The meaning
of life is debt.

Adage Addict

She siphoned a stygian
stimulus from from the
oval bowl of her dented
spoon, then mainlined a
mused maxim on paper.


Ryan for Sharon.
10/01/2022

If one were to use a metaphor
for Brexit, no better place than
The Garden of England to begin,
partly, because of logo centricity .

One might be accused of telling
yet another Kent of a story and
of course the emphasis on ***,
yet, we all know it was a cherry.

So, what is the real reason for
Leaves seduction and to whom can
we attribute this act of persuasion?

Another question one might ask,
is who was the actual snake in
the grass?

It is time for us all to Forage,
only 50 days to find the answer.

But lets not overlook the Do Ron
Ron, because he Came, and left!

That is a contradiction in literary
terms, due to Leave, being the verb,

Which became the 'Present' of The
Do Ron Ron's two past participles.

This May all sound as if it could be
resolved by the semantical logic

Of the English language, indeed it
could, were it not for The Irish Question,

Which has not yet been answered
despite it being posed some 800 years ago.

But when one considers, that The Shamrock,
Irelands answer to Punk Rock, has 3 Leaves

And the Paddies have been making sense of it
since the year 432 ad by way of 17 March.

Why is it, will you tell me, that the English can't
even seem to manage, one, lousy, solitary, Leave !!

I put a bicycle on top of an
electricity supply board pylon
when the pubs closed circa
midnight, after a gallon of
Guinness.

I write controversial poems
and literature which are meant
to be for the benefit of fellow
humans, but more often than
not, they bring me grief.

How Dare You ?

I pruned the apple trees
today, with an audience
of a Wren and Robin, both
always close to the action
in gardens this time of year.

Incidentally, I found two
wind blown nests in late
Autumn, but not locally.

I am currently looking for
planning permission, as to
where I should pose them.

Considering that they were
one each of the above, perhaps
now, I need look no further.

Spring will have a couple of
surprises for them next year,
presuming they are not bothered
by, location, location, location!

.          

        I found this pen and a
        fully loaded cartridge
        by her side and I am
        wondering what it was
        she intended to write.

        The ink’s blood red as
        you notice, not a ball
        point either, it is a real,
        nibbed hemophiliac, I’d
        say she knew too much.


For

Shireen Abu Akleh

Assad day for Assyria
Golan is going or is gone

  Turks in Idlib & Aleppo
Homs & Damascus will fall.

Tartus Palmyra & Hama
  Tayyas & Shayrat & all.

Acrostic
Dyslexic
Palindromic


Master
Sat
In
His
Chair
Each
Time
At
Catechism

And IRNI was the
name of the DOG
nailed to the cross

No sign of EVE

All the bad weather and
rain which Ireland is noted
for, comes from the West.

As for global warming, no
sign of that to be seen in any
of the thirty two counties.

So, burning the Amazon rain
forests might just improve the
situation, in time for a Hot Brexit.

It is often late in a day that
                       dreams of the previous night
come out of the bushes, just as
                       one has arrived at the end of
a drill, stopped to roll a cigarette,
      and looked up at the crows in wonder
at what keeps them so indelible,
                 despite all the rain we're getting.

'Tis the same with inspiration,
                  it appears out of the ether just as
you'd be least expecting it, almost
            like the first growth of spring, when
all the conditions are right for
               germination of seeds which speed
write vertically on lateral trellises.

This is why we must learn to
        recite from memory because out in the
field there is no sand to record those
     nutrients of thought.  But, if you lie back,
and try to find a patch of blue between
                     pages of white cloud to quickly
dip your imagination in before
                          our westerlies close them up,
you can document a vision.

Who needs enemies
when you got fiends
like America and UK.

When one is in an unpleasant,
unfavourable situation, poetry
can be positive optimistic even
a beneficial antidotal antonym.  

Resuscitated recitation, mime
the rhyme keeping in time is a
means of meandering the mind
away from antagonistic thought.

It should be catchy
rhyming couplets
iambic pentameter
easy to remember
repetitious chorus
concise and sharp
no mention of the
vaccine ill - effects.

When you leave the house
on a lead, don't pull, it only
alerts your owner to how
much you dislike the place!
Makes it easy to abandon you.

On the walk, look back now
and again at the boss, pay no
heed of cats, ******* in heat,
birds or scraps of food en route.
Definitely, no **** sniffing.

When you need to ****, do it
in the allocated places, trees,
lamp posts but never never
against the wheels of cars, baby
transporters or trouser legs.

Most important of all, is crapping,
this is where 99% of all canines
get it wrong. You must learn to
hold your **** because as soon as
you do it, it's a Moundabout, "Home".

As the Crow flies, there
are no straight lines in
nature, this is according
to Paul Cezane the French
artist.

He went to his grave still
believing in that nonsense.
A suspended Spider from
any fixture is the original
plumb bob.

But if one is not, both a
lateral and vertical thinker,
then, Crows and Spiders
are not compatible when
confronted with T junctions.

Bumble bees
Boeing Buzz
Aeroflot and
Qantas does.
But there is 1
that all the
other licks -
Cunni-Lingus
Run by ******.

Batter baked bread
tastes better with
butter and a pint of
bitter for your bother.

When I was a wee lad

a falling star meant that

someone had died and

gone to Heaven. Cloud

deprived us of counting.

Imagine Gaza though,

where the sky is always

clear, how easy it would

be to add up the amount

of people that went to the

celestial city in the sky, but

unfortunately there are no

children there anymore to

keep the tally, although it

is said that one particular

star when falling means

their people go to Hell.

Affinity


Religion is a bind, no more
no less

There are other forms of
*******

Gambling consumerism or
internet addiction

Atheism is but an awareness
that makes way for avarice

In the Casino’s of our minds
diurnal deities are insomniacs

Money or power never change
hands, pockets are for the poor

Mania is the mana by which
they are indoctrinating us

We are being fashioned to
think that we are original

Greed is our latest need, we
are mortgaged to a new God.

Pain before injury
is suffering, after,
merely discomfort.

This is another fine mesh
you've got us into Theresa.
One could say, you made a
complete ***(|)na of it all.

Three TOTAL **** UPS.
Perhaps, if you improvise,
the backstop could be used
for, your in E incompetence!

In the village I lived in, when
I resided in Provence, the local
Boulanger requested my Iron
skills to make a controversial
weather vane for his bakery.

After some thought, I fabricated
a Coq that rotated atop three of
the compass points and a loaf
which represented East or Yeast.

Lever is the French verb to rise,
Levin is yeast ( A bread riser ).
And the Coq, who is up before
anyone, was, as I had assumed,
the perfect metaphoric riddle.

But Pascal, Le Boulanger was not
impressed, as I had neglected to
consider, that the French don't
speak English and hence, the Yeast
polarity pun was lost on everyone.

  " It was my first French lesson "

I can remember my grandmother
    taking eggs from under a hen
   and on the way back, squirting
       milk from the udder cow.
     Srish srash, srish srash into
          a galvanised bucket.

   Out on the sill, souring lactose
      looked like a white brain in
    preserving fluid and together
   with the chickens yolk, took on
    the same colour, as the house
              of yellowed ochre.

     The mixing bowl resembled a
     world war one soldiers helmet,
    with near escapes of hen pecked
       enamel and skirmishes with
                under fed dogs.

      Hands hauled sifted flour in
        memorised cup-holds,
          salt, a pinch in haste,
              a curse removed,
            a shoulder blessed.

        Fire, of turf, which smoke
      the walls and time caressed.
      Soda rising, raisins bursting,
   window cooling, dough to crust.

                          <>

                         For
   The Alternative Bread Company.

                         By
              Ryan O'Leary.

I can remember my grandmother
     taking eggs from under a hen
    and on the way back, squirting
        milk from the udder cow.
      Srish srash, srish srash into
           a galvanised bucket.

    Out on the sill, souring lactose
       looked like a white brain in
     preserving fluid and together
    with the chickens yolk, took on
     the same colour, as the house
               of yellowed ochre.

      The mixing bowl resembled a
      world war one soldiers helmet,
     with near escapes of hen pecked
        enamel and skirmishes with
                 under fed dogs.

       Hands hauled sifted flour in
         memorised cup-holds,
           salt, a pinch in haste,
               a curse removed,
             a shoulder blessed.

         Fire, of turf, which smoke
       the walls and time caressed.
       Soda rising, raisins bursting,
    window cooling, dough to crust.

Ships shadow
                      own wake.

Go figure
Count Dracula has
moved to Pencil Vania
currently playing noughts
and crosses in Scranton on a
Scrabble board with Joe Biden
who has just requested an eraser
maintains he put an X in the wrong bo[x]
the Count has protested said he was cheating.

I was always hoping that
one day I would scribe an
absolute gem, but alas, the
genius evaded me, although
I did, on one occasion write
a cunning piece of lingus for
the CEO of Ryan Air, mind
you, he never printed it, as,
even for him, Michael O' Leary,
it had the potential to be a bit
too controversial, that's amazing!

Ps.

Would anyone here like to read it?

Who made the Orange,
for Uncle Sam.
The 60,000,000* litres,
they dropped on Vietnam?

It wasn't made, in the
United States!
So where, pray tell,
this mystery grates??

A clue for you, no
suspense, I'll keep,
It's a country, with as
many, litres* as sheep!

It's where they love to tell
you, that it is clean and
green, but it is far from that,
I know, I've been.

They were last, in the
world, to ban DDT.
They are xenophobic,
Pacific POMS, with a Zea.

               <>

No © Please Plagiarise
this poem, spread it like
slurry on the streets.

Kiwi's have just banned
foreigners from buying
property in New Zealand.

They have no rights there,
it is Maori land, Maoris are
treated like 2nd class citizens.

Butter is bread bostik
for bonding cut slices.

.              Senescence


One has to be tough to be old,

   such as the hills, would you

  look at them, hunch backed

   with age after a lifetime of

   being exposed, neglected,

      even trampled on, yet,

    they continue to endure.

Hello Poetry has become
an agony column for whom
I perceive are American air
heads with no sense of poetic
prowess. Day after day we
are faced with parody poems
about people wanting to be
left alone, yet they pollute
pristine paper with their drivel.

What's worse are those who
read and comment favourably,
thus encouraging those idiotic
composers to continue with
diatribes of delusional diction
which is basically graffiti that
gets mentally erased after it
has been read.

This is not a forum for farcical
fantasies, nor is it a writing
school were left handed dyslexics
are taught to write palindromic
sentences for schizophrenics
with amnesia. HP needs a garbage
detector to censor the verbal
diarrhoea that some of you write.

He'd come to the rescue alright
good hearted and obliging
but if you were not familiar
with his modus operandi then
one could easily become unstuck.

Worse off in fact than being at the
side of the road stranded with a
slow purring starter-motor hardly
enough to crank a 6 cylinder diesel
saloon with wink'y eyed headlights
after a night in the Irish misty fog.

One thing for sure, he always had a
sturdy chain in the back of his Hiace,
experienced in the need of being towed
himself ensured a partial good fortune
in the event of he coming along at your
time of need.

A bit forgetful, he is, because 40 years
back I had the misfortune of being in
his wake after I ran out of fuel and not
a car in sight to siphon. On he came and
just like Superman I was hitched up and
away we went like the clappers.

After a mile or so, with no warning, he
turned left and the rope (as it was then)
went under my left wheel and snapped,
he never looks in the rear view mirror
nor did he notice any difference in the
drag, there I was again, stuck by the
wayside.

Today it was not my turn though, I was
an observer of history repeating itself.

Away he went again, car in tow and then
came the jump start in first gear (fatal) as
the torque in a Diesel locks the wheels and
the chain was wound round the bumper
"THUD" and away he went after dislodging
it and once again, no look back as he dragged
the metal object sparking along the road.

Mickey Flynn hasn't changed a bit in 4o years.

There are always lines

   and posts and poles on

    which to set our goals.


   There are mountains of

    inclemency and depths

   of undiscovered despair.


  There’s a darkness, even

   in daylight, when pain is

treading on our thresholds.


The sun’s race east to west

is not to beat moon and stars

to night, it is just good sport.

A young girl was walking
in the woods near Alsfeld
minding her own business
when suddenly from behind
a tree a bear shouted, hello
Goldilocks would you have
a spare piece of toilet paper?

The girl responded, I’m not
Goldilocks and I can’t help
you with the toilet paper but
I am just about to change my
sanitary pad, here, you can
have the old one! Thank you
said the bear, enquiring.

What is your name miss?

I am little red riding hood!!

.                              A Hare’s Breath


C ursing is what comes to mind

                                    Because I have heard the Hare

Scream whilst trying to catch its

                                       Breath fleeing in the direction

Of a Butterfly I am angry at my

                                    At my father for taking me there

To toughen me I was a weakling

                                 And Guinness at Golden's on the

Way home because they said it

                                Was good for me give me strength

And here am I never played any

                               Sport I remained sensitive became

A naturalist a poet a vegetarian a

                                Teetotaler a softie an animal rights

activist and I am still alive because

                                according to The Mayo Clinic, one

Has to be truly tough, to be old?

A house is made of history
an altered one compiled by
several different authors and
painters where portals of the
past have been camouflaged
and completely hidden for all
sorts of differing purposes in
an effort to enhance or even
conceal or to express what
could be an individuality by
means of a marking just as
a primitive cave drawing or
some little artefact under a
floor board or in the loft or
basement as time capsules
for future dwellers to find
and peruse in wonderment.

Old McTehran has
a Nuke IAEA - Oh?

Zelensky’s been given a
Doctors bag, with eye
drops, a stethoscope,
and a packet of Aspro’s.

His 1st Lady was asked
if and when she was
returning Sean Penn’s
    vibrating Oscar.

Kamala Kaze Camelot
Chameleon Harris was
curious to know why
she christened it Putin?

Swallows flying with shut
                        mouths catching no pesticides

                                Death Valley Lubed.

Asperger girl being paid
to take on masculine role
is a fee-male.

White supremacy wanes -
Igloos, arctic caps melting-
     -Polar Bears gone.

Unsliced bread
doesn't loaf.

Cloning Covid comes
with the bi product of
a fabricated famine the
sure way of defoliating
a forest of useless eaters.

It's all being orchestrated
manipulated and managed
just as was 1847 in Ireland
by The British, who were/are
England Scotland and Wales.

Girling™ in Amsterdam?
Ryan Air will find you
the best Pads just
by the red stop'light!

Girling in Amsterdam?
Ryan Air will find you
the best Pads just
by the red stop lights!

Snap Out Of It.


In the old days before

Smart phones there

Existed camera’s with

A view finder and also

An optical attraction

For the sitters benefit

To observe prior to

The photographers

Customary request

To watch the birdie

Before going to the

"Saying Of Cheese”.


Smiling seems to be

An imperative for

Everyone and no

Doubt the etymology

Of Snap Out Of It

For the long faced

People who are

Lactose intolerant,

Depressed and not

Able to articulate lip

Gestures just to

Look happy as it

Is the expected

Norm despite how

One is feeling.


That is what we

Have photo shop.







Ps


What is interesting is that

The worlds two most famous

Paintings are Mona Lisa

And The Scream, neither

Smiling.

If there are no trees in
their gardens there'll be
no books on their shelves,
but, a TV in every room,
microwaves in kitchens,
freezers full of ******* &
blond women who dye
the roots of their hair black.

Leo.      

I was born to be a rioter,
but the only weapons in
my possession is a bottle
of ink and a strong quill.

A malfunctioning
Kalashnikov, is a
rare as egg timer
that didn't work.

My new year wish was
not a resolution, it is a
secret until it comes to
fruition, then, I will let
you all know what it
was I expect anticipate
even pray but as I am
an atheist there is no
hope of Allah listening.