Clever Trevor likes to surprise
When he was born he shouted Hi!
I'm Trevor, glad to be aboard
And look, I'm wearing a mortar board!

They gave him a part in the Christmas play
As baby Jesus the divine
He took to it like a duck to water
Which of course he turned to wine

Mum took him to the beach to play
Let's be normal just for a day
He dug a hole in the sand
Drained the sea away

He likes to throw stones,
Never missing a target
He aimed for the moon one fateful night
Knocked it out of orbit

A keyboard wizard,
If he got a bit bored
He could start a third world war

So come on Trevor, please do something good
Help us out here, I wish you would

Here lies wealthy aunt Dot
Let us pray for her, people
Let us pray for Dorothy Keeper
For here comes the grim reaper.

They called her Marie-Antoinette
Breaking fast on cake and tea
While gorging whole on tamarinds
And tittering her high-squealed laughs.

She wore her sky-scraper heels
With such care, they'd always look new
With no scuff marks, but in the end,
She hurt her back and broke her ankle!

She lived in such a mansion
You'd need an elevator to get to ***
Her gardener had his own butler
While her dogs had weekly pedicures.

Yet when they found her, on her last
She was bedecked in every wealth imaginable
Burdened tables, with rarest delicacies
But not a crumb of mercy on her plate.

You see, the ones she thought valued her
Were simply riding high on tails
They were cloven deep through the ranks
While rank decay sat fat in every corner.

Always one to expect return
She did little to relieve that scorned idea
When nephews begged for bursaries
She'd shoo them gone; let pets sap cream.

Now, upon her mortal hour, her eyes did sink
So deep in sharp despair.
Her ragged breath her kin did hear
And mere perfunctory embrace she felt.

Her sickness begged a touch of care
A little sweetness, a glance of kindness
But pitied eyes swept aghast around
At the splendid array in her mausoleum.

Nephews now grown men stand and look
They shoo not the flies around her mouth
For minds locked ******* heartless past
Fail to discover any worthy pattern.

No one could give what she desired
So they turned all from patient, one by one
To their cosy, quiet homes
Save the little boy, silent by the door.

They knew not that their paltry lesson in humanity
Screamed for mercy; to alter, make good flow
The little boy turned, to change the tide
*** for tat pays not; we should all know that!

Peace and mercy, she but sought now
And in his utter silence, he gave her that
Her eyes pled such deep appeal
His heart bled at their steep reveal.

Most unfortunate turn of events unseen
When the boy now held beneath his eyes
Heavy, darkened rings of suffering
Intense subject of compassion.

Years later, no one would know that
Upon her deathbed, she bequeathed him silent gift:
That, until kin break spited cycle
He would bear the brunt forthwith.

And now, Aunt Dot has died
All return to home and hearth
Yet no redemption till the day is due
And the soul awaits .......ever patient.

Star Toucher, 22 February 2013

There's a blind man on the corner
That keeps staring at me
As the dog that's sitting by his side
Keeps whispering in his ear

I know their talking about me
Cause the blind man keeps nodding his head
I'm not paranoid or anything
At least I don't think that I am

I keep straining hard to listen
But to many words do I miss
At this very moment
I wish I could read dog lips

As if this couldn't get any stranger
A bus pulls up to the curb
Out steps Wayne Newton
And before he utters a word

He pulls a cat out of his bag
With a sharp chill on the wind
The cat and the dog both hug
They appear to be the best of friends

As if this is not strange enough
The blind man drops the leash
The cat picks it up
As he and the dog skip off down the street
Where they're picked up for jay walking by the Chief of Police

Wayne Newton gave a concert
With the money we paid their bail
When it came time for their release
They were no longer in jail

All there was was a tunnel
With a blank note left behind
Cause everybody knows
Cats and dogs can't write

Last that I heard
They had a Villa in the South of France
Where they took in blind mice
And taught them all how to dance
Which started a new dance craze called
The "Blind Mice Dance Like They Got Ants In Their Pants" Dance

I promised you i’d plant those **** pink roses but
that Sunday morning that you broke me in ways
even my best friend didn’t think was possible

and i realized it was probably a good thing
that the whole thing was a production of strictly pretend;
a play, a script, an authors first mistake-

that day, i clipped every last flower
off and set the remains in a little drawer
with shards of glass i broke in my sleep
because i loved you every single day

despite my
i’m over you i’m over you i’m over you
that i repeated with the foolish hope of
convincing somebody that air still funnels through my lungs

and it’s come to my attention that
i’d pick my head over my heart but that is only
because i am a toy car abandoned by every single
pair of hands to wind it up and let it go

And yes, I will reduce my emotions to dust or
enlarge them in full zoom but
I cannot get over that fact that the clementines rotted in front
of us and

you devoured the part of me that let my heart reign over
my head and snapped the key to my rib cage;

you promised you would keep it safe and
you *lied