It was a summer morning. The man got up, got ready quite quickly. He pulled the door to, and stepped into the street. It was still early, the sunshine was bright, the street like a wasteland.

A small boy was kicking a football against a low wall. As the man approached, the boy kicked it towards him.  The man returned it, the boy returned it again. The man lifted it with his toe, flicked it ten feet in the air. The boy let it bounce and headed it back.
The man trapped it and left it at the boy's feet as he walked by.

'Where you going?'  asked the boy.
'To see my dad.'
'When was your dad born?'  asked the boy.
'Nineteen twenty four.'
The boy lifted his finger to his mouth.
'Ninety, that makes him ninety.'  said the man.
'Better hurry then.'  said the boy.
The man looked at the boy properly for the first time.
And smiled.

Santa baby
This year I have for you just one request
I know you'll help because you always do your best

You'll be my special honey for ever more
If you can give us all a miracle cure

For cancer baby
So hurry down the chimney tonight

I came upon a child of God
Asked her where you going
She said my words were beautiful
But they were Leonard Cohen's

She passed a summer by me
Sad songs to scorch and sting
When the days grew older
She spread her angel wings

I watched for her as the white-tailed eagle
Looks down at the sea
Searched the heather, walked among the mountain flowers
Trod the holloways for hours
But she had flown from me

The raven and the hooded crow
Silent passed me by
Go, go, let her go
I heard the buzzard cry

**** is not a bad word.
****** is no longer a burden.
Refuse to be ashamed of your anatomy.
We are beautiful and powerful womym.
The source of our power,
Is our *****.
That which we've been told to hide,
To protect,
Never to speak of.
That which we grow from,
And develop.
Where we bear children,
And shed our wombs by the moon.
That which we are made to fear;
To worry about;
To shave or not?
Does it smell?
Is it weird?
Does it look right?
From our beginning,
Our ***** are mysterious.
It is we who must reclaim them.
Gain control over them,
Learn to love,
Rather than shy away from.
****
****
Our ***** will be our saviours.

I killed myself again tonight
Another perfectly planned ending
Meticulous to the last breath
Painless as always, but this time it was to look like ****** not misadventure
Questions would be asked, not conclusions drawn
I have now I believe played every possible scenario out whilst I battle insomnia
Like Holmes with an entangled case that tears at the synapses I wrestle
Each night the black dog sits and watches as I plot
For it doesn't know I plot its death
The vanquish of my Moriarty, my peace
Soon I will have the solution
For as Holmes himself said
Inspector "Is there any point to which you would wish to draw my attention?'

'To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.' Holmes

Inspector "The dog did nothing in the night-time.'

'That was the curious incident,' remarked Sherlock Holmes.'"
The dog just watched torturous its stare.
That truth? The black dog is my nemesis, my Moriarty, my end.
No Watson to save me
For when you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.'
For as Holmes says " There is nothing new under the sun, its all been done before"

Hunkered down we pass the plonk
We can see Madame and pay
We shake her hand and thank her
San fairy ann she'll say

Sergeant copped a blighty
He'll be on his way
He's thanking god almighty
San fairy ann I say

It's hard enough to smile through this
When folks get blown up every day
But all the while the whizz-bangs miss
San fairy ann we say