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Creepy Movie

17 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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beer, scary movies

Ah yes,this is the life

laying back having a few beers.

I am about to watch a movie.

As my friends will tell you

I am not exactly a movie fanatic

I might watch one or two a year.

Okay time to get started

time to get my arse into gear.

I got to the fridge to get a fresh brew.

Then I sit in my chair,and press play.

The movie I am about to watch

Is a creepy movie.

Straight away I am starting to get nervous

a bit apprehensive.

Beads of sweat dot my forehead.

My nerves are somewhat sensitive.

The first victim falls to the ground

The head goes one way

The body the other.

I give a little jump

and said something like ‘sweet mother.’

I cant believe that much blood can come

out of one person.

The blood fills the screen

The blood fills my mind.

I will have a few more beers

It will give me something to hide

behind.

After about an hour

I pick up the remote,and hit pause.

Not that I am scared or anything.

Just well,just because.

I look at the TV screen

and all I can see is Red

Maybe it is time to finish my Beer

and head off to bed.

But no, I am watching a movie

and watch a movie I shall.

Victim number three or maybe five

lays splattered on the floor

I hope like hell that she survives

But going by all the blood and gore

I know that is wishful thinking

My bladder is full

My heart is sinking.

I go to the fridge for a refill

and settle in front of the screen

I hit play and victim six

is sliced,diced and ground.

I know one thing for sure

She is no longer around.

My bladder is bursting

I need some relief

I need to visit the bathroom

I need to go now

No more beers for me

Not for ten minutes,anyhow.

The tension is building

I am waiting for victim number seven

to appear

Here she comes right on cue

The Diceman is waiting

ready to slash and burn

Victim seven doesn’t have long to wait

It is now her turn.

Man this is really getting to me

all that suffering and pain

Yeah,I know it is just a movie

and none of it is real.

I know that I am a wuss bag.

But I cant help the way I feel.

Victim number eight is running late

The movie hits a flat spot.

It is time for a snack.

Some Vegemite on toast.

Now that really hits the mark

Now back to watching the movie

Sitting alone in the dark.

Victim number eight  acts like Paris

Hilton.

All wooden

About as sexy as a mannequin.

But the Paris lookalike try’s her best

But she is riding a wave

that will never crest.

My mind starts  to  wander

This movie is getting on my nerves

I have ben watching this crap for over

an hour

Which is fifty minutes more then it deserves.

But wait a minute

I think that the Diceman is looking my way.

He his looking past the camera

Past the TV screen

The Diceman is one nasty fiend.

I rub my eyes

And I have another look

The Diceman gives me a wink

and a little smirk

I think that the Diceman is sbout to go

to work.

Surely this isn’t real

He is just a movie bad guy.

But the Diceman looks me straight in

the eye.

And whispers my name

And I know that I am in the middle

of a deadly game.

I think Jesus these movies are really

getting interactive.

This getting to know the characters

is really going a bit overboard.

Am I about to feel the edge of a sword?

The Diceman looks at me with deadly

intentions.

I say,hold the phone ‘I have a couple of

questions.’

But the Diceman doesn’t have any answers

All he has is bad acting and a sword.

I am really getting worried

My scrotum heads towards my throat

I am in a boat

That doesn’t want to float.

But then I get some inspiration.

And I pick up the remote

and I press stop.

The Diceman disappears

along with all of my fears.

 

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Am I Late?

15 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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bullying, running late

I have never been on time

not once in my life.

I live in my own little world

Where time seems to move in

another dimension.

It all started on the day I was born.

I was three day’s overdue.

My mother was pushing and pushing.

I finally came out with a sound like

a whoopee cushion.

It was all noises and pains

I could have sworn.

That was the day I was born.

My first day going to school.

I get up on the Sunday morning

all excited.

Where is everybody?

Am I late?

No,you fool,you are one day early.

I finally get it right and get to the Bus

stop at 8.55.

That’s a pity,cause the bus left five

minute’s ago.

My body is fine.

But my mind is on ‘I don’t want to go

to school’ time.

When I was nine yrs old

I started to play Rugby League.

We played in black and gold.

The same colour’s as the Tiger’s.

We played our game at three

but I arrived at four.

I don’t play Rugby League no more.

I got to buy myself a watch.

Or maybe I can tell time by the Star’s.

Yeah right,maybe I can also live on Mar’s.

I don’t mean to be late

I alway’s want to be on time.

Just like the weather alway’s want’s to

be fine.

But it never seem’s to work out that way.

My first day at high school

And I am freaking like a freak.

My mouth is open

But I can not speak.

First lesson is at 9.00am

I roll up at five past.

I try to sneak in,maybe the

teacher want notice.

He noticed alright,he gave me

six hit’s of the cane.

Jesus,that hurt

I am a skinny little fellow

And I hated being hit by that piece

of willow.

Why couldn’t I be late for that?

For pain,i am on time

For fun,i am alway’s late

The other kid’s saw through all of

my ruse’s.

And in revenge,they gave me a whole

lot of pain and bruise’s.

Finally,my last day at school

I am all smile’s and high five’s

I got out of that fucking hell alive.

Sorry for getting off the subject

Which is,Am I Late?

But writing this brought back memorie’s

that I detest.

Maybe now,i can lay my school day,s to rest

After all that cruelty and humiliation

that they call education

I am ready to move on

My first day at work

Am I late?

Yes I am,but it wasn’t my fault

I read the bus timetable wrong

and I arrived a bit late

probably by about two hours

My boss wasn’t impressed

And he asked me ‘Cant you read a watch

or a clock?’

I said of course I could

‘Maybe you can suck my          ‘

So,anyway,at my new job interview

I am only fifteen minutes late

I told the interviewer,that I had

to wash my Cat.

He just pointed at the door

And that was that.

I was unemployed for a while

I had interview after interview

I was never on time

But I liked the sleep in’s

getting up in time for lunch

But I was running out of cash.

So anyway I met a girl,named

Yolanda.

She was really cute,with a face

like a Panda.

Things were getting hot and heavy

you know,in the bedroom

I was really going well

But then I had this feeling

‘Oh no’

For once in my life,i was early.

Yolanda wasn’t impressed

with my premature finish

And she kicked me out of bed

and I landed on my butt.

I got a bruise,and a nasty little cut.

So after a few girlfriends

I think I have finally found the one.

Her name is Samantha

She is tall and leggy

And she purrs like a Panther.

On our wedding day

I go to the wrong church

Am I late? Of course.

I finally find the right church

I am a little bit late

Only by about an hour and a half

Samantha isn’t impressed

She thinks for a while

And then she kicks me up and down

the church aisle.

Samantha is right footed

And she kicks like a mule.

She wont stand for any nonsense

She is nobody’s fool.

Why am I always late?

I cannot answer that question

I think there is a glitch in my system

I have a lot of ambition

But not much wisdom.

Well anyway,the wedding went ahead

pretty much on time.

only two hours late

Samantha gave me a look

Like she was a shark

And I was the bait.

That was ten years ago

Today is our anniversary

Sometimes we are friends

Sometimes I am her adversary.

We have three lovely kids

two girls and a boy

I missed every birth

I just cant be on time

I missed seeing my kids

take their first breath.

I cant turn back time

I am ashamed by my lack of

punctuality.

People have always told me that I

will be late for my own funeral

Well I hope they are right

That is the one time

When I will gladly be late.

Shit,whats the time?

I have a Doctors appointment

I should have been there an hour

ago.

Why do the hands on my watch move

so slow?

I hold it to my ear

I can hear the ticking

And ten years on and Samantha

is still kicking

I gotta go

I have to stop writing this story

Cause Samantha is the Shark

And I am the John Dory

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Fate

11 Wednesday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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fate

A Star fell from the Sky

and hit me on the head

I was seeing Star’s,haha.

My head was hurting,it like,bled.

A Train came off the track’s

as I was walking across

I guess that Train told me

who was boss.

I went to the beach

and there was a tidal wave

As I can not swim

I went to my grave.

My leg is hurting

I have a pinched nerve

I think I am getting

more then I deserve.

I went to a fancy restaurant

And ate a meal,with a trace of

nut’s.

As I am allergic

I spewed up my gut’s.

I went bushwalking

And I got bitten by a snake

I fell to the ground

I did not wake.

There are a million way’s to die.

It only take’s one,and you are dead.

Fate is going to grab you

and tell you that your time is up.

Maybe I am dreaming

And it is all in my head.

I went for a swim

And got eaten by a Great White.

It didn’t take much

Just one bite.

I went paint balling

and got hit really bad

Got a welt,got infected

I guess fate was calling

I went to work and I got

attacked by a rabid Chicken

It found my eye’s

And it just kept on picking

sticking,picking,sticking.

Fate,is like your final date

Do all you want to do

before it is to late.

Minute by minute

your time is ticking

But in the meantime

I am still alive and kicking.

I went for a bike ride

Down the Fearnley track

I came off,on a hard shoulder

Fate just looked at me

and said,told ya.

I just wish that fate

would give me a bit of a rest

I have had enough of the pain

I try to be tough

But I guess it aint enough.

I go skydiving

Well you can guess the rest

I land with a thud

I say to fate,thank’s a lot bud.

I go to the letterbox

to collect my mail

And I got stung by a Bee

I have a reaction

I can no longer see.

I go shopping

and get caught shoplifting

Fate is a gift

that keep’s on gifting.

Fate is a word,that I have come

to hate.

You cant escape it

You are caught in it’s web

Spiderbait.

Fate will sneak up behind you

and bite you on the arse

trying to get to the toilet

without a hallway pass.

I played a game of Cricket

The ball hit me in the knacker’s

now they look like

a couple of Jatz cracker’s.

I don’t want to leave the house

inside I am safe and sound

Surely fate cant find you

If you don’t want to be found.

I play a round of Golf

I am swinging

free and easy

I get struck by lightning

while standing

under a tree.

Sitting on an outdoor Dunny

Got bitten by a Red Back Spider

Got bit on the butt crack

By that nasty little Red Back.

In the hospital

recovering from the bite

Laying in my hospital bed

the overhead TV fall’s down

and hit’s me on the head.

It is a bright and sunny day

what could go wrong?

Went for a walk around the lake

Got attacked by a Black Swan.

Okay fate,you win

My hand’s are up,I surrender.

You have got the best of me

from January to December.

I walk around in wrap around sunglasse’s.

So fate cant see my face.

A hat hat complete’s the disguise.

So between me and fate

who will win the race.

Well we all know the answer

fate cant be defeated

You can try all you like

But fate,will not be unseated.

Fate is like a tube of Supa Glue.

He is gonna stick to me and you.

He want give up

he is who he is

I think the time has come

for me to finish this poem

Fate is calling.

He is calling me home.

Well that is all folk’s

Fate has whispered in my ear

He told me

That my time is near.

Well I back answered

And I told fate to fuck off.

He just smiled

and shrugged his shoulder’s.

He told me my life is over

It has unfolded.

I gave it one last effort

and I told Mr fate

that he is unwanted

Can you please just go away

and leave me alone.

He just stared

with a steely look in his eyes

It is time for me to say

my final goodbye’s.

I am still waiting for fate

to knock on my door

I don’t mind waiting

I can wait for year’s

But when he finally say’s

Steven,your time is up.

I will accept my fate.

You cant put your life on hold

Okay fate I will do as I am told

That is it,my time is over.

But could I tempt fate

could I be so bold?

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Fly Like A Beagle

08 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in stories, Uncategorized

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dog, superhero

Sally Jo was playing in her backyard

With her mother Tracey watching her.

Sally Jo knew that if she was a good girl

a new pet Dog was on the card’s.

So early on Saturday morning,Tracey drove Sally

Jo to the Dog pound.

Sally Jo was all excited,jumping up and down.

Hopefully they can find a likely looking hound.

Straight away Sally Jo saw the Dog that she wanted

It had a white spot on it’s forehead.

The Dog that she had spotted was a Beagle

Who was even more excited than Sally Jo.

Sally Jo sat on the ground,and the Beagle ran over

and licked her on the face.

Sally Jo knew that this was the Dog for her,and said

to her Mum ‘This is the one,let’s go’

The Beagle also saw the connection,and thought ‘What

are we waiting for,let’s go to your place.’

So Sally Jo and the Beagle finally arrive back at her house.

Sally Jo know’s that she has to give her new Dog a name.

The Beagle is kind and gentle,who wouldn’t hurt a fly,or

a mouse.

A name comes to Sally Jo,the name of her Grandaddy who

had passed over.

The name is Eddie.

It is way better then those common name’s like Prince or

Rover.

So Eddie it is.

Eddie settle’s in well,he has Sally Jo wrapped around his

little finger,or paw.

He is well fed,and has a bath every third day

Eddie love’s his new home,with a flap on the door.

Eddie hope’s that this time he can stay.

A few day’s later Sally Jo is playing in the sand pit.

Eddie is yapping and is trying to pull clothe’s off the

line.

Sally Jo is hoping that Eddie would quieten down a bit.

Eddie couldn’t care less,he is feeling mighty fine.

Eddie gave a sharp tug on a red beach towel.

It come’s loose and land’s on his neck.

A strange thing is happening,and Eddie let’s out a

howl.

The towel attaché’s it self to Eddie,and he is thinking

‘What the heck’

Eddie slowly stand’s upright,the towel is hanging like

a cape.

An SD appear’s on his chest,which stand’s for Super Dog.

Sally Jo stand’s there her mouth agape.

She falls to the ground,and slip’s into the fog.

Eddie looks around him,and he know’s that he is

now a superhero.

He lift’s up his hind leg’s and take’s to the sky.

He is airborne,and he wag’s his tail goodbye.

He doesn’t know where he is going.

Maybe he will look for a damsel in distress.

He is flying like a Eagle

No,make that a Beagle.

He soar’s above the Earth

his red cape in his slipstream.

Is he really flying

Or is it all just a dream.

Just then the Super Dog logo on his chest

start’s to flash and chime.

Super Dog has a job to do

And that job is to fight crime.

As he get’s lower to the ground,he see’s a couple

of shady character’s

down the end of a lane.

A third person is on the ground.in a whole lot of pain.

A bullet hole in his chest,leaking a lot of blood.

Some one better stop the leaking,before it turn’s into

a flood.

That someone is Super Dog.

He land’s between suspect one and suspect two.

And before they know it,he bang’s their head’s together.

And that is the end of Bill and Trevor.

He place’s his paw on the man on the floor.

And the bleeding immediately stop’s.

He hear’s a siren in the distance,and know’s that

someone has called the cop’s.

He doesn’t want to be seen.

Who would believe seeing a Dog in a cape.

Again his SD logo start’s to flash a signal

And by the sound of thing’s it look’s like a rape.

With his Super Dog power’s,he has a heightened

sense of touch,sight and smell.

Somewhere nearby a girl is going through hell.

With his nose leading the way,he fly’s to the scene

of the attack.

He come’s upon the perp

dressed all in black.

Super Dog reaches into his pocket and grab’s a

week old bone.

Sitting next to his lead and mobile phone.

He cock’s his arm and throw’s the bone like a

boomerang.

I guess that it is all over,

Cause the fat lady just sang

The victim is with the paramedic’s

The perp is with the cop’s.

Super Dog make’s good his escape

with a jump kick and a hop.

Super Dog has got an itch that need’s scratching.

And not only because of flea’s.

He just want’s to bring about justice.

And put the bad guy’s on their knee’s.

Once again his chest logo goes off,loud.

Burning a hole in his soul.

Somewhere nearby a little kid,is in a well

dug hole.

A cruel little man is holding the kid for ransom.

He has been in trouble all his life.

But the girl’s think that he is handsome.

He want’s one million dollar’s,and he want’s it by

five.

Or little Joey Pringle,will no longer be alive.

The Police are scrouring the area,knocking on door’s

and asking a lot of question’s.

They know that a lot of little kid’s go missing,too many

to mention.

They are getting desperate.

They are running out of time.

Their only hope is that the good Samaritan,who has been

helping them,can find the scene of the crime.

What they don’t know,is that their helper is souped up,

super sensed canine.

Once again Super Dog,takes to the skie’s.

Smelling for a scent,listening for a little boy’s cries

He comes across a farmhouse.on the outskirt’s of

town.

He thought he smelt something,thought he heard

a sound.

He sit’s down,put’s his left paw on the grass.

And then looks to the heaven’s for help.

Then he get’s all excited,and let’s out a little yelp.

Twenty feet away,and two feet underground.

A little boy lays in a box.

Super Dog run’s over,and start’s to dig like a demented

Fox.

A few second’s later,Joey is finally breathing fresh air.

He look’s up and see’s a Dog with a flashing symbol on

its chest.

But Joey doesn’t care,he just want’s to see his Mummy

and have a little rest.

Super Dog is exhausted.

Fighting crime,takes more out of you ,then you think.

He just wants to go home to his dinner,and have a drink.

He locates his home,and land’s not that far away.

He doesn’t want Sally Jo to see him as a Super Dog.

He is just Eddie the well loved stray.

Sally Jo see’s him coming,and let’s out a cry of surprise.

Eddie is crying also,he can feel is heartbeat rise.

Sally Jo and Eddie are reunited in the middle of the street.

Sally Jo gives him a cuddle,and his favourite treat.

Eddie drags the red cape,and puts in the back of his kennel.

Where Tracey grows Tomatoes and Fennel.

The logo on his chest is no longer visible

It has gone to silent mode.

Eddie is in his backyard,running around

barking and yapping.

Sally Jo is jumping up and down laughing and

clapping.

But Eddie knows that the happiness want last.

Sooner or later,he will catch up with his past.

Super Dog will reappear

And once again he will fight crime.

And deal with all the legal Eagles.

There is one thing that he loves to do

And that is,to

Fly like a Beagle.

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Doing My Blue’s Thang

05 Thursday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in Uncategorized

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dreaming, The blue's

I am a skinny white boy who loves to sing

the Blue’s.

I slide across the stage in my not so Blue

suede shoe’s.

I plug in my guitar,and play the best that

I can.

I am the real deal,im your Hoochie Coochie

man.

I am on tour right now,maybe I am coming to

your town.

Come and hear me play,and hear my stripped

back sound.

If I play to fast I am going to break a string

I just want to lay back.

Doing my Blue’s thang

I lay down a fat back beat.

My back’s me up a treat.

The spotlight hit’s my face,my heart start’s

to race.

The sweat make’s my shirt stick to my back.

But I don’t care,cause I am in the middle of a six

string guitar attack.

Backstage after the show,the dressing room is

full of hanger on’s.

And groupie’s who want to party

they don’t care about the song’s.

If I play to slow

people will say ‘What happened to the rock’

But I don’t care,fast or slow.

I just want to sing.

Just doing my blue’s thang.

I live for the music.

It is embedded in my Brain.

I dream about tab’s and chord’s

AT breakfast,i write out the word’s.

After my second cup of coffee

I have finished a song.

I ring up my producer,and book

some studio time.

I just want to lay it down while it is

fresh in my mind.

The producer is late,and that is one thing

that I hate.

Time is money,and we are talking about

my money.

It doesn’t grow on tree’s,so mister be on

time,please.

The seession’s go well,everybody is in

top form.

The wall’s of the studio are bouncing with

the echo of our sound.

The thought’s in my head go round and

round.

I want to play my music forever.

I don’t want to have a normal job.

Working 6 to 2.30 is not for me.

I want to live my rock n roll fantasy.

All I want to do is play and sing.

Plug in my Strat,and do some guitar

hero move’s.

On stage playing some funky groove’s.

So come out and hear me sing

Just doing my Blue’s thang.

Playing out on the road is tough.

There are plenty of trap’s and pitfall’s

Drunkin’ idiot’s and their catcall’s

I block it out I don’t hear a thing

Just doing my blue’s thang.

The Blue’s are all about being down

and out.

With not enough money to go around

Not enough food on the table.

All your clothes are hand me downs.

You just live from week to week.

But the Blue’s is also about being proud

of  who you are.

Laying on your bed,reaching for the star’s.

Knowing that if you are feeling down,just

remember there is alway’s someone lower.

So look people right in the eye.

Don’t look at the ground.

So alway’s dream your dream’s.

Sing your song’s,play your guitar.

Act in a play,paint like Picasso.

Just get out there,and give it a go

So if you are feeling down in a funk

Feeling a little blue

If you need a bit of a lift.

If you want to go back to being the old

happy you.

Come out and hear me play and sing.

I am just doing my Blue’s thang.

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Was That Elvis?

03 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in Uncategorized

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elvis, Parkes

Is that who I think it is?

The sideburn’s,sequin suit,black hair

and a need to visit Jenny Craig

Sort of give him away.

As one of his song’s goes

I did it ‘My Way’

My Aunty Hazel,is riding on the Elvis train.

She ride’s the train every year,in Parke’s

NSW on the Western Plain’s.

Where there are plenty of cheer’s

and quite a few tear’s.

 

This year the Elvis festival is celebrating Elvis

80th birthday.

If Elvis was still alive,he would be rocking in a

wheelchair.

Where his ‘Blue Suede Shoe’s’ would never hit

the ground.

His hair would be a Silvery Grey.

He is in his favourite shape.

Which is round.

Elvis in his hey day was up there with the best.

In fact he was the King.

He played all around the United State’s with

very little rest.

People would travel for miles to watch him

gyrate and to hear him sing.

My Aunty Hazel booked into the ‘Heartbreak

Hotel’,which is just down the road from The

Bridge Over Troubled Water’

Then she went to get a room.

The Clerk said That’s Alright Now Mama’,and

handed her a key.

The place was full of nostalgic daughter’s.

Parkes is jumping,what a sight to see.

Elvis was managed by a Colonel,no not

Colonel Sander’s,Colonel Parker.

The colonel had a bit of a shady past,and

a ‘Wooden Heart.’

He moved with the like’s of Bonnie and Clyde

and Ma Barker.

My Aunty Hazel walked into the local.

Where the jukebox was blasting ‘Jailhouse Rock.’

She sat in a corner booth and had herself a soft

drink.

She had Ione eye on the local band,and the other

eye on the clock.

She had an early start.

 

Just then she felt someone tap her on the

shoulder.

A guy asked ‘Are You Lonesome Tonight’

While Aunty Hazel was flattered,she pointed

at her wedding ring.

The guy said ‘Don’t Be Cruel’,I can be your ‘Hound Dog

Aunty Hazel said your love don’t mean a thing.

Was that Elvis?

Who just walked past

Was that Elvis?

A blast from the past

Was that Elvis?

On the other side of the street?

Was that Elvis?

A person I would love to meet.

As we all know Elvis had his demon’s.

He took way to many pill’s.

He loved to eat Peanut Butter and Banana

sandwich’s.

He was mismanaged and he was surrounded

by a bunch of yes men.

Elvis I am sorry to say,took a lot of spill’s.

Just near my Aunty Hazel,a young couple sat

at a corner table.

The guy is thinking ‘It’s Now Or Never’.

He want’s a ‘Little Less Conversation’,and A

little more action.

The girl is thinking,come on baby,’Love Me Tender.

It was a mutual attraction.

Was that Elvis?

On the back of the train

Was that Elvis?

At the end of the lane.

Was that Elvis?

At the edge of the stage.

Was that Elvis?

You cant turn back the page.

My Aunty is a great Elvis fan,and has been

for most of her life.

Million’s of people around the world think

the same.

A lot of his female fan’s would gladly be his

wife.

The hair on the back of your neck stand’s up

When they hear Elvis name.

As we all know Elvis died in 1977.

On the wing’s of a White Dove he flew off to

heaven.

But his legacy live’s on.

His life is celebrated the world over.

From London to New York.

From Gosford to Dover.

Whenever you are feeling sad.

Just play some of your favourite Elvis tune’s

The music will lift you and fix any old wound.

It will take you to a happy place.

And put a smile on your dial.

Elvis no longer walk’s this Earth

and he hasn’t for a long time.

But you know his music live’s on

So everything is fine.

Elvis has left the building.

This story is dedicated to my favourite Aunty

My Aunty Hazel.

 

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I Got Wood

31 Saturday Jan 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in Uncategorized

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Tags

masturbation, woodwork

I got wood

More then any man should

I got wood

It is all around the house

I got wood

It is nice and hard

I got wood

It is all over the yard

 

Hard wood,soft wood

If I rub my wood too much I am

gonna get a splinter.

Just rub and rub,just rub with

the grain.

Then there wont be any pain.

I just love to feel my wood in

my hand’s.

I get all excited,my breath is getting

kind of heavy.

Yes I love my wood

 

Jesus I just realised that you people

reading this,will be getting the wrong

idea.

Come on people,get your mind out of

the gutter.

 

I am talking about wood.

Jarrah,Oak,Blackbutt,Rosewood,Mahogany,

Pine,Walnut.

But my favourite wood is mine.

I got wood.

I am going to build myself a cabinet

I got wood

Maybe I will carve a sculptor.

I got wood

Maybe I can make a skateboard

I got wood

Maybe make a bookcase

I got wood

Maybe I can build a whole freaking

house.

Sorry,but I have got to stop writing

It is time for a toilet break.

 

I get to the bathroom

Unzip my pant’s

Jesus,I got wood haha

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Mr Big

29 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in Uncategorized

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Tags

drugs, vigilante

There is a house down the end of my street

In that house live’s a man,with a plan.

He want’s to rule the world.

One drug deal at a time.

His name is Neville,who personally know’s

the Devil.

And he live’s his life on many level’s

He have contact’s all over the state.

He is a man you would really love to hate.

Neville has a sidekick called Evil Eyed Stan.

He isn’t what you would call a nice man.

He would snuff out your life without thinking

twice.

I told you Stan isn’t very fucking nice.

Neville stand’s about 173cm and he has the build

and face of a Ferret.

He has never done anything good in his life.

Certainly nothing of merit.

Stan on the other hand is about 187cm tall

With a body and head like,Mr Potato Head.

He isn’t all that smart, not very well read

But mess with Stan and you are dead.

Neville has a dream

He want’s to be the kingpin.

He want’s to be the biggest crime lord in the

state.

He want’s it all now.

Neville doesn’t like to wait.

Wherever Neville goes,Stan isn’t far behind.

Neville is the Orange,Stan is the rind.

Neville is down in his basement cooking up

the medicine.

Stirring and tasting.

He couldn’t care less about the live’s he is

wasting.

Neville goes by many name’s but the one he

like’s the best is Mr Big.

Big by name,small by nature.

He live’s his life in thehighest stature.

Or so he think’s.

He is the lowest of the low.

He would stick a needle in anybody’s arm.

As long as the money is rolling in,what’s

the harm.

He has no conscience,all he think’s about is himself.

He live’s his life sitting on the top shelf.

Or so he think’s.

Mr Big is a Pig.

There is no other description.

He is a sleaze bag.He live’s his life on the suffering

of other’s.

He can see the tear’s of the Father’s and Mother’s.

But he turn’s a blind eye.

Well he does see,but he couldn’t care less.

Neville is in his basement.

Making up some more powder and pill’s.

Another deadly concoction,to cure your ill’s

He put’s his ware’s into a suitcase

and head’s out the door.

He is meeting Evil Eyed Stan down at the Pub.

One eye is on the suitcase,the other is watching

out for the Law.

Down at the local,Stan is waiting for the next

shipment to arrive.

But Stan is a bit worried.

He has been skimming the profit’s

And putting it in his pocket.

Evil Eyed Stan know’s that he has been taking

more then his share.

But he has been careful,Neville will never know.

He doesn’t hear the voice in his head saying,BEWARE.

Neville arrives with the suitcase and sit’s down next

to Stan.

A few word’s are exchanged

and the suitcase change’s hand’s

In a corner booth,sit’s a long haired stranger.

Who has been watching Neville and Stan’s

every move.

He is an undercover drug cop,Sgt Spencer is his

name.

And arresting sleaze bag’s like Neville and Stan

is his game.

Neville and Stan have taken their conversation

outside.

So they can talk business and have a smoke.

Standing just outside the back door.

Stan is feeling a bit drunk and relaxed.

Then he feel’s a hand on his shoulder.

Then a whisper in his ear ‘Nobody rip’s me off.’

Stan hear’s Neville’s voice,then he feel’s Neville’s

knife.

As it stab’s and slice’s,and end’s his life.

Stan is dead before while still standing on his feet.

Neville lower’s him to the ground,then give’s him a

kick in the head for good measure.

Neville the Devil incarnate,is now on the lookout for

a new offsider.

Someone who doesn’t mind getting his hand’s dirty.

Neville ask’s all the local tough’s if they know of any

suitable applicant’s.

And a few name’s are tossed around,they all live on the

wrong side of town.

The stranger from the corner booth is back.

And he has heard every word.

Perhap’s he should put his own name forward.

Throw his hat into the ring.

Then put Neville out of his misery.

And watch all the vulture’s sing.

Mr Big.

Think’s that he is immortal.

Mr Big.

Think’s that he is the best.

Mr Big.

Is about to be put to the test.

Speak of the Devil.

Neville goes about his business without a care

in the world.

He still carries that suitcase wherever he goes

Just like a business man about to close a deal.

But for Neville thing’s are about to get very real.

He is that arrogant,he doesn’t look behind him

as he stroll’s down the street.

He is off to the pub to interview some street

wise punk’s about the job vacancy.

The interview’s start,and the list of name’s has

gone from long to short.

The stranger from the corner booth,is waiting

his turn.

He patiently wait’s his turn to act like a thug and

not a cop.

He give’s the performance of his life and he get’s the

job.

Neville tell’s him to report for work at 7: am on the dot

He get’s in his car the next morning and drives

 

At 7: am on the dot,he knock’s on Neville’s front door.

He know’s one thing for sure,he is about to even the

score.

Neville open’s the door,and before he can say a word.

He is punched in the throat.

A blow that bring’s him to his knee’s.

He look’s up and say’s a croaky,’Please’.

The stranger from the corner booth has come to a

decision.

Neville isn’t going to leave this house alive.

Neville finally wake’s up and realise’s that he is tied

to a chair.

A rag is stuffed into his mouth.

His eye’s are open wide.

He know’s that his life is about to come to a painful end.

The stranger from the corner booth,doesn’t say a word.

He walk’s up behind Neville and slowly slice’s off Neville’s

left ear,then off come’s the other one.

Neville is trying to scream,but just a gurgling sound come’s

out.

Now he know’s what pain and suffering is all about.

But the stranger from the corner booth isn’t finished

and one by one he lops off all of Neville’s finger’s

The stranger from the corner booth search’s the house

and finally he find’s the suitcase,behind the lounge.

He get’s a tea spoon from the kitchen,and mixes up

some Cocaine and water.

He load’s up a syringe and give’s Neville an overdose.

He then just sit’s there and watches as Neville slowly

expires.

As Neville dies the stranger from the corner booth says a

silent prayer.

He prays for the lost sons and daughters,that fell to Neville’s

drug’s.

They will never go home,know more kiss’s no more hug’s

But Sgt Spencer know’s that he cant save every kid that fall

through the crack’s.

But he is happy cause he know’s that Neville is never coming back.

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The Ninja Shadow

20 Tuesday Jan 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

ninja, ninja's

Way up in the Mountain’s,on an unnamed

Island.

Live’s a man without a face.

His finger print’s leave no trace.

His clothe’s sense extend to black pyjama’s

and Converse shoe’s.

When I say he has no face.

Of course he has one.

But no one has ever seen it.

It is alway’s covered by a black surgical mask.

He live’s in the shadow’s

behind a veil of secrecy.

You want hear him coming,before you know it

he is in your space,right in your face.

He sit’s in his cabin up in the hill’s

Waiting for a telephone call.

He is ready to rumble

It is boring up in his cabin.

He is ready to get back in action.

This man who has no face,has no mame.

He is known as the Ninja Shadow.

The phone call come’s at midnight.

There seem’s to be a situation in Hong Kong.

The Triad’s have over stepped the mark.

They have kidnapped the Chinese Ambassador.

The Ninja Shadow

make’s his way to the Airport

where he board’s his Lear jet.

The Pilot enter’s the flight plan and they take off

heading  East.

In the penthouse of the Hyatt Hong Kong.

Sit’s the boss of the Triad’s,Chu We.

He sit’s there chomping on a cigar,watching his

henchman do a number on the Ambassador.

The Chinese have seriously interrupted the

Triad’s drug business.

And  to the Triad’s this has got to come to an end.

The Ambassador is tied to a chair.

Wearing nothing but his underwear.

He is being tortured and cut.

This torture method is called death by a thousand cut’s.

Where one cut after another is done all over the body.

Not to deep,because death has to come nice and slow.

Just then there is a knock on the door.

Room service,with a trolley full of food.

Chu We,who weigh’s about 300 kilo’s

is never one to turn away a meal.

He order’s one of his flunkies to open the door.

In walk’s a man pushing a trolley covered by a table cloth.

There is one strange thing about him.

He explain’s that it is Flu season,and he doesn’t want

to catch the disease.

Chu We couldn’t care less,he is eyeing off the food

trolley,and what lay’s beneath the table cloth.

The man in the mask,doesn’t keep him in suspense.

He whip’s off the table cloth,and there is not one

scrap of food.

Instead there are two silenced hand gun’s.

The man in the mask grab’s both gun’s and start’s

a shooting.

Chu We and his side kick’s don’t know what hit them.

They each have a bullet hole in their forehead’s.

And they lay on the ground,dead.

The man in the mask check’s the Ambassador,and

tend’s to his wound’s.

He enter’s a code on the phone,and give’s the all

clear.

And then he does what he does best

He return’s to the shadow’s.

He is on his way home on his private plane.

When his phone let’s out a little chirp.

A message has come through ‘Good job,Well done,

One million dollar’s deposited in your Cayman

Island account.

The Ninja Shadow

Give’s a satisfied smile.

And settle’s down with his Sake’ with  a twist.

Halfway home his phone does a different sound.

This sound mean’s trouble.

His boss in Washington tell’s him of a situation

at the White House.

The President’s wife and daughter’s have been taken

from the local park while out for a walk.

The secret service agent’s there to protect them

have been mortally wounded.

A  distinctive sign cut into there skin.

The sign of the Triad.

It seem’s that the friend’s of Chu We have some contact’s

in Washington.

The Triad want revenge.

The Triad want a swap.

The Ninja Shadow in exchange for the President’s

wife and daughter’s.

The Ninja Shadow tell’s his pilot to turn around

and head to Washington.

The plane hit’s the tarmac with a thud.

There is not a minute to waste.

The Ninja Shadow jump’s into a waiting limousine.

And head’s to the rendezvous sight at Green River.

Chu We’s  half brother Fu We,is waiting with a truck

load of thug’s and gun’s.

The Ninja Shadow take’s a look around,and size’s up the

situation.

And rearrange’s the mask on his face.

He notice’s the President’s wife and daughter’s

Tied up in the back of a white van.

Fu We see’s a masked man walking toward’s him with

his hand’s in the air.

But this is not the Ninja Shadow,but a body double.

While the fake Ninja,shoot’s the breeze with Fu We.

The real Ninja Shadow sneak’s up to the white van.

As silent as a mouse he up behind the guard.

And with a double tap to the head,he is dead.

He grab’s the President’s brood,and take’s them to

a waiting car.

And he drive’s at break neck speed,back to the safety of the

White House.

Fu We has come to realise that he has lost control of the

situation.

His fifty thug’s are running around in circle’s

waiting for an order.

Fu We come’s to a decision,jump’s into his SUV

and flee’s the scene.

He doesn’t get very far, the FBI shoot out his tire’s

his car roll’s and explode’s into a ball of flame’s.

Back at the White House the President is one happy

man.

The Ninja Shadow,is also happy $ 5 million in his

Cayman account.

He goes home to the mountain’s,sit’s in an easy chair.

Waiting for the next phone call.

Don’t forget,no job is too small.

To have your situation fixed call

1800 NINJA.

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The Bee who Could’nt See

14 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in Uncategorized

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Bertie the Bumble Bee was just flying around

Feeling kind of confused and fuzzy.

He is usually,foot loose and fancy free and

you know buzzy.

He didn’t understand what was happening.

He couldn’t find his way back to the hive.

He is usually home by 3 o’clock

It is now 10 past 5.

Bertie is a worker Bee

His job is to fly from flower to flower

collecting nectar.

He was flying blindly from field to field.

And he flew into the wrong sector.

This sector is owned by a rival hive

Where a bossy Queen is King.

She doesn’t tolerate trespassers.

And order’s her fighter’s to the wing.

Bertie is still flying blindly and doesn’t

realise that he is in a whole lot of trouble.

The fighter Bee’s are gaining,they will get

to him on the double.

They catch Bertie on the border,of the two

hive’s.

Bertie see’s them at the last second

and duck’s and dive’s.

Just then Bertie get’s lucky,and a breeze blow’s him

South East.

He has just escaped from the belly of the beast.

If he had been caught,he would have been torn apart

Wing by wing,limb by limb.

Till they finally tore out his heart.

Bertie’s other sense’s are working fine.

and he get’s a smell of home.

And he skid’s to a stop.

At the hive of the Honey comb.

Bertie rush’s to the bathroom

and put’s some drop’s in his eye’s.

His vision is a little better.

Next morning he is back to the skie’s.

Early in the morning Bertie is ready for

take off.

He feel’s a little off colour,sneezing

with a dry little cough.

He is flying to his favourite field

full of clover wet the bed’s and thistle.

His throat is so dry he cant even whistle.

His vision is also going.

everything is becoming unfocused and blurry

And he fly’s straight into something furry.

He has flown into a Koala who was minding

his own business munching on some leave’s.

Bertie has flown into a Marsupial fifty feet up

a Eucalyptus tree.

Bertie isn’t feeling too good

but the smell of Eucalyptus is clearing out his

nostril’s.

It goes further down and clean’s his tonsil’s.

Feeling a whole lot better Bertie is back on

the job filling his nectar sac’s.

But what Bertie doesn’t know is that he is

about to hell and back.

With his nectar sac’s over filled

and his vision not the best.

Bertie get’s a bad rap.

And fly’s straight into a Venus Fly trap.

Bertie know’s that he is in trouble,and he cant

stop himself from going down.

His nectar sac’s keep Bertie afloat,so he doesn’t

drown.

Betie know’s that there is no escape from this

watery grave.

His frantic struggle’s are creating little wave’s.

But they are enough to engulf Bertie and he goes

under.

Just then a sound fill’s the air,sounding like

buzzing and thunder.

Bertie’s hive mate’s have come to his rescue

Yellow and black stripe’s,ten thousand strong.

They land on the edge of the trap

singing their rescue song.

We are Bee’s ,we believe,so beware,we Bee’s

will leave you bewildered.

Bertie heard his favourite song.

And his heart skipped a beat.

If he could of he would have jumped to his feet.

A guide rope was lowered,andd Bertie take’s a hold.

He is hoisted to the surface,a little wet

and a little cold.

They arrive back at the hive an army of Bee’s

celebrating a job well done.

They had an adventure,and rescued their favourite

son.

A few day’s later Bertie is feeling a whole lot better.

He is busy as a Bee can be,can be.

He is feeling the Bee’s knee’s.

Now he wear’s tiny glass’s

Kick’s tiny arse’s

Goes to swimming class’s

And flirt’s with anything that pass’s.

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