There was once a family of slugs
That lived in a cabbage patch town
They went out everynite to eat
Found a cabbage and began to munch down

All through the night they could reduce
A cabbage to a stalk in the ground
All night they would munch and munch
But you would never hear then , nary a sound

But Mrs. H was becoming fed up
Her patch was the proudest around
With malace , blood red , she schemed
She vowed to eliminate all those clowns

She purchased the best poison they had
She tried every trick she had read
But the slugs just kept on coming
Every night, long after it was bed

Then a local wino for he said
Out of the garden he could take
These inconsiderate gluttonous
Stylommatophora Pulmonates

So he began by opening a beer
Placing some into a sphere
Putting them by each cabbage head , he said
"This will make those slugs disappear"

But by morning the cabbage was gone
Worse yet so was the beer and
If you looked even more closely tiny signs saying , "Next time make it import you here !"

I think
The worst thing in life to see
Is a happy looking table
Full or people with wonderful souls
To cry like their life depends on it
They send a toast out
To all of those who aren't here with them
They thank each other for remembering
Tell their spouses "No need for the tears, love"
Share stories of the ones lost
The ones that left
They yell, and argue
Besides the fact they're family
And after that short- but sweet- time
They act like it never happened

Money Talks

and what it said back then on the railway bridge
at Bloomfield Road (no longer there of course)
was "You can spare me – it means only one less
penny ice lolly from the corner shop !" (no longer
there of course) and the train will make me huge
(steam no longer here of course) and the others
will laugh and cheer as you scramble down to
the line place me centred and climb back up
here again before the train shoots through to
Central Station (no longer there of course).

Gigantic copper-coloured disc and this recall.
Still talking half a century after.

(c) C J Heyworth August 2014

Cheers to us
The sad and lonely
Drinking beers
At a truck stop
Cheers to us
The broke and broken
Shooting white powder
Into our veins
Cheers to us*
The sick and disturbed
Cutting our bodies open
To find liquid rubies
That makes the pain
Stop.
-CsR

You know that feeling after you've downed a drink when you find youself breathing a little quicker

That's how it is being with you.

I'm drowning at the bottom of your glass, always gasping, breathless
Struggling for air after another swig of your emotion
But you're still oblivious, clinking your glass under the false pretense of giving Cheers

You live with many tears
Look around with plenty fears
Waste up your many years
And seldom hear cheers.

Many times left your eyes
With nothing but cries
And lies across the skies
Sat next to you sharing sighs.