To my gay friends I send this note.
Brothers and sisters.
Pray stand up and weep for the lost of Orlando
May the good lord stand up with you, cry for you, care for you always.
Brothers smile, sisters smile.
For we shall not be beat.
Gentlemen from Pulse,
Please forever rest in peace.
Angels guide you in, take them safely by the hand.
(c)LIVVI

Dear David.
I sat there and I listened hard to your wholly irksome voice.
I sat,
I listened very hard indeed and now I make my choice.
I believe that you're a pompous twit and that's the long and short of it.
Boris appears as if he tumbled from a scruffy crib.
His hair tangled like a bush, not that I should be so personal in my politician targeting.
The moral of this tiny story, ne'er on earth will I be tory.
(c)LIVVI

Sat upon the river bank.
Watching the rippling river tumbling over the stepping stones.
We can't go stepping on them, they're slippery.

Right hand touched the grass, a strange sensation.
A painful one,
A fellow in a striped vest, is attached to my finger.
He's joined onto the end of my fourth finger.

Hell.
I flicked him off with my thumb.
I think I hurt him more than he did me.
Next time I looked he'd gone.
No idea where.
My finger's still sore.
He's probably nursing a headache.
I really dislike wasps.
They always seem to pick on me.
(C)LIVVI

The beige grass is calling out.
To raindrops that drip.
It's dying of dryness, it begs for relief.
After the sunshine, the dry grass calls grief.
The danger that comes from a being with a match.
As all nature's magic dispatched in a flash.
Trees all blazing, look amazing.
Conjured up pictures.
Destroyed habitats.
Ruined in a flash.
Forest homes and camp sites.
Fires, cremations.
Accidentally by wombats.
Not obeying.
The beige grass is gone.
(c)LIVVI

Paper towns, they blow away.
Fall apart, as rain falls down.
People write on walls , artistic graffiti.
They sign them Banksy.
Hurricanes cause chaos.
Difficult to clean.
If I had a bonfire my paper town would burn.
All the relics would be destroyed.
I'm glad my towns not paper.
(C) LIVVI

Tonight I had a bonfire.
Not too good for mother, but very good for me.
Spiralling smoke curled onwards and upwards.
Wanton destruction of old *******.
Garden remnants and excremental furniture.
I feel cleansed.
My garden feels the same as me.
Flickering dancing colours whirl and crack.
Increased space in my garden,
Pleasure be only mine.
My tree is but a little charred, her magnificence it shall survive.
Next spring presenting blossoms and I know that she's alive.
Resilient she be.
My autumn, spring and summer tree.
(C) LIVVI

Dear lady.
You looked wonderful.
I told you so.
I held the door for you.
Outside Macdonald's in Swaythling
As I would for anyone.
You smiled, and shook my hand as you said" I really ought to as you're one of my loyal subjects"
Tickled me pink.
(c)LIVVI