Posted in Confidence, Creative Writing, Femme Fatal, Sexy, Sunset Boulevard, Theatre, Writing

The Gaze of the female

Look at me! I said look at me.There right in the eyes. Is it a seductive? When you look do you imagine unwrapping layers of clothing, letting the silk garments tumble down my body like a waterfall. Do you imagine me naked? Your finger tracing shapes onto my naked flesh until I fall asleep in your arms. Do you want to taste my soul as our mouths lock, searching for a passion to ignite between us. Or do you simply want to use me for your own pleasure.
Do I intimidate you? Make spiders crawl up your ghostly flesh when our eyes meet? Make you want to run away as a tear your soul apart; I can see into you. Untangling your personality and spreading its beads onto the cold stone floor. You know I’ve broken the hearts of men , shattered them like glass. But you find me intriguing, sexy.Thinking I will grant your deepest wishes, your darkest sexual fantasy.You know I am a danger, I can burn you. You don’t retreat,like a moth to a light, you glide towards me hoping I will feel the same way about you.

With one look I can break your heart, with one look I’ll play every part. When I speak it’s with my soul..I can play any role.

The Gaze of a female.

Posted in Advice, Comedy, Creative Writing, Dead, Drunk, Emotions, English Literature, Free Verse, Growing up, Humor, Humour, Hungover, illness, Love, Memories, Monologue, Poetry, Regret, Sarcasm, Spoken word, Stories, Student, Theatre, Writing

 Hungover on poetry

Hungover on poetry,

It’s wrapped around my eyes.

I’ve drank it buckets.

Now I see the Light.

Head pounding,

Eyes hurting,

Throat sore with speech,

My eyebags are dark.

Like images of words,

that I now see.

Was the poetry spiked?

 Did I lap up too many,

too quickly?

Yes.

Over too soon.

Did I trip over?

The words.

Did they  make a fool out of me?

Yes..

But I can’t remember a thing.

Words , oh words . Oh God please stop!

There’s  vomit  on the doorstep,

My shoes ,

My hair,

The clean bed sheets,

And the toilet seat.

I shouldn’t have mixed mixed  Carol Anne Duffy, with my own special brew.

Or let others give me shots of

Poems.

I should have closed my mouth

To stop the migraine.

The litre of water last night wasn’t enough.

To cure the poetry hang over.

Breakfast might make it better.

Still more words .

On the box.

Sickness is growing and I can’t stop the din.

The words are louder, 

Caving in.

Dead on my bed, 

I can’t find the cure.

Drink some more poetry.

That might stop the sore.

Posted in Animals, Creative Writing, English Literature, First poem, Humour, Media, Monologue, Poetry, Theatre, Writing

The monologue of a sexually frustrated half goat man 

I don’t think I can ever rid myself of the shame..Goat legs. It’s not that they’re hairy, monstrously hairy. I’m actually half goat..My mother could never explain why or the doctor. They just looked at me and sighed..Some sort of genetic defect. There’s one thing about being a goat I can’t stop eating..Or the other thing where two bodies merge into one. I haven’t had a lot of that recently with a human or goat for that matter. 

Maybe it’s the legs, the hairiness seems to put them off a bit..Or is it my hoof feet. Or maybe it’s because women have something against bestiality; Belle commited that. The one from Beauty and the beast. I suppose despite various anger issues money always wins.

I’m currently unemployed,I got fired from my last three jobs. The first job the telephone wires seemed very tempting resulting in the network going down for several days. The second job I may have eaten a computer screen..I was hungry. Then the last job…Well I may have accidentally shagged my bosses wife. She was blind, very ugly I suppose that’s the beauty of being blind you never have to look at your own reflection. Other people have to suffer the pain. 

I was desperate, she was too..It was like animals at the zoo. The goat hair and the lipstick stains scattered over the table like confetti at a wedding.

Then her husband walked in.

~SS

Posted in Acne, Advice, blogging, Creative Writing, Dear Past Self, Memories, Poetry, Stories, Student, Theatre, Writing

Dear younger self,

 You’re  probably thinking  you’ll be a different person,  cool, popular and in with the cliqué.  Or have grown a couple of inches. You’re wrong . Still the same old 5ft 1 and a half .
The clique non-existent, the beauty of you; never wanting to follow the crowd ; purposely not liking One Direction everyone else liked. You followed your own interests and still are, like acting. You’ve now decided you don’t want to be an actor , but want to write scripts for the BBC o

r plays for the stage . Cake is your harmartia you could devour all day long; not worrying about a scrap of weight being placed onto your petite figure..Oh and another thing you lost a stone on the Duke of Edinburgh ; you were made to carry the heaviest backpack despite being the smallest. 15kg for 20 miles. Just don’t let people take advantage,you always seem to see the good in people, forgive people too many times.Like your ‘friend’ that you had since primary school who emotionally abused you; pushed you downstairs then you found out several years later they turned out to be transgender and confused. Don’t forgive them this time; some things are un-forgivable.

Remember that boy in secondary school that sexually harassed you? You realised it wasn’t your fault; even though people called your out for saying something.Sexual harassment is by no means acceptable you managed to openup about the experience at an NUS conference. There’s been a lot of attention surrounding sexual harassment in schools.

No you’re acne still hasn’t disappeared, it’s better but still not gone completely. People don’t judge you anymore now you’re at college, they love your personality, your love of theatre and the fact you like being individual. You’re doing well ,you became a student ambassador then managed to get onto the board of governors.Don’t be scared of failure.

You’re happier now , a lot happier ; you still don’t have a good sense of style or taste in music; still liking showtunes.But that’s you, don’t change it.

The pantomimes you used to be in you quit ; the director called you an obnoxious cow and told you that the audience didn’t want to watch you. Good riddance. So you joined another theatre group which you like a lot better.

Finally you’ve realized why your breasts haven’t surpassed a 32A , you still hate the size . You want them to be bigger; you’re a pear so keep loving that bum.

I suppose all I have to tell you now is ,keep being different, follow your dreams, never let anyone tell you you’re not good enough and don’t be scared of failure.
Love older self X


~SS

Posted in blogging, English Literature, First blog, Student, Theatre, Writing

The daunting first blog

I stare at this blank screen, not knowing what to write; Questioning will people like me? Will they want to read my blog? Am I good enough to be a blogger?  

Daunting questions tiptoeing around my mind like small child doing something naughty. Knowing they shouldn’t be present but still are.

I need to think positively,keep writing!

I will start from the beginning;that’s a very good place to start ((I’m sure you had the sound of music track in your head)). I am an A level student, I will be starting my second year of college *yay* on Tuesday. I am currently studying English literature, Sociology and Geography ((hard stuff)). Basically I know how to talk to people,how to find places on a map and read .

I have a passion for English literature. You can usually find me housed in a library skimming my fingers over the spine of novels, listening to their seductive whispers.

I love the smell of old books;  when I  open the novel the dusty cinnamon smell of the pages wafts up my nostrils like a welcome home gift; instantly making me feel at ease.
I love being curled up in bed ,late at night with a marsh-mellow hot chocolate beside me ;nestled snug under the duvet between the brown pages of a  novel.There is something romantic about it; imagining I’m part of MI5 taking part in a mission to stop evil cats gaining dominion over the world, or a woman having a good romp with her lover..Only to find out ten years later he’s gay. 

Theatre is another obsession of mine; I feel like Victor Frankenstein zapping thousands of electric currents into a corpse; or in this case giving life to a bundle of words scattered on a page. I lust for creating characters ,making them seem as believable as I can. I want to create imaginary worlds on bare boards.I also enjoy watching theatre whether it be musicals,comedy ,horror or a drama.

I’m not particularly going to give my blog a theme; I will feel restricted.  Being an Aquarius I hate that ,I like to feel free. The only thing I am going to put on here is things I am devoted to writing about. I will try to write two blog posts ((Maybe three)) depending on how busy my schedule is.

To say I couldn’t think of what to write ,I think I’ve done a pretty good job of getting things down on the blank space. The final thing to say is thank you for reading ; if you’d like to please give me a cheeky follow .
~SS

“Literature is mankinds response to the world around him or her.”.                            ~David Nicholls, Starter for ten.

11.09.15