

MemBerries - Chapter 3Chapter 3MemBerries - Chapter 3
As Oscar absent-mindedly tapped a thermometer, protruding through the cork of a conical flask, Arielle walked her eyes over her host’s scarred and cratered desk. Pyrex tubes twisted like mating cobras, hissing through the flames of Bunsen burners, to discharge their liquids, fizzing and foaming, into various flasks and beakers below. Here, further flames were to lick the crackling, carbon-caked gauze of the tripods they rested on. Rising from this serpentine tangle were various sensors, burettes, and pipettes, together with the tall steel clamps that held them perpendicular and proud.
“Hubble, bubble.” She


MemBerries - Chapter 2Chapter 2MemBerries - Chapter 2
Bellamy folded his copy of Le Monde and nonchalantly tossed it into a nearby bin. A trim, trenchcoat-wearing male was lumbering towards him at an eager speed, with a sparkle in his eye and lips pinned back to reveal a tongue pregnant with sarcasm.
“Did you consider cutting eyeholes in it?” the newcomer motioned towards the discarded paper, “Or would that have ruined the article on ‘how to spot a cliché’?”
“Oh! Bold bricks from the trenchcoat and Fedora glasshouse.” Bellamy punched his brother’s arm playfully, “Any news?” “Yeah, they just left from the side door.” “And the napkin?” &


On ParabolaWith subatomic subtlety settling on his brow, he said 'Time's a broken arrow that points from then to now.' Once a grain, I entreated himOn Parabola
to stop this flow of sand, 'You're immersed in the irreversible until, entropical, I land.'
In that glass all is hours, the busted bucket and the spade, and each collapsing castle that our spilt ice cream made.
Since his hands are tide we can all be shore, when the sediment slides there is no more.


Memberries II - fragmentOscar took a sugar-frosted sip of his cosmopolitan as he slipped a small paperback volume into his jacket pocket. On the reverse, the sleeve carried a photograph of a botoxed and blushered couple displaying matching toothpaste-ad smiles; whilst the front flaunted the rather euphemistic title: “How to Meet and Treat Modern Women”. It had been bought that same morning, from a shop assistant who assured Oscar that the authors were luminaries of what he had disparagingly referred to as the ‘snag a shag’ genre.Memberries II - fragment
The receipt he had been using as an impromptu bookmark fluttered to the ground (which may well have been an attempt to escap


takes her lessonThe buildings were bowing as far as their lightning rods would allow them, laying their pot plant leaves before my feet,takes her lesson
amidst the donkey’s traffic grunt. I had been given my messiah,
wedged between two glossy slips of cardboard. I’m too shy with strangers to say no;
I gained faith thanks to the selfless persistence
of a ten year old. Except when I closed my eyes
I saw only momentary multi-hued memories
on the back of my lids.
But that’s okay, that’s okay, I had a smile on my face and god in my hand.
I opened my eyes to:
eager
Devious Comments
Why don't you join the poetry contest from [link] ?
It's free and every nitwit such as myself who enters gets a small gift
but someone like you might win one of their $10 000 or $100 000 prizes.
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Those who control their passions do so because their passions are weak enough to be controlled.
-William Blake
Sounds like you, being mum. But I have no room to speak.
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Come back, and remind me why I like this place.
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From Nottingham With Love.
and thanks!!
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Jono Renton
Landscape Photographer
www.jono-renton.co.uk
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Suggest a Lit DD today!
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~Coffeehouse had your mum last night
then signed by the pair of them.
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ameliawesome
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<Jon-Law> yeah "tonite" is like some sick metal made from toes
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Jono Renton
Landscape Photographer
www.jono-renton.co.uk
Here's to hoping I don't forget!
--
Suggest a Lit DD today!
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Stile's going after Hulk in 1A!
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my life in movies: [link]
boop di boop di boop
di da do doop
boop boop moop di moop
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Indiana Jones hates snakes.
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June 22
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R. Eames / S. Mayer
Smertiest Smerter.
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I'm not tense. I'm just terribly, terribly alert.
in the post-game-depression following my complete conquest of oblivion I started diablo2 again. I feel like a junkiee. it's remorseful but oh so SATISFYING to return.
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"The ending is brilliant. Seriously. I might get that inscribed on my casket someday so God will understand."
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my life in movies: [link]
Raven isn't a kid playing at being grown up, nor is she a kid-at-heart. I got caught in-between and am just now getting okay with the thought of completely sticking my head up again, with confidence.
In other words, life sucks sometimes, though apparently sucking is sometimes a pleasant sensation.
Any more than that will require you getting me drunk or frisky or both. Or food. Food works, too.
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