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Bardo Mar 19
On a Friday afternoon, in the Burger joint for my weekly treat
Celebrating another week in, that I'd survived another week in the job
I ordered my usual, a Veggie burger meal
They have this lovely Veggie burger, it's a burger made of potato with a lot of other vegetables through it
Is very tasty, this and some nice big chunky chips/ fries along with it, with some sachets of tomato sauce
All rounded off with a nice Black coffee... very nice...
The restaurant was quite busy that day for some reason, my usual seat was taken
So I had to find somewhere else to sit

As I sat there feeling happy with myself
I was reminded of something I'd once read  about the great Irish poet W.B.Yeats
He was sitting in a teashop once looking out the window at the passing crowds
And he suddenly realised that life was good, that he could bless and be blessed
I thought to myself "I knew what he meant"
Then suddenly out of the corner of my eye I notice someone looking over at me... looking directly at me
Indeed they seem to be staring at me
I thought to myself "Better not make eye contact, might be some kind of ******"
Then I noticed someone else was looking over at me too
"What the **** are you looking at!" I thought to myself
And then there was another person and then another
"What the **** are you all looking at??!" I thought getting a little flustered at this stage
Every few moments a head would pop up and start looking straight over at me
I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable
Suddenly it seemed like they were all looking over at me... the whole feckin' room
"What the hell are you all looking at, you bunch of feckers", I thought
"Had I turned into the elephant man or something !!"
Finally I said I'm getting the hell out of here
Their all looking at me
So I stuffed my bag of chips in my pocket
Drained my cup of coffee and wrapped what was left of my burger in a napkin to take away
As I stood up to put on my coat I turned around
And noticed for the first time there was a big TV screen up on the wall right behind me
So that's what the feckers were all looking over at
It wasn't me at all!!!

"**** !" I thought, "spoiled my whole feckin' lunch
W.B. Yeats my ****".
True story this, the funny things that happen every day.  Happy belated St. Paddy's Day ☘️🇨🇮🥂
Anais Vionet Nov 2023
Lisa and I had a party to hit-up. I can’t stay inside all the time, not on a Friday night anyway and a rooftop is the perfect place to mull over big questions and get the freshest commentary about cultural phenoms - intermixed with music, absotively.

There were several, large, coolers crammed with canned martinis - everything from little Tip-Tops to Tiki-*** Mai-Tais and Triple-Spice Margaritas - this is a partizzle. I wasn’t out to drown my romantic sorrows, but I quickly reached fuzzy and relaxed - which is where I wanted to go.

A massive thumping began, ‘Pitbull’ began spilling from the speakers (‘la la la la’) and the crowd of about 30 reacted in a kind of whooping, group seizure. Lisa clutched my arm wanting me to ‘drop it’ on the dance floor - I could only read her lips - “Come ON,” she pantomimed, and I was ready to make that commitment.

We’re here at Melon’s invitation (a Yale PhD friend), undergraduates don’t usually hang out with graduate students, so it was special to feel welcomed at this off-campus link-up. We’re on the third-floor roof of an office building, under the stars.

The setup reminded me of a Brooklyn warehouse rave Lisa once dragged me to. Multicolored lights, strung every which way overhead, provided a festive air and a round stone fire-pit provided both heat and a light that flickered against every walled surface, evoking something cave-like, deep and primitive - a genetic, stone-age, memory perhaps.

When the beats finally let up, we’d danced-out about 10 songs. Lisa and I sagged into our lawn chairs - fanning ourselves even though it was a cool evening. Between tracks, there was a murmur of in-town traffic and people passing below, forming the undifferentiated buzz of nightlife. “I’m starving,” I told Lisa, who nodded, “Me too - poor planning,” she updogged.

Right then, Melon came over. Melon (real name Milton) is 6’3 and maybe 450lbs. He reminds me of John Candy, with his blonde hair, ever-present smile and colorful Hawaiian shirts.
“You’re giggin,” he said, Mai-Tai in one hand and a lady in the other.
“Thanks for inviting us,” I said, with a nod, “this is nice,” indicating the roof setup.
“Yea,” he agreed, looking around and waving his drink, in greetings, to arriving people.
“I have something for you!” I told Melon, pulling a small bottle of cologne out of my bag.
“Oh, my God,” he said, lighting up like a Christmas tree, “Tobacco Vanille! You shouldn’t have.”
“You said that’s your favorite, ya?” “Yeah, but..” he began.
“You helped us move in,” I said, “It’s a thank you - from all the girls (I lied) and it’s our party gift!”
“Wow, well, thanks Peaches,” he said, adding “you’re cracked,” and gave me a one handed hug.
“Food’s on the way” he said, and then, like he’d forgotten something, “This is Ellen,” he said, turning so she rotated closer.” We only shook hands and nodded, because the music started again.

Not two minutes later, the metal door to the stairs swung open and several guys came up with catering trays of life-saving Tex-Mex from ‘Tacos Los Gordos,’ a couple of blocks away.

“Maybe there IS a God,” I pronounced, unheard in the din, my stomach growling in anticipation.

hit-up = attend
absotively = absolutely & positively
partizzle = party
giggin = having fun, dancing
updogged = adding a further comment to a comment string.
peaches = Melon calls me peaches ‘cause I’m from Georgia.
cracked = crazy
Anais Vionet Jun 2023
It’s Friday night and a group of us, the ‘university summer fellows’ (Quinn, Jammie, Monique, Lisa and I) are going groovin’. Quinn, a Harvard man (we’ve shed our jaundiced opinions of him), assured us he knows the Boston bar scene. We’re going to test that.

We told him we wanted to sway to whimsical beats and chase vivid, neon lights across dance floors, like a bunch of cats - till the hours get wee. His plan is for us to pop-in the “touristy” places, like ‘the Havana Club’, ‘the Manray club’, ‘Garage Boston’ and ‘The Grand’, we’re so 111. As usual, Charles is our party mom, escort and driver.

When Peter and I were in Saint-Tropez, earlier this summer, there were beach clothes - dresses, skirts and men's shirts - where they’d woven micro-LEDs into the flowered, dry-wick, fabrics. I think the effect is amazing, friday, and joyous. I got two skirts for everyone (all of my roommates). Tonight Lisa and I are wearing a couple of them.

Funny. I’ve mentioned it before, but Lisa‘s an audrey. Her school friends and roommates are all used to it, we’ve been exposed, we have built up immunity. But Quinn’s a newbie, when Lisa came into the living room, LED glittered and lookin-right, he was literally stunned. He froze, for a microsecond, his face went blank and his fingers wiggled, as if disconnected from his overloaded central nervous system.

“***! Jammie said, having just turned around, “holla at ya brooke!,” he declared, shaking his head in admiration. “Umm mmm,” he added.

“I’m sure.” Lisa said, starting to transfer things from her everyday bag to her glittery clutch, the girl cannot accept a compliment. Quinn, coming out of it, cleared his throat.

We’re ready. Let Friday night begin!
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Jaundiced =  “influenced by feelings of distaste, or hostility.”

pop-in = drop in, visit
audrey = an absolutely stunning girl
lookin-right = dolled-up, dressed to the nines
111 = excited
party mom = the sober person on a bar hop or party.
friday = fun, fun, fun
holla at ya = respect
brooke = beautiful
Steve Page Apr 2023
“Here is the man!” said Pilate. And then,
“Here is your king!” said Pilate again,
thinking that keeping open all options
usually paid ample dividends.

But not this time, learnt Pilate:
when politics fail, mob rule succeeds
he thought ‘I need to nail my colours
and someone other than me

has to die for the lie
that I’m the innocent one.
That’s when I missed my one chance.
to hail God’s one Son.

I had my one chance
to accept the true Truth,
but opted instead
to make an excuse.

Don’t do as I did.
Don’t pass up the offer
to worship this Jesus,
true Son of the Father.

I got just one thing right:
He’s the King of the Jews
But don’t kid yourself,
cos He’s your King too.
for Good Friday service at  See the original in John 19.
DogKeep Oct 2022
why spend time observing wretched things
when apartments bloom like sandcastles
in every trench - in all the concrete?

why languish in wretched things like
ball-breaking the black box
Steve Page Apr 2022
The King and the prince went up to the city,
the King to make peace, the prince to get tricky,
one lived to love and one loved to hate,
one gave his life and one took the bait.

The King and the prince went up to the city,
one stood condemned, the other stood guilty,
one spoke the truth, the other just lies
one knew the plan, one got a surprise.

The King and the prince went up to the city,
one filled with tears, one empty of pity.
The prince had his Friday, ‘thought the war had been won.
The King rose on Sunday, his reign just begun.
John 12 . 12
“Blessed is the King of Israel!”
John 12 . 31
… now the prince of this world will be driven out.
John 14. 30
I will not say much more to you, for the prince of this world is coming.  He has no hold over me...
John 16.11
…the prince of this world now stands condemned
John 19.14
“Here is your king!”
Anais Vionet Feb 2022
It’s finally Friday night
there’s not a professor in sight.

If you think I’m happy - you’re right!

My homework assignment is light,
I just have an essay to write.

We and our sister suite will unite,
dragging a couch over, so the seating is right.

We’ll binge on Ozark most of the night,
‘cause we’re all Justin Bateman acolytes.

Pizza and ice cream will be a highlight,
in an evening of lazy delights.

I wish you could join us on-site,
but a quarantine prevents the invite.
Simon Piesse Jan 2022
Today, I’m well.
I’m good,
I should say.
God, no!
Good God!
Up-welling of wellness.
Bow tied:
A bow-tie-kind-of-day day.

Sun furtive.
Won’t be long.
Shouldn’t expect she’ll be long.
Yes, she.
Sheer she-ness.
Just a Walkers crisp of a bit longer.

It is possible, I might add,
She’ll appear a fraction different
To what one can reasonably be expected to remember.

I’m good.
That is how it is said, in these parts, isn’t it?
Are you good?
Are you…
Up to the task, I mean.
Fit to fly.
Which sort?  
Wearing odd socks, again.
Accentuate the good.
Try to.
Left and right; or the other way around:
Right and left.  
Or could be both… fancy that!
Cream and chocolate, hey, superb!

Today is a wooly-hat-kind-of-a-day day, is it not?
Prepare for the worst and hope for the best.
Lest there be gales.
What? No! Disaster!
Now, wouldn’t that be…
Wouldn’t that scupper things?  Do you think not?

I love my wooly hat.  
He’s got a name, you know.
Stitched with love.
So warm, it is.
Ready for jaunts.
With Rupert.
Up Horsenden Hill.
Too hot, soon.
Best to toss it in the bushes.


Perhaps I am under-dressed?
Am I?
Hard to know.
I’ll wear my bow tie again.
Yes, I’ll wear my bow tie when, that is to say, Assuming
The rules permit it.

God permits us
To revel a bit. Kick back.
Do you think God likes to laugh?
God, grant me the gift to laugh.  


Did you hear that?
Heating broken,
Not a peep.
Closed valve cylinder, limited warranty,
Manual unfathomable.

No viable option.
‘Northfields Community Library Welcomes You.’
The toilets better be warm!
I watched a wonderful production of Samuel Beckett's 'Happy Days' before Christmas and this poem, I think, has that feel.  I've tried to root it in my local area and capture something of the absurdity of conformity to abstract 'rules' that seems to be increasingly contentious and divisive in this Covid pandemonium
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