He loves her twinkling ankles.
She like his waves
Her smile is discreet and she is very fleet
He prefers her bosom to Abraham‘s!
He loves himself so he goes Dutch on dates.
He takes a long walk after a short wank.
I take a witch there,she will blast the grove with my wandering eyes
I take a nip of brandy which comes in handy and I feel dandy lions all over me
Why not bare yourself and a bum may come by
I shake till I arrive then I quiver all through dinner.I’m in a fright all night.At dawn I get the blues.I drink tea till I ooze.
Wake me easy…take my knees off
Forsake him and his fleas.I’m off.
I bake it with a flake of sense
I’ll take one snap, so beam now.
Wake her and knock off that awhile
I take the bull by the forlorn women.
I take the well endowed out for the lame
Take the pleasing way out
Take her lover off,I’m the doctor.
Dr Who?
I’ll draw a graph of Mother Earth
I’ll need a lot of paper.
It won’t be easy,I know that,
But Geo’s my alma mater.
Geo came into our maths class.
We had to find her metre.
If we did then we could write
A poem with which to greet her.
With ologies and eulogies,
The earth is deep in waste.
Give me some green graph charts
I’ll do some cut and paste.
I’ll rearrange the entire globe,
Without a deal of fuss.
If anybody notices
They won’t know it was us!
I’ll put all the mountains in the world
Into one continent.
And if I am that way inclined
The globe will look quite bent.
Ill put the lions and tigers too
Into Parliament.
Let them eat not cake but men
And don’t charge them a rent.
I’ll paste all the seas that I find
Onto my washing line.
With less water around the world
The weather should be fine.
Oh Geo was a darling child,
So promising and bright.
Mixed up with the graphs and charts
I hope she’ll see the light.
I’ll put all the stars into a box
We have far too many.
Yet only one sun and one moon,
So,would you like to buy any?
Geo return,I love you so.
I’ll give up cut and paste to show.
That you are all I’ll ever know,
and i do love you so
Life’s not easy
when I see ghosts smoking without ashtrays
and,worse,without even hands.
…
Sleep with a flea in your ear.
A bee can be a friend ,
unless you are a wasp.
The comfort of park rangers.
Lonely with you.
Cats are company.
How to enjoy your self.
Love yourself and then love another.
Existential dread and how to jump across the abyss.
Keep put of trouble,come to mine.
Have you a local?Try going to Church and get free coffee too as well as.. you know what!
Electrify men by wiring your lingerie with our simple kit.
Men…. how not to frighten the ladies.
How to say shit in four easy lessons.
Try a vow of silence to intrigue the opposite sex unless gay in which case s ame sex.
Related articles
Lamp and paper flowers by Katherine
To have your hose in my hair is very warming
No,not for all you see in her rhymes will I believe she’s a poet in a storm
He’s not just whistling pixie… he’s a real he man drinking whiskey
I am not playing with a bull with specs.It’s myopic…even mythaeopic
It is not the mightiest saying in the books.But it means so much if you love me.
Pascal was not keen to be the host of chance except for his famous wagers.
You are not the sharpest liar in the flock of men I meet weekly
I am not the harpiest wife to be the kitchen stabber
There is nothing impersonal in my love.I love you as warmly as if you were a piece of cake.In fact I prefer cake.
I have nothing to grieve at.. or with.My heart has fled and I am just a bum
We had nothing to write poems about today…
just endless rain
on the window pane
made me think of you again
I love you and your brain
Yet love can bring such pain
And I barely knew your name
When will my love wane?
My heart was once so tame
Now it feels inflamed
I’ve got arthritis in the brain
Very stiff and in such pain.
Well.at least he came
I’ll miss his little game
And he cracked the window frame
And half a hundred panes.
My hair was once a mane
But I feel whiskey is profane.
I look like a real Jane.
I had nothing up my sleeve but I had a pin inside my skirt
To prick them where it hurts.
I hate the men that flirt
With anything in a skirt
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21722
This is very beautifully written and worth reading if you have time and if you care about language and expression of our subjectivity
See the sun
I used Google Pixir to make this.You don’t have to download it.The photo in the next post is what I began with
And now I use it. I acknowledge this pain
Thanks for all those calls and emails,
Thanks for caring that I’m here.
In my darkest, lonesome moments
These replies will keep you near.
Thanks for answering my long letters
Thanks for all the time you give.
Thanks for sharing heartfelt thoughts
And being so generous with your love.
Thank you for your wit and grace,
Thank for your funny face.
Thank you for your deep blue gaze and
Thank you for your warm embrace.
Thank you,thank you,thank you,thank.
Love you,love you,love you,Love.
Thank you,thank you,thanks to you,
Because,because,because,Because
After summer’s sultry flowers,
We get autumn showers.
Winds that blow.
Leaves that glow.
,Nature’s wealth is ours.
Harvest grain and harvest corn.
All our food from earth is born.
Warmth of sun-
Ripeness come-
Fruits and nuts adorn.
Trees are turning red and gold
In the glancing sun.
Leaning down I see your face.
Autumn love has come
If God had to rest on the seventh day,she must get tired.And if he can get tired then he might get depressed.Especially when she looks down on us here all fighting,squabbling and showing envy,hatred and malice
So,for God’s sake
BE GOOD
I run my fingers tentatively
down your cheek,
asking you a question
with my eyes.
looking at each other,
you touch me too.
This is my skin
my boundary.
Yours is thicker,
like rubber.
I run my fingers down your chin.
what is this little bone?
I like it.
I like your skin
I like your bones.
I like you.
you please me.
you are tasty.
I like your taste,
your skin,your eyelids.
I like your eye here,
and your other eye too.
Nice one!
I like this hair on your head.
May I touch your hair?
do you like hair?
hair makes me laugh.
I have a fondness for laughing.
I love to laugh.
I enjoy laughter
I love your laughter.
If not, smiling is good also.
Or a gleam in the eyes,
showing the inside smile,
the smiling heart.
I like your inside,
Outside
and possibly
your backside.
your upside and downside.
your side sides.
I snuggle you all around with soft wool.
I knit you into my scarf.
I’ll have to wear you round my neck now!
How unusual
How flexible.
How charming.
How alarming
How creative
How interesting.
What an idea!
what a notion
but you are too big for me to knit
So I’ll just touch your hand
with my fingers.
and you touch my hand
with your fingers.
What good hands we have
with such fingers.
fingers are for touch.
fingers are keen to touch.
I like touch.
what would we do
without fingers?
I like your skin.
skin is good
We love skin
We love.
We.
I want skin to be ours
and yours
is mine
and mine
is yours
where is the edge of the world?
skin has no end
it’s infinity
au naturel.
what order!
what design!
What wonder.
what awe.
where is the world’s skin?
tenderly we touch the world
as the world embraces us.
It’s called love.
Love
When I was at University I spent 6 years studying mathematics.But I always liked poetry and novels.My school thought I should study English Literature,but to me that was not a creative activity.The way we were taught was to criticize books,plays,poems by many famous writers [mostly men!]
I didn’t want to criticize only.I wanted to write but I never thought I could.I followed my career as a mathematician until my vision deteriorated.I could not read mathematical symbols anymore.Still it had earned me a living
I began going to an Art Class as I wanted to see as much as I could. in case my vision got worse,I was so very embarrassed because all the others were very good whereas I had no idea what all the terms meant [Even for pencil drawing ].I was afraid but I kept going and did learn to look at the world differently.At that time I .I had not got a computer.Later I could not get to the class but did more here at home
I bought my laptop and after some time I discovered digital art.I had no books about it so I just played.I found Microsoft Paint inviting and simple.Later I found Artweaver and Paint.net which I used to manipulate my photographs
I only took photos because by error I bought a phone with a camera on it.Next time I’ll tell you how I wrote my first poems
I like blue
But I recall I cannot wink,
Though your winks are sublime.
Oh,will you teach me this fine skill?
I feel I have something missing.
If you won’t teach me to wink,
I’ll have to keep on kissing.
I sent thee late three love letters
As I was feeling amorous
But then I saw thee in the town
with a lady fair and glamorous.
I find it very painful.
So rather than writing love letters
I must do something gainful
“I’d better ring 999 “Stan whispered.”I think she is going mad.”
“Oh,no” Tom stated,”If you could enter into the narrative of her life and reach the place where she is you would see it all makes perfect sense.”
“What even the thick layers of makeup and the TKMaxx perfume.” “Yes,indeed.”
“Didn’t Schopenhauer advise against about pretending to be someone other than your true self?”
“I’m sorry but we have only reached pi and the Ancient Greeks.Is Philosophy meant to help you with real life problems?”
“What sort of pie did they eat?”Stan wondered anxiously.
“I guess maybe apricot or peach,”said Lisa.
“Well,I have the Fanni Far Mer cookery book here.I’ll look it up.”
“But she’s American? poor Lisa said peevishly
“I thought she was a Turk!”
“What about Gud How Ski Ping?”
“Yes,I do like the Chinese.”
Then Stan fell out of bed and landed on the rug.It was 4am.”I blame that cheese pie.” he thought mutinously.
Read more in the News of the Failed out a week on Sunday
Just out of the blue,the doorbell rang.It was Annie their widowed next door neighbour.She was wearing a long blue satin dress with a built in train.”I’m off to London now” she simpered.”Can I give Lyra a lift in my train?”
“I believe unless I have strong disconfirmatory evidence, that my daughter is still in the bath.”Stan said defiantly.
Anne entered the house and ran upstairs.There she saw Lyra wrapped in a large blue towel like object.
“Is this a towel?” Lyra asked pertly
.”I have no evidence either way.”Annie announced.
“Where did you get it from?”
“That big blue window”replied the rosy blue cheeked girl ironically.”It may be a curtain”
“Oh,dear.Have I erred?” she pondered.
“No,you look very clean to me,though one can never be absolutely certain.” Anne said thoughtlessly.
“I suppose all one can do is to keep the dirt between certain parameters that each must decide for themselves.The Tudors only bathed once a year. And King Henry Vlllth founded the Church of England just so he could get a divorce from himself,not to mention a little gold too.”
Lyra worked for a publisher in Oxford Street,They were always on the look out for new titles and for money.
“Would you ever consider writing a blue self help book,Anne?”
“You can make a good deal of money that way.Self help is in Vogue now. I was thinking of:How to divorce yourself in three easy stages using self hypnosis.
We already have :How to found your own Church.” and “How to steal somebody else’s Church in three steps.”
Anne was keen to get an interest as since killing her husband for his money,she was feeling lonely,remote and schizoid, and her affair with Stan was proving a bit slower to take off than she had narcissistically expected.
“I am already a unqualified hypnotist.”she lied intensely.
Just then they heard a strange crash.Stan had been standing on his Habitat chair trying to eavesdrop on the women’s conversation,and it had fallen apart under the weight of his hiking boots.He lay on the carpet looking pale with blood running down his aged head.”Can you ring 999 please ?” he yelped .
Lyra looked at the chair.”No,Dad it’s o.k.I can fix this with some U.H.U glue.I have some in my purple tote under all my medication.
She whispered saucily to Anne,”I’ll text you tomorrow,my darling angel.Love the dress.”Lyra was a trans sexual lesbian paramedic you see,as well as a publisher‘s clerk and also did not have other intriguing money making jobs into the bargainas the English say now and then.
Mary was in the kitchen finishing off her baking.She lived in a world of her own mainly focussed on her second hand Raleigh small wheeled shopper bicycle and its wicker basket that she bought in East Anglia or, to be exact,in Wells-next-the sea.It was now grey but still functional like many other towns in Britain and their inhabitants.She put the cheese scones and butter onto a large elliptical plate and went into the dining room followed by Emile her cat ,who was partial to a knob of butter on a Sunday teatime.
Where was his sister Emily he wondered?
Stan had just got back to his lovely bright home from a ride on his old mountain bike.Emile had travailed in his special cat seat/basket just in front of Stan as he liked to see the road less traveled should it appear..and he liked purr to encourage Stan to ride further.
When Stan got home to his luxuriously detached yet bijou dwelling he went to the wonderfully disappointing cloakroom to wash his paws before putting the kettle on for some tea.
Ah,how peaceful it is here,he thought…,how nice Mary is still at work.
Suddenly and alarmingly, the door bell rang.There,on the flower bedecked porch,stood a large, beautiful curly haired woman holding Emile in her pretty freckled arms
I believe this is your cat,she said boldly.So he tells me.Why, he even knows the address.
Well,if he’s anyone’s he’s mine,Stan admitted uneasily.
What has he done now?
Did you not notice he jumped out of his basket?she asked enquiringly.
Well,no,Stan answered furtively..
I was getting a bit tired and keen to get home…I forgot my water,
Well,I hope you won’t let him do it again,he could end up absconding,
By the way,I’m called Yvette.
Are you Yvette Cooper,the MP,he enquired wildly.
No, she said,I’m Yvette Hooper,the swan lover.
Do come in for a cup of tea,he said caringly.
I don’t mind if I do,she said,then I can be sure your cat is alright.
Tell me,Stan said,Do you live with a swan?
No,she said,though I do have an old Swan saucepan.
A saucepan is not much company,Stan responded.
Well,at least it never shouts at me!Yvette said quickly.
Have you suffered verbal abuse? Stan said in a kind and supportive voice.
I have yes.We had a mutual agreement that I could be handcuffed and verbally amused for 3 hours a week.you see we’d read this book,”Fifty shades of grey.”It’s all about human bondage
But my boyfriend thought it was verbal abuse I wanted..As I was upside down I couldn’t tell him of his error.After that things were never the same.
Why did you have the handcuffs?asked Stan calmly.
We were given them for Xmas,she whispered.
Also a whip and some rubber gloves.
Why the rubber gloves?
For washing up of course!
But after being whipped would you feel like washing up?
I don’t know.We split up before we even tried the whip… to be honest,I didn’t want to use it.
Alright, my dear.I understand it all.
Here you are.. drink a nice cup of tea and try these biscuits I made myself they are almond biscuits from my Penguin Jewish cookery book.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm,delicious,she cried.Are you Jewish,Stan?
No,but why should they have all the best recipes?
A good point… maybe because they had almost the first alphabet so began to write them down before anyone else could.
Not to mention they invented monogamy,a great religion,Freud,Wittgenstein,Einstein,rhinestone
.Give them an accolade. I mean,Jesus Christ!
What more do they have to do to be rewarded?
Ascend into heaven?
Make more cheesecakes?
I wonder,said Stan pondering slowly
The back door opened and in ran Anne,Stan’s mistress.
She was dressed in soft teal with toning turquoise trainers and she wore a light beige foundation with bright coral lipstick making a subtle contrast… all by Lamcom of China.
Oh,Anne,have some tea.This is Yvette,she very kindly rescued Emile after he jumped off my bike.
Don’t tell me he can ride a bike,Anne screamed,showing off a good set of teeth and a long red tongue.
No,I was riding it.Stan told her sensibly.
Hello Yvette,Anne said,where do you live?
I live on the top road by the wood.Yvette answered politely, her auburn hair standing up in a mass off curls as she spoke,showing off to good effect her light orange lipstick and burnt sienna eye shadow…in fact it was color from her art materials..
Have you been there long?Anne enquired politely and warmly.
No,only a few weeks..we don’t know anyone..
So you are married?
Yes,my husband is in the Police Service… he cleans policemen for special occasions.
I didn’t know anyone did that.Can’t they clean themselves?
A self cleaning policeman…or how about putting coat of Teflon on them so they can be wiped with a wet cloth?
It’s up to him,said Yvette.I am a lecturer at Pond’s End Polytechnic.I teach philosophy..
In a poly?
Yes,I have a D.Phil from Oxgridge in the philosophy of science with particular reference to Dirac’s remarks on Wittgensteim.
Do they study such remarks in a poly?
All the students do Philosophy of Science…it’s compulsory.
Stan said,I wish they all did Peace Studies too…
I know,said Yvette kindly..If only we could bring peace but we are descended from the most aggressive primates… why many of them were sado-masochists.Well some were sadists and the rest were masochists I gather.The ones who weren’t died out as they never mated..
Well,I’m not a sadist,said Stan,or at least only to myself!
Do you beat yourself up,the ladies asked.
Just in my mind,he answered judiciously.So do I thought Yvette.
Let’s have some more tea,called Anne from the hall,I’ll make it.
Anne is my mistress,Stan boasted humbly……
There was little point trying to seduce Yvette now Anne had met her and vice versa.
Yvette was intrigued.That is rare ,for such an old man to have a mistress.
Is a wife not sufficient for you?
A wife is necessary but not sufficient,Stan teased her.
Well,my husband has no mistress, she said unknowingly,
but I have several boyfriends.
How do you get the time?
I have a rota,she chuckled happily.
You seem an intriguing lady.May I have your email address,mobile number and your landline?
Your height and weight too..clothes size and shoes too.
Yes,it’s
yvette999@hotmail.com
or diracisme@qmail.com
My phone number is Oh,oh,6666666666666.7777777777777777………………..
That’s irrational,he informed her knowingly.
Have you got an i Pad,she then asked boldly.
No,I’ve not even got a Kindle..do you recommend them.Maybe you could come to ComputersRus with me on Saturday.
No, she said,I’m Jewish.
Are Jews not permitted to visit Computer shops..Some religious edict,is it? he said inquisitively.
It’s the Sabbath,you dimwit,she responded.We don’t shop on the Sabbathbut don’t worry I’ll come on Monday with you..you are a charming man.I need as many as I can get.
Why are you deficient in some way?Stan whispered.
No,I’m very proficient and mildly conceited,she admitted modestly.
And I like a good kisser.Are you a good kisser?
Well,maybe you could give me a test,he said manfully,
and if need be you can give me some lessons followed by a total Examination to see if I satisfy you.
Just then Anne came in with fresh tea..
Emile mewed loudly.
What is it.Emile ? Stan asked.
I am jealous because we cats can’t kiss.
Well kissing is neither necessary nor sufficient in the art of love.Rolling about together in some soil is also very nice..
I hope you don’t expect your wife to roll about in soil,said Yvette
questioningly..
Well,i can ask her,Stan said,but her main interest is topology and knitting.She is often very cold in bed…
Can’t you warm her into life;Or buy an electric blanket?
No,she’s hopeless because of a type of Asperger’s syndrome but I love her anyway.
Have you tried a new technique like whipping each other or tying yourself to the bedposts.You can buy handcuffs now in Boots,I hear.
Why some doctors prescribe them on the NHS nowadays
I thought Love was enough, Stan answered
It seems in the UK people are into whips and handcuffs…
Well,count me out,said Stan,I’m more into a careful yet tender study of the skin from the toes right up to to head,followed by gazing into her eyes for ten minutes.
Why ten minutes?asked Yvette.
I can’t wait any longer…
Well,you’ll have to practise..she said coyly.
I can practise with him,said Anne virtuously.
Yes,the more the better…he’s getting older so he can’t wait.
He needs satisfaction as son as possible.
The door bell rang,It was handsome Dave the paramedic.
Hi,he said,I was worried as you’ve not called 999 today.I brought a leash and some whips.
I’m Yvette,the woman said.
I’m bisexual,he told her.
That’s a strange name.
Never mind that,give me your email address and phone number
It’s ywoman@love4all.com,she said
or 09964321.3333333333333333333…..
If you’d like a non rational phone number email me at
hotcats@hell.com
Read more freely in the Daily Slur tomorrow….on sale everywhere and making life hell as fast as they can
As you walk away through lush leaved trees,
I see you come and go like a sine curve wrapped
around the axes
of tall trunks
and flat earth.
I want to call,”Come back”
but my mouth won’t open.
My lips are dry without you.
I’m flooded with loss already,
though I can still glimpse you now and then.
Sun,so high and golden,
yet I am like a moon,
my desolate heart its inscape,
my hands its freezing soil;
I stare as evening comes
into the dark night sky.
When words no longer work
wish
want
When words won’t come
compensate
contrive
When my voice breaks
snaps
sunders
strains
When I want to talk
touch
towards
But you are not able
about
absent
You are no longer
listening
live
longing
When I need to find a meaning
In the shape
structure
But I ‘m stranded
Stuck
Sucked under
Swallowed
Then I reach out to you
I want your touch
tenderness
temerity
Sometimes words don’t seem enough
endless
empty
emotive
ejaculatory
Yet words can console
conjure
quilt
charm
captivate
cover.
Stretch out your hand
across the emptiness
and touch me with your fingers
faithfulness
forgiveness
frailty
fever
and I will hope
expect
await
be grateful
grave
garbed in joy
When words don’t feel enough
When all we want is touch
Or to see
sigh
sob
Words can be shaped
changed
contorted
controlled
challenged
To make us love
To make us live
To make us alive
To make us sing
To make us stand up
To console,words are
quite enough
When yet another lover flees my king sized bed
and leaves me cold and lonely in the night
I wonder on the thoughtless words I’ve said,
Or if for him my eyes ddon’t glow woth light?
I lure them in with all my female arts.
They feel I’m like a spider with a trap.
to lure ,devour,digest my handsome guests,
Some think there should be warnings on the map,
But most who find me feel they have been blessed.
I give them my attention and desire
I give them gentle care and sing sweet songs.
I give them comfort by my winter fire
Oh,come back ,sweet one,don’t desert me yet,
The clothes I washed for you are still quite wet.
Impressionism manque
I did the drawings with Microsoft Paint.I then used Paint.net to alter them somewhat
After silence
Words fell from my lips.
I was a god
I created everything.
I spoke and each word
Was a new world.
Words fell from my lips like a silver stream of beauty.
I was a god.
We were all gods.
We created worlds.
Words touch the secret core
At the heart of the other,
Or they violate it.
“Too many words” hits me like a bullet.
I need silence
And one word,
To call me into being.
God breathed
And the world breathed.
Speaking is like breathing,
But is more than breathing.
Words sail out
Like boats crossing the sea
On a breeze of breath.
A word from a man came at me.
Like an arrow,and pierced me
With sharp sorrow.
Only a few have the true voice,
The voice that does not harm
How my heart sings 