REDEBONY'S BOOK BOUTIQUE

image from the independent He was invisible to most men, but the world could see him now. Money gave men wisdom and nouns, money had turned him into a king amongst men, and this palace he had built, the stowaway castle mapped out the freedom of his entire bloodline. " How did you do all of this?" The journalist asked with curious intrigue. She leaned towards him tape recorder in hand, a steely gaze penetrating his shadow black cocktail suit. " I built it from dreams, and those dreams tired me," "Explain." "When i was younger, i used to sit by mothers old garden, the one with the old maple tree, and each time out in the cold i would draw distinctions on pieces of paper of what my dream world would look like, i never knew i would be selling products, oil products internationally to build it." She smiled softly. Her hair in a shiny black bobbed almost looked striking amidst the linear splendour of such elegant features. Her lips were sof

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The awkward way You smile at me I capture your laugh Within My fist And when it bleeds The nervous skitter of rubber eyes The champions mask A starlets cry And as the wolves they circle still I eat the flesh A maggots meal Biscuits We crumble To the acid In the rum of glass I only want the rope to burn To mark your Colours And your stern Brittle the form A sculptures way And scribble the exit In our play

image from smashing magazine Lost girl I've found your keys I heard you Blamed me When you sneezed The ink of pen On shattered foot Salt dust eyes Which marred the soot We blamed the door It,s panelling An iron oak Which promised pain The eucalyptus womb Of Eggplant oil The bits of squealing Slaughtered brain The nose it whispers Paprika scents Black pepper Tiles an almost floor And when you stepped Beyond the frame There were no shadows for now before I christen all the hopes you kept The dreams That barked and then they slept The wizards scar The trolloppes teeth The cauldron Bubbled what you keep For of the bats which hang and sting My iron girl Just turn the key The watchmen lie near gates Their eyes they claim What ghosts don't see

image from fallfade Stand by me when the chips are down When I can only Count fingerbtonthumb When pain has left me numb And cheeks are scarred with failed attempts I have coughed And hiccupped For these dreams Torn out hair by each fine thread Let its limbre leak on lap And studied morgues of Visions dead This million dollar dream Count the catch in each Fine step Study offices Never kept Were gold it brimmed From sour thoughts I am man magnificent, hungry in eye Stealth in organs That separate like jigsaw The snail glue snot In my sausage hand Open your eyes I am just a man

image from paintingsilove orange sun With ripened glow I look at you And miss the snow For these beads of sweat which Often pool Tell a story that' s far too true This hanging waist These snakeskin braids These crusted feet Like duck I wade through Murk And narrow slim I am lost and far within The city Pia's Streaked with pain It,s ocean blue And Midas sand Rubber hands trudge on As boulder limbs Whimper For a throbbing womb A pulsing neck Which splits Gushing with it The silver foil

image by flickrhivemind.net I should have Seen But never you mind In the dark Were blind as mice Giant arithmetic Counting ten You eat the scrapes Of your rotten fruit Blizzard bleach to mar The tide The wolves they howl A whimpered whines Tarzan beats Upon the hard shield Of turtle chest Kings build palace The doll could have lived in We pick bamboos To line our hut Concrete Becomes a stubborn slut Egyptian silk Mamboes with grace Whilst he recalls My misplaced face.

Stilts For the working girl Porcelain lashes And chocolate face A mouth that pleads To be disgraced And legs which open gates That close I am your watermelon Each nipple seed Aroused Suspicion My tongue Not in your jurisdiction The wise owls watch From Brooke of electric streets You claim the dance You've marked this street The fish and bird they build Their nest Upon the bank despite distress From the yellow eyes That claim the night I am not the farmers daughter Neither priestess Belly hot I age with acid which romps The bones The burn in corners The mermaid moans Upon the bed The chorus sings For our siren marks The fruits of day It's wetted flesh carouse Our bay

image from the life normadik College of suns Were pyramid high My Muhammed Climbed his mountain high Through dense Goliath And old mans shame Its golden rays Rebirth his name For you are no archangel boy Upon the skid The crust of whip We lie timid He touched the ash Which melted flesh Clay for fingers To pupperteers Descending To an orbits debt I chew the tongue And spit it

image by ideia visual Werewolves wander in skylit moon Dragons flame the night skies noon The eyes which pinch upon The tusk Ne,'er the strange ones With their musk I compass our Forever selves The frozen fruit The layman's elf Of shells where Pearls They roll And stride Far beneath the crescent Cocoon it sits Chandelier sky With buzzard lies Candles in the wake of swamp I move with left As Rights far gone

image from tuttart Dough eyes On lambrini pink Speaks in sleuths Where clusters think She likes the Russians The gargle of words Their throaty promise Their husky verbs And as the wet Pools from the claw The tomb It pulses For fairy kings, The ogre places Tree stump link But lately she likes Russian men The Cubans cried Their storm without She was a tooth Without a mouth The taste bud of succulent yesterdays The puss of The Wiseman promise Take me to that Eden bridge Where no one crosses And I the crow Have ink on skin With beagle knows Request the life The dead men worship Then I will tell you I like Russian men.

image from pablo ruiz picasso.net Half of North for bitter south naira girl You've bled your mouth The peak of bunnies Between your toes Of licking teeth And itching fro We capture Neptune Soldier Fortune War bikini Am I right On tripwire stead As politicians pump their lead To wage their corns On ancient ink As a man we count each marble As a woman We bare the orb Am I north from north Or south to east, I use my dick to wipe my sword.

Cry your eyes out little lamb Yesterday you had a plan To still from me My self esteem Everyday my light wore dim For with a rattle sat a brat with frozen tooth and blood she spat for you have venom in your veins No one wants to feel your strain I have walked and i have climbed I have chorussed far behind A torrent with a bitter twist a drunken self remains far blissed Cry your eyes out little lamb I am no doppelganger Hungry to wolf the edens safe for while i sleep You'll lie awake Cry your eyes out little lamb check your notebook Where's your plan?

It is only the most insecure, most inadequate feeling of women who  allow themselves to be called such names as slag, slut,whore, by a partner. It is a term of abuse not of respect. It is what emotionally abusive men use to control or devalue the women within their hub, the term itself means worthless. As a slag a woman is replaceable, her feelings are not equal to the feelings of the man she's with because she does not measure up in some way. Women have fought generations back for women's liberation, for some sense of equilibrium and justice. Yet when as a woman you allow a man to call you a slag or a whore, or a harlot, it means you have already set the standard for how you will be treated for the rest of your life. This means if he cheats on you, the whole world will conspire and say with ease, it is your fault, you never stood up and allowed yourself to be counted. Being counted isn't simply about ticking all the right boxes, having a job, having a car, being told