Category: humor

Too literal?

Keep safe,,….. Kill yourself now

Lost your head? You are better off without it.

Don’t believe me ?

He is that loseth his life shall save it. Jesus

Let go and relax.Die of starvation.Free to all in the Third World Claim it now

Britain in mourning

On his top it says

Made in Burton from real polyester.

He told the Belgians to go back to the Congo.

It read ‘I am a manvestlike

Is I English ?

Many are boiled but few are frozen

I don’t like pork so I married a lapsed Jew in a Hindu Temple His mother sent us to a duvet filled with cat hair.

Is it an insult ? How shall I detract ?

I are a lapsed Catholic.

But it won’t last forever

We’re indecent

What is life to me without Tea
What s left when you eat buns
With no wife
Who’d brew tea
What is left when she won’t agree?

What is satire when I’m stupid
I pick the pods off the lupins
What is strife
Strive errant Cupid
What is weft when warp is dud

What’s an oak when we’re flaccid
Eating apples full of acid
Who is broken
When the wheel has spoken
I may as well feel kind of placid

What is poetry to a pheasant
Being shot is pleasant
What is emotion
In our maddened Nation
Now we realise we are indecent

In the frying pan

I wondered how the two of me would be
If the sperm had got inside a different egg
And my egg was penetrated by a bee
Then by sperm whose entry was by bag

I often hum and buzz as I walk out
All unknowing of the neighbours thoughts
Full of concentration and of guilt
Wondering what my other half has bought

One half of me would know no way to change
It’s not like making sponges filled with jam
Unless the universe were rearranged
Then we’d all be in the frying pan

I cannot let this thinking carry on
I can be myself and all is one

In between two numbers

In between two numbers there are so many more
Uncountable and infinite this is their allure
And then there is the circle, unmatchable, unsquare.
There is stern white beauty, the air is very pure

In between two numbers, a dancing pair can kiss
The band has paused to take a breath, the space is not amiss
The music has its rhythmic beat, how different from mere noise
Listen to the humming, listen to its voice

In between two numbers,puzzled and unsure
I try to guess the one you sent, your manners are obscure
Am I thinking in straight lines, when curves would tell me more
I see the comic sanctions that down on me will pour

In between two raindrops, in between two tears
In between our words and songs, love displaces fear

Ersatz raps

Source: K

Oh,I see the wolf listening..he’s so gentle or is he decentral?
Oh,Ah,kerbumplof.
Shrieks,calling for mate
Bang my soul up
In your bedroom
Ker pluf
Thor.War
Storms of lightning
Hail you
AAAAAAhhhhhhhhh
Me,oh,me oh,me stuck here in my groove
Give me electric shocks;the silent treatment.Sulk for me, please,Argentina.
Screech,scream,I felt you watching.
Touch me with a feather
Dust me!
Glug!
I see the wasps round your coat
They hug you and nip your neck
Bong!
Don’t come near me again
Wolves are not
Welcome!
I sigh for mein mutter
She’s a nutter,
utter
Sob
Scream
nightmare
Thud!
You hate me!
Never call again when you’re already here
You are not welcome.
I close my door
on your foot boot
Oh,yes.
Thunder and lightening
Go home now
This is a poem as likely
ill conceived
Eagle flies while I am
Falling down a mountain…
Scree burning.
I never want to see you again,babe.My duck.
Please be a love and leave me.Cheers
That’s ok.I understand you.
Asp,gasp
Per bot fly!
No thud
No dach
sounds whimper.
It’s time for my tea and biscuit
I cooked it twice
but you were
ab ab a aaab aa absent aahaa
sent!
No.No.no
I can’t believe you!
Cut this string and let it all hang out again
Oh,bogger.Go to bed
Now
How
Mein eschreitschzung
.Flightschzung.
Nachtschzung
blung.blung
blot me out
I’m an ink stain.
I like your fingers, so clean and curving
I’ll mark you and give you homework
Och,aye
It’s well come
Crooning mouse traps
See Rockefeller
drop out and
Bring a bag of sylvia plath’s
scrap paper.
did she know?
Did she know?
Did she sweat
Bang?
Thud.My sky fell in onto the millpond
Don’t smoke near me
I’ll get burned
For I hate you
Or just want your hat and an E for
flatness
Droom,droom
Dee
Bag
bug
Ted went to bed
where he spent his honeymoon
with another woman
Not with the second one
Mathilda
It’s finished us all off
Brang.Blong
EschreitchzungFleightschztungHerr Meightschrung

Old Norse

I must change my name, it is too long
Even folk from Yorkshire get it wrong
As for those techniciians far away
My long name is very hard to say

I could take the action via law
Or marry someone with a name like Shaw
Smith is overused when we don’t ride
Lord would be ok, can we abide?

I’m tired of being asked to spell it out
It hurts the listener who knows not its roots
Banks and braes are well known to the Scots
Thwaite is an old Norse word . what the heck

We must be invaders who burst in
Killing Celts and Saxons, is that sin?

Like butter in the sun

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

My heart is soft like butter left in sun.
Much more heat and it will melt and run
Oh, why do we have feelings,why engage
When friendship turns into such bitter rage?

I do not wish to live remote and stern
As if I am so perfect I can’t learn
Pain too deep can mortify the flesh
Turn us into robots fit for trash



All I need is an enormous fridge
Which will make me harder than sweet fudge
I’ll go inside and pray for peace each day
If I freeze to death,I shall not say.

Oh, be of merry heart,my friends and foes
When love comes in, a little hate will go

Please perceive me

Photo by Emily Hopper on Pexels.com

He said he  never wanted to be me again.
He asked me never to bury him again
None so  blind as those who’re on TV.
I see what you scheme
I’ll catch the late train and be stoned tomorrow
Please deceive me,I won’t know
The last chance will be a horror
Until wrath us do part.
Until the penalty’s stark
It’s better to have loved the dust than never to have loved the balls
Men are in jars, women are in beakers

First class ass

I am very clever,give me that
I have got a first class aegrotat
Do you feel that you would like one too ?
Just get chicken pox or maybe flu

I went to York in winter,this is true
Hebden Bridge had icebergs in the loo
Then we were near Grimsby in thick fog
The Humber Ferry crossed like coppers plod

In Hull they gave degrees in geography
Now they teach the gross democracy
That may be where I caught Golders Green
My face is apple and my eyes are teal

I could have done degrees in Law or Greek
I love to hear the way the foreign speak
Give me Aramaic for my tea
Give me ancient Hebrew,I am he.

I learned Dutch but I was not first class
In fact I failed completely,I’m an ass


Unless you’ve feet

We walk along the Pennine way some years
If farmers let the bulls out,we don’t care
I like stiles and jumping over walls
But then I’m not a man with stuff to haul
I like mountains,I like lakes and boats
I like being tickled as we float
I like sheep that follow me all day
Trying to find the perfect spot to pray
Up near Dent the sheep beg very well
They learn to knit while sitting on a Fell
In the winter Dent is somewhat cold
It feels more frosty to the very old
I’ll never go to Dent or Alston now
Unless the bull is gone and there’s a cow
I’ll never climb up Coniston Old Man
Nor meet Mary,Annie, Dave or Stan
They are in another kinder place
Where one the women made the famous lace
On the River Trent come down the Peak
Do not wear your shoes unless you’ve feet

The handkerchief pan

In the evening. simmering handkerchiefs
Perfumed the air with odours I can’t tell
Mother scrubbed them, hung them on the line
Then I had to iron them, folded well

Now we have our tissues, we don’t need
Hankies that need scrubbing many times
The oceans  deep are  poisoned  with our  waste
Is the use of tissues a  new crime?

While we did our  homework  after tea
My brother  liked his Wagner at  full blast
Imagine  learning Latin  with that din
Now the time for anger  has  long passed

Bad memories change  by  newly given grace
Evoking hints of  mother and her face

The cake tins

I see the tins I used for Christmas Cakes
The Russian Cheese Cake and the apple tart
Nowadays do younger women bake?

I remember mother making Buns
Hot,uncross, she made cakes with her heart
Her apple suet pudding beat her plum

The kitchen was a room with its own fire
There we ate and cooked and fought,alarmed
Children pinch and nip and even bite

I banged my head upon the table sharp
The corners seemed to hate me,even spurn
I wished I were a dog so I could bark

I fell down the stairs, it was a thrill
It hurt less than the beatings made me smart
Children were deprived of any will

Shall these cake tins from my home depart?
Shall I make a small cake from a chart?
I hold the tin I used for Christmas Cake
Watching TV where new experts bake

Now the melancholy’s gone

I feel a kind of numbness on this January day
The darkness came down sudden and I feel it’s here to stay
Shall I make myself some tea and pretend that you are here?
I feel naked like the wood underneath that swish veneer

I’m feeling kinda nothin’ now the melancholy’s gone
Should I be doing summat that’ll give me, like, some fun?
The silence is not threatening, but neither is it good
Did you ever wish yourself , you weren’t made of flesh and blood?

I’m feeling so damned stupid for falling on my back
My shoulder was in agony and there’s whiplash in my neck
The doctor, he injected me, but he said it’s down to luck
He may have missed the mark, he says and I just say,oh heck

Apparently the elderly are not in much demand
I heard a sorta whisper as my head went in the sand
We must keep this hidden or we’ll frighten off the young
They don’t seem to notice but the cat does lick my hand

I didn’t know how old I was till the clock flew off the wall
Isn’t it uncanny what you see before the Fall?

Failed in sarcasm!





Hello Mary. what are you doing today? There stood a vision dressed in a teal jumpsuit
it was Annie, Stan’s  mistress,[ when he was alive.] Quite what her status as a former mistress can be is unknown,but she remained on friendly terms with Mary ;she  had helped Mary a good deal while she was grieving,mainly by being present yet undemanding not to mention making frequent cups of tea and putting out the washing

 I’m going to stay with the Pope in Rome ,Mary cried out from her pink armchair

 Are you being sarcastic, ironic, or have you gone mad? Annie  replied politely

Well I was trying to be sarcastic but I am not very good at it yet I hope to improve as time goes by because research shows being sarcastic improves your creativity

But can you be sure which part of your life will become more creative, Annie ask her thoughtfully with a little grin

 For example you might become more creative in the way you trying to attract  men

 Well that would not be difficult, said Mary ,as I do nothing to try to attract  them at the moment and on the other hand it could be rather time-consuming

 Would it improve my ability to write in a creative manner or to be more creative in what I cook?

 I have no idea Annie  told her. the only problem is is that if you practice on me it might affect our friendship

 You are far too  childish, Mary told her. Is that sarcastic?

 Tell me, the ex mistress of your ancient husband!

 What do you mean ancient, he was only 23!

 23 what? said Annie

Are we being sarcastic?

  Well if we can’t  know the answer then we are not being sarcastic because I am sure we would realise if we were

 I am glad you  can express yourself in such a brief manner

 What have briefs got to do with it?

 I just found a bag full of dry ones and I have been folding them  and  putting them into the drawer

 Do you mean knickers?

 Yes, I do, but I couldn’t remember the name

 You’re pulling my leg

 No I’m not. I’m nowhere near your leg

 Don’t tell me that you are not familiar with the expression meaning “you are joking”

 Why do you assume I am not familiar with anything?

 I am giving you the benefit of the  doubt

 Doubt is a very dangerous State of Mind

 Shall I wear the pink knickers or the blue ones I spend  all morning trying to decide so it is best not to doubt anything but to believe that what you do must be correct and everybody else is wrong

 That’s alright as long as you’re not stealing people’s husbands

 If they can be stolen so easily  what does that tell us about the state of the marriage?
Nothing nothing at all, men are so easily beguiled that is in the best of marriages they’re not be enough to keep them faithful  for ever

 Don’t be so horrible
I was trying to be sarcastic
Should it not come naturally  like  loving?

 What kind of  loving do you mean?
If you mean physical loving it doesn’t always come naturally to  human beings’

.many couples go for help in having a baby and the doctor discovers they didn’t realise what sex was

 They thought by sleeping in the same bed, the wife will get pregnant

 It seems very hard to believe but compared to thinking about Donald Trump

 and his lies, it is nothing

Shall I put the kettle on,  said Mary

 That is sarcastic Annie said  because you know that I always put it on when I am here
it is more like dropping hints  Mary cried
All these things are very hard for scientists. You don’t solve mathematical problems by dropping a hint nor does anyone drop hints  to you whereas  in interpersonal relationships it is very important to be able to drop hints and to be able to take hints when they’re dropped in front of you
Mathematics and physics much easier than everyday life because they contain no sarcasm no irony and no hints whatsoever
I wonder if Wittgenstein would agree with you.

 As he is dead we cannot know but I am almost sure he would agree

 I was just being sarcastic,that’s all!

 It seems like that Mary and Annie are going to have to spend much longer  practicing sarcasm before they were able to go outside and be sarcastic to neighbours or Friends

 well Emile’s view is that he will not accept sarcasm from anybody

 He will bite the hand that feeds him if necessary because he knows that Mary will forgive him when he apologizes

 
On the other hand it would be easier if  he didn’t bite  anyone And God might be angry  with Emile  for being a trying animal to live with

God, does he enjoy sarcasm?

Noone has asked before!

I think he is beyond language altogether

And so say all of us

I can only comment in a verse

I can only comment in a verse
A villanelle for virtue,my defence
I don’t know what you mean for you are terse

Love or hate,I don’t  know what is worse
Is this life  a very spiteful  test?
I can only comment in a verse

In my bag I have a purple purse
Money is so dirty it’s a pest
I don’t know what you mean when you are terse


When we marry, we won’t be the first
We need a godly priest for I confess
I can only comment in a verse

Do not pay my bill which I detest
At our party let us all be blessed
I don’t know what you want when you are terse

I am in a struggle, can you guess?
I am well endowed with happiness
A villanelle for virtue is the best
I don’t know what you mean you are so terse

The only ritual

The ritual is to put the garbage out
My day begins the night before it’s due
When I recall the day, I have to count
Instead of Mass, we put the garbage out
No Confession so no sin,no horrid doubt
No neighbours and no prayer,no ancient pew
The only ritual left, toss garbage out
My mind begins to think about the clue

The Words Mine

Every poem begins with a first line
After that we choose the space and time
The words float in my head till they combine
Must a poem begin with its first line?
Some are bold and some are more refined
Some are free and some have lissom rhymes
A poem begins by finding a first line
After that we search the Deep Words Mine


The Messiah is a cat

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com



  • Stan awoke feeling very thirsty.My, this bed is much  too hard,he thought.He put out his hand and felt some wood not far away.It was his desk.
    Emile was lying on his stomach purring.
    You fell out of bed,the little cat miaowed.Luckily I clung on with my claws and I am ok sleeping down here….I can see any mice better.
    Well,it’s not ok with me,Stan informed him gently.How can I get up from here?
    He picked up the Cambridge Companion to Sylvia’ Plath and banged on his desk softly.
    Mary was awake and heard a strange sound.She got up and found Stan lying on the floor with his head by his desk.
    Emile wanted to sleep by the wall,you see.,he told her.
    Then he rolled over and I fell out.
    That is logically and scientifically unsensible,Mary told him. Surely Emile is not so big that his weight was enough to knock you out of the bed?It is against the law of gravityAnyway,why don’t you get up?
    I like it  down here,the old man lied to her.
    OK Mary said,then she picked up the phone and rang 999.
    Hello,she said.My cat is very upset as he feels guilty for pushing my husband out of bed.
    How terrible for you,the man answered.I’ll send an ambulance right away.
    Mary opened the front door and left it unlatched whilst she lit the electric lights with a match.
    How do you feel Stan,she enquired.
    I am thirsty,give me so brandy,he ordered her politely as he was very full of kindness.
    They said not to let you or Emile drink or eat.
    Blooming ridiculous,he told her in a manly fashion
    Soon the ambulance arrived and the paramedics were running up the stairs to seee the poor cat.
    Mary fainted so they laid her on the bed whilst they comforted Emile and cleaned his paws.
    Then they picked up Stan and laid him right next to Mary,his wife.
    Why don’t you have a bigger bed,one asked Stan.
    Bigger than what,he responded academically.
    Well,if you were any fatter you’d not be able to get laid with your wife.
    True,he replied but I am 96 you know.I have erectile malefaction already  and am unwilling to have more mistresses and lovers or even concubines.
    I shall make you some tea the female paramedic told them forcefully
    Well,you don’t seem to be hurt,the other one told Stan, but the cat may need therapy or counselling because of the guilt he will feel.
    He’s not  a Catholic I hope.
    No, he’s Jewish,Stan shouted  nervously.
    That’s alright then.He can have concubines if he chooses.How do cats get to be Jewish anyhow/
    It’s their souls,Mary said…they are all waiting up there for a suitable place to be reborn and some choose to be cats.
    But how can you tell? he asked wonderingly.They have no prayer shawls
    They miaow in Hebrew,Mary said loftily.And they like to sing the psalms before bed.
    But how do you  know it’s Hebrew,he replied.Do you speak it?
    No, it’s just he hates bacon and peperoni and always wears a hat so it seems he must be one of Jesus’s friends,but not Judas of course.I suppose Jesus wore a hat but it’s never been found as yet.Not even being sold as relics.
    Well,that’s intriguing.Do you think Emile might be the Messiah?
    Oh,dear.We never thought of that.Will he have to go to Galilee and catch fish and walk on water?
    No, he can go to Rome and tell the Pope that the Church is not what God planned.
    I hope they don’t kill him,Mary cried…
    God will not be very happy.
    I didn’t know God had moods,Stan said.
    He has post-creative depressive disorder….no wonder when we look round he world.
    Still they did try,I’ll say that for him or her.
    And so say all of us
    For he’s a very good yeller,he’s a very good yeller
    A cat’s life is a fuss.Miaow

My husband has a rubber face













My husband has a rubber face,
He’s from a subset of the human race.
Some men have faces fixed and set;
My husband’s face is not like that.

He imitates our politicians,
Just like Rory Bremner can.
Though he has no wig or hair piece,
He can look like anyone.

Some nights I waken for I am laughing
While I am quite sound asleep.
I am dreaming of his mobile features,
Contorted to a different shape.

He is skilled at telling jokes.
And he loves a good cartoon.
If I am feeling flu style blueness
I he can get me up again.

He has a rather noble visage.
He gets attention he abbhors.
In the bar on King’s Cross Station—
I was asked was he a Lord!

He’s a Lord of Fun and Humour.
He’s a Lord at Listening Well.
He’s unique, but so are you,
And all creatures that on earth do dwell

	


	



			
				


			

			
The words evoked what no-one could conceive
		
	
	

		

With the Mass in Latin,I believed.
The words evoked what no-one could conceive
The women in their hats  looked like proud queens
What was, what is,  and what once might have been

The men came late,hung over, full of dreams
They took no Wafer, drunk from living streams
I did not mind confessing made up sins.
Nor did I mind  beans found in small tins.





Religion gives fresh  themes  to those obsessed
Guilt and sin,but scruples are the best
I went  to church and told God I was through
He said, hang on,I’ll send my Light to you.





Thus it was that I was saved from death
I had worshipped Satan in duress.
After that I  took a job   for health
I am rich in love, though not in wealth





To me there is a White House of the Soul
We shall meet again there when we’re whole
A place of beauty, space and coloured light
God  won’t  boast, and neither will the mice








	


	



			
				


			

			
The personality of trees
		
	
	

		






Trees lean over, watchful as we meet
The tall ones do not shiver in the breeze
Trees can hear the torment in our speech

We have flowering cherry in our street
But mine died like my lover with great ease
Trees lean over listening as we meet





The tree won’t bend too close, it will not reach
As panic,worry, horror,nightmares squeeze
Trees discern the music in our squeaks





Alas, no tree has mastered human speech
But when they can, they coax the honey bees
Trees lean over sweetly as we meet





The leaves will rustle,wrestle and may tease
Smile for selfies,what’s the word, it’s cheese
Trees lean over, wonder, and conceive
Yet trees hate noone, nor do they believe

	


	



			
				


			

			
Trembling with anxiety will circulate your blood
		
	
	

		

They say we ought to exercise
Walk up and down the stairs
Never use a Lift instead
Despite the tear and wear

I think I’ve found the answer
It’s as simple as  can be
Just shake your limbs and head about
While you watch TV





But if you’re very nervous
That will do you good
Trembling with anxiety
Will circulate your blood





Or if you see men following you
Then run until they stop
They might be a fantasy
So do not call a cop





Agitation’s terrible
But even that’s ok
You won’t be able to sit down
Ot even kneel to pray

So have a nervous breakdown
You will live to ninety nine
You may not  enjoy it much
But it fits my little rhyme





I suppose the answer is now plain
We have to choose our way
Loose and happy on the sands
Or  shivering & trembling all day










When you die the Coffin men
Will thank you  if you’r slim
It might be a real  nervous breakdown
Is better than many a gym

	


	



			
				


			

			
There’s a leer in my soup
		
	
	

		

Waiter, there’s a tear in my soup
How can you tell?
It’s quite clear
I can’t see anything
That’s the whole point





Waiter,my egg is too  hard
If it’s boiled I can’t reverse that
What, all this modern science and we can’t soften a hard boiled egg
I could mix some butter into the yolk
I’ve eaten that
You are trying to eat the egg cup!
Is that what it is?
Did you not have any at home?
No, we  never ate eggs
Now we know why!


My wife has had a baby
What’s its name?
Aubergine
Why?
It’s purple with crying
Well, it will stop eventually
I hope so.My wife is worn out
So why are you here?
She says after this pain she never wants to make love again
How do you feel about that?
Is it my fault God made the birth canal so  narrow?
Well after a few more babies it will get wider
A few more!Can’t the doctor help?
Well, it’s against medical ethics really but he could use a shoe widener
His shoes are too  narrow,
I suppose so.
I think it is too big
Well,she will forget when the baby sleeps
Forget what?
What fertilised the egg
And what does that?
Don’t you know?
A spider?
It’s sex
I can’t tell the sex of s spider
No, when you have sex.
But we’ve had it 365 times and only had one baby
Better luck next time



	


	



			
				


			

			
I climbed the Xmas tree
		
	
	

		

The sun was shining in the night
I woke at half past three
The moon was  cut in half again
Send the rest  a flea
The night was dark, the light was off
Please do not blame me
The cat was hungry so I   made
Some chips  and Earl Grey tea
My husband was asleep again
So I climbed the Xmas tree
I found no coins or chocolates
Just a mouldy  pack of Brie
I hunted high,I hunted low
But found no new decree
I spun till I got vertigo
And fell into the sea
Here I float on a small boat
Will God still  love  my me?

	


	



			
				


			

			
The holes and ink are fashion
		
	
	

		

I’ve got liquid Quink on all my clothes
I thought that everyone would like to know
I’ve got moth holes in my  sweaters like small eyes
But my winter coat is  still almost alright

I’ve had this coat for fifteen years,it’s brown
It drapes quite well, the maker is renowned
I must put it on to take  a walk outside
To see which plants have died and which survived

My husband would be very shocked indeed
My tights have gaping holes upon my knees
The ink has  penetrated to my vest
God knows where that Quink will  wander next

If your clothes are damaged, do not cry
At least 5,000 moths have learned to fly

	


	



			
				


			

			
They rose from the bed
		
	
	

		






Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com






Please  choose a gentle piece of music for your ringtone
[But nothing from Wagner any way]
We all have insomnia.Just work through it
We regret  live sex is not allowed but you can dream
Mobile groans will be ignored
Please do not shock us by rising from the bed 
Please sit down on your chair and not the consultant’s knee.
Kindly do not tell the doctor he is stupid.He knows already.
The doctor is only a pest  when exhausted
Kindly pretend to listen to the Consultant on his round
Kindly do not eat cream buns  or meringues in front  of the Consultant.He is on a diet.
Kindly avoid catching any bugs belonging to or emanating from this hospital and vice versa
Please do not swallow your Kindle Fire before lights out.Buy a bigger one next time
Keep yourself clean.Take a bed by the open window during a storm.
Kindly avoid dying when we are busy.You can if you think you can
Kindly do not write verse  on your sheets unless in water soluble ink
Kindly recover before Friday as we are shutting for the weekend
Kindly write poetry on paper and not on your arms and legs.
Kindly do not copy these rules down.They are our secret.
Kindly keep all you hear secret  especially from visitors
Please do not  breathe out bad breath
We  will take you for a scan in Rymans if you pay.
Bribes are forbidden, but we take them anyway
We love all religions,but don’t argue in here.Go outside and fight if you must.
Don’t convert us while ill
Be holier than thou
Confession is available of Saturdays 5-8 pm if you can walk and talk
Where is God?

	


	



			
				


			

			
I regret nothing
		
	
	

		






Don’t send me an apron for Xmas
When all that I want is a glove
A glove for the oven
Its hands must be frozen
Let’s drown the  old oven in love.





Don’t send me a card on my birthday
I cannot remember your name
Just bake me  a cake
I prefer it to steak
Don’t limp unless you are   lame

Don’t change the sheets every week,dear
For  washing them  makes them wear thin
Just give me a  brush
I’ll beat off the fluff
Then we can both have some fun





Don’t give me bacon for breakfast
God won’t let Jews  eat it yet
His aversion to swine
Is what makes him divine
The fig tree  is dead I regret

	


	



			
				


			

			
As waves die
		
	
	

		

The music is the waves as they run high
Across the pebbly sands onto the road
Then groaning of the shingle as waves die

The fish that dwell deep in the dark, dark brine
The flow within as outer waters flow
The music of the waves as they run high

The moon reflects sun’s light to other eyes
Above the seas which rise up to its goad.
Then groans the shingle as the steep waves die

The sea holds hidden goods where we can’t pry
In the deep the heavy water moulds
The music of the waves as they run high

All the day and all of the black night
The seas and oceans change from high to low
Ah, groans the earth as each wave has to die

Re-hear these sounds, are they a sacred code?
As angels wrestled, Jacob feared the Lord
His music is the waves as they run high
His groaning is the shingle as waves die

	


	



			
				


			

			
Let them see your feet without their shoes
		
	
	

		

When strangers ask for photos of  you nude
Or wearing clothes  so scanty they’ll go blind
Let them see your feet without their shoes





Let them see your twisted toes turn blue
Let them see the bunions God designed
When strangers ask for photos rather rude





Can one solve a crossword with no clues?
Can one have no bosom and look fine?
Can they love your feet without  cute shoes?





When you’re feeling sad and life is blue
When you long for love but not divine
When  gentlemen want  photos somewhat crude





Try to sell  them on  the  Evening News
Take the veil  or drink the Altar Wine
Let them kiss your feet without their shoes





When you’re looking for the hidden signs
Don’t  read numbers  settlers left behind
When strangers ask for photos,  give them clues
Let them wash your feet but make them queue

	


	



			
				


			

			
Keep safe
		
	
	

		
















He kept his tongue in his cheek too long so he couldn’t eat
Starved to death





She  had her head screwed on the wrong way
Lack of light





He wouldn’t wear his glasses so fell down a well
Unconscious suicidal wish or vanity led to error





She wore shoes that were too small and developed 100 untreated corns
Died of stupidity or poverty





His brain got stuck on the underground as his head fell off his body.
The glueless disease





She wore a yellow bikini on the beach which attracted a lot of wasps
Need I say more?
Died fighting as men wept





She was baking bread but got into the oven and was roasted with a potato
Bad luck.Only do one thing at a time
Died of hyperactivity and lack of concentration





He was writing a blog post and got sad as it seemed too poor
Then he drowned his sorrows [ and himself





He got chilblains   which stopped him from walking so his   blood froze

Verdict: Bad weather and lack of housing





Arthritis  made her so stiff we put her  into a coffin and accidentally buried her
Verdict-Misadventure  and human error





She fell over the cat and hit her head on  the fridge
Verdict?  Misfortune as skull too thin

She got off a  moving bus as the doors opened
Verdict: Died of conceit