Month: April 2016

How to dress like British people do

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English style my way:make it coloured if you can.Wear a hat if bald.Wash your trousers as often as is sensible.Wash your own!It’s easy

Wash your clothes a lot but don’t iron them
Go out in only  a  T shirt and jeans in winter.
Old grey anoraks  look good on most  people,or so they think
Wear skirts that show your thighs off  or leggings that show everything else off or both or nothing
Do wear crop tops and low rise jeans especially when 9 months pregnant.
Jeans with rips are perfect for old ladies.
Wear thick padded coats in the summer.
Never wear a summer dress especially if you are a man
Never wear petticoats and other lingerie.Just pants  and top or vest
Wear a T shirt  saying:Anti-Semitic, moi?  while touring Oxford looking for pubs
Wear a T shirt saying :Belgians, go back to Congo.
Wear a T shirt saying :I feel Rubbish
Wear a T shirt that says :I luv money
Wear a T shirt that says: Educated in Burton, can’t spell
Make sure  your hair is exposed— both head and pubic.
I don’t understand either but they keep saying,where are you from?
I say,here,But somehow they don’t believe me.

Notes for students

Kindly do not sleep through the infinitesmal numbers.I am tired of them too.So many
Statistics is compulsive for Economists
Algebraic geometry is essential to humane strife.
Topology is useful in knitting and becoming a mathematician
Irony is lost on mathematicians in general
Think  of a  letter and double it.Algebra.
Do not bet on the length of my lectures as I can do  three in 40 minutes but the managers don’t like it.No,they can’t follow me.
I will give hectoring notes  if asked politely
Pies are not square in general.
Pi is a  number.It’s Greek .And not on my keyboard.
A square circle is not possible.However a square table is.
If you like arguing,please leave now.Comments must have some rationale.
Your ideas are not sacred.

Breakfast

Eat as much as you can free of charge.£89 per chair rent.

 

Fresh made cheese bones and butter
Home made dread
Toast as requires,hot or cold
Ten Serials.
Five types on bacon
Four sausages per customer.
Eggs fried personally on bald bread.
Soft boiled eggs if time suffices.
Chips must be  pre-ordered
Whitby smoked mackerel with cart  and horse
Morecambe muscles  with Carnforth rail tracks
Please leave train in hiding
Please  say Grace

Rules of this cafe

 

 

IMG_0464.JPGAll All our food is served on clean slaves
We use only Sheffield stolen knives or Rotherham if pushed
I was the tablecloths myself weekly.They are plastic coated
I use fairies to wash up.
Minimum wage paid to all and sundry
Eat as much as you like and play for it.Free piano now
All tea towels boiled at Xmas.Drained by New Year.
All food is fresh and so am I.. fresh out of money
Sausage  pie is made by turkeys.
Come live with me and be my glove.. oven glove needed now
Please be polite.We aim to tease.
Thanks for your customs

Sunday lunch

Starters

Avocado bear  in lemon juice
Small white rushed rooms in salad stressing with bread and nutter
Thin smoking  salmon.
Whiskey soaked raw leaves with Cheddar Cheese

Mains

Spite roast  with trimmings
Chicken parvenu and wild rice.
Mutton el Greco plus free peas and potato whisps.
Duck a l’auquatic on mashed flowers of the forest.
Vegetarian still looking for taker.Free slice of spam.
Malice and sweetheart pie with gravy train

Puddings

Jellied  chocolate eggs in lost  pain
Real egg bastards with burnt caramel
Bread and mutter pudding with creme meths.
Fresh fruit  of your choice:Apple, banana,tinned pineapple,tinned peaches or   ripe new gripes fresh from the market.
Cream and yoghurt with frozen   nuts melted in it.Wife mixed in.

 

Who wants to admire houseflies?

I’d love to ride on a tiger
Or just admire its stripes from afar.
I’d love to see the pride of the lions
Or the eyes of a handsome cougar.
But who wants to admire houseflies
And other insects or pests?
A worm may not be an insect
But I’ll throw them in with the rest.
Lions and tigers can kill us
Yet we admire their strength
But who admires mosquitoes
As they sweat in their tropical tents?
And when we look for a simile,
Or a symbol or metaphor
If you want a symbol for cruelty and harm
That’s what insects are for.
The smallness and the cunning
As they slip in right under your clothes
And bite you on your most private parts
Where, nowadays, no-one else goes.
That makes us fear and hate then
But they are just doing their job
That is what they are made for
By their creator, Lord God.

God wants them to remind us
We  aren’t so invulnerable
So he may send a tiger to eat you
Or a gnat to bite on your nipple..

St.Francis made friends with the birds,
And with the wild animals too
But which Saint made friends with the insects
Which live in this great earthly Zoo?
Will you be the volunteer holy one
Who befriends the hornets and fleas?
Will you tolerate their sharp sniping
As you try to tempt down the bees?

Will you preach such honey filled sermons
That spiders and beetles will flock,
And none of these insects will sting us again,
When they are tamed by you eloquent talk.

IMG_0020

You’ll be the Patron Saint of  the Envious,
The knife sticking into the heart.
You’ll be the Patron of Rage and  of Malice.
I’ll be relieved when your new Mission starts

Applications by email to: Joshua.C@heavensent.fishingnets.galilee.org

Can any human doubt

 

 Winter has a cummen inne,
We have no doubt of that.
But why is winter cummen inne
With a temper like a rat?

 
Winter winds did blow me down
As I flew a la mode.
I landed in that Bramley tree
Halfway down the road.

 
I need a stronger broomstick now
To waft me round my haunts.
I wish that winter was a-donne
Pray all ye holie Saints.

 
Don’t let winter kill your Witch,
She is so loved by man.
If white witch goes,then all this shows
Winter should be banned

 

.
Take me to heaven where I’ll see
If Godde will have a worde with me.
And if She likes I’ll stay to tea.
I’m sure  right now She will agree.

 
Godde will need a sacrifice
To show we truly care
I’ll ask you all to pay a tithe,
Before I  go up there.

 
Oh, Winter is a naughty one
He playeth with the winds.
But humans are the only beings
Who wilfully do sinne

 
So though this cold is cruelly sharp
And makes us weep when out.
It’s nothing to the deeds of Man
Can any human doubt?

I am as black as coal:Love and hate in the bath 

 I loved her for her dark blue eyes,

And her Le Creuset pot.
I loved her though she was naive,
As she had a big teapot

I loved her curly golden hair.
I loved her home made jam.
But most of all,I loved her brain
And how she dealt with spam.

 

I loved to lick her bright pink lips
I loved to bite her ear.
But most of all,her innocence,
Which made me pull her near.

 

I liked to lick her cheeks as well
I liked to touch her hair.
But it proved slightly difficult
For she was rarely here.

I looked at all her photographs,
I looked at all her post.
She has twenty boyfriends now,
Whom does she love the most?

I loved her breakfast coffee pot,
I loved her tea as well.
She fed me on her buttered toast,
The rest I shall not tell.

 

I was happy,I was sad.
Whatever should I do?
She has run off with a tramp
She met near London Zoo!

 
She sent me a love letter once,
And now she sends a card
I wish that she’d leave me alone
Jealousy’s so hard

My heart has got the cramps in it,,
I’m sitting in the bath.
The water is as black as coal,
Yet I’m still filled with wrath,

We’ll meet again,I Iove you so.

Down daisied fields sweet grasses grow
Down these green fields,I know,I know.
In unploughedy fields  where wild flowers  blow
We’ll meet again,I Iove you so.
It was in the first soft summer light
I saw you standing,hair so bright.
I saw you by the drystone wall.
I never doubted you at all.

 

When meadows bright all bloom again
I know we’ll see you coming then..
in sunny fields where wildflowers hide
I know my love is by my side.

Oh,come dear  heart,do not delay..
We are not long till in the clay.
I’ll stand upon the beacon here
And never rest,till you are near.

When flowering buds all open wide
When bees to poppies  swiftly glide.
When your dear heart is pressed to mine
Our eyes will melt and souls combine.

Oh,where are you,my dearest one
All too soon our lives  are gone
I gaze across the fields  and hills.
As sunset-sky with flames is filled.

When buttercups and celandine
Beckon  to me in my dreams.
When apple blossom fills the tree
I believe with love I’ll see.I’ll see.

Mary gets ready for her surgery

Stan was recovering slowly from his surgery though his legs were still weak.He sat in the window with Emile on his lap looking at the darkening autumnal sky sky.

I’ll be glad when I get those new microfibre cloths,he whispered to the kindly,handsome black cat.The windows are very dirty.I have slipped up in my duties
Well,don’t worry,miaowed Emile,I can see out which is the main thing.We can always ring 999 and get Dave to close the curtains or you must pull them at 7 pm.It’s getting dark earlier now.Emile is a real dictator now
Mary was upstairs unblocking the toilet,doing the finances and changing the sheets and various other chores she wished to finish off.
I’ll be glad when my operation is over,she thought gently.Stan will not relax till that is done,nor shall I either.I wonder how I will look with my nose carved up,she murmured.Will I have a big scar?Maybe I should take a few selfies to remember me as I am…On the other hand,maybe not a good ida.
Annie came in via the back door.. which was always unlocked in that ancient Northern manner.
Anyone here? she shouted merrily.
No,shouted Stan. humorously
Two of us are here.
Don’t show off,Stan,she said,I know you are a clever man.I’ve come to see if you need any help over the weekend. getting meals or killing mice and so on
I think we are more or less ready,he informed her quite petulantly.How about making us a nice hot cup of tea?
Alright,baby she murmured.I’ll do whatever you want…I mean it..Anything,
Stan said nothing but he wondered how far she would go to show her love for him…would she share a hot bath,for example.His thoughts ran on until he fell into a soft slumber on his leather recliner chair with matching footstool and head rest contrasting benignly with the white wool carpet

Anne crept in and put a cup of tea by his side.She looked down affectionately at his noble nose and wondered if he had any Jewish blood…. she was not the first to wonder by a long stalk…maybe the York community of mediaeval Jews had contributed to his Norse genetic pool
Mary came down and opened her wi hi Pad…she saw a long email from her brother.
Hi Mary,Jane is very upset indeed that you did not even
“Like ” her new avatar on CaseBook…everybody in the world will know now that you preferred her with her glasses on…I don’t know how she will ever get over it…She was crying all day and cursing all night,
Mary was very fond of her niece Jane but was unsure why not “liking” a photo was such a calamity..as the young folk are often out of their heads when they snap each other in nightclubs or other intriguingly dangerous places where Mary had not yet been
Her brother asked her not to let Jane know what he had told her..
That’s a pity,thought Mary.I could have said to delete my comment or to upload a new photograph.As Mary was very tired she could hardly think even elliptically.
I need to act now, she said to herself, because after the op I might not be able to wear my glasses so I shan’t be able to read.Suddenly Mary got a strange paralysing pain in her neck and jaw running down to her chest or bosom
She sat down and sucked a GNT tablet…….
Well,this is no good,she decided….I am going to have a heart attack with all the cleaning and sheets and towels to wash.
After a while she and Annie discussed it in the kitchen.
You know ,Mary,you should really have called an ambulance.Are you ok now?
Yes,said Mary,I think I did too much upstairs.Alas it was not the sort of thing she and Stan had done 30 years ago,
I wonder why your brother told you right now about Casebook.Has he no judgment or feelings?
It seems not, said Mary ruefully.I had no idea it was so evil to dislike a photograph..now Annie,my password is
ZebrasR567&$0477Ggpdd84666££££lionsteatime459.
My God,said Annie.How do you remember it?
That’s what I wonder too,Mary responded warmly…
Delete my account at that website.I don’t want to find I have caused a narcissistic wound to any other young family members.One is too much.
But,don’t they see that “Like” means nothing unless one can also “Dislike”………
They don’t think,called Stan…I want you to have a rest Mary.. you need as much as you can get.. put the “holday response” on the computer and come a sit by the fire with me.
Emile was writing notes of the conversation but could make neither head nor tail of it..
Were Stan and Mary who both were undergoing painful treatment and surgery so unimportant to these relatives?
They have no skills in evaluating events and their importance, he thought.If only Iris Murdoch were here instead of Dave our transsexual and amiable paramedic then we might have a philosophical discussion about feelings and values.Then again we could. have a nap instead,he told himself sharply
He was mulling over some Jungian ideas about character types and lack of Feeling until he saw some pigeons outside and began to feel rather hungry…so he dropped his pen and ran out of the back door

Mary reads a book  

lily pond 2IMG_0289
Mary sat by the window ,which she had meant to clean, reading Windows 8.1.The Missing Manual.The one great advantage of this new Windows system was that it seemed one no longer needed to install anti-virus programmes.So much time is taken up by looking after older versions that Mary was not surprised that Chromebooks were now very popular.Yet even so,she enjoyed learning new skills and it’s not as if they are like the theory of quantum physics or even non-linear algebra or baking cakes.
Stan had taken Emile ,their naughty cat for a spin on his old sports bike which he still used when wild unnattural feelings came over him and as they were only a mile from the edge of the mysterious town of Knittingham they were soon cycling through a deep green, quiet forest where Kings once hunted deer and no doubt chased women… or was it chaste women?
Mary had decided to stay at home as she was expecting a new vacuum cleaner to arrive.She kept one eye on her book and the other on her neighbour Rick who was very handsome despite being 113 years old.He was hanging his washing on his large front hedge which was unusual in winter.Most of the people in the road had tumble dryers or heated rails.Some even hung their washing outside on lines to let the blustery winter air dry it and kill the germs which might survive in a low temperature machine wash
Maybe I should do some washing ,Mary thought.How about I do my annual sheet changing.I made a big mistake deciding it was to be in the winter,but,alas it is hard to change a routine.Am I a cyborg,she thought nervously,licking her lips till they were damp and red.
Maybe I should clean the kitchen floor too,she thought as she drew an elongated ellipse with some mud that had fallen of Stan’s shoes as he passed by.She looked down pensively at the pattern the mud had made on the lino.I wonder if I can predict our fortune by studying this pattern deeply,she wondered.Some people do it from the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup,so why not from mud.There seemed no logical reason why mud splatters should be worse than tea leaves.It is simply a pattern through which the Unconscious can send a message to us.
Why it could not speak in ordinary language nobody knew and nobody ever will.Not all questions have answers.How strangely dull life would be if that were so.Don’t you agree?I don’t.
Sundial
.Mary had just seen a short story relating a dream a woman had that she had fallen in love with a strong healthy hippopotamus and taken it home.Unfortunately when they went to bed the weight of the animal had made the solid oak bed collapse onto the purple and orange carpet.Unable to give up her love,she had spent the rest of her life trying to build a new bed out of sawdust.It seemed not unlike the labours of Hercules in a new form
Mary was sceptical.I can’t believe a woman could love a hippopotamus,even in a dream,she murmured.But even if it was not a dream but a conscious invention,what did that say about the person writing it?That she always fell in love with men who were too heavy for her and who pulled her down onto the carpet to make love whenever they felt the urge regardless of whether she was as flat as a pancake or even dead
A lion,yes, Mary mused,but never a hippopotamus.I mean,they have no expressions on their faces and could they drink tea in bed and chat?Unlikely.Still, other people’s dreams are a mystery.Even our own are but we can sometimes take the hint.
Suddenly she heard the doorbell ring.Who could it be now?
Alas it was only a Mormon trying to convert her which was no good as Catholics can’t be Mormons as well.They are what one might call mutually exclusive groups.As I have no wish to teach algebra I shall stop here.However if that disappoints you,why not read
“A survey of modern algebra ” by Birkhoff and MacLane.I did and see what has happened to me!
 lighter tree

Evocation

In  an information culture,
evocation is more important;
explicit saying  counts against us.
People need to be well
into believing
being educated is more
than information:
 the incoherencies
 what they’re saying,
the musicality
 of people’s voices
and intonations;
would get more
from them.
Effectively, psychoanalysis is
something other, not the coherences;
 it listens for words
that are saying more
It’s got something to do with  being;
it’s a form of listening,
not distracted by incoherence
but evoked by it.
Because it hears what’s underneath
Within or hiding.
Wanting to be found
But unable to get the words direct

I need some edge,some definition.

The sky looks like a Turner painting.
At the high point it’s brighter,even golden cream
Like the top of a bottle of Jersey milk;
then it dims down to a bluey gray
with a slight threat in it
like a blacker gray…It’s
Too warm today for snow.

 

I swept brown dried leaves from the step..
Had to move my bike.
Then I hid them under the hedge
So they can keep some insects warm in the winter.
But mainly I don’t want to bend down to collect them,,
I’m tired or lazy after the weekend.
I still have a dress here I was ironing just a week or two ago.
Now it will be put away till next summer.
Here’s a denim jacket with flowers all over…
I did wear it but it won’t look right now.

 

I washed my hair.It feels soft and pleasant.
I like that feeling.I am wondering what you are doing.
Are you listening to music or resting?
Or sitting looking down the road at wet fields?
I think I’ll make some tea.
I need a focus for the day which also has a feeling
Like those late watercolors
Everything merging
Until one thing dissolves into an other.

 
Some people like it but today
I need some edge,some definition.
I need someone to give me boundaries.
Time 4 pm
Kettle boils and a neighbor’s cat peers by the locked cat flap…
Wondering why she can’t get in.
I turn away.

Now the sky is without any gold
It’s sixty shades of gray.
It’s clouded dark and soft
Like your hair might have been
But I could never have touched it…
You were always too far away and moving.

A single one remains

I saw  the sun rise over the North Sea
Accentuating coloured fishing boats.
The beauty of the dawn gave hope to me
A restful pleasure made my  soft eyes  dote.

The peace of this small town has caught my heart.
Scenes from ancient times  come close again
The gulls swoop down and  sketch their flying charts
Remote as ever from the realm of man.

The shingle beach,the  Church  where Britten lies
The in and out of tides  of salty sea;
An exact match of houses,hill and skies;
The   amber shop, the chip shop,the oak tree.

In my mind I walk in love again;
Though of the two, a single one remains

Being alive is joyful

100_0090.JPG

Who has never felt grief

When a small gesture would have helped
but it has, unknowingly, been with held?
How many people have the imagination
to guess what’s in your mind,
And to embrace you rather than push you away?
No-one, No-one.No-one knows.
No-one knows these numbers.
No-one knows these names.
No-one knows how many feel diffident,
Nor how many feel shame.
Being alive is joyful!
Being alive is pain!
Being alive is all we have,
We’ll never be alive again.
I look into your eyes today
I sense your pain and woe.
I look into your eyes just now
And tell you that I know,
Being alive is lonely.
Being alive is good.
Being alive is pain indeed
For flesh is not like wood

Chaste by good fortune  

6399449_0b46a66935_m
 Stan woke up with a sore throat.

He had to write his wife a note.

He could not speak without much pain.

Oh,dear,he’s got a bug again!

Mary made him lemon tea.

He listened to the BBC.

He read the  paper front to back;

Did Su doku,called the quack!

This is Dr Browne right here,

but only gurgles could he hear!

He drove straight round to visit Stan,

He felt concern for this old man!

garden 2
Stan was lying in the hall.

Dr.Browne asked,Did you fall?

No,said Stan,I hate my bed.

I thought I’d lie down here instead.

It may be draughty,never mind.

Dr Browne is very kind.

What about this long settee?

It looks quite like a bed to me.

I hope you are not feeling gay!

Oh,my my!.What did you say?

I mean it seems a trifle odd

To compare a settee with a bed.

I wonder if you love me, Stan?

Stan said,Doctor you’re a man!

I only love the sweeter sex!

Dr Browne looked very vexed.

Doctor I never knew before.

You are gay.,Oh,zut alors!

Yes,but I am very chaste.

I never go below the waist

So you just hold hands and kiss?

Yes,my man,it’s utter bliss.

But were do you meet your lovers gay?

I find them mainly on E-bay!

I place small adverts in the Times.

I joined a club for tasting wines.

Some I meet by chance alone.

Can’t you settle on just one?

But you are unfaithful to your wife?

You do not lead a saintly life!

Oh,Mary is not keen on sex,

She sits in bed and sends out texts.

Once our Lyra had been born,

She treated me with utter scorn!

I’m not God, I do not judge.

He gave Stan’s arm a little nudge.

Don’t you want a tiny hug?

It really may scare off that bug

So Stan and Dr Browne embraced.

I assure you it was completely chaste.

Stan went off to make hot drinks

While Dr Browne admired his Quinks.

Do you use a fountain pen?

I use my Shaeffer now and then.

I got it when I went to college.

Through that pen has passed much knowledge.

But now my mind has gone quite blank.

I’d like to be completely frank.

Was  all my learning utter waste?

Not at all,it kept you chaste.

While you had your head in books,

It kept attention from your looks.

But now you’re   empty,Je t’adore.

With that he made for Stan’s front door.

Stan was gobsmacked by this visit.

He called to Emile:Oh,what is it?

Even though I’m 93

All I meet want to love me!

English men are mainly very queer.

Oh,said Emile,Oh,dear,dear!

Cats  don’t have much time for hugs

They chase the frogs and sleep on rugs

Words go weeping  

P1000261.JPG

I’m but an adverb passing by,
She says she loves me,does she lie?
I’m parsing all her bills and notes,
And then I’m listing many quotes.
The plumber’s fixing up the nouns,
In case some name should chance to drown,
and in the cellar stands a box
For storing wolves and sheep in flocks.
Where have all the nouns gone to?
O,dear Lord, one’s in my shoe.
Put them on the washing line,
While I create a new design.
Grammar needs to be revised,
For many rules are now despised,
and words go weeping through the day,
as no writers want to play.
Do you like the perfect tense?
Does creation still make sense?
Latin was not hard to learn
Now I’ll try Swedish in turn.
After that, if I’m still here
I will study atmosphere.
Hebrew is all Greek to me.
Why not construct a language tree?
Everything must be combined,
Or our dear world may all untwine.

Hope

magnolia. 23 jpgAnd if you are someone who still carries hope in your heart, kindness in your eyes and generosity in your fingertips despite terrible people happening to you, thank you. You are one of the few truly pure things left in this world, and you deserve to be protected.
—  Nikita Gill
meanwhilepoetry

Dinner

Main course

Codswallop in batter with nude potatoes  and peas
Roast teeth and Yorkshire pudding with speaking broccoli
Rascal’s Lamb with Hint Sauce
Lasagne  with chips,tea  bread and butter thrown in.
Corned beef smash and cabbage

Pudding

Roly poly jam with steamed air.
Lemons on mice.
Oranges sliced and baked in a stone dish with marmite
Full flat yoghurt with fruit of the day

How are your eyes?

aldeburgh

 Aldeburgh from the Daily Telegraph 

Have you ever wondered why some people have  a light in their eyes and others don’t?
There is a  saying that the eyes are the windows of the soul
Some people have dead looking eyes.
Some have eyes brimming with tears
Some have dry and stony eyes like shingle on a beach.Though in Aldeburgh the shingle beach is  lovely when the sun shines on it.One place I love and get a  light in my eyes.

beach1
From Beautiful Suffolk

Air strokes our bare skin

When soft winds blow and air strokes our bare skin
When days are long like melodies of youth,
when light wakes up the soul from out her sin
Then shall we know when this sweet life is truth?

When flowers droop and leaves are dried and brown
When water’s short and all is arid and forlorn’
Then do not meet disaster with a frown,
For out of heartfelt sorrow new life’s born.

When winter’s here and all is quiet and still
When nothing seems to move or grow or speak
Then we shall learn the limits of our will
for through the soil the first green shoots will break.
For seasons change and actors come and go.
Yet through such changes, life is what we know..

The loss of self

When we absent ourselves from presence in this life
When we dwell more on pictures in our minds
It neither matters if they feed our wish for strife
Or whether they fill needs of better kinds.
We know that wish fulfilment comes in dreams
And also in our fantasies by day
Anxious worry fills our mind with schemes
Guilt and shame impede us from our play.
Creative thought requires the loss of self,
And needs our empty soil to plant its gifts
So throw out selfish fancies for this wealth
Wel’l let ourselves be slow so mind can shift
To waste our days in suffering or false pleasure,
Is to give   up what is true but can’t be measured.

Cafe la la

All day menu

Oven chips au naturelle [rubber.]
Greased bacon  on fried lead
Sausages with scrambled leg.
Toast and mutter with marmaduke’s ram
Whitby Chinese Slippers [smoked]
Staithes’ herring  [ the last one]
Robin Hood’s Bay scallops. [ Korean]
Tea  and coffee with silk or thwack.
Fruit  juice or water free for £5 deposit

To unwind slow

What kind of camera shows the changing light
Upon the yellow blossom as it waves?
The wind has dropped ,the breeze is here, but slight
And on the flowers I in languor gaze

The red leaves of the acers now unfurl-
Two side by side but different in their glow.
The light accentuates  them as they curl
And so gives them the time to unwind slow.

Without the breeze the colour is  varies less.
It’s flatter, less like Monet, yet still bright.
And as a grey cloud  sags across the West
It puts my dreams of colour into flight.

Yearn not for special tools to catch the world.
Just watch a single leaf as it unfurls

Sell the piano

  • Photo1183
  • Bums to spare.Apply  without.Got your own?Sell here
  • He ran over an ass in the road,It was dead
  • Clump of frog and cluster of toads make it murder on the road
  • Guilt bumps on cheats  give away fear
  • A nun in the coven?
  • Burn the handle and descend on the hope of angels’ wings
  • Churn the midnight oil,
  • Burn your badgers  and go to jail
  • Burn your chips and eat them anyway
  • Learning  to  rub her up the right way
  • Turning the midnight royal
  • Turning up the crack,
    Bury the crotchet or sell the piano