I’d like to lie beside you,
so we’d be face to face..
A sweet embrace..

Eyes to eyes…
I look at you
Your face is always
in my view

Then I could take my fingers
Across your brow,
they linger….
and trace the dear lines
around your eyes.

I’d like to touch your lips
With my finger tips.

I’d like to blow your nose
On my handkerchief.
I’d like to get inside
Those powerful arms
And rub your shoulders
with a hot balm.

I’d like to boil your hankies
In a pan
On a big coal fire..
Though the coal fires are long gone.

I’d like to rest my head
Upon your chest
And check the whiteness of your vest.
I wonder if
I should starch your shirts,
For as they say
Real loving hurts!

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 wake-up and yell,Whoopee!

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.

I’m a thin skinned person
On a thin skinned, spinning earth.
We’re living on the surface,
Creating more financial worth.

My skin is getting thinner
I am feeling far too much.
My skin is very fragile,
I may need to have it patched.

The earth is full of danger
But we build on it like fools.
As if our skins would thicken
If we covered them in jewels.

Inside the earth are fires
Which rage like infernos.
But we build nuclear reactors
In places we don’t know.

We build our human cities
As if we are in charge.
Banks,shops,bridges growing,
The built world has grown too large.

The earth has a thinner skin on,
But we don’t want to know.
We just want our human cities
To grow and grow and grow.

My skin is getting thinner
I feel life far too well.
I don’t want to write poetry
But I feel that I should tell.

My skin is getting thinner
I’m at one with Mother Earth
She groans and labours loudly
Like she is giving birth.

Her skin is getting thinner
Is it something she will shed?
As adders are reborn
When we think they are dead.

But if we have too many cities
The earth has no space to move.
We’re like acne pustules dancing
Without energy or love.

The skin is getting thinner
The world is going to split.
And the energy released
Is a fierce charge to transmit.

We split the atom once
And opened the abyss.
But when we split the atom
Who knew about all this?

My skin is far too permeable
I’m feeling too much pain.
I want a thicker skin
To survive on this terrain.

The world groans and she labours
And she destroys cities and trains.
She’s giving birth to her own self
As she struggles,works and strains.

Her self is something fearsome,
She is not civilised.
When God spoke from the Burning Bush,
We covered up our eyes.

My skin is getting thinner
I feel the heat again
My skin is getting thinner
I’m feeling too much pain.

Robert Frost

Poetry

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

He is now swimming in some Fairy Liquid in the bath..

He tells me it is a card for Annie’s birthday though she doesn’t know that.

Will she like it?

His wit have been tried and found haunting.

So I invited him to be my ghost.

When I saw you waiting in that cafe
I knew you would be mine.
You were handsome, smiling,funny..you were specially designed.
You looked like men I’d only dreamed about in all those years before.
I’m so broke up,so broke up;you don’t love me anymore.

I saw you on the station as I came from out the train.
You wore an old green parka to protect you from the rain.
I wanted to be one with you,to make a Love entire;
But all you did was give me pain too bad be endured

You walked away so quickly,I could not see you long.
I wish I had a big guitar to draw you back with song.
I looked at where you disappeared;what love has loss revealed?
I wish I could just lay down on this floor and keep my face concealed.

Railway stations sadden me, for I know we’ll never meet .
I won’t cry more ,for tears are running almost to my feet.
I walk fast looking straight ahead past that entrance gate,
I pretend that you have missed your train,that work was running late.

I count from one and one up to a thousand and many more–
But I know for sure it’s far too late; you have closed that heavy door.
You are hiding in a dungeon
You are covered with white steel
But I know you had a heart and you must surely feel.

I lost all my illusions, and then I lost some more.
I wish I could lay down and die,right here on this floor

An agitation of the air,
A perturbation of the light
Admonished me the unloved year
Would turn on its hinge that night.

I stood in the disenchanted field
Amid the stubble and the stones,
Amazed, while a small worm lisped to me
The song of my marrow-bones.

Blue poured into summer blue,
A hawk broke from his cloudless tower,
The roof of the silo blazed, and I knew
That part of my life was over.

Already the iron door of the north
Clangs open: birds, leaves, snows
Order their populations forth,
And a cruel wind blows.

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.

I shall wail it today.

I said a ball for the dogs!

I hate someone re free market.More than one…

I feel the hots.

Oh,a cat can speak,can it

A can of germs was bailed for £5,000 last night.Doctors said it would be happy in the fridge till being tried for manslaughter.

You are so quaint I could eat you.

I can’t fold a candle up.

I can’t judge a look by the eyes alone.

You can’t learn a psalm without understanding the words.

I can’t pray enough for him

i can’t teach an old dog to eat Weetabix

I’m a pessimist and I’m ok
I worry all night and I sleep all day.
I do my shopping at 1 am
Then I’m certain to meet some very naughty men.
I’m a pessimist,it’s not a gay life,
Especially if you have a watchful wife.
I invent crossword puzzles for the Times.
Then I write these cunning little rhymes.
I am rich but I generally suffer panic.
Either that or I get pissed and manic.
I’m a pessimist and I love to laugh
It makes women wet themselves,just like a bad cough!
But we’re too fragile to worry about such issues,
Just fill your handbags with plenty of thick tissues.
I’m a pessimist,I’m neurotic and depressed.
Will I feel better now that I have confessed?
But I earn money by writing all night long;
Then I lick my lover’s face with my bright red tongue.
That is more than enough.THE EDITOR.
No,it’s perfect.Just right.

The Aliens have no Maps.

A Map a Day keeps Words at Bay.

Read a Map without eyes: Touch your Way to Happiness.

I am a Map.

I am a Door Map.

Lonely and Mapless:Therapeutic advice from Angelic Geographers.

The Map of Heaven.

I see the Map but I have lost touch with Reality.

Maps of Desire.

Contour Lines for British Boys.

Equilevel Curves for Latin Men.

Isoquants for Greek lovers.

Equilateral computers for geeks and their lovers.

Triangles are ringing in my head.

Where is the Path of Wrath?

Isoquants for Greek Lovers.

 

I had a little nutmeg and drank a glass of wine

Then I fell asleep and dreamed I was divine.

When I was awoken by my little cat.

She was in the kitchen fighting with a rat.

I made myself an omelette in a special pan..

Eggs are full of protein so I ate up 21..

Then I had some custard,I made it yesterday.

Here is the policeman for the 60th time today

Unable to travel far

I concentrate more closely

On the flowers in my neighbours’ gardens

In one small road

One thousand jewels.

I close my eyes

To take in the scent

Of the late roses.

Of the late roses

The colour of the flowers

touches my eyes

more softly than a raindrop

Yet with the intensity of the sun

 

“Say what you mean, but don’t say it mean.”

Of its time..10000 years ago.

Quaff these newts in ale.

She stole a cough off the shelf.

She stole the top of my head.

You are off your blogger now…

I feel a little old “miss you”

Oh brother.I want mother.I feel so sad.Can I sleep on your iPad?

Hello,God!

Oh my blood is wetter than I expected…thanks to drinking tea all day long.

Lyra’s a Bohemian girl
She makes even dead men’s hair curl!
She wears vintage skirts
And old blue denim shirts.
She has whopping golden earrings
And black fishnet stockings.
Lyra carries a black velvet tote
Full of the latest poems she wrote.
Lyra’s a Bohemian girl.
She makes even her own hair curl.
Lyra’s in love with an ancient Emperor,
His unreality does not prevent her.
She believes she is an Egyptian Queen
She sees Mark Antony in her dreams.
As she lies there covered in face cream,
Her unconscious plans more wondrous schemes
Which cause her psychoanalyst to despair.
About a man who isn’t actually here.
But the Emperor’s mad desire
Has set Lyra’s Bohemian mind on fire.
Desperate Freud got a bucket of cold water
And threw it over this delirious daughter.
He was,at the end,unable to maintain
The distance and silence he claimed
Was essential for a cure-
What a torment to endure!
Lyra made even Freud go crazy.
She’s one real cool Bohemian lady.

I want silk and money.

I am past the witch’s efforts.Her broomstick broke.

This is the last Bazaar before the Day of Judgment,

Taste, but don’t eat.

I quaff beers with no limit

I laughed all the day as we sank,

Play down the law.

I got laid by a bard in a fable

Oh,hello Mira.Do run in .How aren’t you?

Wicked,thank you.I’d love some of your best tea… and some cake.

Hear you are..I hotted it up in the microwave.

How old is this tea?

Only a few hours.

The recession is truly terttttttttttttrrible when you can’t afford a fresh cup of tea.

Yeah,I may disagree as it begins to taste like alcohol after brewing for hours.

You should open a brewery…bottled alcoholic tea for a low price

T.Brood.Hear,
.
My daughter is engaged to a Tebrew,

Are they that lost tribe of Israel we used to hear about in the past?

No, they are just normal Jewish British folk who love tea even more than other Brits so

All my Jewish friends at Uni liked tea.

There you are,you’re already a Tebrew lover.

Well,that’s slight exaggeration..

Oh please tell me everything right down to the last detail like what you were wearing when you met,where were his hands good at caressing.

Yes,he was keen on caressing ,yeah, but we never went all the way… and now forty years later I’m still a virgin.What is all the way:
I went all the way in my heart
Anyway he was very sweet like honey.His lips were divine… well,you know what I mean,God has no lips but,it’s just an expression.. if God did have lips,how would we know?

What a shame he left you.. what happened to him, not God…?

He decided to brew his tea with another..

Another what,teapot?

Another woman.

Did you know her at all?

Not in the biblical sense.I saw her walking down my street loooking pleased

Well,I know you’re not a lesbian… or am I making a category error?

No and I’m not heterosexual either.

Why is that,do you think? Are you otherly sexed?

Or are you non-sexed?

I always felt I had something missing… ,,like perhaps a body.

Are you a virtual spirit?

Well,would a spirit drink tea?

Not if it was Wholly Spirit.

Or what if it were a Holey Spirit… the tea would drip out.Aha.

O layee.O layeeooo. O layee..Oh, oh oh oh!

Are you yodelling or was it just wind emerging?

I think you need to be Swiss to yodel.

Is it genetically transmitted?

No,generically .They give you a licence… the freedom..

What we need is more licentiousness.

Bring back sin..

Bring back the love of the body.

Bring back the language of flowers.

Bring it all back,now!

And that brings to an end this addition of Many Fancies for tonight.

I fancy a meringue now…how about you?

Visit our website

Http://www.t.hee.hee.com

Or email me at

Tea4.2@ bteainthepot.orgy

or Wait4me@theteashop.mail

He hurls before she whines

Lord God,heal my bunions and lend me onions

He’s a real grey thinker.Take your own whip and he’s  free.

Sir Christopher Wren was uncannily learned.St Paul’s….says it all.

When I’m wise,I feel foolish.

People who live in doss houses need to get stoned.

Deception ruins reality.

I won it but I’m baffled I never even knew it was a marathon.

The plus of the witty

I stick to the low hanging fruit.Am I a human wasp?

My diction’s worse than a thousand birds parroting

Would you like some free oatcakes?Then you can’t have them.

Wig headed…. no more bad hair days

I’m jigged out since I danced with you all night

We pin our mopes on the kitchen noticeboard and throw darts at them

Don’t kiss me on the lips,I want your whips.i want to be tied to your bed all night..if you go out.

It was a kiss-poor relationship but it made them unhappy which was their desire… so you might say,it was a marriage in one shade of grey.

Bladders
His bladder was so full, he pissed onto those hills.
I don’t believe it.
Well,he relieved it.his bladder,I mean.
I wish mine was bigger.
What,penis envy?
No, it’s his big bladder I want.

Love me,love my bladder…
Mine is too small…
For what?
For me……
I think if you really truly love someone,you don’t care how big his bladder is,or how small.

As long as there’s a public convenience nearby.

The streets are alive
With the sounds of peeing.

Well,the council can close down all the conveniences but our bladders still keep filling up regardless

The hills are alive to the sounds of pee wee.
With sounds they have heard
for a million years.

Do moors have ears?
Do balls shed tears?

Not Ed Balls….

I have no balls on my head and no nuts in my bag.

There was a toad on our front path.We’ve not seen one for 20 years.
The garden was shrubs with gravel between, but the rain and heat have caused wild flowers to grow in the gravel and some long grasses.So it must be there.I’ll try to get a photo…

Art’s as easy as how to see.

• …

I loved her for her big blue eyes,

And her Le Creuset pot.

I loved her though she was naive,

For,my word, she was hot.

I loved her curly golden hair.

I loved her home made jam.

But most of all,I loved her brain

And how she dealt with spam.

I loved to lick her bright pink lips

I loved to bite her ear.

But most of all,her innocence,

And how she showed no fear.

I liked to lick her toes as well

I like to touch her hair.

But it now proves so difficult

Because she is not here.

I look at all her photographs,

I look at all her posts.

She has two dnzen boyfriends now.

Whom does she love the most?

I loved her breakfast coffee pot,

I loved her tea as well.

She fed me on hot buttered toast,

The rest I cannot tell.

Except she was tempestuous,

And like an autumn day.

She made the leaves fall off the trees

Though it was only May.

So now I’ve turned quite gay.

She never let me play.

She sells men on E-bay.

Her name is Maisy Fey.

I love her to this day.

• • ve a comment

How to tame yourself

Try to gnaw on a piece of wood for a few minutes

to stop yourself biting people’s heads off.

Always keep your nails short and clean

So if you scratch people they won’t turn septic.

Try a small piece of sellotape over your lips

You could paint it pink so it won’t show.

Though if you have a cold you mustn’t.

If you need to say anything try miming or pointing.

Wear a scarf round your face

So your frowns won’t show.

They’ll think you feel cold but that’s better than thinking you have the evil eye

Join a religious order.They’ll tame you free.

Allow people to stroke your head without snarling.

If you lie on someone’s lap having your head rubbed

Keep your nails under control,

Though soft humming and chuckling is fine and most welcome.

If you eat other people’s dinners

Let them eat your dinner.

If you get mad

Climb a tree and sulk invisibly for hours.

If you get sad

Lie in a melancholy heap just outside the bathroom

Someone will notice you and douse you with a jug of hot water.

That will get your back up again.

And at night when you prepare for bed

don’t backup the days grievances onto your internal hard drive.

You will have more space for the best things in life

Which are provided free for those who learn to see widely enough

I empathised with the wrong type of syllables.Now my language is impregnated with new meanings.

Everything’s coming up to close

Looking into my hole?

My heart sings to you,are you tone deaf or just horrible?

Let’s droll again,like we did last summer.

let’s split up and then reconnec our cables

Flicking one’s wounds into other’s umconscious minds

I’ll fly down with the lions of Judah

Life is a bowl of worries… just pick one.,

Life’s a bitch and how we love them

As polite as a whether

What a plight at the end of this tunnel

Right in the guts…. he left me for dead.

lightning never strikes the same place twice because it’s not there anymore.

The delights are here again.Thank you,Lord

Do lights shout or am I psychotic?

I like a bull in a china shop…love that crackle

He like a little licking with his head under the bedcover.

I feel like a coiled spring in your mattress.watch out..I’m about to…. kiss your butt

You affect me like a lost flog in the dark.Are you grey yet?

I could whip you with one arm tied behind my back.

That’s so unkind.. don’t you know I’m a masochist,Untie your arm at once.. unless you are a one handed half sadist

i hate to pray…but…where are you,God?

i have no news about your vital stats.

I hear a cat…

i love you more than common sense recommends

I need a hole in my head…I’ll shoot myself

I never met a man I could ride a bike with since Peter left me

i want my lace bikini and the sun

i wasn’t born yesterday…what a surprise.That’s why I can read…
unless it’s genetic.

i wouldn’t whiten teeth for any liar,

I wouldn’t thrust him as far as I could tweet.

It was he who thrusted,Father.I just lay there..you might say,
I got laid.What can I do?I’m no longer a virgin except at driving cars.

I’d love my head if I wasn’t so detached.

This lady was too good and too kind.

She even helped stressed wasps to unwind.

So they sent her to school

To learn how to be cruel.

She had a dark place down deep in her mind.

How many angels can dance on my PIN

Why are angels men?

Why am I a woman?

If you want to receive love and grace,
,
You can’t if your soul has no space.

If you want to create

You must meditate.

That is one rule at God’s place

If you fear that blank emptiness

And your life is all frantic distress.

How can angels get in,

Off the head of their PIN?

It’s an answer there’s no need to guess.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

There once was a lady poet

Who gave too much advice, and free quotes.

So her friends got her high,

She was up in the sky,

So she flew but still felt overwrought

Her friends were very annoyed

She was too much by words mis-employed.

So they bought her a lute

With a built in sweet newt

Music’s an art to be loved and enjoyed.

This lady was too good and kind.

She even helped stressed wasps unwind.

So they sent her to school

To learn how to be cruel.

She had a dark shadow lost deep in her mind.

http://youtu.be/8DQnS18EeWM

Don’t miss this haunting song sung by Sinead O’Connor

Life feels so Blair sometimes.

The fear of fear is bad for your health.

There’s nothing so near as fear itself.

There’s nothing so dear as wishing for wealth.

There’s nothing to fear in begging for help.

There are many things more queer than loving one’s self.

You have nothing to fear but the Era of stealth.

I have nothing but tears, yet I drink to your health.

Never put back on tomorrow what you remove today.
Being contrary,I shall please myself

Cocaine for the blues

Thinking of you.

Heroin’s bad news..

You have to choose.

Will you sign up? It’s free.

How will we be?

Just choose a password,

Faintly absurd.

We’ll confirm your account…

By email,don’t doubt.

You can register here..

Join us without fear.

Friends are so wikkied…

So do not be trickied

Art’s as easy as how to see.

It’s so easy to draw water.

The beans mystified our trends

Let them seat crows.

Let the wheat cake.Let them meet steak!

And so prey all of us

His seat is lead!

He’s in fear of dread.

She eats me like verse.

I eat straight from his hat

You beat your gun and I’ll beat your bum:Forty glades of hey!

Do you eat your own frog’s food?

We found eight hundred Camilla’s all harrying one man.

The Elephant and the Broom:an opera in three perhaps’s

He sent a promotional rolling boaster to comb the streets

You empathise with the wrong sort of Syllables.

I’ll pre-empt your flattery..I just know I’m at the behest of the crunch.

Did you pay for me and my paramour’s whole synthesizer?

It’s the reverse end of the sentence.Ecnetnes eht…… gad it

I don’t like words with no ends.

Our blends mystify the means.

Not even a kind squirrel lends an acorn to a tree.

While the Press liars’ churning …the disabled folk are hurting.

We have no wheels at all today… not even for meals

To save confusion I shall admit that I sometimes invent a word..not just here but in my poetry too..after all it’s a human made symbolic world and I have the right to add to it…oh,pluck off.

I wept till I cried… how dare he have died?
Why keep both sucklings abreast?
Keep you cinders flossed nightly.Stop here and try a scone..please bereave me.
Keep your gin up and be toned as a few fans hit some nit.
The government keep the fares dear and keeps old dears afraid.
keep your face powder fried ahead and brush your eyebrows till symbolic
I’m keeping a cup of tea for his Bones
He makes even hard men very depressed..
My kiss keeps on sticking to your face.please accept my demonologies
I’ll just cock the vacuum and weigh the dust
I’ll flick this problem to a nerd with verve
Tickle some brute.. you show it makes mince
She flicked her hair so musically,it was great tart..
How to pick your own feet up for dummies.
Click till she reels…photography is a book’s spell

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night

An accessory devil is available on bequest
Perspicuity is the father of circumvention
Doctor,my nerves are like weals.
Impervious as a top hat on a hot headed youth
Never put back on tomorrow what you remove today
I have a new tease on line
The brewery is my curey,doctor.
Wise guys finish last
A fright a day keeps my nerves in play
Unzip and good luck
Tip it in the flood
It’s woe with your umrelenting tales
I’m no glamourer
It’s an oh,oh moment!
No bolds charged here.It’s free for a small fee..

He was hailed beneath the axe.

I am torn with wrath and woe.

Take some meths..and set your self alight.

I’ll take a fracture;it will cast longer.

Knit a sheep’s hat and keep the moors warmer.

Life’ so Blair sometimes

Shake me alive with the wounds of music

Make the town wheezy

Bake it for Tee

He faked wit to its limits

Wake me with a pail of malt.

I made a mind filled with rhymes

Doctor!Why,he mocked me….then he shot me.

Rake the hill with hate stones

A land of silks and money.

A land of jilted Bunnies.

The last witch’s effort to inspell me into doom has failed again.

Rioters bid a fast ta ta to the Law

The fast and the feast..I love you at least as much as you do.

Your laughter thrills my wits

They laughed all day as their ship sank.Positive Thinking..gets you drowned faster

He plays down my flaws without prayers

I pay my bards on the navel.

He has a faked heart crack.

I leave no crone unweaned.

Turn left at the altar…and run round the side aisle.Practise escapology before the wits of theology

He was a legend in his own crime novels.

A shepherd doesn’t change two sheets easily.

“The wisdom of city devils”: my latest suffering in details.

The evil is in the retail.

Down in the Mall,don’t spend less than your All

Oh,Susannah,don’t you tell lies to me,
I’m off to my old Mama and then I’ll come to see.

I’m as busy as a lone flea on a well coveted cat.

Can I pee,too,in Hell?

You’re as blind as my Dell.

At the hopes of what pseudo-dope?

The Pope’s at the end of his Cope this summer.

We blend hope and dismay…what else can I pray?

At the sight of the tricky hoarder…I say,why her,why here?

On hearing the last sin,the Confessional box burst into flames.
Father said,I know it was mortal,but it’s hell in here,Lord.
Why do I hear?

I’ve just got one Ex to grind..

On the tip of the sands

Pat her with joy

She’s my pearl.

She’s my Fairy Queen.

I’ve been blotted already and I’m just a Parker.

I’m a Sheaffer waver…and my blink is permanen

Your face is map enough for me

Your gaze your smile,your frown,your glee.

And if I want to know the rest

The shape your posture’s made is best

For saying what your life is now.

A look,a gesture,all this show.

Till all you are is then disclosed

And I am in your arms enrobed.

Love vanishes when analysed

And thinking too’ by Love’s despised

Use the means to fit the end

And then I’ll be what you intend.

Like watercolour pictures left out in the rain
Our colours have mingled,yet the originals still remain.
Two watercolour paintings without frames,
Became one picture over time,
Yet two of us still there.
Our colours blended naturally,
Now all the hues are shared.
I love your colours intermixed with mine:
Together they have made a new design.
A Watercolour picture painted by the rain,
We may go, but our Watercolour Love will still remain.

Season of Writs and Yellow Legal Pads
Season of Cat Theatricals and Many Merry Kitten Calls
We wish you a Merry Dish Wash:Use Alcohol to Clean Up.
Season of Wistful Ways and Yellow Fruituality:Lost Your Spirits?
Angels are Dancing on my PIN…..how to go bankrupt quickly and easily.
Abstract Cake Making:applied Solid Geometry for when you lose your Cook Book.
Shades of Right Surround me ever: Clegg Confesses All.
Am i Who I used to Be: No,your i’s are different.
Commuting Groups and Symbols that Keep Flittering like Butterflies.
Non-commutative Operas with Demonstrations of invariance under rotations and regulations from anywhere at all in any direction or deconstruction

‘Twas illig, and the blithely Stoats ,did fire a Thimble at a Ghrost.

Around the World I’ve Lied with Youare and Blush,The Twin Horror Show.

Alice in Blunderland.

Malice through the Magnifying Glass.

Malice in Gove Land.

All Whimsy were the Government’s Groves:Chequers for Hecklers

All flimsy were the Lying Grounds, yet the War Mongers Outslayed

Where are they,Mioaw?Cameron’s Cats for Rich Rools..

Who stole my Government?

Shall I compare Thee to a Carving Knife? : The N.H.S reduced to Size.

How to write and sell your first Comedy of Errors: Mandel’s Sunset.

Death and Menace: New Big Society for the disabled.

Where have all the People Gone?: Holidays at Home for Dummies.

Philosophy in a new Sea. Lost Ideas and Drowning Brainwaves.

Stan had decided to do a some of baking.

The larder was empty
the cupboard was bare
he looked in the cake tin
but nut nothing was there.Sorry about that!
Stan had flour,eggs and sugar and of course milk and butter.Emile was under the table waiting for something to drip out of the bowl!He loved baking days.
Stan had bought a load of blackberries in the market so he was thinkin of blackberry tarts,blackberry crumble..
He picked up the bag which seemed very heavy.Putting his hand in …..he pulled out a Blackberry!He went to the market
to buy me some fruit
and now he’s got Blackberries
he’s going to shoot!Annie his next door neighbour was coming to the back door.”What’s up ,Petal?”

“Oh,dear.I seem to have made a category error.”Stan answered philosophically.”Well what category would you put me into?” she asked petulantly.
“Why are you so egocentric ?Not everything is about you!”He said fluently.
“Well if I’m narcissistic it’s because my infant grandiosity was ruptured too suddenly and I was not held and contained in a suitable manner.”
“You’ve been reading that Wilfred Bion again.” Stan said admiringly.”No,not just him.It’s some American chap as well .Would you like to read it?”
“No,thanks,I’m finding Julia Segal is more than enough for me.I find Bion is a bit too mystical.I don’t think I can approach you without memory or desire.To be honest,without memory or desire I wouldn’t want to approach you.”
“Wow ” she said stupidly,her large green eyes staring avidly upon him inviting him to fall into their salty sea like depths.
“Shall I ring 999?I can’t think of anything to say.I’m lost for words.”

“Perhaps you have reached that mystical spot beneath language mostly only known to babies,the mad, or meditators?”
“well,I do feel a bit of madness today.”
“Is that why you have purple and orange eyeshadow on clahing with your alarazin crimson lipstick and your light beige, but not too light, foundation by Lancome of Brixton and Blackheath,Paris,Rome,and London?”
“I suppose so.” she replied indifferently.I feel as if I’m behind a glass wall.”
“Oh,don’t worry.That’s the new window!” Stan explained courteously.”You really are behind a glass wall.”
“You’ve been reading schizoid processes again on Yahoo,”
“Yes,” she admitted her face blushing violently.”It’s those new people who’ve moved in across the road.They are both psychoanalysts so I wanted to feel up to their level of knowledge.”
“I didn’t know they were psychoanalysts.How did you find out?”

“Well,first of all,there were two large sofas, and then hundreds of knitting needles and a lorryful of wool.And I thought,”Hello,hello,It must be one of Anna Freud‘s followers.”
“So have you met them?” he asked laconically?
“Yes”,she confessed animatedly .I went over and said,
“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”
“And what did he say?”
“Are you all mad round here?”
“So I thought,”You’re not getting hold of me that easily.””
“So I said “I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’m am an admirer of Melanie Klein,”
“Oh,how did they react to that?”Stan quizzzed her jovially.
“He was so rude.He said,”Are you telling me you’re a lesbian as well as a lunatic?”

“Oh,dear.No wonder your make up is all running off your face and disappearing down your cleavage.Why don’t you pop upstairs and have a bath?”
“Well it’s either that or ringing 999“
“My self is totally divided.”

“Into equal parts?” “I can’t say” she murmured.”Oh,well” said Stan “you sit there with Emile and I shall make a Victoria sponge and a lemon drizzle cake without the lemon…I’ve only got bananas and they don’t drizzle.

“Why not adapt to reality and make a banana loaf?”
“Is that wise?” Stan enquired.”Wise or not,it seems to make sense.” she whispered coyly.”Get a move on or Mary will be back on her Raleigh shopper bicycle and there’ll be no cake for tea.”Thank you,honey.”Stan replied.
“I am filled with memory and desire.””And quite right too,”mioawed Emile from his basket.”I’m like that every night!””And so are all of us,”Annie twittered on one of Stan’s blackberr

• s…

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/09/24/doctor-empathy-a-factor-in-diabetes-care/

I would not be surprised if it were true across a wider spectrum of health problems,that the doctor’s attitude can have a physiological effect.I have already seen evidence that medications work better if you get on well with the doctor… even antibiotics.I have noticed lately our doctor is busy with NHS reforms and so is not so available….
I wish he would read this article.Three of my family are diabetic

I once met a very smart man
Who lived in a little red van.
He ate his meals out
Though I have no doubt
He would sometimes eat beans from the can.

He took his shirts to the laundrette.
That is,to be sure, where we met.
He was fascinated by music,
But just to confuse me,
He never told me he played the cornet.

Thus,when we listened to Mozart’s French Horn,
And I was feeling quite puzzled and torn,
He criticised the breathing
Of the player who was meaning
To show the world why he’d been born.

If someone had written a piece for the cornet
Which sounded like a half drunken hornet,
He might have married me
And now I would not be
Sitting here writing pornette. [ A new word meaning very soft porn]

Looking out,
I see the yellowish wood
of the forsythia
where blackbirds live.
Now the sun shines and a leaf or two
wave in the wind;
the points of light
edge of each holly leaf
like moulded silver flowers,
celebrating the falling sun.
Pine cones dangle loosely from the conifer
will we be showered innocently
with these fruits?
cat comes out of the shed
looking determined,
moves off quickly
down the curving path
in search of movement.
Peers into the glass door
but won’t come in.
Hello,cat!
Make hay,while the sun shines.
I hope it shines for you,too.

Floating like seaweed on the tide,
The final leaves of summer die.
The birds ride on the wind’s broad back,
They know no fear and know no lack.
The air is filled so with great treasures,
My female heart its wonder measures.
The clouds are deep and dark and grey
What rainstorms may they fetch our way?
The sun appears and gives a glow
Of yellow to bare branches low.
Red berries so bright, like summer flowers,
Decorate the holly’s pointing tower.
Sharp thorns protect the smaller birds,
And from inside,their cheeps are heard.
As dusk arrives the blackbird sings,
So much sweetness nature brings.
As I turn my mind from in to out,
I feel salvation for my doubts.
I know that I’m part of the whole,
And with all life I share my soul.
In this peaceful place I rest,
As with love’s eloquence I’m blessed.
There’s singing in my inner heart.
Like bees to flowers,my fears depart

1.
I was once quite addicted to fruit
I ate anything whether raw or half cooked.
Till waking one night,
Without very much light
I gnawed a hole in my husband’s new boots.

2.
There was an old gent in New York
Who hated to eat with a fork
He lived on tinned soup,
And ate poetry books
And got protein from the insects he caught

3.
There once was a foolish young girl
Whose hair was not willing to curl.
So she chopped it all off
Whilst in a huff.
And instead she wore a crown made from pearls.

4.
I once knew a scientist of note
Who never wore a winter topcoat.
When I asked him why,
He said with a sigh,
There’s no space when you live in a boat.

• …

Leaves have gone so suddenly
Small birds float on the wind
Like boats astride a choppy sea.
Their swaying stills my mind.

Wild geese fly past at dusk again
They head towards the West.
If I were such a wild white goose
I’d know which path was best.

But as a human I need words
To find my destination.
So many words which are packed
With genius of generations.

I send my words with love to you.
I hope you deftly catch them
Send me true answers from your heart
And I promise I shall match them

I will love you like a big elastic band would,
Holding you but not constraining.
I will be like a giant paperclip
Keeping all your bits connected.
I will be a sheet of paper
On which you write your thoughts.
I will be a curtain on your window
To hide you from the glare.
I will be a briefcase that you hold in your hand.
But I refuse to be a wastepaper basket
To hold your garbage.
I do have my limits
Though they are elastic.
But even elastic is not infinitely stretchy
And neither am I.

• …

I walked across the water.
I skied across the sea
I took the television too,
And it’s heavier than me.

I fell up a mill chimney
I slid down a sunbeam
I have to go to London
I was told to in a dream.

I drove right up a mountain
A horse rode on my back
I felt rather excited
But I forgot to take my mac.

I swung across the ceiling
Like a spider in its web,
I say,you are so beautiful.
Do you have a double bed?

I am sitting on the roof top
Drinking cider from a can.
I wanted to get married
But she said she wants a man.

I climbed right up a tiger’s tail,
I crowned an elephant
But my most abiding passion
Is to learn to mix cement.

I spied for several governments
But then they threw me out.
Because I am an alien
Of that there is no doubt.

I’m not a human being
I am lacking in some ways
I’m too kind to kill other people,
Even when it’s highly paid.

I write with a big crayon
I draw with candlewax
I live on cottage pie and rice,
And I’m addicted to kind sex.

I set my curly hair on fire.
I swam In boiling oil.
I went down to the market
To watch the apples toil.

I had a lot of people
Who were living in my house.
I could not ever remember
Which one was my spouse.

I taught my doctor to love lice
I showed him how to shoot.
And now I’m training Isaac up
So he can be a Newt.

I skate across the surface
Of everybody’s eyes
And all I ever ask of you is
Forget how to tell lies.

I am coming down to your place
As it’s twice as big as mine.
Have you got a chip sandwich?
To feed our love divine?

I want to see the people
who are living in that Palace.
I have to tell them God told me
It belongs to Carroll’s Alice.

Roll your eyes like marbles
And interweave your hair with trains.
This is how it happens,
When you don’t heed Labour’s pains.
.

A few people have told me they would rather know what I was doing than read my poetry.If you are such a person I have just bought a number of new sheets and pillowcases.I have also bought 12 table napkins from France.I ate some pizza at midday.It’s raining and quite cold.I am reading “Dresden Green” by Nicholas Freeling…..or I was.I lost it in the bedroom.No doubt in 6 years I’ll find it in the wardrobe.The logical deduction is…buy an e-reader.Wow,why did I buy new sheets?It’s this urge housewives get as winter approaches…fill the cave with food and other stuff….And new sheets are nice.One looks like tent fabric it’s so tough.They are from a French mail order place.Sartre…. what sort of sheets did he like?The heating is faulty so I have a fan heater on.I have some navy blue track pants on.I found them in the bathroom on the chair.And I have a blue jumper on…. bright like my eyes.My hair looks really good today…
it’s some gunk I put on,really as long as it feels clean and don’t give a toss how it looks…It’s gone lighter and lighter blonde till now I think it’s platinum.. and all without a dye.I feel quite envious of myself.Is that possible?I shall ask a theologian..I know two.I know some people hate themselves… so you could be jealous of yourself.Isn’t life weird?Or is it me?

• …

Leaves have gone so suddenly
Small birds float on the wind
Like boats astride a choppy sea.
Their swaying stills my mind.

Wild geese fly past at dusk again
They head towards the West.
If I were such a wild white goose
I’d know which path was best.

But as a human I need words
To find my destination.
So many words which are packed
With genius of generations.

I send my words with love to you.
I hope you deftly catch them
Send me  answers from your heart-
And I promise I shall match them.

Seven o’clock- and the sun’s still glowing
Seven o’clock – finishing colour bright day,
Up above – pink tinged clouds are sliding
Down still sky,sweeping sun away.Come back sweet sun,do not leave me.
Come back bright beams,I need sunlight.
Down on earth,it’s witch moon darkness,
When your golden face is out of sight.I see the orange tinged clouds extending.
I feel such sense of sky lit bright.
But gently now,the mist surrounds you
And sweeps away that happy sight.Into velvet blackness sinking,
The dazzling, dreaming darkness falls.
Goodbye to haste,and glare, and sunshine,
Time for reverie,night time calls.On the night-train’s gentle journeys,
On this trackless train we ride
Strange,seductive haunting pictures
I will see in dreams’ designs.

In my night trainI’ll be happy
In such rich deep reverie.
We visit darkness in our sleeping,
There we learn its ecstasy.

Now we have no God to hold us
In His Hands of Living Love,
What will help us trust deep blackness
If there’s no Saviour from above?

Must we enter that great darkness,
Go back to dark from which we came,
Into dark all living creatures,
In that darkness find our home?

Trust the dark unknown, to hold us,
Trust the dark ,both night and day.
Must we walk into that darkness
And trust it is our safest way?

I lack personal walls.

He was sacked by the draper.
And bagged by the greengrocer.

I have hacked what I said from my own files.

It was a snack in my hand that gave me indigestion.

I’ll be a duck in a beck in Cumbria rather than take from the poor.

Are you back on the fiddle or is it the guitar?

I shall back my life up onto my brain….

He was a back seat driver owing to his overly long arms… that’s why he let his cat sit in the driver’s seat,so he said to the police.
The judge sentenced him to community service so he’s now the Vicar.

Are you an expert at jabberwocky/

We went back to the dear ones…. they were so creative.

We all went back on the duty to hoard.

A lack of salt mines made it easier to sweat.

He gave her a cackhanded compliment so she struck him with her walking frame and is now in jail for criminal damage to an artefact.

I believe in rum tea.

Is it possible to be flat all over and still be a woman?

Wave your breath through the hole.Will it separate the particles out?

Pay,why?Are you a bill….?

Weigh your prayers.God cares.

Scarcely a den left on Hampstead Heath…where will thieves meet?
Westminster….you know where!

He was bare except for his own shadow… and that was not very cosy.

I am wiping the bottom of the barrel… it’s been digesting our polticians all day.

Season’s Tweetings to all my friends

I reckon it will cost as much as a bed for the bananas.

I have second sinned now…I got my eye in,or should I say on, a handsome man.~Is it mortal?
All men are mortal….
As for sins, we leave that to God.
What,he sins!
No he judges our sins…our motives and our thoughts…
Seems a horrible job…

Never wee when you lie.If you are so scared,tell Ruth….I mean the truth.

I pee in the glass till it’s only half empty.We have no loo here, you see.
Why not pee outside in the garden?Are you afraid of the dark?
No,but I am afraid of sky larks.
You mean nightingales?
Well,I’d rather spend the night in a breeze.
You are getting on my wick.
Sorry,candle.
Don’t take that tone with me.
I am so sorry.I am tone deaf.
Tone blind too,if you ask me.
I shan’t ask you.
Wank you.
Wank you very much.

I see the light at the end of the funnel…I fell into a big teapot.
Where is the spout?

Can you see which way the bacon rinds flow?

Yell,” No doubt” if you hear any politician speak.Or “Unclear.”

My senses have overflowed….I am sorry you had no Mac.

I separate the men from their toys at night so they can play with me in the dark.
Well,I am in the dark totally but it seems fun at the time.

Suddenly the air was full of roses
smiles floated out from strangers’ faces
children blew bubbles
I stood watching the colours on one
as the sun lit up the edges
as it ascended into heaven
everyone was smiling
music played
world more real seemed here for a moment
perhaps a’re always on the edge of paradise
if we stopped running so fast
the world keeps whispering
“I’m here,see,listen,look”
wants us to interact,relate.
the air I breathe was once in your lungs,
We are all fish in one ocean
green and deep,we swim blindly
like the mad. WE are the mad,
As the mad sometimes tell us.
They saw too much,too soon.
We see too little,too late,
Though it’s never too late to start

Trees so tall their
wind turned branches stroke the air.
leaves still green,
still stretching sunward
will burn red and gold soon.

Wood pigeons cause a flurry
by the birdbath,
as I pass they indicate surprise
with strange cries.

Look up at the sky,
it’s blue again
no clouds.
a silver plane flies north,
are people looking down at us?

If only love made time last
would like this morning
to be longer,
for our turning earth
to pause for a moment.

How dear you are to me.
I stretch my hand
to touch you,
as if you are a leaf
bathed in light.
no shadows on your face,
no shadows in your eyes
but smiling with the beauty
seen by those who love.
come kiss me now ,my dove.

Watching the car come round the corner,

I put up my arm and ordered it to stop.

Don’t pedestrians have the right of way

over turning cars?You can see I was already

feeling impertinent even before the man

would not give me a chair in the bookshop.

Still I saw a woman laugh and she patted me

On my arm and said she’d remember me.

Standing by the flower stall,counting rose petals

The world seemed simpler and more beautiful.

What’s the answer to the unspoken question,

We all ask.The point is will we recognize this answer?

Will it pass unnoticed as we look the other way?

Which vision will we use to decide?

Where are we looking?

• …

Stop for a moment.
There has to be an incantation,I demand it.
Oratory has a place but needs music
To make the world succumb
To get all the atoms vibrating as one
Will you find out how to do it?
Ancient people knew it,but we lost the art
Logic was all we thought we needed
But logic doesn’t make the sperm penetrate
As the ovum waits patiently.
Such waiting,such stillness.
How can we not admire it?
Sing special songs for the acceptance of the female spirit.
This Mozart sonata,the piano’s voice is almost painful
in its beauty.
Just stop for a moment,please.
He’s inverting all the previous melodies
Upturned then and made something new.
It’s in the air,invisible
Like scent of raindrops,
Touching the face and tenderly passing
On their way to earth

Somehow,I’m thinking,there has to be another way
that doesn’t destroy the tenderness of love.
that leaves the grass green;
and lets the daisies flower on cricket pitches,
In England and the commonwealth.
Where’s the soul’s astute intelligence
playing itself out?
Look at my hands,
They speak of it all
Tapping on keys while I listen
To the silence
all around
with the distant radio
giving yet more news.
An end to nonsense,we are the animals that can learn
from experience.
but we have to want to change.

It’s autumn weather,geese fly by.
Autumn rust,red, gold so gay
Drystone walls,edging fields
Apples gathered,holly berries
Flash so brightly
Look like flowers
Sun shines sideways,shadows long
Of trees appear,I dwell among
Woods of gentle beeches sing
Flowing with the gliding wind.
Look at roots all intertwined
Feel their geometry in the mind
Looking up into the sky
I see the V formation high,
Geese fly home at end of day
My heart is moved by patterned dance
All in this peace and holy silence.
Is it true it’s only chance
Or is it that gods dwelled here once
I feel my heart open like the sky
And at this moment I could die
So I would stay with this still vision
Of geese set out in Autumn mission
Snails in rain pools slither near
My feet upon the terrace here
And look upon their whorled backs
The complete pattern of life is packed.
And yet so easily it’s destroyed
When blind foot steps into the void

i am all peers…

All for a bone,and scones for the boys?

All hands are paint flecked on the deck,by order.

All trespassers persecuted in court.

All hands to the rumps.

How hell breaks the teeth!

She calls in almost daily with a smirk.

Balls in due rhyme.

It’s all over except we lost the map.Still we found another War… the War to end all Wars and it’s still ongoing.The War seems to be a great success …. but for whom?

We all paled in contrition.. our sin was imprecision

He’s all hawk yet no action.

All those Twitterers should be in jail.Tweet that now.

I love all that jazz….. and those old blue genes.

I had all the wits he needed…so he believed….yet he was deceived.
I kept them for myself,you see.

Perspicuity sees more than convention.

I have let all words unreel for me.

As nervous as a maths Prof. with hot proof, he paced the platform looking for imaginary numbers.Cauchy put a stop to it all?

Never put off until Heaven the loving you can do on Earth.

I brought new police in for my wife.I need them to get a grip otherwise it’s Bedlam in here

A newbie: that’s a word I hate.What rhymes with it?What chimes with it.What sort of time can one have with it

Tall guys find lust at last when they get unstilted.Free here.

The girls were so bright and prey.

Well,I’ll flip my duck to you,Sir.And I rarely do that howerdays.

You need to flip pancakes for your lover.Or even do somersaults.
They need to unwind their bobbins

There is no accounting for taste.It’s unmeasurable and undefinable yet it exists.

He made no grains at all…but he sowed all his wild oats and I sewed up all his coats.

It was a no grow relationship so I uprooted myself and wept.

I believe no colds were barred…they resisted innoculation on location by special bequests.

Note:I had a list of cliches.I joined them together with extra words…. and l altered some slightly.

I find it amuses me when I think of more cliches.

Sometimes leaving out part of a cliche or a proverb gives a new idea which may produce a poem.Sometimes just a laugh…

HERE I GO

You are driving me to thoughts which rarely entertained me before… give me my pen

Everything is coming up too ,you know.too intense,too dense.too claustrophobic,too near,too whelming

Don’t cry overmuch.you can pee instead,in bed,when you’re dead,standing on your head

He’s not worth a brushing with butter or a sprinkling with cheese.Eat him neat,what,cheat?

Faint hearts need GNT or a G and T ,What’s your poison?It’s all nectar to me.I live up a tree.. so how do I wee?

How do I love thee,lend me your veers.

Cats to the right of us,cats to the left.Let’s take our clothes off except for our vests.

Where have all the hours gone?
Where have mine gone?
Where have all our coalmines gone?
In England’s green and peasant filled land

AVERSE TO VERSE?

I feel my heart’s cracked.
How..over spilled milk?
Do you want to feel me?
It does my heart good,yet
You are driving me crazy
with your endless words.

Every blog has its sway..
In point of fact,
everything’s coming up roses.
Wasted hearts
never a true love know.

Shall I
fall head over heels or
fall through the cracks
in the pavement.
I love you,please
fan the flames of our fire.
To know you is to love me.

How can I end it otherwise?
My desire is to be here now.
And to paint you all over
With olive oil unless you prefer butter.
To be buttered!

Beautiful face …………….
I have experienced a few times in my life a beauty that was so perfect that in some cases my legs gave
way.One time it was seeing Lincoln Cathedral floodlit through a window and I did fall down then.Another
time it was a drawing by Picasso,and again St Paul’s Cathedral at night.With people I’ve felt it once or
twice.One wishes to die at that moment simply to avoid losing the beauty.It’s as if someone has just played a
chord which harmonizes with one’s soul/psyche.It’s difficult to explain but maybe you have felt that too.
One time was very funny because it was a mere greeting card with a Picasso drawing on that made my legs
give way.So if I don’t post one day you’ll know I’m lying on the ground worshipping some beauteous image or
smile or face or the sky.I’m not drunk except on beauty.
.
Your face is so beautiful
when you smile,
I could die while gazing
upon it.
Your eyes affect me
like silver light gleaming
on a frozen lake in winter
I could remain entranced always
And,though I know
love to be eternal,
the music begins
the dance goes on.
You leave me.

There once was a doctor called Spooner
Who was affected by all things lunar
When the moon was half sized
He was quite galvanized
By the bum of a lady piano tuner.

There once was a scientist named Newton,
Who wanted a room with a futon.
But no-one had heard
Of that Japanese word
So he went off with his apple to Luton.

I once “knew” your daddy,Newton.
Before he had got his new suit on.
When you were conceived
He said he’d been deceived.
And it all occurred here on that futon.

A scientist went into to the loo
When he had lots of hot thinking to do
But the door lock got jammed,
And poor Newton was crammed
In a bathroom without any view.

There was once doctor called Newt
Famed for his bizarre birthday suit.
So one day he went out
Clad in ne’er a clout,
So now he’s been given the boot

If Jesus wants you for a sunbeam
Tell Him you’re not ready yet.
If Jesus wants you for a sunbeam
Tell him that your mind’s not set.

If Jesus asks you something silly
Then it’s highly likely that
It’s not Jesus,it’s your shadow
So you can just say “Godwot.”

If you see your Guardian Angel
Flying round your kitchenette.
It’s a sign you’re high on wine.
And you’re not an angel yet.

I am most wary of illusions
If they satisfy my dreams.
True imagination only works when
Our ego’s not in the scheme.

Let Jesus go and take a step
Into the darkness on your own.
Ask a human being for help,
Then you really will have grown.

Goodnight fairies,goodbye witches.
Goodbye elves and fantasy.
Take your self into the future
Where we know not what may be.

“Jesus wants you for a sunbeam”
Is a very weird sentence.
If Christ’s religion has a value.
It’s based on truth and not pretense

• …

Oh,Mr Osborne,what did you do ?
I took away the free bus pass
From silly old fools like you.
Oh,Mr Osborne,may I ask you why?
Yes,indeed, we Conservatives
Want all you old fogeys to die.
So we are getting rid of the heating allowance
And sending you all back to work.
So the stress and the strain ,the worry and chill,
Will get rid of you all,oh fuck,[I know most of you like this word,unlike me.. remember the rows]
I’ve lost the bit of paper
On which I had written my budget
Oh,God,Oh ,Hell on earth,I say,old boy,
I’ll just have to bloody fudge it.
You can say whatever you fudge,
And we old people may die.
But history will soon be your judge,
And your own children may ask you”Why”
You’re making the BBC pay the licence fee
For people over 75,
When it should be the tax from the rich folk
Who expect us to take a deep dive
Oh,Georgy Osborne,I’ll put your wallpaper all over your eyes,
So that you cannot see,but you’ll still hear
The poor people’s loud, raging cries.
And remember the coalition lose votes
If too many old people die.

Put your thoughts down on the page
Whilst you’re in the writers’ rage,
All you want can be said here,.
Imagination’s clear.

Remember those long sunny days
Playing in the park always,
Every hour was filled with mirth
Imagination’s birth.

Put your burden down and play,
Today is now the only day.
Sun is up, joys may lurk.
Imagination’s work.

Never let your heart go sour,
Live in moments,not in hours.
All of us are here anew,
Imagination’s due.

Wrap your arms around the world.
Keep them always warmly curled.
If you hate someone, forgive.
Imagination lives.
Imagination lives