| about grace
about strays he touts lace spouts in my face i hit an ace I bowl over harm dis-route my face |
| he loves roars
under board my side’s bored between the fines, he writes he’s love’s adored moon |
| absence makes the heart grow flippers
adsense cakes the charts with glitter |
| absolute power disrupts absolutely
dissolute showers pollute the airs |
| a face is a whole
embrace my soul |
| he laced up his sleeves, buttoned his socks then made a brief case |
| hercules’ wheel hurt achilles’ heel |
| acid is best
passing the test |
| runcorn ‘s where grandad loved me
runcorn is not far from the sea grandad’s dad was unknown to he and me and possibly his dad never knew he were a dad so my own great-grandad never knew about me.[but now he does] |
| distractions speak louder if bared
fractions are ok bu I’m decimatedly bored |
| after my own heart he ate his own
he loved eating out,especially bodies. |
| glaring dirty laundry eyed me frankly rudely and sweatily
the washing machine wants to be baptised/surprised |
| a wall bent out of shape by the drains
I’m all dents and I ache in my pain |
| all alphabets are off
wittgenstein’s lines all bets are paradoxes to rustle |
Category: humor
Mary buys an outfit
Just before the date of Stan’s funeral a new heatwave began.Mary realised her outfit which her sister had thoughtfully chosen was much too heavy.And she didn’t want to pass out.So she called into a small department store full of delightful garments.Unfortunately most were more suitable for a nightclub than a chapel.A black dress caught her eye.It had a somewhat low neckline which was decorated with a deep gold band.
Mary decided it was more suitable for Queen Cleopatra than a British woman.After a few minutes she found a lovely thin black jacket and a long drapy skirt.She rewarded herself with a large cup of coffee and observed the scene.
Many of the women were wearing the dresses Mary had thought were for dancing and nightclubs while the rest wore jeans with T shirts saying:No size Fashion or Free women now!Most were rather plump so their busts stuck out with the words going up and down some invisible contour lines across the small mountain range their bosoms resembled.No wonder when the counter in the cafe was stacked with almond croissants.Definitely an occassion of sin and for sin.
The next morning Mary showed her new outfit to Annie.
You can’t wear that,Annie screeched in a womanly way.That skirt is blue!
Well if it is ,it is dark blue,Mary cried.It looked black in the shop to me
You will have to go back and change it.And you must buy some makeup too..
What,for a funeral? Mary murmured guilelessly
Yes,said Annie who was wearing pink and purple eyeshadow from Pax Wacter combined with sun protective foundation by Minxette in deep cool beige.Her lashes were dyed purple and her brows had been groomed in a way which gave the impression she was constantly in a state of severe surprise or shock.
Her thick juicy lips were painted a lurid orange from Revlon of Timbuctoo and Shanghai which meant that any man who kissed her would never be able to conceal their passion from their wives or partners.How hard life can be at times.Or even all the time
.You must dress entirely in black for the funeral and it will make you look pale but don’t worry you can have some of my makeup
Will the colour suit me,asked Mary plaintively.
I think you can wear any colour now your hair has gone that shade of pale like Helen Mirren’s is.
You are a kind in a rude way,Mary responded ,but I take the hint.
After Annie left Mary phoned an old friend of hers and asked him what he thought of her clothes problem.
Black and blue will look very good,he told her.As long as it’s dignified and dark the colour is immaterial.Don’t think about ir
That’s nice,Mary thought,as she hated shopping and was unsure how much income she would have as a widow.
Being practical a dark blue skirt is something a woman can wear any time whereas black is not so good in the daytime nor in a nightdress either,she realised
If you visit any town centre in Britain you will see sights of women in strange and tight clothing that will both amuse and appal you though most of us are used to it now.I don’t know if men ever get used to it,
My goodness, Mary said to herself,what hard work it is losing a husband.I should have hired a boat and thrown him into Coniston Water.That would have been better than all this kerfuffle.Although the police might not like it.Still waters ruin sheep.though.
Cubist collage by Kathryn Braithwaite.
Share this:
A square plate
He said he needed three square meals a day .So far she ‘s not found him a square plate!
He said he liked to sin three times a day so they divorced and lived happily with laughter.
He used to go to Confession weekly until the priest gave him an extension to finish his list once and for all..Otherwise he’ll be getting a doctorate in doubt and rumour.
How do we know when the time is ripe?
The future’s not ours to flee.
Why don’t rolling stones get a gloss?
We used a milk bottle as a rolling pin but now it seems pastry cp,es in cardboard boxes in the supermarket
I like sausage and trash once a week.
Why did any cooks boil the wrath?What did they want.. a red mist?
.
Share this:
Expatiate and more
1.
I promise to love ,honor and expatiate all night
Until wrath us do part.
2.
I expatiate and I’m ok
I preach all night and sleep all day
3.
I expatiate and therefore I can.
4.
If your man expatiates,have him put to sleep or how about a left hook,sorry, book
5.
In the silver moonlight,expatiate ,my friend.
6.
Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded dustbin?
7,
What’s a wife to me without thee?
8.
I’m getting married in a hawning
I’ll bring, along the bills he’s going to resign
9.
Are you marrying for the right treasons,dear?
10
I ‘m an accident but I don’t mind
Daddy is deaf and mother can’t sign.
11
I said I’d never marry but he was as handsome as a cricketer, and his balls,well what can I say.? He’s a wonderful bowdleriser.If you can’t spell that put burglar instead.
12
I demand the right to spring,your lordship.
13
See if I wear!
14
I have to laugh or else we’d all cry.
Share this:
Mary’s needles
On Monday morning Stan had to go to the shops in the centre of town to buy some special easy threading needles for his visually-otherwise wife Mary.Somehow,most puzzlingly,she had lost all of the eight packs he had bought for her in the last year.He had suggested letting his mistress next door do the hemming and stitching.But Mary was determined even though sometimes she took 14 minutes just to thread a needle.But she was very patient.One might almost say she was saintly but he did not want her to get conceited so he kept his thoughts to himself.
Now what shall I wear.? Stan thought over-anxiously.
He had O.C.D now and then… depending on what was happening in his lifw
People no longer dress up to go down town instead they dress down to go up to the town,in a very real sense.
The art of living is to choose the most simple solution to any problem and Stan recalled he only had some navy trousers,some white and a few colored shirts and one light teal colored jacket.
He chose a coral colored shirt and looked in the mirror..
I look wonderful, he thought very humbly.
Why has God kept me so youthful?
Surely not so I can seduce more women?
We know God may be merciful to scissors,or is it sinners?
Well,let’s just say God can be merciful but for some reason,we never know till it’s too late whether it’s to us.
More haste,less speed,he conjectured.
Or is it, More waste,less feeds?
He stood in the hall combing his hair with a tortoiseshell comb and brushing it with a large nail brush
He looked again narcissistically at his image.[I sure can spell.]
His amber eyes glowed like neon lights on the main road to Knittingham in winter.
His dark hair looked very full for his age.
His teal jacket had been well pressed by the dry cleaner,
Jason Weizzmen-know-all
And his coral shirt was new as Mary had been out buying him more clothes lately.She had grown tired of seeing him in one solid color,especially grey or brown.
His navy trousers were a bit old but quite alright for Knittingham.
As he gazed into the mirror he began to feel odd.Then he saw Emile
who was standing on the chest of drawers behind him performing a dance.. solo!
Why are you dancing,Emile? Stan asked politely.
I am amused by seeing you gazing into the mirror for so long,
If you don’t hurry it will be lunchtime before you get to the Needle Shop.
Alright,growled Stan hoarsely.
At least I don’t wear make up!
Now there’s a thought…maybe I’d look better…what shade of foundation would suit me?Would I need lip balm and perfume?
Hurry up,said Emile unkindly.
More taste less greed.
What does that mean?asked Stan.
If you taste the food and eat slowly you will enjoy it more and thus need less.
Very clever,Emile.Shall I buy you some cough sweets in the pet shop.
No,I want some codeine linctus,Emile answered.
I want to go high,high.
I want to reach the sky…hi.
what will I do when my love is away
Will I be happy on my own?
Lend me your ear and I’ll sing you a song
I’ll try not to sing out of tune!
My God,Emile.Whatever has happened to you?
I blame the old chalk and opium medicine someone spilled on my breakfast.
Well,go and lie down but drink some milk first.
At last Stan got out…it had taken him two hours to get ready.
I wonder if I’ve got body dysmorphic syndrome,he conjectured emotionally
At the bus stop there stood Annie their neighbour.
Hi,Stan,where are you going.
I’m buying sewing needles for Mary.
I can lend her some,she shrieked.
Well,she has to use special ones nowadays.
Oh,so she does.I forget as she looks normal but is in fact suffering constant trouble since her Vitreous-vasectomy.. or was it hysterectomy or vivacity?.
Well,never mind.You know she’s not normal.
Who is normal?
Let’s just assume we will recognise it when we see it,he whispered warningly.
This bus is very late.I wish there was a proper seat here..my knees hurt.
I hate this plastic seat.Why has the wooden one gone?
Apparently the council are afraid of homeless people sleeping on them.
Well,everybody is at risk of homelessness with this economic crisis,They should let them sleep here.They are so cruel.
Anne shouted in a fury.
No,beggars can’t be losers,he responded.
Very true,she replied,
As they have nothing so they can’t lose it.The more you have,the more you fear losing it.
This bus is very,very late,I wish I had a horse or is it an horse?
A goat would be ok.
Speed bonny goat like a word someone flung..
Over the page to Fly.
Anne burst out laughing so her face was as red as her coat from Artigiano.Her blue tights were a perfect contrast and also matched her lipstick.
At last the bus came.They got on board and the driver called out,
You both look very merry!
Too many looks create more wrath,Stan replied warninigly.
Well, why dress up if you want no attention.the driver gloated.
Hello,darling, he said to Anne,Are you free tonight,babe?
Why? she murmured,I have two tickets for the Rolling Stones and no woman to take! he replied boastfully.
Now,if it were the Rolling Bones,I might be interested.
Your wish is my command he muttered,
I have my smart phone here,I’ll see what’s on elsewhere.
He kept trying but the virtual keyboard was playing up again.
Eventually the passengers got annoyed and asked him to start the bus.
As I’m half an hour late,I should be coming back now so I’ll do a U turn and go back to the terminus.
But we want to go into town,every one howled.
There’s many a blue word spoken as a jest,sang the driver.
Stan said,Please open the door,we shall dismount here.
Crikey,you don’t half talk posh,said the ,driver.
He leaned over and gave Anne a French kiss.
Now look here,Stan said,leave her alone.She’s my mistress.
Cor blimey said the driver,who are you,King Henry the Eighth?
I say,Stan,I can see Mary.It must be tea time.
Stan ran into the house and put the kettle on..then he made a pot of tea.
Hello! said Mary.
Did you get my needles,Stan?
I’m so sorry,Mary.I’ve had such a busy day,I never got into the town.
And where is my supper.
I’m afraid it’s still in the womb of time!
I see,it’s chick pea dahl and brown rice again or egg on toast.
But I’m not complaining.Keeping house is a big job.I know it only to well.
So they sat with Anne and Emile,who even had his own cup and saucer now.They were soon drifting into a light doze.Going down town is such hard work nowadays.
About these ads
Occasionally, so
Share this:
Hoover over the lines tomorrow
#
I was always out of the lurch of normality,if you grasp my scheming.I had a hare brain and no mind to speak to except that of my doll with no head.
it fell off,unlike mine,that’s china for you.Potheads are a bad idea in general.
Please read under each line today and then hover tomorrow.
To take the path of least consistency is hard for mathematicians
but post-Godel it’s just one more hurdle to lean over
Play as you go where,sweetheart?
His lips paid me such service,no-one since has matched his adroitness,
yet he never knew my real name was Sylvia.
I was just one of a number of girl he loved in rotation;we were almost a constellation
and definitely a consolation to each other,united by our hatred of the one we loved.It’s what we call manbivalence.I never saw him naked as he wore his underserpents in bed and even in the daytime too.My therapist said I was stupid and it’s a relief after all these years of being too clever.Anyway they don’t reach one to understand one’s textuality unless one is French.Lacan,Foucault, I dunno… why do they make it sound umpossible?
Share this:
The policemen of the heart
I once was labelled an athlete
For I played the violin with my feet
I placed a cloth on my private parts,
Purely, for the sake of art.
But the sound I made wasn’t so sweet
But because I played worse than the best
A man suffered from cardiac arrest.
The policemen of the heart
Took him off in their cart
So after that I almost confessed
When arthritis afflicted my toe
It could not go where toes need to go.
I took up my pen
To write music again
For the shy, it’s a good way to go.
Introverts and performing arts suck
Too shy,too inward , give a f*ck.
But writing on paper
Here we can caper
And get read by the beats, if in luck
Share this:
I take no gnosis
My boyfriend has verbally stung me
I take no gnosis,for you see
He is no mystery
For with his history
His spirit was persuaded to flee
Share this:
My immune system’s distracted
I am afflicted by a malady once more
So, with King Alfred, I lounge on the floor.
My immune system’s distracted;
My kidneys uncorrected
I never heard such complaining before .
Alfred has gone home for his tea
But no-one is here to feed me
My appetite is gone
And empty my pan
How can such misfortune be?
Bereavement is a truly great trauma
One might say, it’s a personal tsunami
i could commit suttee
and burn my own bootie.
But my religion says it don’t allow me
Yet who wants me at this stage ,do you think?
I ponder whilst opening the Quink.
Alfred’s my lone lover
Men never bother
.A tear fills my eye and I blink.
Shall I merchandise myself in Soulmates?
Will men flinch when they come to my gate
As I hobble to the door
Saying,Wittgenstein,more?
Is the Tractatus , as a poem ,out of date?
i can just see the Guardian blind dates
Pairing me with a man called by fate
To rate me out of ten,
After stealing my pen
And posting my photo on “Late”
Or for political correctness a female
Denim dungarees are on sale
I’ll look lovely in those
from my hammer to my toes.
I just hope the Great Judge gives me bail.
Perhaps I can become a third sex
A phallus grafted onto my vest.
So I will suit either/ or
Who may love and adore
My eyes which appear singularly blesssed
Now I have to confess being re-covered
Would suit me quite well as ‘i have suffered
Pain from my skin
Exceptionally thin
I wonder if one can also be re-mothered?
t
.
Share this:
He said,you’re pre-well
I went to the doctor, he said I’d pre-flu.
I said “My dear doctor what shall I do?”
Next time I went, he said “It’s pre- shock.”
And then I had pre measles,pre mumps and pre-pox
I ran to the doctor,he said ” You’re pre-well”
I said “Are you sure it’s not just a pre-quel?”
Next time I turned up,he’d gone out for a walk
It’s hard for a doctor who wants to pre-talk.
I went to the optician, who said I’m pre-blind
I thanked him for being so intensely unkind.
I went back to the doctor,and these words I said
“I’m pre -blind, pre-deaf,pre-ill and pre-dead!
Share this:
His mistress was vexed
Stanley bought some soap which smelled good;
A bit like the scent of dried wood.
His mistress was vexed
and sent him this text:
“i really don’t know how you could”
What do you mean,Stan cried out?
Has the new teapot broken its spout?
Oh,no,she replied
The mice have all died
It’s you and your cat,I don’t doubt.
Dear Emile never kills any mice
Nor does he ever toss dice
But sometimes he howls
when we mispronounce vowels…
On balance he’s almost too nice.
Share this:
What is panache?
panache
pəˈnaʃ/
noun
noun: panache
-
1.flamboyant confidence of style or manner.“he entertained London society with great panache“
-
2.historicala tuft or plume of feathers, especially as a headdress or on a helmet.
Origin
mid 16th century: from French, from Italian pennacchio, from late Latin pinnaculum, diminutive of pinna ‘feather
Share this:
Newly invented words by Me
Bibliogasm:Getting extremely high and happy on reading a new and wonderful book.
Bibliospasm:Having a fit when reading something shocking or surprising.
Bibliochasm:Am empty space in the book shelves.
Bibliofathom: To understand a book after prolonged reading and study..
Bibliofashion:Reading the “in” books of the day.
Bibliocalm:The peace in the library in the days when silence was valued.
Biblioharm:The injuries caused by using books as missiles.
Bibliofarm:A place where books are reproduced
Biblioma’am: Lady librarian.
Bibliothumb:A thumb bent overly much by holding books open all day.
Bibliojam:Like a paper jam in the printer.
Bibliocam: an app for taking photos of your last page or of people near you in the bookshop or library.Used in espionage before tablets came along,
Bibliotablet:Back to writing on stone!
e
Share this:
I can’t say more
Chirography,chirography-
Is it linked to psychopathy?
Psychopaths all live next door
To someone else ,I feel quite sure..
Yes,all of us must learn to write.
But never,ever, impart spite
Neat and beautiful is fine.
But please your readers and don’t whine.
Form and content,to and fro
With the swings of life we go.
But keep the swings in balance or
You’ll fly off and be no more
In the end ,as clear as mud,
What we write should convey good.
For spite and malice ,e’en writ fine,
In fiery hell we’ll spend our time.
The true last judgment is each day.
With care and patience, we must play.
While God lives inside a flower
Though it bloom for a mere hour.
Share this:
’twill imbue
Egregious is a word with a view.
Irony leaks out anew
Make sure you pronounce it ,
And never denounce it.’
With gravity your words ’twill imbue.
Share this:
Humour before bedtime
Rabbi Altmann and his secretary were sitting in a coffeehouse in Berlin in 1935. “Herr Altmann,” said his secretary, “I notice you’re reading Der Stürmer! I can’t understand why. A Nazi libel sheet! Are you some kind of masochist, or, God forbid, a self-hating Jew?”
“On the contrary, Frau Epstein. When I used to read the Jewish papers, all I learned about were pogroms, riots in Palestine, and assimilation in America. But now that I read Der Stürmer, I see so much more: that the Jews control all the banks, that we dominate in the arts, and that we’re on the verge of taking over the entire world. You know – it makes me feel a whole lot better!”
Share this:
Thinking is bad for the brain
Thinking is bad for the brain
It goes totally under the grain.
Keep your mind empty
So you will have plenty
Of space to see visions again.
Thinking’s unnatural too.
It makes all your brain cells turn blue
Stop being active
Get wider perspective.
Not thinking’s so good it is true.
Share this:
Alfred stole the food
Alfred found a bag of food;
Dried shapes drive this cat to brood
Alfred used his sharpest claws
And broke the cover with his paws
So now he’s in a very mellow mood
Share this:
Cat
I have got utter love from a cat
He sleeps with his head on my foot
Do you think that is sensible
Or indefensible
When we can all smell a rat.?
I’ll show you some pictures tomorrow
I just took them with c 101
They come out quite well
As I cannot tell
A camera from my old phone.noran
Ignorant of these arts I have bought
A missing manual of sorts
Digital photography
Serial monogamy
I love you with the whole of my heart.
Share this:
My history’s suffused with it
I am going to marry the postman
As soon as his wife runs away.
It might be tomorrow
What bliss and what horror.
But it certainly won’t be today
I think I shall keep my own name
Despite what the postman might say.
For I’ve got so used to this
My history’s suffused with it.
Post me a prayer for today
Share this:
A gnostical twinge.
I went to the doctor to grouse.
As I seemed to have lost my own spouse.
Don’t be concerned
You haven’t been spurned.
And let me be blunt,he’s a louse.
I said,is there a shampoo not too dear
To wash such men out of one’s hair?
No,it’s a decision,
Without any contrition,
Never, ever try to be fair.
I said,doctor I was born to be blonde
And of my hair I am reasonably fond.
But my husband has strayed
And I’m not a maid
If you think so,then you have been conned.
You lie for your hair has gone white
Yet it looks blonde by that neon light.
Your skin looks quite pale
Keep out of all gales.
I hope that you will soon be alright.
Well,white hair is currently in vogue
And spectacles are a la mode.
But you are much too thin
To keep a mobile phone in
Your brassiere as its general abode.
Nobody mentions the plus
Of having a very large bus’
You can store stuff in the cleavage
I can hardly believe it
Please don’t let the church make a fuss.
For Christianity has a Gnostical tinge
On which numerous saints have over- binged
The flesh is a danger
As is sex with a stranger.
This is certainly far beyond the fringe.
a
Share this:
A Gordian knot describes my new made life
A Gordian knot describes my new made life
For I’m confused and feel misunderstood
My lovers all are tangled in their strife.
Yet,narcissistic, I desire my good.
Alas, I am as beautiful as dawn
This gives a false description to these men
For as I struggle feeling quite forlorn
Each man wants to take me to his den.
I’d rather read then be adored and served.
No longer youthful ,I have had enough.
I gave my lovers more than they deserved
Now I’m sick of them and all their stuff
Be off you men and find yourself elsewhere
I warn you now I shall soon curse and swear
Share this:
With elastic
I was converted by a brilliant agnostic
but losing my faith was too drastic.
I pined for Lord Jesus
Until I was speechless.
So I tied myself to his soul with elastic.
Share this:
The body’s own soul is the face
I was once an outspoken agnostic
My harsh words could sound frightfully caustic
But I saw the light
Turn green in my sight.
So I repaired my own soul with some bostick [glue sold in UK]
The body’s own soul is the face
Which often is lit up with grace.
So I am gentle when gazing
On you when embracing.
And take care in your sweet sacred space.
Share this:
Antagonist
https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/antagonist
This word means enemy or opponent It is another word deriving from the Greek.I wondered if it had any connection to Antigone but it seems not.However you may like to hear someone reading Antigone.
Share this:
How about a worm?
Hello,dear.What can I do for you this morning?
Oh,I’ve got a nasty pain in my conundrum,doctor.
Are you being careful?
I’m always careful.
No,I mean, are you using a euphemism?
No,I am on the pill.Is a euphemism better for dealing with conundrums?
Conundra…
I’ve never heard of a conundra.
Look,what is really wrong with you?
It’s a complete conundrum to me.
Well,it will be so for me unless you tell me where and what it is.
It’s a pain in my testicle.
But you are a lady.
That’s what people think.
Well,surely somebody would have seen it.
It’s only just dropped.
That’s odd.
Yes,it is as usually testicles come in pairs.
I don’t know what to say.
Well,it’s a conundrum.
Maybe I should examine you.
I am in a hurry and you need a chaperone.
No,I can use gloves.
What,put a glove on my testicle!
Well,let’s just wait and see whether it progresses.Come back if you feel worried about it.
Is it wrong to be a hermaphrodite?
What a stupid question.How can it be wrong when you don’t control it.
Yes ,being a hermaphrodite does give one stronger sexual desires as like with a worm there’s more possibilities.
I really don’t fancy sex with a worm myself
But if you loved it the worm
They have no faces so they all look the same.
They used to say all black people looked the same to the whites even though they have eyes and faces and expressions.
Do we need faces to love?
We need them to kiss.And what is life without a kiss?
Ask a worm.They seem to have a good life with no wars and worries.
No,they can’t use guns,can they?
Well,not to shoot with.
So the answer is to get rid of people and just have worms. and beetles.
The way the world is going this may happen quite soon.
It’s a terrible conundrum..
Well,I am very euphemistic.
Do you mean optimistic?
Bang
And that was the end of the world tonight.
BBC the world’s best broadcaster,bringing you all the cheer you need in hell
Share this:
But you ain’t trickin’ me.
He was always very adamant
He could not change his mind
So I soaked his head in old red wine
Because I am so kind.
When he woke up he looked the same
But he spoke so tenderly:
You may have tricked some other guys.
But you ain’t trickin’ me.
I said I knew no other men;
He was my heart’s desire.
He threw his water glass at me
And said I was a liar.
So then I realised with dread,
My love was utter folly.
I gave him 20 English pounds
To buy himself a lolly.
Adamantine’s good for jewels
But not for picking men.
I shall learn my lesson now.
Pray I’ll never sin again.
Share this:
God in the bush
Menorah is not a girls’ name.
Come here ,Norah, is not quite the same.
Let me light up your candle
And let the cat fondle..
My cheek, as it never feels shame
Candelebrah sounds extremely posh.
The vision makes all our cheeks flush.
The lights in the darkness
Throw out their sparks at us.
Creation ‘s a fiery,red bush.
Share this:
Etymolgy in rhyming verse.
I went to the doctor today
With a dull pain in my poor etymology.
When I went in,he said ,sit down and pray.
I am studying spiritualology.
I said,doctor it doesn’t exist
Language is public not private.
He cried,Do not try to resist.
I am hoping to re-socialise it.
–
I said Spirituality’s sufficient
No need for spiritualology.
He told me my brain was deficient.
And it might affect my parapsychology.
I wonder if he’s in his right mind
For I only went there for a flu shot.
But I hate to be very behind.
I do need to go to the loo a lot.
They say that words can kill when we’re hate filled,
And excommunicating folk is an error.
But if life is predetermined we’re fulfilled.
Yet in our contrarian way, we feel terror.
Etymology passes the time well
When you’re on antibiotics for cystitis.
And even if it’s only a chill,
Can the bladder ever get tonsilitis?
I which we had been told the right names
For the parts hid by knickers voluminous
I thought my red tongue was to blame.
Running right through me and out at the terminus.
Share this:
Consent,consequence etc
I keep getting mixed up with my words
To be consequential to my lover is absurd
He’s very inconstant
Makes the most of each instant
And treats me to a meal on the 3rd.
I don’t feel like eating any more.
My stomach has closed its little door.
Consequently I am thinner
So this is a winner.
Take penicillin and hog the dance floor.
The trouble is,it gives me diarrhea.
So I hope the toilet is near.
Toilet is common,
But never mind that plumbing.
I have developed a terrible fear.
I think the top folk say “loo”
But first they say,How do you do?
Don’t tell them the truth.
Nor offer any proof.
Don’t even give them a clue.
My late lover said,In the pink.
When he was asked that,I think.
Even as he died
His eyes opened wide.
He smiled broadly and give me a wink.
You seem he’d forgotten I was his spouse.
As I kept always knitting my brows.
He desired to be close
So was unfaithful,almost.
But he loved me even before he could browse.
Share this:
My I is in flames
My eye and my I are inflamed.
They show I am feeling ashamed.
But when I sat here
My mind was revered
By a fox which has guessed I am tame.
I believe he has worshipped me well
But my ego has not shrunken nor swelled
For what is a fox for
But to sit and adore
Myself and my cat in this dell?
The fox thinks he may eat the cat.
The cat’s making eyes at a bat
I am alone.
My heart’s a hot stone.
I wonder if this form is too pat?
They say,you’re never alone with a what?
A cigarette hiding under your hat.
I do like a felt hat,
But no-one felt me like that.
I miss your warm hand and your pat.
