I was waiting for the ink to sigh.

He was waiting for the ink to lie.

I’m waiting for my pen to fill,I can’t write yet.

Oh,I can’t write…I have to pick a lily.

For what?

To pay for England!

Oh,I was waiting for the link to come by… but it was so fast it was absolutely hyper.

She’s waiting for some misty petals.

Or was it a new electric kettle?

He was waiting for his mother’s views to falter.

She was waiting for a whip to home in.

He was waiting for your lips to come closer.

I crack up and shout,I see!

I make up and I look like a bee.

I wake up and need to pee.

I believe above the storm a boiling kettle causes alarm.

I had wake-up fall…….. the bed threw me out!It was tired of me.

I’d love to wake-up on the wrong side of the bed… on top of you..

I can talk about a mile wide…but how high?

She walks softly and carries a big lipstick.

I was practically talking as the eggs fell.

It was a walled garden called Eden before the government interfered.

The walls have ears in the hospital.If only the doctors listened how happy I would be

You have come here gradually,
from the whirling chaos of the dreaming infant,
anchored by the maternal hand to earth
to this strange place.

Do not try to fly back to heaven today.
Be patient;your guides will,with no effort,
Teach you the patterns and the dance.
All you need is to be open and to trust,
For you have a place in the world.
We need your contribution.No-one else
will see this world from your perspective.

And as you trust the chaos now,fear it not
Should it return.Every creative act
involves the breaking of these barriers
by which we keep the chairs and tables
anchored into themselves.The patterns may break up
but new ones are somewhere near.Patience
with this suffering is the only route now.

You cannot go back.Heaven comes only after
you have grown roots into this earth,
grown sunward,and travailed the storms
and stinging blows;
have grown your flowers and leaves
And let them fall.

Accept.
The only way you can go
is the earthly way.
You are part of us.
We love you.
Our hands are reaching out
If you just lift your eyes.
In the Chaos,God danced and rainbows
Flew from his hands and tears fell from his eyes.
Those tears which fertilised our earth.

He wept, knowing of the pain to come;
And yet,he did not cease to dance

The abyss

 

Be my ghost

 

I saw you

 

 

BOOKS FOR YOU

Silent spite.

Holy rite.

Shepherds flocks.

Vicars frocks.

Three Wii Men.

We three Kings of Haunting and War.

A million children died,children of beloved renown.

Will you Kings donate your crowns?

Oh little drink of bed time cheer.

When will Horlicks get up here?

Faith of our Fathers,time for a rethink?

the Vatican hotline’s on the blink.

God test thee,holy gentlemen.

Wait till Jesus comes again.

Was Mary after a council flat?

Oh,yes,Joseph mentioned that.

God didn’t marry her, for if he had.

He’d have had to buy her,her own pad.

Fancy,Jesus is illegitimate.

Make sure he gets no benefits
.
Oh,mother’s mind is in full spate.

where will it all end at this rate?

Why did God not want to wed?

I don’t know,he never said.

But someone told me he is dead.

That’s just a rumour some nerd spread.

God is still in us today.

But something always blocks His say.

Stan was down on his hands and knees washing and scrubbing at the carpet with a new microfibre cloth and
some shampoo for dry hair.He had a bucket of hot water beside him.Happy, as always, when cleaning and
scrubbing he whistled “The lark ascending” for his cat Emile, whilst sipping at a big mug of lager.
Mary was down in the town buying some new earrings to match her red dress from Phase 8 Sale.Their
granddaughter Flora had also gone to town but she wanted a nose ring not an earring.As she was a girl it was
mandatory in the UK.
Suddenly,quite out of the blue,the doorbell rang.They always do don’t they.It was their Muslim neighbour
Bert.”We’re going away in the caravan.”He boasted gruffly.”Anyroad,the cat ,Nelsonia Mandelinaah, doesn’t
want to come.Would you be able enough to feed her over the weekend without any politically correct remarks
being issued ,as it were?”
” Certainly” Stan responded jovially.”When are you off?”
“Well we went last week but we need a weekend in bed to recover from seeing Brent Cross Shopping Centre
in Kettlewell right next to the old Post Office.[Kettlewell,Yorkshire’s idyllic village]
“Very strange”Stan said,”Mary was in it only yesterday ,she claims,in Knittingham spending all our minute
joint pension on new dresses and shoes.”
“I encounter women who have seen Brent Cross down the road all the time all over Britain.Still they’re
entitled to believe what they want!
” “But what will the consequences be?”
“Is there a flying Brent Cross?”
“That sounds rather religious,” Bert answered quickly
,”Is it an augury?”
“I’d say it’s an omen,myself”
“But of what?”
“The times we live in?
“But what’s going to happen?”
“God knows.”
“Well,does he though?”Stan’s hot water had gone cold.In fact it was frozen.”The laws of physics seem very
mutable” Stan wrote in his journal,
“Also my spelling has deteriorated badly ssince I began drinking lager.
Would whiskey be better?”
Meanwhile,he had cleaned only one third of the carpet.
He filled the bath with hot soapy water,stepped in fully clothed and then rolled himself around all over the
carpet to pick up all the fluff.
When Mary came in she was amazed,
“What’s going on?”
“You look as if you’ve been having an orgy on the floor!”
An orgy was something unknown to Stan as yet.”Would you like one?” he murmured.”Yes,”said Mary
childishly “Age has not beaten me yet!””Better have it soon before my knees get too bad!”So now Stan is
cleaning the carpet again.It’s very soft and thick,just perfect!The list of invitees is posted on his blog.
Well,he’s been told to do something new every week.An orgy this week,the marathon later!
But why is Mary ringing 999?
Does she want to invite Dave,the paramedic or is it more sinister than I can tell you?
Yes,indeed,she wants to invite Alistair Campbell and Tony Blair but she’s not telling Stan!.He’ll be furious.In fact he might be tempted to slap someone but no,even these people have the right to life.And they did some good in Northern Ireland.But would you want them at an orgy?””Me neither!”

Have you ever had a dream,
That you were all alone?
Have you lived with someone handsome,
With a heart like a cold stone?

Have you drowned in deep,cold rivers,
And been lost in shadowed caves?
Have you lived with too much fusion,
Till you drowned in ghostly waves?

The waves run down the sea shore,
Then up they come once more.
The tide turns and life alters..
Deep on that ocean floor

.
You were so beautiful and silent,
Like a sword without its sheath.
I should have let you take me,
The way you took away my breath

If I go I won’t tell you.

I’ll just disappear one day.

Like when a cigarette ,which seemed so long,

suddenly has become smaller

and you never noticed it

because you were talking

about the meaning of life

while life was somewhere else

blown away with your smoke

into the sky

and then dispersed

never quite visible again

but still floating on the breeze

hoping to be caught

in a butterfly net

but unable to communicate

except by flying.

If I go it will not be today

but it will be an ordinary day

no one will realise

that it’s that day

that the bird flies

from her nest

to go to a new place

only seeing the deserted nest

he realises,

my bird has flown

Somehow,you were here.
I didn’’t hear you coming,
then I saw you were here.
Happiness fills me.
Standing in the garden
looking at red leaves,
I hold your hand gently,
and share the sweetness
of autumn leaves,
the distant doves cooing,
the sun dipping down to the horizon.
Life is good today.
We hear together
the music
of silence,

Stan realised it was time for Emile to have his annual flu jab.He stopped polishing the windows and picked up
the phone.Hello,it’s Stan here.Can I make an appointment for Emile?
Yes, come today if Emile has had a bath!
Are you joking?
Yes,the receptionist responded cheerfully.
Actually he did have a bath and now can swim breatstroke!
How amazing,she said sweetly.
Stan got out Emile’s travelling basket.He put some copies of The Independent inside
in case Emile was bored.
Here,Emile,I’m taking you for a ride in the car.kindly step into your basket,
Can’t I sit by you and wear a seat belt?
I fear it’s illegal.
OK,grandad,Emile answered jauntily.He climbed into the basjet and sat up staring out boldly with his great
amber eyes.
The doorbell rang.
Hello,Annie,Would you like to come to the vet’s with us?
She looked down at her violet velvet tracksuit and purple trainers with real gold laces.
Yes,I’ll sit in the back with Emile.
After ten minutes they arrived and parked the car under an elm tree.Stan carried the basket steadily not
wanting the poor cat to fall in an undignified manner,Annie looked at her green nails.
Do you like my nail varnish,Stan?
To be honest,I prefer shell pink.
Why is that,darling?
It is more feminine!
Feminine!But you can see I’m feminine!
I like you to be even more feminine.
Oh,yes ,agreed Emile,So do I.
You men,she cried sweetly,never satisfied.
I wouldn’t say that,my America,my Newfoundland!
What’s up?Swallowed the dictionary.
It’s a poem,actually.
You’ve been reading again.It’s bad for you.
Don’t you like to be my new found land?
A bit late to ask now,she murmured seductively.
Next moment they were in the empty waiting room.Then a man came in with a big black dog.Emile stared
fiercely and the dog whimpered and lay down on the floor.
The vet came out and asked Stan to bring Emile in.Emile gave a yell at the dog before Stan shut the
door.So,said the beautiful young vet,how is pussy today.
Emile remained silent.He’s fine,just needs his flu jab.muttered Stan.
Come now,Emile come out of there.But Emile was clinging to his basket with ll his sharp claws.
Are you afraid Emile?He asked kindly
No,I’m not afraid,I’m just acting how vets expect cats to act.
So Emile speaks English?
He knows French too.
Je t’aime Emile.
Bedankt,madame.
Stop showing off and get out of there,she doesn’t speak Dutch.
Mein mutter wast immer krank,cried Emile.
Get out now!
Emile came out slowly and stood by this good lady.She looks a bit like Annie, he whispered.
The vet took out a small needle and swiftly injected Emile.
What a good boy,she sang,would you like a jelly baby?
A jelly baby!Cats don’t eat jelly babies!
Well, have a go!
Emile stalked back to his basket,put on some glasses and began to read the editorial in The Independent.
Stan was hoping to make a suggestive remark to the vet,but Annie came in.
Hurry up,there’s a thunderstorm coming.Her nails were now pink.
Did you change your nail varnish?
No,the green was artificial nails!I took them off.
Can I have some claw varnish.demanded Emile
What colour?
I fancy teal,Emile miaowed.
Teal!How ludicrous!
What about red?
Too pretentious.
I don’t think I’ll bother then,the cat said languidly
We men don’t have to bother about such things.
Well,you are lucky said Annie.
I hate makeup and nail varnish,blow dries and manicures but I don’t feel feminine without it.
You feel very feminine to me said Stan,running his hand softly along her forearm
and patting her behind!
Stan!Not here in the road!
Why not?enquired Emile.It looks ideal to me if you go behind those bushes.
Annie jumped into the car and drove away leaving Stan to carry Emile to the bus stop for a tedious journey
home.Then she reappeared,opened the door and said,come on now
let’s all go home.I’m sorry I drove away.I’m feeling a bit blue today.
They got in and arrived safely home where Stan brewed a big pot of tea and let Annie sit on the sofa with her
feet on cushion.He rubbed her head gently.Lovely,she purred.
I like having my head stroked.So do I,said Emile loudly but alas they were too busy to hear or care.

Cliches199

 

I’m a pessimist but I’m ok

 

Word fun

 

My dinner

 

The colour of the flowers

touches my eyes

more softly than a raindrop

Yet with the intensity of the sun

A witty yet good thought

 

Not a poem

He went off his huff and decided to laugh.