The lack of those little things
Having us wonder why
Our lack of those little things
Ushers a pitiful sigh

Frequenting past memories
O what might have been
Stressing and guessing
That old yet relevant scene

Nips and Tucks for those little stucks
That finesse I could not find
Yearning for those times again,
To remove thy finger from rewind.

Hand up high, or put the head in
Tomorrow pondering , O what might have been.
Illiterate to those times past being
To those times of silence we,ve all seen.

Beauty in the sea
Blond Lady,
Standing in  the sea.
Golden skinned beauty,
Perfection to see.

What country, She asked.
Ireland  I sighed,
Ukraine she smiled.
Heaven, I died


That is all she could say,
No more I could say,
looking at each other,
Amid st salty gushing waves.

No English she said,
No Russian in my head.
Pointlessly smiling,
Conversation bore dead.


All alone in the Arabian sea,
Blond beauty standing next to me.

Stranded in an uncomfortable pause,
Unknown cure to the unfortunate cause.

I hinted her name, Joanna said she,
While standing together in the Arabian sea.

Being your best friend and your own worst enemy is most conflicting.
Patting yourself on the back,
Or catching yourself by the scruff of the neck.

Being happy in thy own self,
Easier said than done.

One part of you wants to move on with life,
But the other is insistent on staying in the past,
Dwelling on all the negatives,
Blocking all the positives.

Maybe the are just like political parties,
But in my head,
One being as bad as the other.

If only I could deafen my mind,
I would nt have to listen to either of them,
And all would be well with the world.

Maybe I will try that electric shock therapy,
Stick my brain in a frying pan,
Tenderize some synapses and neurons,
Or the past, present, and future.
Medium rare, a little ******, let them juices flow.

Soften the thoughts that haunt us,
That we have no control over now.
Making life flow easier,
But then again,
If i go down that road
I might not be able to taste anything at all,
Everything will be so bland.
Trials and tribulations.
Being the pepper sauce,
Unfortunately.

Oh why did we have to have free will,
Life would have been so much easier if it was all mapped out for us.
This thinking malarkey can really be too much at times,
All this contemplating, dwelling, and fretting.

Its a dogs life,
So simple, so easy
No stress or responsibilities,
And they dont lose their hair.

Laying kindred with the darkness
Surrounding a gleaming blaze
No sounds nor whispers to be found
In this gloomy yet tranquil place

Coal and logs  charring slightly
Quaking vibrations haunt the room
Flames flourish amidst the dark
Enriching a comforting gloom.

Lethargically set on the couch,
Observing the blaze in motion
Door sealed to all curious thoughts
And maelstrom like notions.

The blaze now quietly fading,
Fuels exhaust their venting,
Systems set on standby,
As reality is merely denting

Dying flames accompany my dreary sight,
Coal and logs breathe their final ember,
Eyes are rolling, lids now swiftly folding
On this night in mid whenever

For when the sun will again,
Lift its guise off the sparkling sea
Bodies will shiver, and notions will whisper
Time immemorials, Fire Lay With Me.

Laughing on the out,
Crying on the in.

Smiling and, jocular.

Running around  in  their size sixteens,
Throwing cherry pies,
Jumping on the bouncy castle

Everybodys friend.

Behind the painted mask,
The Poker face reveals its hand,
Eyes soaked in sorrow,
Joys blocked by stagnant woes,

Chiseled into the walls of their mind,

Elusive demons at their door,
Relentless till there is no more

I met a 22 year old magician today.
He showed me a trick.
He had done nothing but smile at me.

I looked into his eyes and saw two dead brothers,
A dead father, dysfunctional mother
And an ill son.

I asked him how did he do this trick so perfectly?
He replied "I have had lots of practice,
But he warned me that its not for the faint hearted.

Wooden boats to ****** oaths,
Come on let's have a spell,
For the time is near to chug a beer,
Your tale is fair to tell.

And a barbie too, round  hopping roos,
That go in haste of wander,
Through fertile fields, that justly yield
For this isle iv grown much fonder.

So what's the go, of the land down low
Where the folks are chilled and paced
Well never say no, to having a go
And come forth to thou lands embrace

So put away your smartphone
And come yarn over the now
Now crack that beer, the sun is here
And then we,ll roast that ****** sow

The Nettles and Ivy lay hand in hand,
Mingled with the garden flowers.
Kindred and cosy in their patch,
While luring prey to their web.
The creatures with a thousand faces,
Welcome all into their acre.
Handpicking the ones that will serve them best,
While discarding the eels from their rod.
They lay in wait for their golden goose,
Then contemplating when to slaughter.
Brazen faced to no extent,
A  mere vacuum behind the eyes.
Superlative to all, but to themselves,
As they live to serve just one master,
Morality and trust are merely tools,
Cunningly used for a just occasion.
The exception of which is commission based,
Shortly before an evaluation,
The question lays to you in wait,
Is can you hear the sound of thunder.

Torn sleeves from my Nike jumper, shredded runners, now fit for the bin, tired expression, turns to red, as I roar to the heavens LITTLE DOG.  Swiftly comes calling is the pint sized beast; a soothing patter lurks from the stairs. Its front paws scraping at the doors glass pane, the door slowly opens and the trial of little dog begins. Hind legs on the carpet, front in the air, dashing, Little dog takes the stand, colloquially readying herself for trail, beady eyed Little dog showing no fear.


Look what you have done to my clothes I said to she,
Shredded and torn, but she just stood there  looking at me.
Now ranting and panting on her little hind feet,
Assertively barking, they were on the floor,  were they not there to eat

Her suavely demeanour, quickly turned to angst
Head and tail touched the floor, paws scraping at the floor mat
Trouble on the horizon  Little dog is fully aware,
As the cute little critter  looks on with an somberly stare.
All rise , court is now in session, has the jury reached it verdict
Guilty on all counts  your honor, a unanimous decision.

Reluctantly accepting the verdict Little dog addresses the court,
With one roll of the dice left,  she plays the mercy card.
I know I was wrong in my actions she pledged to me
But the clothes lay on the floor, I assumed I could eat.
As I stand here at your mercy, calling out to the heavens,
To turn a blind eye and  pardon my actions with merciful discretion.

May the court show me leniency as I am only a dog,
I know not what I do, for I am merely a hog
Very well humble madam, the courts now heard your plea,
With the courts merciful discretion I am setting you free
You can go now,  but if I see you here again,
The gallows shall eagerly await your ascend
Thank you your honor, for the leniency you have shown
My presence will never again grace this here court

Little dog leaves the court with an all merciful sigh,
Timid posture quickly fades as her head rubs the sky,
Wagging tail keenly follows her shrewd little smile,
While once again asserting her own suavely little style
The trial has concluded Little dogs won the day,
But as sure as dawn rises, Little dog shall wreak havoc again.
Its about my dog, who ate my

Desert sands, hover round me and my camel,
Sore buttocks molded to my luggage and saddle.
Sandwiched tween the camels **** back,
While treading along  the sandy white path.

Sand dunes char from desert sun,
Scorched skin fresh, yet still in the oven.
Set on my camel, weakening and weary,
Eagerly wishing  the cold dark and dreary.

Beetles hauling camel manure,
Through the boiling sand dune sewer.
Day concludes, they lay up to rest their eyes
Under the Starry desert night skies.

And I will do the same,
While the mother of all, lurks far away.
Now quietly pondering, my recent wander,
Connecting the stars out way a yonder
© 4 years ago   desert

Dragging paws along the grass,
Growling, breath near its last,
Eyes  tiny ember, fade away to black

Tea (A friend to everyone)
As good and bad have come and gone,
The humble plant continues on.
Bore in the earth  it made its way,
From the orient to modern day.

Out of  the soil its cast to its hansom pack,
Serving the best, and the ones who lack.
Awaiting your grace at the early dawn,
To serve the needs ye may set upon.

From the modest bag to the amber flow,
No revered image it may know.
Like a loyal steed at your side,
Carrying you through the tides of life.

So when we re all dead and gone,
Be sure in the knowledge that our friend lives on.
To help and serve whoever asks,
Bestow unto you so many thanks.
© 4 years ago

Under the Blackened sun
Blackened the sun
What have I done?
Not a chill, nor a sweat
Merely numb

Crashed and burned,
Still the world turns,
Yonder the barren sun
Simply dumb



Crashed and burned,
live and  learn,
Yonder the sun,
Watching  us turn

Kindle the flame
Come back to the game
Yonder your  sun,
Ignite and remain




For  I am King me
Of the kingdom of thee
Thats all I ever needed,
Ever needed to be

Me and my Humble pie
Me oh my, oh me and my.
Its time to eat some humble pie

What did I do last night I sigh,
My pounding head oh  I want to cry

Ma, would you bring me water before I die
I'll give ya water when I blacken your eye

Well what did I do to deserve such a reply
Oh what did I do says the quiet little boy

Cant you remember what you done last night
No, what did i do, now asking you twice

Well besides being a sorry  drunken sight
For the third time, what the hell did i do last night

Well ya drank 12 pints of barley  ale,
And after which you were very pale

The yeast in the ale knocked my sail
Then turning my night into a dreary tale

Oh sure, 12 pints of yeast would have to be it
The reason for you swimming  in your own *****

It happened, that's it, was the first of the year
Well If it happens again, your out on your ear,

Very well mama dear, I've been given the fear
Shall be it, the first and last of this year,

Ok little boy, let your performance be the last
Pace yourself please, don't drink like a calf

Now what are the chances of tea and some toast
For who's the one that loves you the most

Butter me up, tries the sick little boy
Sorry no tea, nor toast, just sweet humble pie