I voted for the one who cooked the best
My gut tells me how I  relax is wrong
Because I  ate the algebraic text

I voted for the one  whose muscles flexed
My mind became a spinning wheel of song
I voted for the one I loved the best

On weekends I  dictate to men, the loony pests!
As I type the book  where sums are wrong
I concede I  flunked the algebraic test.

I see the exit polls  all  have gone West
I knew my calculations were unsound
I voted for the numbers.  cleverest

I seem to have a mind which cannot rest
I  heat pyjamas just to get unwound
I concede I  bonked Al  when he  felt depressed
I am in doubt  while seeing flaming tongues
I tamed my  plastic tiger before long
I voted for the books I loved the best

There is no abstract art. You must always start with something. Afterward you can remove all traces of reality. Pablo Picasso
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/p/pablopicas387546.html

As this era  ends, we hold our breath
Our guts and vitals shiver with suspense
Eyes protrude, face pales, whose is the death?

The forces of the media oppress
They never even  pay, less recompense
As this era  ends, we hold our breath

Blunders made, dilemmas will oppress
Too much thinking does not make more sense
Protruding eyes, pale faces whose the death?

Each of us believes we know the best
But no-one is at ease, we tremble, tense
As this era ends, we hold our breath.

I wonder how to greet this  dreaded test
My eyes drag down, opaque the   fragile  lens
Protruding eyes, pale faces whose the death?

As the tigers launch, men smile content
They have satisfied their egos in this dance
As this era  ends, we hold our breath
Eyes protrude, face pales, whose is the death?

In Bedzin and in Krakow they breathed in
What they denied in conscious thought or word.
The ashes of the Jews, the shades of skin

Penetrating lungs so deep within
The dead  unburied mixed, in air secured
In Bedzin and in Krakow, mortal sin.

The nearby people turned to burial urns.
The human dust by  breathing was allured
The ashes of the Jews, the shades of skin.

So  Europe took their human ash within.
A graveyard we became unknown, impure.
In Bedzin and in Krakow, more of sin.

And who they thought destroyed  lived on in them
Controlled their lungs, their hearts  their minds uncured,
The ashes of the Jews,borne in their skin.

Like a mass communion without words
We ate and breathed the Jews, the gays, unheard
In Bedzin and in Krakow  we walked in
The ashes of the lost, the glades of skin,

New  Jerseys cremated
Boast potatoes
Smack it potatoes
Red bunions
Sprung onions
Casserole of teeth in tears.
Chicken , hurry
Casserole of  lamb in bier.
Cheery tomatoes.
Fresh ballad daily.
Pot of wee for two.
Bring your own water to drink here,
Pot boasts of beef.
Potatoes au Marcon
Strumpets with Lure pack.
Baked jeans on toast

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-40191270

The book of Vulgar Prayer
The Missile
The Ribald
The New Assessment
TheBold Assessment
The Hebrew Rival.
Teaser Sunday
Christmas Ease
Balm Sundae
The Dissension
The Cymbal
The Repression Box.
Benny Fiction
Horatio of the Cross.
Vacations of the Lost

Oh,Alfred,my beloved,do not go
Do not leave, but warmth to me bestow,
Lie beside me in my bed all night
Succour me when stormy dreams affright.

Oh,Alfred,-tis your eyes  that turn me on
The green and golden light  is never gone.
Affection constant,  touch and feeling shared.
I am not embarrassed when you stare.

For you , the  gallant male, have ever  seen
My naked form well lit by  Jove’s sunbeams
And if I wear a gown of wincyette
You love it ,,as it’s made for paws of cat.

Alfred ,we  can’t  marry   yet I fear.
Cats can’t read the Book of Common Prayer.