A guitar case with no music in, owned by
the old woman who can't sing.
He sweeps the comb through her straggly hair,
What no money and nobody cares.
He wipes the burning tears from her pretty eyes.
Listens to her worried sighs.
She's concerned about a lack of dosh.
Christmas is coming, oh golly gosh.
He, is the fellow with the overgrown belly and the beard of white,
Waiting for Christmas eve.
Bring on that night.
His name by now you must be aware is really Santa Claus,
This year he's really scared.
With no toys for his haversack.
Due to lack of funds.

A sleigh in need of service.
Reindeer nibbling rotten carrots.
**** Horrible.
And the sprouts are full of wind.
His workshop staff redundant,
More silent, than a winter's night upon a turkey farm.

Outside,the local families gather beneath last year's yule .
This year, everybody's skint
Lit the bonfire with stones of flint.
Perfect purpose,
Free fuel.
Carols echo noisily outside the house next door.
"Disappear" she said in a very loud voice.
Wait a few weeks before you rejoice.
It's way too early,
"Go", she said.
"Please, please, I beg of you no more.
As yet, at least.
It's much too soon.
Wait until December, to have a cheery feast.
I guess it's your choice."
(c)LIVVI

The trees fight the whistling wind, strength is their resilience.
The windows scratched by wild man who dances in my garden.
Naked fingers,
Realms of weather.
The rain is lashing all that's bare.
Tossed and turned without a care.
The cold hath teeth no man can see.
The ebony of darkest shade it keeps it's prisoners trapped inside.
Whilst in the house the sneezes freed.
Mother moon is hiding fast behind her clouds, those ones be blast.
Past midnight.
Morning lost, out of sight.
Frightful Saturday night.
(c)LIVVI

The war of the third world is on route.
I feel it in my broken bones.
Falling skies and writhing sand.

Come world climb from the fence.
May goals no more create sorrow.
A glowing sun, fresh water,
Tomorrow walking in,
Tail removed from tangled straps which bridle it between the legs.
Winter time and the living ain't easy.
Bombs and guns,
No war to be won.
No world to be fought for, if we're not careful.
Fearful world.
Sleep easy.
(c)LIVVI

Heaven was a summer's day.
Filled with warmth and vivid flowers.
Lovers underneath the tree.
There they were,
Just you and he.
You who serenaded her in dulcet tones.
Like never had she heard.
A voice of nightingale.
Ultimately just another bird.
A world filled up with one night stands.
Gentlemen?
She will query gentlemen,
Who just wanna hold hands.
No belief in love ever after.
The halls ring out in peals of laughter.
Before being a player.
Think long and hard,
How you would feel if that young lady was your daughter!
(c)LIVVI

Oh hell,
A firework hit the moon.
That means the tides are *******.
You kissed my soul with a purple balloon.
And so you ******* the alien.
Then the sun rose on eastern shores.
Surely not!
And the planet's corrupted by phoney power play.
Checkers and draughtsman.
Children sand huntsmen.
Spiders that play games taunting lizards.
In red hot desserts, where vulture soar.
Past the moon what got hit.
The tide's inverted and the gooneys play on pebble dashed beach.
Dreams imploded.
Out of reach!
(c)LIVVI

The morning made it once again
All hallows eve nothing, but a make up stain left on a costume, somewhat theatrical.
Today the autumn sun is up, praise be.
Glinting glamour on the trees.
Cobwebs tangle laundry lines.
Dream catchers,
Dew catchers.
The flies have no dreams.
Spiders sated.
Crystal fall.
Guy Fawkes will, but ******* remove.
Christmas coming with vitess.
New year.
2016, total mess.
(c)LIVVI
Thank you Stephen Cole ,for the inspiration for the

Fairy dancer in the lilac dress.
A little bit like me, as was once.
The youthful spirit.
Benevolent soul.
A skirmish in skittish, as tornado whirls.
Oh the young girls.
Faces buzzing as impromptu gnats.
Beauty personified.
My time fizzles like a failing firework.
My exuberance has gone.
Hers begun.
Girl in the lilac dress.
The green monster bit.
I find failings in me.
(c)LIVVI

See that zombie stood over there.
Caked in fresh blood.
It's under his hair.
Found a fella with a hole in his head.

Sad zombie fella.
Found a slice of mouldy old bread.
Used it as a soldier.
Dipped in his head.

No fun.
Newly made zombie.
He's always hungry,
Now he's dead.

Peeps at Mr Majestical's testicles.
Fancied chewing them.
Loved the juice.
Succulent as strawberries.
Raspberry sauce.
Blood of course.

Derwent fancied a bit of breast.
Loving mother told him.
Breast is always best.

Julie's just a crazy chick.
Fancied a nibble on the dead guy's ****.
Yummy, yummy.
Really sick.
Or should I say she ****** it.
As if it were a straw.
Special days of living.
Always was a *****.

The kid in the corner is popping out eyes.
Never really worked out why.
Perhaps he was thirsty.

Eleanor.

She fancied a nibble on the bladder and kidney.
Of a once fine chap.
Whose first name was Sidney.
***** tasted of peach lemonade.
Eleanor the dead chick.
Her day was made.
Got really drunk.

That Zombie's really ******.

Mum's over there.
One of them?
Or still my mum?
You know what?
I really don't care.
For the first time in my life.
I feel really scared.

Hell.
I digress.
They're chasing me now
I'm making a mess.
Run out of puff and all that stuff,

They're trying to eat me.
That's quite enough.
I'm feeling quite numb.
The dead ******* won.
Stripped all the tissue clean off my ***.

Chewed though a bit of a nerve.
Partially damaged.
You feeling the image?
Bled me near dry.
He did.
*******.
Made me cry.
For a second or two.

Lucky me.
One ate my eye.
So glad.
I won't see myself die.
With a skeletal hand.
I'm waving goodbye.
(c)Livvi

Watching the truffleumps down by the sea,
With their mommies and daddies, they're running free.
Having fun.
They love to play.
They wore swimming suits made from green string and lace.
The brightest thing on their bodies was the smile on their face.
They paddled in rock pools.
Fished for wriggly shrimps.
They put them in buckets made out of bright yellow plastic.
Those truffleump imps.
Just by the water, mom saw some bright fish.
The truffleumps went in for a swim.They put the shrimps back in their pool.
To take them home would be unkind.
The sound of the bassoon whistled out.
Telling the truffleumps, it's soon time for tea.
They picked up their towels and buckets and spades.
Home they went, drinking pink lemonade.
Past the houses.
Past the shops.
For today the truffleump day stops.
The truffleumpty trees were loaded with donuts.
So mom, dad and truffleumps got off the bus.
Baskets filled up with donuts for tea.
Heading home they go at the end of the day.
(C) LIVVI

In my house there is a huge black hole.
In said hole, hide a million toilet rolls and a few stray socks.
Search as high and low as I may,
the toilet rolls and socks are out to play.
The loo rolls have been eaten by a mega munch machine.
Half of all the household socks, mislaid when they are clean.
Or maybe when still grubby.
Perhaps they're dubstep socks.
With minds of their own and they just want to rock.
Maybe they're good looking socks.
Heading out to mate.
Did you ever hear such things.
Single socks out looking for a date.
They seem to just have vaporised,
before the household eyes.
Expensive business.
Loosing socks.
I need these toilet rolls.
Need to cry.
Must be off out partying together.
I really don't know why!
(c)LIVVI

Through the Truffle Umptty trees, cute truffleumps run free.
The smallest local children come along to see, if they can glimpse the truffleumps , go swinging through the truffle trees.
The Truffleumps eat donuts.
They love them so, you see.
The man in the bakery shop.
He makes quite a few.
Some are pink and others blue.
Sometimes, he does green ones.
Other times they're red.
He serves them up with ice cream that is really, really cold.
The baker gets his bassoon out, to tell the truffleumps.
Their donut tea is done.
He hangs them on the Truffleumpty trees.
He doesn't hang them high.
As everybody knows, that truffleumps can't fly.
It's great to capture fresh donuts, as soon as they've been hung.
They're always tasty tea time treats.
Before they go to bed
Everyday at five o clock.
The Trufflelumps get down from their trees.
Waiting for the donuts, which soon will be their tea
They carry wicker baskets, to take their tea away.
Their trufflemummies watch them, as they go collect their tea.
As all good mummies know, it's not safe climbing trees, even if they're bouncing through the branches of their favourite wood.
Happily hunting donuts in the Truffle Umptty trees is really very good.
(c)LIVVI

What an amazing summer it's been.
Late in coming, blazing hot.
Into the bathroom and kitchen I rock, stopped in my tracks but not by a flock.
A swarm instead of big fat flies invading my space in front of my eyes.
Am I in Amityville?
Flies of biblical proportions.
Horrible annoying things.
At least those bugs don't have stings.
Saying that however the wasps are out in force of course.
Several folks with allergies this summer's flaming tragedy.
(c)LIVVI

I met a cricket in my hall.
It wasn't one of Buddy's.
He stopped and conversed with me, in words unspoken but still understood.
He rubbed his legs together as if to say.
I shall not "Enter the Dragon", before he hopped away.
(C) LIVVI

When Neil Diamond wrote Hot August Night.
My god that chap was right.
In my bed I almost drown.
Love the weather.
Must cool down.
Swamped by sweats of night time kind.
Think I'm going outta my mind.
Come November being a Brit
When the weather cools down,
I'll whine about it.
I'll moan and groan like a sorrow filled mare.
When raindrops and icicles enter my hair.
Then I'll beg for summer sun.
One day when the rains fall I'll beg for summer sun.
Typical English chick.
(c)LIVVI

One woman left the RC church.
Turned and faced the entry door.
Crossed her chest magnificent.
To see such faith.
Inside through the doors made out of glass one holy mother stuck out her *** as she nodded respect to the all holy altar.

My perception of religion still remains unaltered.
How much faith is shown by two women?
Who leave the church to have a brew.
I peaked over the top of my hat.
A fella sat in there doing.
Guess what?
A flaming hot summer's day.
And the good lord still has souls to save.
(c)LIVVI

Walking through the whirlwind with grit in my eyes.
The rain's belting down as my heart be disguised.
Wrapped up in an invisible cloak.
I feel it's sensation.
As I'm starting to choke.
Making a moment into subliminal magic.
Spoken in whispers which are seen been not heard.
Words of significance.
Mere moments in time.
I write them in rhythm and now and then rhyme.
Good morning everyone.
It's not so ****** hot but I still see the sun.
(C)LIVVI

So waiting for thunder to bring on the rain.
This morning was better but, now I'm in pain.
Thor, I beseech thee to bring me a storm.
Dancing cloud cover, needed as norm.
I'm feeling dried out.
Outside is wet.
Not what you're thinking.
Referring to sweat.
I'm melting as a lolly.
A lolly that's hot.
Please norse god, give me thunder claps.
And rain, that drip drops.
(c)LIVVI

The sun is beating down today.
Here hear, I say.
The funny idiosyncratic folks into the tanning salon trek.
Ooh heck
Crispy skin, cancer risk.
Folk are strange.
Or much too vain.
(c)LIVVI

Can somebody please explain,
Why a lovely ice cold thick shake,
In a cup marked  large is gone,
Gone much too quickly,
Exquisitely delicious,
Trying to stay fresh and cool.
A rapidly empty cup,
Leaves me feeling a thirsty fool.
I hereby declare that I truly need another one.
To keep me feeling jolly cool,
while in the midday sun.
(C) LIVVI

Love remains asymptomatic until it fails and falls. Before her face love be revealed until such time as such doth call.
Falling in love and indirect approaches, catch stars that burn on darkest nights, love and lust, truth and touch shall put the world to rights. Should the symptoms of dying love be treated thus and thine set free, Gave up on love, tis only thee.
LIVVI