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 May 2016 The Good Pussy
The funeral was well attended
Nobody came
It was sad in a way
Clashed with the dog passing away
There was a friend with a leg
When I say a leg
I actually mean two
Though he had the flu
The Priest nearly made it
But he passed too
The butcher discussed it with the baker
In the newsagents where the notice was placed
Was it his wife who put it in
Well yes, to begin
Then a black guy called Fred
Placed another, hopefully dead
Followed by Titch
Who looked quite rich
But was really his *****
Not to detract from Simon
Frowned the butcher, calling him pieman
Though, that was simplistic
The florist  cried foul
She had the contract
But just for a while
It was left to the undertaker
Who had to subcontract
When thieves stole his *****
Joe from the pub
With the maths degree
Discussed the angles
Buried under a tree
Bernadette, at the bookmakers
Had to agree
Rushing off to mass
Father Joe listened with glee
It was a trying day in the village of Dull
The pub was in mourning
There was a definite lull
But one thing was agreed
As they slowly got ******
Rover the dog
Would surely be missed.
 May 2016 The Good Pussy
It’s a tragedy
Both parents
Road accident
Still, life goes on
That’s the real tragedy
She left him
His first love
For a gay guy
That was a  tragedy
He still had his sense of humour though
You needed a sense of humour when a gay guy steals your woman
She wanted you back
It wasn’t working out with the gay guy
Mainly because he left you for a gay guy
The world was his oyster
The mud suited
Camouflaged the loss
Hid the tragedy
Kept his sense of humour though
Met her years later
She remembered his sense of humour
What a tragedy
She was dying of cancer
Still, life goes on.
 Apr 2016 The Good Pussy
Right I’ve taken what you said on board, and I spoke to Lynn and she’s definitely up for it.
Okay love. Up for what, why does she talk to me when I’m watching the football. Who the hell is Lynn. Okay fumble along and find out what the hell she’s talking about.
I mean, you would never have guessed Alan and Lynn were that way inclined.
Alan and Lynn, that’s the boring ******* who garden all day. He does flowers, she does vegetables. Rebels without a cos. What the hell would we be doing with them.
So we’ve booked the hotel for this friday.
Christ, she’s booked a garden convention, a weekend away with plant pots. What the hell is wrong with that woman.
Lynn says they do it all time, she says we’ll love it.
That’s great love, can’t wait. Okay I’ll need to fake a heart attack, the thought of a weekend with Bill and Ben is just too much to take.
I’ve told Lynn you like black underwear and stockings. She says that’s great, she loves dressing up.
Fucksakes, they’re swingers, the boring ******* are swingers. I know I said our love life was boring, but for christsakes not Bill and Ben.  How the hell do I get out of this.
Lynn says Alan loves nurses, so I’ve bought a nurses uniform.
Listen love, I don’t want Alan to see you in a nurses uniform. I love you too much to share you with another guy.
You really haven’t got a clue.
What did I say to you earlier.
You said you spoke to Lynn.
No I didn’t, I said my mum was coming to stay for the week.
We’re definitely not going swinging with Bill and Ben.
Do I look like I do swinging, this is what I keep nagging you about, you don’t listen to a word I say.
Right, I think I’ve learned my lesson, when’s your mum coming.
This friday.
That’s great, look forward to it. The mother in law, or the vegetable woman in stockings. Choices, choices.
yo, buddy...
dere's a secret to dis.
First of all,
a good, sturdy bed
of veggies;
carrots, onion, celery
chopped up fine.
Take your time
preparin' 'em.
Start a slow, steady heat.
It softens 'em up.
Now, dose tomatahs.
Y'gotta put your hands on 'em, see?
Firm, ripe globes
is what you're after.
Peel da covers off 'em,
and work 'em gently.
Get your hands right in dere.
Y'should have
a little moisture there by now.
Now, just keep da heat on low
and let things simmer for a bit.
Here's where you add your spice,
whatever floats your boat.
As mild or as hot as you like.
Whatever you do,
keep stirring now.
There may be a little foam
around da edges;
not to worry.
Just lower da heat a little,
so she doesn't boil too quick.
Now, be patient.
If you can let 'er cook for an hour,
dat's good.
Da longer, da bettah.
Soon, da smell
will be everywhere.
Lean in close and get a taste.
A little more spice
at da end, and

With apologies to Emeril.

NaPoWriMo day 6 - foodie poem.
 Apr 2016 The Good Pussy
mike dm
i wanna roll her over
onto her knees
lick kiss **** drink her everywheres up
until she twitches real. hard.
and laughs that ohmyfuckinggodihavezerowords laugh

and then put it in
slow at first
then pound her till the coffee mug falls from the headstand and breaks
sense it swelling up and
inside her
with my eyes wide meeting hers
i will die again and again and again till i am dead
Nestled in the mountains
Like a tree, birch or pine
Definitely a tall one
But kind of short, too
Medium-sized, I suppose
Two windows, glass
Seaglass, a pretty blue
Kind of green
Teal-colored, I think
Cerulean might be a better
Stone stuck together
The outside is pretty
Cobblestone, not brick
Like it was made in the Middle Ages
Or maybe the Stone Age
Yeah, that makes more sense
It's pretty here
Like a sunny day
Or a rainy evening
One of the two
Or both
I don't know
I just don't
But I want
To be here
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