I’m starting on the beer

He said he had got dizzy and he thinks he saw the Light
It was mainly migraine but I recognise his plight

He didn’t want to drive me to the bitter end
So I called a cab and went there ;I met some lovely friends

He carved the joint on Sunday and then he left me here
I’ve finished all the brandy and I’m starting on the beer

I will lose my mind on purpose and write from my own heart
If I act like crazy, take me to the park

We had a cat from Tottenham,I preferred him to a man
I didn’t have to cook at all, he ate straight from a can

The cat we had much later, we thought he was a girl
The vet burst into laughter so I scratched him with my nails

Then we had a black cat, very small and round
She got bored and went to Mass. Jesus was her friend

Now the cat has cancer and I am feeling gloom
Put a first class stamp on me and send me to the moon

The vet is getting friendly but I have got no dog
I’ll have to get a virtual one but will it keep me snug?

impinge | Etymology, origin and meaning of impinge by etymonline



1530s, “fasten or fix forcibly,” from Latin impingere “drive into, strike against,” from assimilated form of in- “into, in, on, upon” (from PIE root *en “in”) + pangere “to fix, fasten” (from PIE root *pag- “to fasten”). Sense of “encroach, infringe” first recorded 1738. Related: Impinged; impinging; impingent.

On the motorbike

There were three of us on this motorbike,
Father Dan with me,
And he had Jesus in his bag.
That makes the total three.

Transubstantiation, oh my Lord
I looked at his black bag.
Is Jesus inside there, I thought?
Should it have a tag?

It’s a secret never told
Father Dan gave it me to hold.
So I had Jesus in my lap,
No wonder now I feel a gap.

We zoomed off up an unmade road
As fast as Dan could go.
I felt bewildered and bemused,
I loved my Daddy so.

Father Dan took back his bag,
And went inside our house.
I got my marbles out to roll,
I feared I’d see a mouse.

So Three of had taken a ride
And after that, my Dad had died.
Father Dan said Mass today
Still with Jesus, so I cried.

Writing makes me breathe differently

Sometimes writing makes me breathe differently.
I can feel the silence settle around me,
Like a prayer shawl.
i accept it gratefully.
There’s a thin feeling to the day
As if the sun might have tried harder
to come through
But it had a blue feeling
And the clouds were greedy,
Wanting too much to melt
And shed their moisture.
Some perfume please.I think it was £27.99
Yes,I like that one even more than jasmine oil.
Pour it down over London
Like a  blessing.
A black woman laughed and patted my arm,
You’re so funny, she cried.
And I smiled coyly
As if someone hidden was taking my photograph.
Sometimes life’s too sweet
And needs a little pepper.
The chair creaks as I lean forward
Trying to see everything at once
As if it all happened now, not yesterday.

May the fire not burn you

Standing close together,but not looking

We lean forward touching foreheads lightly against each other

Eyes closed

Tenderly we graze

On the other?s smell,skin,softness.

I feel your heart beating

As it it were mine.

We lean for a few more moments like this.

Wordless.But everything else speaks

Holding the broken places,with love.

Then we turn and walk away

Yet those moments last forever.

Foreheads touching,

Skin on skin..

Our boundaries.

You are another subjectivity

A real person

Wanting nothing but everything

I see your smile.

You were with me

And now we go our ways

On our own journey.

One meeting of souls

Remains a blessing forever

May you be blessed

May the fire not burn you

Nor the water drown you

May the Lord keep you always near him.

Forever blessed.

I release you.