully irritating and unbearably annoying.
So by the time Susan had become a teenager her distraught father and stepmother couldn’t stand it any more  so they sent her far away as possible from the castle to a small cabin a swampy wood with mosquitoes but Susan didn’t really like it there so she went to live in the city. Where she met a handsome and dashing young prince on a beautiful white steed who fell in love with her at first sight. The handsome and dashing young prince on a beautiful white steed whose name was called Gregory was fairly accommodating of the most irritating and annoying princess in all the land because she was also the most beautiful princess in all the land and nothing’s perfect.
After that Shirley and Graham sold the tallest castle on the top of the tallest peak of the tallest mountain in the farthest corner of the most distant land because it was too inconvenient and moved to a smaller castle in a lovely seaside town. Sally and George eventually had a child who they named Herbert and he grew up to be a street sweeper. And Susan and Gregory lived reasonably ever after, until they were both killed in a horse crash.

Béla

Let me tell you about a little boy called Béla. He was as beautiful and fragile as a frozen tear, with hair fair as a newly formed cloud reaching down to his waist and his clothing which was a gown was white as snow -except for a red scarf which he wore over his shoulders. His deep brown eyes were shaded by long black lashes which stuck together when he cried, which sadly to say he often did. His little red lips didn’t pout and he didn’t wail and scream like ill mannered and vile children do, but wept almost silently, his small sobs would not have woken the baby Jesus had he been there in the stable on that night. Now you may be wondering the cause for this dear child's sadness, was he ill treated by an evil father? Was he neglected by an uncaring father? Or was he not allowed time to play with other children? Well it was none and all of these for he had neither father or mother and although he had more time then you or I he had never so much as spoke to another child. How can this be you wonder? Well I shall tell you this also, but mind you follow what I say closely so as not to get confused for it wouldn’t do to be confused.
Béla lived in a beautiful green field (of which I shall tell you later) was surrounded by a deep dark forest and around the forest stone cliffs, and around the cliffs black circle and still around that a swirling sphere of dreary clouds -the very same swirling blackness that one sees in nightmares. 
Now this may sound like a nightmare itself which in many ways it was, but now I shall tell you about the field. 
It was not always dark as one would think, for although it was entombed in a dark sphere of swirling blackness Béla could sometimes see a blue sky from inside, also it was lit by a huge candle stand that never run out which is always handy in situations as such and was constant source of comfort to the young boy.
The size of the field was sometimes very large and would have take one a day at least to cross other times it was quite small as a small bedroom large enough to fit only a small bed in, but Béla didn’t have a bed; he slept in a small grassy hollow which was quite cosy.
There was a hill in the middle of the field and at the top surrounded by a number of large upturned stones was a enormous tree (and if you’re wondering how it could fit when the field was as small as a bedroom I cant tell for I know not) which was always flowering and covered in fruit and Béla would climb the tree and sit upon its branches and think for hours on end for the tree seemed to be full of wisdom and you could feel it seeping into you; Béla had named it the wise tree.
Now the child was not alone for there was flock of young lambs that numbered twelve in all and were his dearest friend and he theirs. They would play together for hours on end, romping around the field or through the edges of the forest or playing hide and go seek among the large stones that stood around the wise tree.
But Béla was not always happy and often he would not sit in the wise tree and think or play with his friends but curl up in the grassy hollow and cry till he fell asleep.

1/11/1701

Yesterday Ernest said he was in trouble and he seemed so far away but now it looks as though they're here to stay at the Indian restaurant where all of a suddenly it seams further than it used to be because of a shadow hanging world by a ribbon tied by him who in the many years it has taken to return said why she had to go to Ireland where she would have said so but he said something wrong without waiting the four years to return to their own love which was such an easy game to play now but I need a place to hide away from the world or I’m sure Lucy I shall be hired by the navy and in spite of the study I have done all of a sudden we are now ahead of them in the place that most clearly used to be where the linen sheet is hanging off torn from the very borderline of where the order went and told Ms. Iesha why she had to go alone and I'll sue the world and sow a line so real that the real world will have no cause for alarm for years and return to the time where trouble seems to suffer and when in the place I need to be alive no one has to return the sign that the files were hidden by he who was standing in space by playing tunes of the flute making a violent man sorry for her fears are now making their own room and her letter to your heart was a failure as a new world has begun to remain in silence by another trial making our silk thread and two golden singers turn to sigh and remembering to let the silver bird fly free and only then you will be clear to me in my head for no storm will be still upon the earth and as I said you are to stand firm and to remember the secret that you have that to them you will only be clear to me at best for here’s where I myself in times of trouble and Jacqueline came by her own choice and not that of the order where she strives to find the element of truth that there may life given for there is still a chance that some will speak words of wisdom by mouth and by letter that he who has led the leading team and who has learnt the words of wisdom for this time has led them to your side that you will learn to tell our two year arguementists that they are here to see that you spare them and the two that remain here are in store for a few real words we are far fewer and it is at the expense of the wealthy and poor that the earth will be saved so let me know it's a file and you will place it in the care of the caretaker inside where your coins are now being counted and they asked for a sign so you will be met by a man that will give to you your character in a bottle and rolled up in our light so that all are sold at out at the shoe store for I want you to be here if you pay for them then they are yours and our due although I'll be glad for some years to come although some are no good at all because you were here when there were two year deals in the past so get them only because you are you and you are mad and might as well be dead for the company that must pay the rent when the sun shines it’s opening itself to you as was shown one night among the councillors when two in the jury so say you are out of the downing pool are some of the young hearts of the nation for the two year affair of the arts hidden somewhere that it seams only fair that there are no ends worthwhile pursuing if no one really made them for they are yellow in colour and in most cases there’s nothing to be happy about but you are now here annually so there is no doubt that the end of the conundrum will be through even though I don’t believe that it will be over for Alice and Hamish are there and so also of cause she shall be found sometime in the year on the top of the wall.

...(Pendulum)

Something... and then, feeling that sideways motion like a gently rocking boat... My sixth sense peacefully place on my breath... I know it's not a boat...softness brushing against your skin perhaps leaves from a tree, or hiding in a closet of coats... I don't know, what was that word? What was it, I think it was important. Obsolete? Oh I can't remember now, maybe it doesn't matter... swaying in a boat... My ears know that my eyes are closed... the gentle rustle of coats, or leaves? Why can't I see them? Is this a garden? Is it my mine? No I don't think so, it isn't a garden, it's very beautiful... My sixth sense peacefully place on my breath...

It's very peaceful here and quiet, feel like I've been here forever... I feel happy and content... So what's wrong? ... ... drip... ... drip ... ... drip ... ... drip ... ... 

IT'S REALLY QUIET!!! HOW DO I GET OUT?

Okay think, how did I get here... I was in a garden it was really beautiful... Before that? Think, think!

Oh yes, I was in a boat and... no wait it was a forest I remember the leaves...

Now it's really dark... I can hear myself breathing... slow down... put my hand on my heart...

Thump, thump... Thump, thump... Thump, thump... Thump, thump... Thump, thump... Thump, thump... 

Don't panic, breathe slowly... and think... what was that word... it's on my tongue...

A flask I drink of sober tea... While relay cameras monitor me... 

And the buzz surrounds it does... 

Buzz surrounds 

Buzz surrounds... I remember a lot of purple...

  Closed eyed sky wide open

          Unlimited girl unlimited sigh

                         Elsewhere

                                  Indefinitely

                                             Far away

                                                    Magnifies and deepens

                                                               Ready to sing

                                                                       My sixth sense peacefully placed on my breath

                                                                             And listening

                                                                                   Keeps me from my hurt 

                                              

                                 My ears know that my eyes arperish thoughts clloisked contraband...

from  a long way away .

then I never really knew how  I got to where I am, I know it's happening but i don't because...

It's like a memory, now a days I find it hard to distinguish.

Still can't remember what I was going to say...

I can remember touching my tongue to the roof of my mouth... and making a "m" sound: Oblong? Obsolete... Durum, Pentagon? Pen... 

Problems, problems...

'Did I ever tell about the cat who swam across the channel?
That's a long way to swim for such a small mammal'


'No I can't say you did, but whatever happened to old Mr Brown?
who lost his brown suitcase, on the London underground?'


'Yes I remember that story all over the papers and tele,
it reminds me of something else I need you to tell me.'


Oh yes? if there's something on your mind spit it out,
if there's a problem then we can fix it no doubt.'


'Well I wondered if the west wing -the one full of books,
and spiders, snakes and rabbits and a gang of crooks.
should be torn down or rebuilt or maybe just left alone?
I just cant decide you see, it's just part of my home.'


'Yes I see what you mean, that's a hard choice to make,
lets on the kettle, and think it all over with tea and some cake.' 

Acting Is Acting

When an adult doesn't 'act' like an adult then they're called immature or childish. Elderly people who stop 'acting' like adults are called eccentric or senile. I think that being a child is natural -everything else is 'acting'. Of cause most children know the difference between a child who is 'mature' and one who 'acts like a grown up'. But a lot of adults wont accept that it's merely protocol, so they're always searching for an escape -holiday's, getting drunk etc- where they can be children again under another name.  Now everyone is different, some adults know they're acting and are happy that way, others detest being 'childish' or don't because it's not right. But once in a while you'll find a child knows how to be mature, when to act like a grown up, doesn't need to complain about children to feel grown up and simply knows how to enjoy life because they haven't lost their own. As Shakespeare said 'life is a play' so one must act, and act well but not forget who they are behind the mask.