In the park,was a mahogany bench,
you know the one,
by the babbling brook,
sheltered beneath the bowing tree,
lay a crumpled up sleeping bag,
made out of glossy nylon.
At the end of the bench lay a black dog,
with his matted knot of gritty hair,
around his neck he wore a collar,
red, yellow, green and blue tartan,
had a shiny bell attached,
living on the park bench,
not always fun.

Well, it was really rather spartan,
the ***** had gone for a *****,
He wandered away,
over the park,
trotted off,
much rejuvenated,
after his night on the bench.

Went into the bushes to have a quick ***,
he hid in the shrubs,
so the kids didn't see,
God he was so relieved,
when his wee-wee ran free,

he collected his azure sleeping bag,
made it all sound so pleasant,
had, to make it sound so classy,
how, he glamorised that old nylon cover,
as he,
hid it in the trees for the rest of the day,
hoped his sleeping bag remained  hidden,
in the main,
his only prayer,
it didn't rain.

Grabbed, hold of ****,
his faithful Scottish dog,
meandered along the bank,
doffing his hat at the ladies he met,
"top of the morning to you ladies,"said he,
who proceeded to poke their beaks in the air,
guess, these days nobody cares.

Once he was a man of certain means,
hard times  had caught him,
he was still a gent,
without his money,
his love was all spent!
(C) Livvi

Joined my shadow, stitched by cobwebs to my feet,

Chases me everywhere, until her solar son's removed,

When in dreams darkness she's concealed...

Walk in the sun, she's revealed...a flighty sprite a spirited girl,

Desire to see the shadow call.....creep!

Creep into sunlight,

coax her,

Entice her,

Into wild life,

You'll find she's joined at your feet and your hip,

Ideal woman to take as your wife, she'll never misbehave,

Never misappropriate,

Never innappropriate,

Of your notions she never disputes!

She vanishes into blackness...leaves you on your own...to play

Lets you have your space,

She comes to play when skies not grey...to conjure up a smile!

Hides in  night light black an dark......outlines evil ghastly dread,

To petrify children in their beds!

Transfixed in fear,

As hanging chanting vampire shadows,

Laced by night light,

Oozes through night light blinds!

Livvi Kent 20/04/2013.

Sits on her chair rocking,
All a pretense, not a care in the world,
Should the world outside believe it,
Maybe not,
Drug abuse and over used,
Left her a ******,
Or did it,
She's really rather clever,
But only when she wants,
Her mind is fried,
That's how it comes across,
She is deep in a tragic destiny,
Where she remains entrenched,
Has no desire for normality,
It's really all a chore,
Has no care about her hair,
Normality is a total bore,
Her dress sense sadly missing,
She's a mess,
Lost her family,
All grown,
As geese they've flown,
How she ever managed no-one will ever know,
She has a gang of rebels,
Running on a power trip,
They are really stable,
Mother's just a case.....,
A box of frogs in eccentricity,
Probably her age,
Defiant till her dying day,
Now she wants to make amends,
Her children are her enemies ,
She wants to retrieve them,
To keep them as her friends!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

She's fertile in the desert heart,
An oasis in the heat,
The palms bow in her honour,
Her ripples travel gently,
Silver sunshine sparkles,
A mirage of fantasy.
Death became some who sought her out,
The unlucky victims of the desert,
Pyrexial desert dehydrates those looking for summer fun,
"Shush," can you hear them, those snorts of grumbling camels.
What a godsend,
That oasis in the burning sand!
It's really there,
You sink to your knees and drink!
(C) Livvi

Inhabiting a rubber state
Where bullets fly.
It ain't too great.
Politicians living in perfect glass houses.
Surely not green.
Never fragile.
Not throwing sticks.
Nor chucking stones.
They're draining the deserts and scoring the Arctic.
Drilling for oil.
Recoiling in horror.
Planet dynamic.
Ripped through her heart.
Redesigning circles.
Pictograms.
And block graphs.
Financial mutations of dignified nations?

Shiny panels for catching the sun.
Making ugly buildings.
Commonsense won.
Sustainable energy.
Keeping warm.
Heaven be praised.
For the warming sun.
Next thing we know.

They're bringing back hunting.
See you next Tuesdays.
Fox slaying.

And fining the homeless.
Them with no money.
More or less.
Hell of a mess.
Its all about war.
Its all about money.
Parliament run.
By brainless numbskulls.
(c)Livvi MMXV

Feeling a little hormonal?
If your blood sugars run out of sync,
See Dr Jimmy C,
He’ll have a good think.
Maybe,
You’re maybe feeling rather chubby,
Dr C may diagnose,
An issue that could be right in front of your nose.
He’ll request a check of your bloods,
He will send you to see the vampires,
To check if your thyroid is playing games.
Perhaps you’re just a little hairy,
Spoils your pretty face sweet Mary.
Dr C.
He may be able,
To sort you out and keep you stable.
© Livvi

Love me as I love you.
For I am stuck within a draught.
A diagram a scheming plan.
A draft filled with champagne like fizz.
I bubble, you bubble.
I spit, you spit, vehement messages tumbling from your messy toxic tongue.
A poisoned potent pen.
You behave like Carmen Electra starring as a centrefold.
A centre fold in Centre- Point as now you’re living in the cold.
© LIVVI

Pew, Pew, Barney, McGrew.
Trumpton's poor firemen are cyanotic blue.
Had to tackle a blaze at Windy's mill.
The local teens all held a rave.
Teenage gals and teenage boys with no regard,for flour and mills.
Wanted to manufacture wicked pills.
Chemistry sets and bunsen burners, thought they'd cook some rocking earners.
Boom, boom, bang the mill is exploding.
The mill's all full of smoke.
Firemen are trapped.
The kids are in a manic panic.
Theyall escape.
Teenage party people.
For heaven's sake.
Listens and learn, before you choke to death or burn.
The firemen they got rescued by their team commander,
His name was Lucky Lee.
In the fresh air the comical funny firemen breathed fresh air.
So glad to be free.
And the poetic woman will create poetic positivity.
The glass is full up with various optimistic stuff.
(c)Livvi

Is life just one long sick practical joke.
Angels seek the living.
Just to choke them with their holy smoke.
Get born.
Be reliant.
In growth so defiant.

Marriage is an institution.
Leads to mental institutions.
When as parent strict.
Raise them with rods of iron.
Or maybe kid gloves.
But abuse them not.

Financially amuse them!
You work to chuck them all your dosh.
As if you always have enough.
Then when your money.
That you earned.
You have the audacity to spend.
They make you feel floods of guilt.
You feel like you're not their friend.
In a lifetime game of let's pretend.

Start to ache as you grow old.
Besmirch your comments as you write.
Believing youth.
Gives them the right.
To laugh at she of poetry.
Who once bounced them upon her knee.
Now decried for gifted brains.
Jotted in eccentricity.

And then how dare she.
She goes and dies.
Oh well, save your tears.
As no-one cries!~
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Insatiable (Adult Piece)

Insatiable , a poem by me....Adult content!!!!!!!!!!
Drop to my knees,
My mouth in need of feeding,
At first tenderly,
Softly,
I lick you with tongue of soft lace,
Trembling feelings,
Sparkling in the morning sunlight!
My mouth is warm, with newly consumed coffee from my all consuming loving cup!
The coffee enhances your rapture,
My chasm of joy,
Wraps you in the throes of heaven's ecstasy,!
You cry kinda discreetly,
You want no one to hear me giving you pleasure,
I ****, my tongue deeply inserted!
Luscious lips impetuous trying hard to satisfy!
You need what I need, to feel vibrant,
Alive once more,
The sun hits the sky,
Your body ablaze ,
You hold on till the last second, before explosion from the life giving lava erupts,
I swallow, you rest,
Relieved at last!
Copywrite Livvi Kent 28/03/2013
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Laying With Chris
Posted by Olivia Kent on June 10, 2013 at 6:25pm
View Blog
Laying with Chris!
I'm laying in bed with the man of my dreams,
He is kissing my soul with his pen,
I hold him,
I love him,
Feel so content,
Wearing my heart on my opened up sleeve!
A lovely man with a heart to treasure,
A spritely defiant soul!
Who's only breath is special saved in heart for me!
So glad to be here,
I hold him so close,
I have nothing to
fear,
He holds me tight in his head,
Long may it last!
Livvi Kent 2013

We may die today or tomorrow.
Truly hope not.
Much more in this world to begat.

Every morning as we rise in springtime our garden paths are lined with daffodils in blazing yellow and clumps of purple crocuses.
They creep out from their underground network of roots and bulbs,
Heads bathing in the sun.
Surviving for a number of years.

The evergreen scented trees and redwood tall as skyscrapers of sky, may live longer than you and I.

All I can say is carpe diem.
Breathe in that air.
Have fun and smile.
Yesterday may have been your last.
Make the best of what life holds for you.
Party on.
Have a blast.
A blast full of scent and petals, they sit upon your beautiful head.
Live long and prosper.
Longer than a butterfly.
(C) LIVVI

Cold granite stands guard.
A sentry to the lost ones protecting the occupants firm in silent fixation.
In the cold of a vast winter night, together they wither,
The long dead ones.
Huddled together in the royal family tomb.
From outside the cemetery hut window, the sentry watches the occupant,
He's toasting mallows with his iron fork, a blaze burns in the homestead hearth.
The sentry was the brave man.
Standing outside in the cold.
Guarding those who were no more.
Steal not those regal bones.
Never complains, never moans.
It is nearly morning and he is relieved.

Heigh- **, off he goes into the curator's whare.
For fluffy  marshmallows and warmth to share.
(C) Livvi

As Mona Lisa enigmatic.
She hath a knowing smile, I'm told .
My image is that of hers.
They say that I stole her face.
I didn't, mines my own!
Perhaps a perfect re-incarnation.
Mona Lisa.
(c) Livvi

The spoils of war rip the souls from defenceless children leaving them unshielded,
No protection offered to innocents in a war torn world,
No safe haven in sight,
No light in the darkness, save the fires of hell as flashlight shells leave their harbour before they are corrupted as merciless killers on a rampant mission,

In a fright of bleeding fear, bloodied shredded as malignancy invades!
The children cower as they watch parents burned,
Tears drench ***** faces as the children sob,
The children cry eternally in turmoil of dark deaths memories,
Father is marched away to certain doom on battlefield of destruction, to a land from where none return!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

In an understanding of woman's intuition as it sinks,
Passion flowers petals fall,
As bachelors blue buttons diminshed, dishevelled tumble from grace,
In a heap of crumpled calico,
White and pure,
Used to mop the tears of weeping doom,
Tears sealed with loneliness extreme,
Forever and eternal in a never ending dream,
In a world of sacred senesce,
Where true love vanishes into the mist of time,
Erased by darkness,
Reminscent remnants of nightmares,
Which once invaded two sweet hearts,
Love in reality being doli-incapax, as she's novel,
So new so young so fresh!
(Doli-Incapax, means incapable of evil in Latin, it is a legal term discussing the age of a child to have criminal responsibility, I just thought that as my love is new and young that it was an apt expression to use to describe the fact that love doesn't have the intention of being evil, some logic in here somewhere! )
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Hanging in the summer silence....
Nothing.
A tiny mouse of the sky passes by.
Snatching midges in full flight.
The presence of a late summer night.
Bonfire crackling.
The aura of brightness.
Dead wood redressed.
The fire dances.
A little like an evening witch.
Wearing melting nets.
Chunks of old wood.
No use anymore.
Burning to perfection.
Ashes.
Eyelashes of dead-end wood.
Heart of the evening.
All well.
It's good.
The fire dies.
The bat retreats.
See you again tiny chap.
Same time.
Same place.
Maybe next week.
(c)Livvi

Eventual obscenity scribble on a prison wall.
Trouble called in desperation, as pride it came, long before the fall.
The lions roar and reap their toils.
As dogs of war chase cats who spoiled.
Street corners at midnight.
Those cats, they are calling in adamant rapture.
Avoiding the parasites who capture,
and incarcerate.
The words on the street that the world's in a state.
For love and religion.
All that's corrupted.
Collecting amethyst, to purchase angel dust.
Angel dust took the hand of the loser, who feeds supply with demand.
Back on the corner or a heap on a kerb.
Thereafter follows a funeral dirge.
Purged.
(c)LIVVI

Freshly laundered coat of white.
Overnight the ****** visited.
Cold hands, no gloves displayed.
Without sound she tripped.
Over the sidewalk.
Was to become a ***** girl.
Sullied by the lies of men.

Over the city her limbs did splay.
Snowflakes,
Pure innocence, before the break of day.
While city slept, left at peace.
Left to rest.
Not yet corrupted by the soles of man or beast.
Veritable thrill of sterile chill.
By ladylivvi1

© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Sat in bed and feeling bored.
Work was cancelled ,"Oh my word".
The lantern of the idiot tickles my mundane brain.
Hence writing yet again.
The dragon in the garden shed is sitting there, waiting to be fed.
It's not a dragon really, just a silly little dog.
She's not in the shed, she's sat on my bed.
She just clambered under the covers with me.
Guess tomorrow's gonna be a great day.
(C) LIVVI

She opened her eyes early this morning,
Her hand smoothing Betty's *****,
It writhed and wriggled at the touch of her hand,
It was very, very fluffy.
She loved the feeling of the human hand,
Her best friends moggy, made no demands.
(C) Livvi

A night spent with the invisible man.
No-one ever sees him.
He hangs like a nuclear shadow,
Blasted hard, as if an imprint on the the city walls.
He's just a little chap.
Made of out of tissue paper.
With a scarlet painted smile.
One rip, split lip.
Some fool left the window open.
The silly fellow blew away.
He was a little fickle.
Fancied a bit of slap and tickle.
She tickled him.
He slapped her hard.
She slapped him back.
That was the last she heard of him.
(C) LIVVI

I'm spreading my smile.
The antisocial one that hides.
I'm revealing my big teeth.
The teeth of the chipmunk.
I gnaw away at free expression.
My teeth a little twisted.
Somewhat like my words.
The real lady lurks, somewhere underneath.
I am soft and gently.
Kind and tender.
Like sweet meat.
Rather wordy.
The imagination cultivates.
The mind of this cute birdie .
I love poetry.
Dark or light.
Words always so mighty.
When tripping from the sprightly pen.
(c) Livvi

To walk on water could there only ever be one?
Was it not Gods only son, who strolled in Galilee, with the fishers on the sea?
It has been disputed that another fella, name of Blaine, gentle strolled upon the river of grime, a.k.a the River Thames.
Obvious illusion, well at least that's what I'm guessing.
Now however; a change in  the weather, provided squelching mud cover, engorged the fields of mud with water.
Mud supports those who walk, in squishy, squashy welly boots, fighting through, unholy mud.
Hereby, I now pronounce out loud, more than Jesus, an entire crowd.
(C) LIVVI 2014

In dreams, I live thinking of you as I leave my deep sleep, wonderful REM sleep, nearly awake,
Deep as  glory chasm, pleasure filled and sumptuous, wonderful image of lovely,lush candy coloured clouds,
Aw shucks,
Oooh, put away those rose-tinted specs again, just phantoms at play,
Stupid ****** woman, she's one hell of a woman ,are or at least, so I was told !
Witches and *******, woman all on the take, make of that sad suggestion, whatever you like,
Those flamin' heart strings are elastic, as lycra  spring loaded, ****** drastic,
Oh here we go, up and down, roller coaster of love's essence captured me again!
Bang, deck hit, oh s**t!
In dreams I'm laying curled up as vulnerable, miniscule, lost innocent, sweet soul at rest,
Convincing you that belonging is supreme in being rather than being lost in diversionary excuses of self inflicted
solitude!
Virtual madness, in fantasy!
Tortured by long gone spirits morose, whose purpose is torture, sad souls, destroying the world of belief in life,
is for the living,
In dreams, what will you find,  perchance, me haunting recesses deep in your head,
Guess, that's the only way I can share your bed!
Copyright Livvi 07/04/2013.

You held my beating heart in your hands.
You felt it undulating, it was pulsing for you.
It was pulsing for me.
You kept it alive.
You kept me alive.
Having you with your stony, stormy eyes, created a life so worth living.
For such short moments in time my heart was yours and yours was mine.
Now,my face vacantly rubicund.
The winter winds lash my visage.
And you.
You lashed my heart.
You tore it into strips of scarlet.
You used your cat'o'nine tails pen.
It bled.
I bled.
Love haemorrhaged, now my love's all dead.
(C) LIVVI

LONDON TIME

Sprawls across the skyline.
Ancient and newly alike.
Busy wheels and politics.
Backstreets of culture with pickpocket vultures.
Stations and bankers,
And other posh tankers,
Otherwise known as rich classy wan**rs.
Sea museums and see museums
Plague victims under common land lay.
Sleeping for years.
And time changes.
Smiles very cutely, as he makes the suggestion.
Let's go sight seeing "dear lady"
Come along and see my life.
I'll hold your hand forever, but you will never be my wife.
He will never be your husband, as he knows not how.
The man who stopped time in London town.
(c) Livvi

Broken Sleep!

My sleep tonight.
She flew out of the window.
Carried off on night jar's wings.
Seeking out the silent owl.
These ungodly hours.
Sleep drifted in abnormally.
Chased me.

Caught me unawares.
Just after nine I found repose.
Just a ****** mere doze.
Woke up at three with head of words.
A good night's sleep.
Much needed gift.

Now out of sleep so short I drift.
Finding words.
Totally miffed.
Brain on fire.
Going berserk.
Few short hours til I work.
Gee whizz, Livvi,
You're such a ****!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

The pungent smell of the delicatessen shop.
Smoked meat and garlic tinged the stillness of the silent store.
Townsfolk scurrying by in a mighty dash.
Nightly off to the supermarket, to buy their daily wares.
Remember that smell?
Times have changed a tad.
Italian odour fills the air.
Pastrami rolls dangle in the window.
Pots of plastic passion in fridge below the counter.
The proprietor nips out the back to have another smoke.
Smell the odour, a vacuum full of spices.
The deli fell out of flavour a while ago, but still I taste that smell.
(C) Livvi

Whispering wood smoke.
Hovering fireflies.
Cloudless clear skies.
Move closer.
Huddle.
Snuggle.
Cuddle close.
Wise owl.
Tree lovers.
Laying in silence.
A touch.
A stroke.
A conception.
(c) Livvi

He Spits at her through toxic tongue,
Although he is no serpent
She uses toxic pen and ink,
To make emotions bleed,
Torn to shreds,
He lashes her,
As in her bed she rests,

Lets vacant comments fly,
Disregarded as cheap trash.
Feeling indiscriminate,
Left her feeling not so great,
Venom flew into her eyes,
Blinded her to true loves' lies,
Curled up,
A vulnerable mess,
She stands in full defiance,
As deviance streams through her veins,
She 'll just strut her stuff.
Copywrite, Livvi Kent 01/06/2013

As I stir this morning thoughts invade my head,
Haunted by mental images of such insanity,
In the morning as the light shines through,
Believe that I am missing you,
My being's torn,
I'm ripped apart,
Well probably not that severe,
Slight exaggeration from poetic imagination,
Give me a bell when you get my gist,
Cos you know you're sorely missed!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

It's Christmas.
Get out those garlands.
String out those lights.
Drag in the conifer.
Smells so fresh.
Make those mince pies.
Ice your regal cake, crisp with white royal icing.
Um my heaven.
Buy packets of presents.
Hang up your stockings for Santa.
I'm sure he'd like you in them.
Men usually do you know.
***** Christmas present.
You know what?
Today 8th November.
The windows are sparkling with varieties of coloured lights.
It's 46 days till Christmas.
Someone tell my neighbours.
Hell it's much too early for all this hurly burly.
It's crippling the national grid!
(C) livvi

"They said to the lame man,
Pick up thy bed and walk,
They said to a subject with mental ills,
sort your head out,
pull yourself together,
if you will.

You are not a pair of threadbare curtains,
of that I'm certain,
You are a person.
So,the sorry being picked up a pen,
a perfect catharsis,
a mechanism of honest escape.

Some folk,
well,
they sink into a bottle to drown the pain within,
Others shoot a mainline,
maybe sit upon a train line.
So where should they begin?
None of the three above,

Used a pen,as a trumpeting swan,
Mental illness, pray begone."
(C) Livvi

As if it never was.
Spaces graced.
Erased with linen flannel.
Somewhat harsh.
Erased my heart.

The physical remains.
Burned into ashes.
Smell the embers.
Melting hair.
Charcoal tree stumps.

The metaphoric sword is swung.
Beheaded my love.
Cleft partially by curmudgeon.
A lonely angel.
Ethereal floating as souls drift on
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Straight Talking *** written with love in mind!

Averted a tragic waste of sorrow,
As clash of titans,
Wielding pens in penance,
Wasting gifts,
As spread thin over crumbling cobbles,
Words are wonderful,
Treasure and joy,
So let's not fight,
Let pen kiss paper ,
With super might!
Sometimes disturbing,
Often perturbing,
Created in individual style,
In mind at time,
Just like mine,
All from creation,
Individual minds,
Know what's said,
Great minds think alike while idiot's never differ !
Two great pens must play on!
By ladylivvi1

"Black bird oh blackbird,
I pray be my friend."
Huge black bird stood on the post,
Just outside the farm.
She was watching and listening,
She is guarded from harm.
How can she guard us from harm?
We hear you ask?
She makes lots of noises,
In a very loud voice.
Her calls are carried on the winds of change.
One gigantic black dog he bays in reply.
The large black bird opens her wings and flies.
Flapping and flipping off into the sky.
The black bird, she will not be beaten.
Not consumed by that black dog.
She shall not be eaten.
(c) Livvi

Stood before us dressed in black,
Tempting us to enter his domain,
The stench of death is choking,
Heat enhances vileness,
Reach to find a bowl of foul ***** lurking acrid in our throats,
Suffocated by the the essence of death impending,
Scaring us, scarring our hearts with vicious razors edge,
He waits to invite us in,
Ushering us to join him.

However,
I stand and fight,
From the black cloud I evolve,
My wish is an eternity of dignity, light and life,
It won't happen for death will catch us us all in terminus,
Life is mere transition from A to B,
In love with life,
At last, I am having a ruddy blast,
Long may it last,
For my time is not now!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

What is it in a poet's brain that makes us what we are,
It is a seek of imagery,
In everything we see,
And in everything we do,
Amazing what we can do with blue,
What we can do with precious stones,
All us poets understand!

It is having an emotive heart to feed our art with fire,
An eye to see,
A mind to dream,
To live in virtual fatasy,
Interpretation's everything,
Unlock the door to using pen,
When you look and look again!

Write what you see,
See what you write,
Never found anything else with such might,
My pen, my notepad and computer fight,
In a battle none will never win,
For I write my heart and soul,
My only wish,
Is that the images I create,
Can be visualised by the reader too,
It is my one and only goal!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Mantis

"Come into my parlour,"so says she.
For,she is the vicious queen,
Suggesting that perhaps he needs to die,
Female mantis kisses,
as only femme fatale, can do,
Attraction of the keenest,
Trial by jury.
Injury perhaps,
She used, abused you,
spat you out.
She's never safe to be with,
of that there is no doubt!
(C) Livvi

Touch of featherdown,

Dresses my skin,

Peachy wrapped in satin,

Love washed from Crimson eyes once imprisoned,

Safe from realms of yesterdays tears,

Heart squashed into cylindrical pendulum,

Swinging in rhythm as metronome beats,

Metronome describes no rhyme or reason,

Just tap, drip, drip annoys,

As tears dry!

Livvi Kent 01/05/2013

A purple blaze of moonlit night.
Flies fore the eyes of mind's delight.
Shining clumps, forget me not.
For I exist in hearts.
And hope in silent pain said by my pen, that someone.
Somewhere shall be mine.
Impetuous dancers on the wind.
Playing blessings on my mind.
Phantom sleeps inside my brain.
A vacancy.
My lonely soul.
An only soul.
An empty vessel.
Contents spilled.
Long since thrilled.
By the trill of chipping sparrow.
Down streets, leading nowhere much.
Fast becoming narrow.
Oblivious to wanton need.
My whole,
My self.
My being feed.
In defeat in concede.
Destination always me.
Prime location.
Always free.
(C) LIVVI

There is a sorceress,
she's cruising the sky,
in just a dark moment,
the kerb,
won't be dry,
and her breath,
with the spin of a wild tornado,
She will fight,
She will bite,
Collect up her cape,
Creep on her besom,
take serious flight,

Her teeth will snarl treetops,
bathed heaving in raindrops,
Nervous conduction in weather's eruption,
where those trees really shake,
And earth beneath quakes,
You know that you're feeling,
the full force of the storm.
(C) Livvi

A feeling of fear engulfs the world, as the clash of the titans builds.
Who knows what's going on, while these supermen clash.
What is to be done?
The parental solution of nations as punishment for stroppy children,is taking all their toys away, with-holding their allowance.
Vlad, turned on his heels, as he poked out his tongue, at the powers that be.
Cameron,  acted like his usual snotty ****, hiding under posh boys hat,oh my God what a prat.
Obama thinks he's got it right, ready up and raring for a fight, a stallion whose got the bit between his teeth.
A situation of ridicule, based upon controlling fools.
What fear hides behind the spoken word on the world of  dashing Crimea?
(C) LIVVI

Through the fragile looking glass,
Sealed edges, air tight?
Watching dragons as they pass.
Envisaging witches,
Stuck behind glass.
They're standing round copper tone cauldrons
All full up with steam.
The noise is peculiar.
The roaring of dragons too close at hand.
The cauldrons bubble.
The witches whisper.
The dragons wail.
The dragon upon his back sports a sail.
Tries to break through the glass with his mightiest tail.

The dragon had made it
Fantasy left behind the mirrors border.
Accompanied by forward marching bearded dwarves and folk of elven kind.
Pursued by orcs with knives and forks.
With disgusting faces.
And empty bellies.
The dragons, they turned, with sulphurous breath, chased away orcs with one mighty blast.
Back through the mirror the ugly orcs fled.
Straight into the witches cauldron.
Not dead.
The potions the witches were brewing, today ,contained ingredients to chase scary away
Ugly creatures, converted,beautiful.
The rest of the *** contents made into soup.
Making ugly creatures lovely.
Ever seen a pretty Orc?
You'll know where he's been if you ever do!
(c)Livvi