Eryri 14h
Wild Honey Badger:
The Punk Rocker of the wild.
Fight for your right to party.

Wild Honey Badger:
The Chuck Norris of the wild.
Fear itself fears you.

Wild Honey Badger:
Comedically psychopathic,
Like Frank in Blue Velvet.

Respect the Honey Badgers
and they will, mostly likely,
Still not respect you.
Eryri 2d
Has anyone seen my wallet?
I left it on the roof of my car.
If you find it you can keep it:
I'm moving on.
Driving license,
A ton of reciepts,
Ten Euro note,
Maybe eight pounds cash
And a book of stamps.
Mostly a reminder of a dreary life,
Heavy, not with cash but ****** expenditure.

Go ahead, steal my ID,
Who'd want to be me?
Not I!
But, drawing a parallel
Between my wallet and I,
Deep in a quagmire,
Weathered by winter,
Waiting to be found.
Not very subtle I know,
But here's my rebuttal:
A seemingly tough exterior,
Vulnerable to stormy weather,
Stitching that will fail the test of time,
Spilling out its contents,
Laying bear all it once held in.

But if not found presently,
Maybe in time it will be,
And be of some passing interest
To some far off future finder,
Who'll wonder for a second who I was,
And ask, "how did it get lost?"
And "what became of those two children in the photo?"
And "what the **** was diesel anyway?"
Eryri 7d
I've never owned a freezer.
Don't get me wrong,
I'm not a tight geezer,
I guess I'm just chilled
When it comes to use-by-dates.
Eryri 7d
As far as wars go
It's a bit of a bore,
But we are at war.
Trade war tariffs:
Monetary missiles,
Cyber attackers:
Heat-seeking hackers.
Yes, hot wars are so passé,
Cold wars,
So-called Star Wars
All in the past,
Silent battlers
Not sabre rattlers.
Keyboard warriors
No F15s nor Harriers.
Masters of Sanctions
Not Masters of War.
Expelling diplomats
And ***-for-tats.
It's a new World War,
But it's a bore,
So pay attention,
Don't get complacent,
The war drones on.
Eryri Dec 4
A funny thing occurred to me the other day,
Then deoccurred,
Then reoccurred.
Then it occurred to me that it wasn't that funny.
Well, nothing to write about anyway.
Eryri Nov 29
Night's aria plays 'til morning's chorus.

Sunlight's stretching fingers
touches and illuminates all for us.

With such speed does morning arrive,
the calm of night seems but a distant playful dream.
Eryri Nov 26
Asleep in his cot.
Or so I thought.
I hear his restlessness
(No sleep for the rest of us)
I lie and wait for the inevitable,
His teething has been terrible.
He's about to start crying.
But the restlessness ends:

Silence is eerie when it is unexpected.

My tired brain seizes its chance,
Shutting my eyes on my behalf,
Forcing my body to relax,
Filing away my anxious thoughts,
But, no! Just as sleep takes hold,
My door creeps open.
There stands my son,
Or at least an approximation of him:

Doorway silhouettes are unnerving.

Then, a dragging realisation:
My son is just nine months old.
He cannot climb,
He cannot walk,
He cannot even stand.
The sleeping process reversing,
Adrenaline begins coursing,
The small figure approaching:

Staring and with spittle drooling.

I choose flight over fight,
Need to know my son is alright -
That he is not this thing of the night -
But the child-thing chooses fight,
Chases me, grabs me and bites.
It will not let go,
Its claws dig in,
Its breath stinking:

My son is my dying thought...
An attempt at something Stephen Kingy. Apologies to him.
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