littlemissmoody

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Theatre Trapeze by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Theatre Trapeze

Theatre Trapeze Hand in hand, side by side, we sat Under the ticking filtered sky The flickering stars mesmerised us, Only for a moment. There under the purple twilight, On the soft blue grass, we shared Chicken and lamb. You smiled and I blushed. Your kiss and my kiss. As the suspended stars went on strike mid-air, We made our own show. The sun came and rained on our parade, But we went on into Act II anyway. The audience smiled and applauded. When the curtain rose for our finale, We were trundling away, eyes fixated on houses. Snails, millions of minutes and a collective plural later, We climbed our ladders for our final

Eleven, Eleven by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Eleven, Eleven

Eleven, Eleven Eleven, Seven The dripping faucet of time, echoes Drip. Minutes evaporate Drip. Eleven, Eight Gaze fixed, mutant zombie Drip. Prisoner of the listless frost Drip. Drip. Eleven, Nine Narnia will die without you! Drip. Drip. Sleeping Beauty wastes away Drip. Drip. Hurry, Hurry, Hurry. Eleven, Ten Apocalyptic sirens adorn the skies Drip. Drip. Drip. Devouring jaws, open wide. Drip. Drip. Drip. (inhale, exhale) Eleven, Eleven Eyes shut tight as feverish wishes are sent Drip. Drip. To the heavens on a mission to retrieve you (pause) Eleven, Twelve Drip. Failure. Drip. Again.

Blank. by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Blank.

Blank. It lies pompously upon the desk Wearing its margin like a badge of honour Sticking its perfect little typeset number in the air ‘Look what the cat dragged in’ , it says airily At the appearance of my teenage self. And the growling interrogation begins. Demanding answers. Wanting. Now. Yesterday. Damnit Johnson, you’re fired! + + + ‘Who. Are. You.’ It demands for the hundredth time I shake my head, tight-lipped I DON’T KNOW I DON’T KNOW I DON’T KNOW But it isn’t good enough to leave a question blank No part marks on this one question paper, So I write

Sugar by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Sugar

Sugar Upon the mirror dances her painted face She grins at me, mechanically But I love her all the same. She used to be ugly to me, A broken doll I was ashamed to be. She wasn’t right, didn’t fit, was ugly. Back then, her face brought hot tears Singed with anger, laced with repulsion. Now, my fingers touch her painted ones and I tell her I know she’s broken but She grins at me, mechanically. Something cracks inside and I know she’s hiding something But what I do not know. You look at me and grin too and You’re all the same: Brainwashed, blind, humouring me. Can you not see the dark purple Brush str

Lost by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Lost

Lost A landscape out of this world, Dotted with extra terrestrial life forms And this one unsure girl Without a ray gun. Can you hear me, SOS? The ABBA classic in monotone drones Through the cockpit of her spaceship. She doesn’t know what she’s looking for. Seventeen years and she’s still searching. I’ll know it when I see it, she said. She thinks she might have lied. They all think she’s wonderful. But inside, she’s died. They cuddle her and tell her not to worry "It’ll all be okay in the end, you’ll see" Forty million miles away and she’s not so sure. What will be all okay in th

Static on the Line by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Static on the Line

Static on the Line Static on the line Your voice is fuzzy but it’s you. I giggle, I grin, I gush It’s you! It’s you! I say You’re nodding I can see it now. All the way, over there… (pause) Way, way over there. Can you see me? ‘No’ you reply. And we laugh. Laugh at my stupidity. Laugh at your witty jokes. Laugh at time that eats away, Those hours we spent together. Leaving behind static on the line. I don’t know what happened To me. To you. To us. Something did. Something horrible. Something unimaginable. Something beyond words. You didn’t laugh any more. I didn’t talk

Strike Up the Band by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Strike Up the Band

Secretive smiles conjured plans Feverish fingers held animated discussions Excited eyes flitted back and forth All in lover’s speak you know. Metallic chariots carried us Between kingdoms of sombre reality and playful fantasy To the very gates of the world we called our own The entrance, a single patch of lawn. Mouths were too occupied for words Minds were emptied with all rational thought Hands entangled in passion’s snares. Our souls just helpless pawns. A crescendo of skin upon skin, lips upon lips Then in deafening silence, it began. Slow and awkward at first. Evolving louder, faster, harder. Its tempo and ours b

The Oyster Has Been Opened by littlemissmoody, literature

The World We Called Our Own by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

The World We Called Our Own

In white they tumbled to and fro Streaking across the pale blue realm We watched them, you and I From the world we called our own In green and brown they slept Curled softly nuzzled in a blanket We laid there, you and I On the world we called our own In love we whispered silent things That those around could only see We stayed there, you and I In the world we called our own They could not comprehend They could only look in Through frosted panels of painted glass Because shutters could not capture Kisses could only measure Hands could only hold And nothing more was said About the world we called our own A tear did fall, a f

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Theatre Trapeze by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Theatre Trapeze

Eleven, Eleven by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Eleven, Eleven

Blank. by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Blank.

Sugar by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Sugar

Lost by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Lost

Static on the Line by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Static on the Line

Strike Up the Band by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Strike Up the Band

The Oyster Has Been Opened by littlemissmoody, literature

The World We Called Our Own by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

The World We Called Our Own

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Oooh, trippy. by ApatheticImPathetic, literature

Literature

Oooh, trippy.

A figure in a darkened room lies back on the chair in which he’s seated himself. It’s easy to tell that he has all day, more or less. In fact, he knows that this is what he’s made for. All he’s waiting for are for the room to light up –oh, wait, there we go… He turns to face the audience, and says in a companionable voice, “Greetings. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am…hmm. I suppose you should call me…” He pauses, and looks up, before saying in a slightly confused voice, “I don’t know. Hang on. Let me find out. You up there! Tell me what I’m supposed to be called!” He see

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Theatre Trapeze by littlemissmoody, literature

Literature

Theatre Trapeze

littlemissmoody

About littlemissmoody

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Australia
Deviant for 17 years
www.myspace.com/_blog_this_
She / Her

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My Bio

LOULOUEM
I line dance like nobody's business. My alter ego would be a librarian. I like my clothing matchy-matchy and my music at easy-listening volumes. My puns are dreadful but I like them. I collect picture books for the fun factor. I have a passionate romance with carbs and cake. My goal in life is to design and own a tiny house, travel the globe, find my dream job and live like a princess. I'm thinking theater. I am oddly attracted to retina-burning polyester. My favourite word is "ferocious" because it makes me laugh. I wish I could play piano and sing. I am fussy, tactless and convinced that fairytales do come true, eventually. Great at parties.

Current Residence: East Coast
Favourite style of art: Emotive Art.
Shell of choice: Sea-Shells
Favourite cartoon character: Arthur

Favourite Games

The Sims

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This and That.

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littlemissmoody

Jul 1, 2009

Return of Lou.

0 min read

I was considering getting another account but instead I will simply delete what I don't want off here AKAS a lot. I'm back though. Back to stay. :) So, whatcha been doing?