tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-111469712024-03-07T17:59:50.924+00:00A Matter of MuseA poetry blog. Nothing about daffodils.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-81509421274652842152011-07-04T20:27:00.004+00:002011-07-04T20:35:33.154+00:00Our Argument.<div><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Wicked you are with muse</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Who knew you had the power to vex.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Bring me your stone eyes.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Abstain from sex. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Viciously quiet you are</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Injecting me with shame. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >The torture is the stillness.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >The conditions of the game. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Come and lay you seething mass with mine. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Answer every servile comment with “fine, fine”. </span></p></div><div><br /></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-53159803576281841762010-12-29T19:07:00.003+00:002010-12-29T19:10:23.615+00:00<span class="Apple-style-span" >Tell me when I am still young</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >What I have done wrong.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Tell me of the shame I've earned.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Sing it like a song. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Weight it up and look ahead, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >And with this fleeting foresight,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Say out loud what I want,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >And learn to put it right. </span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-7925973386525785992010-12-29T19:05:00.001+00:002010-12-29T19:05:32.309+00:00<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >“It looked like a small broach”, you said,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Encircling your fingers and looking through.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >When as a child you’d coughed up a sweet</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >That very nearly ended you. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Your mother whacked you on the back.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >The item careered through BHS. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >A piece of hot-pink confectionary,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Landed on a lady’s dress. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >You told the anecdote so well. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I imagined you in mid-near-death.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Panicked amongst the cream silk blouses</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Until the whack made way for breath. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >With the ordeal over and dress removed,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >The shop assistant mimed “it’s ok.”.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >It didn’t put you off sweets at all. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" >You dice with hard-boiled ‘til this day. </span></p>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-37181641368211569862009-06-28T10:28:00.000+00:002009-06-28T10:32:10.144+00:00<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Our new day-glow orange shower curtain<br />Casts an inappropriately erotic light over the bathroom.<br />I get in the shower, feeling like I should tuck a fiver into its folds.<br /><br />The curtain clings to my leg, climbing its way up.<br />It has decided to make love to me,<br />This erotic shower curtain.<br /><br />I cannot go through with it, I peel it off me<br />Push it away.<br />“Filth curtain”, I say.<br />I shave my armpits in the awkward silence. </span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-50510688121823418172009-06-28T10:03:00.003+00:002009-06-28T10:28:07.540+00:00<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:180%;">My Dirty Beauty</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Himalayas of crispy clothing,<br />The scenery of your room.<br />A baked-in smell of chiropody.<br />Flowerbeds of mould, in bloom.<br />A Kitkat packet between the toes.<br />Spoons and bowls, married together.<br />Brown stains at home on every wall<br />As if each one had been there forever.<br /><br />Snot-encrusted toilet paper.<br />Cups of fudge, once cups of tea.<br />But through it all I just see you,<br />My very Dirty Beauty.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">For Lewis</span></span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-47614365053786950142007-11-05T17:05:00.003+00:002009-06-28T09:58:22.421+00:00Misery<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Misery cracks through my frozen bones.<br />It dances on my see-through skin.<br />It crushes upon this moments breath,<br />Until it cowers and crawls back in.<br />Misery weds it’s purpose to my own.<br />It’s very concept is my heart.<br />It is the nightmare of my bitter senses.<br />It mocks my shaky words before they even start.<br />Misery looks down on us from its high tower.<br />It’s siren of destruction loud and shrill.<br />Misery grows with us forgetting, so remember,<br />Tomorrow will be better, yes it will.</span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-28338028691509952812007-07-29T17:22:00.000+00:002007-07-29T17:23:44.520+00:00<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Custom make me with your brand new touch.<br />Make me sure and bold but not too much.<br />Twist my every doubt back into knowing.<br />And never let me feel an ounce of owing.<br />Cast my worries into sand.<br />Bring my temper back to land.<br />Encourage my dreams to stand up proud.<br />Tempt my feelings to speak out loud.<br />Flush my heart simply by living.<br />Change my selfishness to giving.<br />Tease my smile into sight.<br />And for love, teach me to fight.<br />All this and more you do for me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">This is how love should be.</span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1162129562062721582006-10-29T13:40:00.001+00:002009-06-28T09:50:59.136+00:00<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I must have been intoxicated<br />when I promised I as yours.<br />I must have been asleep<br />when I committed.<br />For I simply can’t remember<br />when I sank into you claws,<br />Or when I wore the jacket<br />you had fitted.<br />I didn’t even realise<br />what a contract I had signed,<br />Nor notice the cool shackles<br />on my skin.<br />I put away my doubts,<br />about the bliss you had designed.<br />But now I see the shit<br />that I am in.</span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1149332584325487732006-06-03T11:02:00.000+00:002006-06-03T11:03:04.336+00:00<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">True love will still wank off to someone else.<br />True love will still hide porn under the mattress.<br />True love will still lie about your arse.<br />True love will still hold firm that you’re a goddess.<br />True love will still allow a little flirting.<br />True love will still warm to memories past.<br />True love will still sweat through the verbal skirting.<br />True love will kid themselves that it will last.</span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1147813963878848202006-05-16T21:10:00.001+00:002006-05-16T21:12:43.893+00:00<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I know that this is closure,<br />It’s clear as day to read.<br />I’m telling you it’s closure,<br />But you threaten that you’ll bleed.<br />I can’t remember what you’re like.<br />Indifference, on its way.<br />You say that I’m dramatic.<br />You finish what I say.<br />No laughing with each other now.<br />Our tone of voices low.<br />Feeling strangely old and bored.<br />Our text replies so slow.<br />You projects have you day and night.<br />Months and months go by.<br />Our sparkless interest fizzles out.<br />I know exactly why.<br />Tonight again, I sew together<br />Emotional invention.<br />You ring me when you’re feeling bad,<br />I sip my forced attention.<br />Half arsed invite on the phone.<br />A shyness starts to grow.<br />I do not know you anymore.<br />Want you to let me go.</span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1145902751755863882006-04-24T18:17:00.001+00:002009-06-28T09:51:49.002+00:00Demon<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I was introduced to my demon.<br />It was knocking loudly on my door.<br />It was again a dark, late night.<br />Yet this time I opened and It I saw.<br />I was introduced to my demon.<br />It came in such bizarre a form.<br />I thought of my immediate fears,<br />That now sat with me in my dorm.<br />No hand to shake, nor eyes to meet.<br />It was the strangest rendezvous.<br />I drew my breath to gather strength,<br />And then I began to undress you. </span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1142201513653145672006-03-12T22:08:00.000+00:002006-03-12T22:11:53.666+00:00Tits<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I wish there were no tits in the world.<br />They’re such a half measure.<br />They’re a sexual piece on every girl,<br />And are clearly used for pleasure.<br />The problem is, is isn’t fair.<br />What about us girls?<br />I want to see some hairy balls<br />In the pages of New of the World.<br />Even though they’re not that great,<br />And I think we’d prefer pecks.<br />I think it is the least we can do<br />To even out the sex.<br />It really is quite cheeky now.<br />That tits are on display.<br />And even though their common place,<br />They still not yet passé.<br />I think I’d rather there were none,<br />Than some defining gender,<br />As dump sexual animal scum,<br />That happen to be busty and slender.<br />My god we’re more than just these tits!<br />Pages Threes, are traitors to the cause.<br />Apart from having other bits,<br />We’re part of a far more intelligent clause.<br />And if the world can’t be this way.<br />Then lads, lets make it fair.<br />Get your sodding balls out,<br />And have a camera there.</span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1141007500042336762006-02-27T02:31:00.000+00:002006-02-27T02:31:40.056+00:00Liver's Limbo<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I’m tired of thinking what to say.<br />Tired of laughing when nothing’s funny.<br />I’m tired of feeling far away.<br />Tired of texting ‘I love you honey’.<br />Here I am in liver’s limbo.<br />Empty time has slipped away.<br />Looking out the bird-shit window,<br />Thinking still of what to say.<br /><br />I know myself too well to care.<br />I wake up with me everyday.<br />There’s so much fun to have out there,<br />But I stay in with “Boo-Hurray”.<br />Here I am in liver’s limbo. <br />Going nowhere good today.<br />Maybe I should start up bingo.<br />Maybe I should drink my face numb.</span> </span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1132836878298370712005-11-24T12:52:00.000+00:002005-11-24T13:15:58.906+00:00Open Up Your Heavy Head<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Open up your heavy head,<br />And let me take the weight instead.<br />Let you sleep and drink some tea.<br />Leave every worry up to me.<br />Trust me when I say I care,<br /><span style="font-size:100%;">Even when I’m off somewhere.<br />Have me ears to talk into.<br />I hope to God they comfort you.<br />Pardon every tasteless joke,<br />Or shocking thought that makes me choke.<br />Feel not conscious to return,<br />For receiving would make fingers burn.<br />I will smile everyday,<br />In hope to take the pain away.<br />I would cut and I would bleed,<br />For anything that you may need.<br />I will suffer all you know,<br />And Pain would shake, with fear to grow.<br />Think never that you should not be,<br />For you are everything to me. </span></span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1131368808692347032005-11-07T13:02:00.000+00:002005-11-24T13:16:47.766+00:00I'm fighting an "Anonymous".<br />You're not my greatest fan.<br />You type away in the comments box<br />Unfair words, when you can.<br />Too ashamed to leave your name,<br />Yet like to leave insults.<br />I wonder if you'd have the guts<br />To let me judge your faults.<br />But no, you wouldn't dare,<br />For it's likely I would mock.<br />Nevermind "Anonymous".<br />I think you're a fucking cock.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1116173383689577482005-05-15T16:01:00.001+00:002009-06-28T09:52:23.274+00:00King<img src="http://photos9.flickr.com/13983808_b3033e9e04_m.jpg" align="left" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><br />You are so beautiful I cannot write how<br />And I surrender to the failure of words.<br />You are such a keen muse by your stride and look.<br />Yet never allow any dignity to fall from your mystery.<br />You are a majesty of mercy but not of patience.<br />So walk away and lick your bum somewhere.<br /></span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1112959763438775282005-04-08T11:28:00.001+00:002009-06-28T09:52:47.004+00:00Hearts Were Hearts<img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/9791381_e6b002045b_m.jpg" align="left" /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />If hearts were hearts,<br />And heads were heads,<br />And hands were true to other,<br />Then who would hold my fickle hand,<br />In replacement of another?<br />If eyes were lips,<br />And looks were words,<br />How would my feelings hide?<br />For every time I’ve told him love,<br />I’ve lied and lied and lied.<br /></span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1112018676179651992005-03-28T14:04:00.000+00:002005-03-28T15:01:38.400+00:00Lust<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I think I have fallen in lust.<br />Yeah I’ve fallen in lust alright.<br />My heart was an absolute dusk,<br />That now has burst into light.</span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1111483080958926472005-03-22T08:59:00.000+00:002005-03-28T15:05:13.646+00:00Crush<img src="http://photos5.flickr.com/7117373_1f7e3afed0_m.jpg" align="left" /><br /><br /><p><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"> am going to think about you<br />Until my face turns navy blue.<br />And maybe when I’m all thought out<br />My crush on you will harbour doubt.<br />But since this morning, my mind engaged<br />And heart with adrenalin enraged,<br />I have but thought of nothing more<br />Than the thing I thought about before.<br />Because no matter what I do,<br />I just can’t stop thinking about you!<br /><br />You treat me like a paving slab,<br />(I think I need crush rehab)<br />And swallow up the words I say<br />As if they’re getting in your way.<br />You look at me as past or litter!<br />Jesus Christ! That makes me bitter.<br />But still I melt to speechless state,<br />Once shagging you I contemplate.<br />So maybe being used by you<br />Is why I’m here (near navy blue)<br />But still I cannot hate you for it,<br />In fact I rather do adore it.<br />So use me, abuse me, treat me wrong,<br />Play with my agony and lead me on.<br />Give me that fiery hormonal rush<br />And continue to be my loyal crush.</span></p>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1110914230139956392005-03-15T19:16:00.000+00:002005-03-28T15:09:45.056+00:00Burnt<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">When did I ask this heart to wed<br />This brutal feeling, from which it bled?,<img src="http://photos6.flickr.com/7117760_9f616cb53a_m.jpg" align="right" /><br />And such a throb that had occurred<br />That to the depth of mind it stirred.<br />To still this day I toss and turn.<br />And oh my heart so hates to burn.<br />Yet walls I brick to soften fate,<br />Are useless and are far too late.<br />Have ever I so broken heart,<br />That even thoughts from head depart.<br />And now so lonely do I sit,<br />That have no love to hate a bit.</span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1110914126819342552005-03-15T19:11:00.000+00:002005-03-28T15:15:08.433+00:00God! I Hate People At Airports<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">God! I hate people at airports.<br />They rush to be first on the plane.<br />Then they stand in a queue<br />With nothing to do<br />But wait to be seated again.<br /><img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/7117412_3079716b77_m.jpg" align="right" /><br />God! I hate people on planes.<br />They spend hours rearranging their stuff.<br />They stand still in the lane<br />Only then to complain<br />That people are not quick enough.<br /><br />God! I hate kids sat behind me.<br />Flying must be an exciting fad.<br />‘cause they kick at my seat<br />‘till the journey's complete.<br />I think that I’m going to go mad.</span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1110396346730400922005-03-09T19:24:00.000+00:002005-03-28T15:16:40.533+00:00Grapes<img src="http://photos7.flickr.com/6398018_b09752dbae_m.jpg" /> <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Isn’t it lucky how grapes<br />Are filled with tasty sweet juice.<br />Which otherwise could be filled<br />With any sort of horrid liquid profuse.<br />I like to pierce them with my back<br />Teeth and then chew.<br />And I think how glad I am<br />That they’re not filled with poo.<br /></span><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">(I was on the motorway. Grapes were my only inspiration)</span><br /></span></p>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1110396201886807632005-03-09T19:22:00.001+00:002009-06-28T09:55:07.310+00:00Harry's Belt Has Broken<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Harry’s belt has broken,<br />His was his favourite one.<br />One minute it was round his waist,<img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/6433248_35c8b09577_m.jpg" align="right" /><br />Then next, the buckle’d gone!<br />His jeans felt suddenly baggy<br />And Harry’s bits felt loose,<br />And when he realised it had broke<br />He cried. It was no use.<br /><br />Oh belt that was so loyal,<br />Why did u have to break!<br />No other belt will ever do,<br />Our hearts forever ache.</span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1110395673473818182005-03-09T19:10:00.000+00:002005-04-08T11:15:08.683+00:00A Beach's Concubine<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I am this Beach’s concubine.<img src="http://photos5.flickr.com/6399794_0269436144_m.jpg" align="right" /><br />That wonders in His sands.<br />A slave, I am, to every grain<br />That marries to my hands.<br /><br />I am this Beach’s concubine.<br />That strides out to His Sea.<br />A slave, I am, to every wave<br />That crashes into me.<br /><br />I am this Beach’s concubine.<br />That stares out at His view.<br />A slave, I am, to every sight<br />That catches me anew.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br />I wrote this poem on a beautiful, deserted Beach in Ko Pha Ngan, Thailand, where I literally was at the mercy of its stunning views.</span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11146971.post-1110050138894510552005-03-05T19:14:00.002+00:002009-06-28T09:53:20.285+00:00Somebody<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Somebody pressure the tip and cut me.<br />Somebody scream and interrupt me.<br />Somebody say I’m a door and shut me,<br />For I’m too tired to move.<br /><br />Somebody tighten the fists and break me.<br />Somebody lower the head and forsake me.<br />Somebody start up the car and take me,<br />For I’ve got nothing to prove.<br /><br />Somebody beat at the bush and bleed me.<br />Somebody take who I am and be me.<br />Somebody wrap up the words and free me,<br />For words are nothing to use.<br /><br />Somebody force at the will and correct me,<br />Somebody think that it wouldn’t affect me.<br />Somebody, please, come and protect me,<br />For I’m so scared that I’ll lose.<br /></span></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"></span>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10025522702596870903noreply@blogger.com1