The Nigerian Immigrant

In case you haven’t read the story, this is the infamous father and daughter duo (John and Jenny Deaves), involved in an incestuous relationship. They now have an 8 month old baby after losing the first one to heart disease and here is an expert from the story “Reunited in 2000, almost 30 years after John Deaves separated from Jenny's mother. Jennifer, because of problems with her own marriage had gone to live with her father at Yongala, in South Australia (because she had no other place to go after her divorce not to be “effed” by her father!!). Their physical relationship developed later that year and both ended their marriages and began living together.” (I’m just trying to imagine what Jenny would have told her husband when she ended it with him “I have fallen out of love with you, I’m head over heels in lust with my father???) Incestuous relationships are illegal in Australia and around the world (not sure if it is in Amsterdam, haaahhahaa), not just because of the “need to pr...

"Netherlands university student David Levy, who recently completed his PhD on the subject of human-robot relationships, says before 2050 there will be a widespread availability of robot lovers and carers: machines that will look, act and talk like humans. These robots would become so human-like in appearance, function and personality that many people would fall in love with them, have sex with them and even marry them".When i first read this piece, the first thing that struck me was the optimism of the writer which has inadvertently left me very disturbed. The most outrageous claim notwithstanding is this "... when there are robots that have also emotions, personality, consciousness. They can talk to you, they can make you laugh. They can ... say they love you just like a human would say 'I love you', and say it as though they mean it ..."...this phrase left me baffled. For more on this story click the link below: http://news.smh.com.au/world/in-2050-your-lo...

Guy's this is another poem, somebody wrote about me, inspired by seeing this photo. Hmmmm, i feel very honored and i'm very excited to present....The lady in the picture (which so happens to be moi, enjoy :) Just a poem I would love another man(probably your boyfriend)to write for you after looking at your photo gallery. Attached is the photo that inspired me to write this. A lady in the picture I would follow my first instinct to reach out and draw her close to me far away from covetous eyes of he that lurks in the dark from he that shares my thought: "I will hide her in the safest of my heart" only if she’s not a lady in the picture…… I set my gaze on her like sun gaze daily on earth. I see her beckoning to me. Her mouth wide open saying something I dare decode it she has made the symbol of my love the shape of her lips her teeth, shining like white gold around it I see the chains of my love wrapped around her neck. Oh how beautiful she looks! Oh how beautiful! The ...

If there is anything i love doing, its reading the papers, wanna know why? Well, its simply because there are some truly Weird and Freaky people out there. We'll call them fruitcakes. Fruitcake numero uno: We shall call Miss RETARD: You'll agree with me pretty soon :) "A Taiwanese mother kept the body of her maltreated daughter for four days, cooling it with ice cubes, before going on Yahoo! to ask how to dispose of the corpse!!! Lee Wan-yen, 4, had lived with her mother and other relatives and had allegedly suffered regular beatings, one of which may have proved fatal. Unsure what to do, the unmarried mother allegedly placed ice cubes and an electrical fan next to the body to keep it from decomposing. She went on Yahoo! to post the question: "How should you proceed with a dead four year old child? Urgent, please!!!!" Hahahahahhaha, U R G E N T please. Well i did a bit of research myself, look what i found out on yahoo-"Ask Questions & Get Answers on An...

During my exams i had to write a 2000 word essay regarding "the moral responsibility of a writer considering there are no ethics but our own perception of the truth". Now the above question cannot be resolved without satisfying my curiosity and yours of course on: what is it a reader should read? What can a writer write about? Furthermore, what are the social criticisms associated with the liberty of writing? Before i answer these questions i just have to point out that this isn't the answer i have in my essay, i just alluded to it. Anyway, what is it a reader should read, should there be censorship for reading, i mean, I've been to a book store and picked a book i thought would be incredible only to realize that 300 pages of it was devoted to mind-boggling sex scene's and group sex. Contrary to what you'd think, i was looking for a good read not textual pornography, how much sex a gigolo has (...even how many multiple orgasms he could make a girl undergo in 6...

We might disagree in so many things, but one thing we will always see eye to eye on is the fact that sometimes our day ends with something new. The night I fell in love was one that ended in such manner. As I remember the day today, I reflect on how love touched me one time and still lasts till today. I remember the emotion, the first feeling and subsequent ones. A lot have changed since then: My friends, my habits, my home even my career. One thing that has not changed over the years is the love that touched me that very night………………… I could write 500 words and still would not express the journey of my love as well as beautifully crafted words would. So sit down and absorb the sentences one at a time in the poem I titled “The night I fell in love” I saw her before she saw me the night I fell in love " angels dwell on earth " words of my mother I never believed it the night I saw you I did One thing I remember : dropped was my jaw that's when you saw me the moment I fell ...

I am trapped underground by the woman playing "that" trumpet I am trapped underground by the bleakness of her song I am trapped underground by the almost tranquil sadness of her resonance I am trapped underground by the eccentricity of her air I am trapped underground by her mystifying presence I am trapped underground because i am in all entirety bewitched by her I am trapped underground because I saw a woman of Aboriginal appearance I am trapped underground because i heard her song I am trapped underground because her music left me aroused with want I am trapped underground because I swam in the whiteness of it's melody In the ambience of perfection I am trapped underground because the woman who lavished upon me the legacy of music The woman who spoke to me with quiet precision I have clumsily rebuffed rebuffed not premeditated premeditated out of timidity timidity of bestowing bestowing hard cash hard cash upon the busker busker who's melody (melodious sadness) sad...

I will always remember a very simple, yet very powerful piece of advice my Father once gave me, he said " You only take ONE thing with you to your grave..YOUR NAME" How powerful!! This alone has so many messages attached to it..Thank You Dad!

When i first got my phone (even though it's very old now), i'd spend the night with it. Almost losing sleep each night, trying to fathom its depths, asking the purpose of each button. Its a bit like that right now, new blog, the thrill and excitement (which will hopefully not die down like that of my phone, i'd throw it down the bottom of the loo, yet, unfazed, armed with the knowledge that i'd get a new one anyway, but only when i have a reason to). Well, this introduction is to an overwhelming love story, sent to me by one of you. A piece he had written, which just makes me realize each moment that the writers out there with movie deals, recognized poets who make thousands of dollars from writing are not the real writers, the real writers are you and me, the ones that write when no one is looking, the ones that write because it gives them joy and peace, the ones that write because that's what we were born to do. Here is the poem, enjoy: Ocean without water Sky w...

I am so excited that finally i have a blog. Not just any blog, but one i can post my poems on. I am so thrilled even at 4:09am, with lots of essays and lets not forget the exams, due on Monday i am so full of gratitude that with the power of technology i can reach a wider audience instead of phone texting (which, it is important to point out will go on). A friend of mine once said to me "Blossom why the hell do you waste your time, uploading poems on poetry.com, a place no one even goes to." He does have a point of course, however, writing to me is expression, i am more of myself when i write than when i talk, writing defines me, it is company to me, it is a present given to me that i will live each day savoring for the rest of my life. If writing means this much to me, then it will be a sin, an abomination and a crime, for me to write and leave it in my big blue book (which reminds me.... I've always called her "My big blue book" haven't I!!! I should nam...

Amongst many one thing that we all have in common Are the challenges that get chucked at our doorsteps Some of them we see coming Most goes beyond our expectations One thing that we mostly tend to never sight Is what tumults and storms others tend to sail through some could be more intense than ours Maybe not Amazingly we are given the opportunity to reach out To help that other person in the sinking boat and say "GOTCHA" For even in every place we find ourselves there is always "that" someone Locked in their past, present or future One whom the whales of life have forced off dry land to feast on If only we could do more If only we could feel more that other person will not just be "THE GUY NEXT DOOR".

I've borne hopes and dreams of you in my heart for so long I've suffered and I've wept silently in agony when i see you only stare you stare at me and... Ohhhh cold shivers run down my spine I see you many a times and think you've changed your mind I think you wanna talk to me or in the least ask my name but immediately i think that you're gone for years I've continued to hope saying no to all the fellows who woo me keeping and tucking in a safe YOU in the deepest of my heart Even if you pretend you do not feel the same and we go through our different lives and have become aged grown more beautiful with grey hair I'll never forget you cos deep down my heart you're mine even though you'll be... my unreachable friend.

I used to take her in my arms stroking her drinking in her beauty taking in my hands her two fawns like twins of a gazelle i was in love and many waters could not quench it profound floods could not drown it neither could this treacherous Punic called life hinder it our love would have floated through all boundaries yet bob up unscathed we could have conquered so much All i ever envisaged was to age holding your forever graceful hands creased with age pristine with love But you came and went like a zephyr leaving with me twin versions of you and when i remember times shielded with memories memories taunting me taunting me of times long gone... times we'd stay in the dark discovering each other i weep until now i never dreamed what could have brought so much pleasure could have brought death to you mon chere...