- Uncategorized
- 30 Apr 18
Rosa Thomas was born in South Africa, has parents from England and grew up in Ireland, making her ‘confused’. She likes the name Floyd and often thinks of starting a band called Blue Floyd or Red Floyd or something, but it probably wouldn't take off. She is passionate about writing and acting, and was recently selected for the Lir Junior Academy. Her other hobbies include masquerading as her twin sister – and tennis.
And now for Rosa’s WRITE HERE, WRITE NOW entry ...
Now that Jack the Ripper has a Tinder
The seedy odour precedes his massive bulk,
A steaming hulk of patchy flesh,
Legs either side, like a go-kart ride,
He slams down on the swivel chair,
The screen lights up a bloodshot stare.
Superfluous flesh hangs in turrets and teabags,
The back of his neck ripe with sticky fig rolls,
Thick hair from his knees, down his shins, to feet soles,
His pudgy toes splayed out one by one,
On mouldy carpet, none are going to market.
Swipe, Swipe, Swipe, Swipe,
The algorithm shows him his type,
Loading, Loading, he’s found another one!
She’s sweet sixteen, their brains are fun,
To chew and swallow, their skin is tender
He’s tried – they’re easy to dismember.
Click, Click, Click, Click,
He lures her with the age old trick,
Of compliments laid down all slick,
An oil spill to catch fresh kill,
A treacle trap, use sweetened sap,
Her fingers caught in gluey chatter,
Someone swiped right! She does matter!
(He feeds off insecurity, and other parts like spleens and hearts)
They talk for years online before she disappears in time.
Her parents thought she ran away,
She wished to see the sea someday,
How could she see? With her two eyes,
On separate plates, with sauce and fries,
(He saved the pair for tasty treats,
Along with chewy finger meats)
Click, Click, Click, Click,
Now he’s there on Facebook – quick –
A friend request and a finger flick,
A schoolmate you lost contact with,
A children’s fairy tale, a myth.
And once you accept, once you reply,
He’ll fatten you up for a puff pastry pie,
A toe for a snack,
An ear for a smoothie,
Once they’re mashed up they’re ever so juicy.
Some laugh at the tale of the Cannibal Cook,
The Demon Barber terrorizing Facebook?
But the people who doubt Jack’s really about,
Are the ones who turn out in a jar of sauerkraut.
Along shelf after shelf they line his cellar,
Slowing fermenting, they stay there forever.
Readers’ Choice Award
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