Allyce May at Allpoetry
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Member since April 11, 2006.
- I'm a surreal skittle poet for 3,201 comments.
- My mood is
, and quote is "poetry: dissection of the soul ".
- I am a
22 year old
woman
(Australia)
- When I'm not writing, I'm a finance executive who speaks to herself in freeverse.
- Visit my homepage at www.myspace.com/going_ape_shit
- I support the site as a gold member
                   (23)
                                         
- I am in the groups Ink Angels Contributing members, ON VIEWLESS WINGS Anthology 2009, Winklings
- I have 3,201 comments, 18 contests, 175 poems, 17 journals
My Lists
Poems I'm focused on
Active Contests
My Poetry
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16 lines, 20 comments,
October 30
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My journal entries
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November 4,
100 words.
Me only.
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November 1,
500 words.
Friends only.
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October 29,
200 words.
Friends only.
Guest Book
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*looks around innocently* really?  eeeeee 
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Hi Alyce 
You look so cute as a butterfly!
Just buzzing by to let you know that you are actually in the right on that old "eat your cake" idiom. The phrase's earliest recording is from 1546 as "wolde you bothe eate your cake, and have your cake?" (John Heywood's 'A dialogue Conteinyng the Nomber in Effect of All the Prouerbes in the Englishe Tongue') alluding to the impossibility of eating your cake and still having it afterwards; the modern version (where the clauses are reversed) is a corruption which was first signaled in 1812. (you can wiki it)
If you ever need a "teacher" to back you up, just give a little whistle! 
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you are very bubbly.
love,
the last beer in the fridge.
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Blaze with the fire that is never extinguished.
[Luisa Sigea}


♥ My Bible / My Guardian Angel / Desiderata
Poems Don't Lie
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
~ Anaïs Nin.
♥ You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.
~ Pablo Neruda.
her body does verbs among me
there are the wet thumbs of Gods long dead flung down
~ from Transmigration by Danny Beatty
Those groans men use
passing a woman on the street
or on the steps of the subway
to tell her she is a female
and their flesh knows it,
are they a sort of tune,
an ugly enough song, sung
by a bird with a slit tongue
but meant for music?
~ from The Mutes by Denise Levertov.
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