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We had wanted to leave our homes before six in the morning
but left late and lazy at ten or ten-thirty with hurried smirks
and heads turned to the road, West
driving out against the noonward horizon
and visions before us of the great up-and-over

and tired we were already of stiff-armed driving neurotics in Montreal
and monstrous foreheaded yellow bus drivers
ugly children with long middle fingers
and tired we were of breaking and being yelled at by beardless bums
but thought about the beards at home we loved
and gave a smile and a wave nonetheless

Who were sick and tired of driving by nine
but then had four more hours still
with half a tank
then a third of a tank
then a quarter of a tank
then no tank at all
except for the great artillery halt and discovery
of our tyre having only three quarters of its bolts

Saved by the local sobriety
and the mystic conscious kindness of the wise and the elderly
and the strangers: Autoshop Gale with her discount familiar kindness;
Hilda making ready supper and Ray like I’ve known you for years
that offered me tools whose functions I’ve never known
and a handshake goodbye

     and "yes we will say hello to your son in Alberta"
     and "yes we will continue safely"
     and "no you won’t see us in tomorrow’s paper"
     and tired I was of hearing about us in tomorrow’s paper

Who ended up on a road laughing deliverance
in Ralphton, a small town hunting lodge
full of flapjacks and a choir of chainsaws
with cheap tomato juice and eggs
but the four of us ended up paying for eight anyway

and these wooden alley cats were nothing but hounds
and the backwoods is where you’d find a cheap child's banjo
and cheap leather shoes and bear traps and rat traps
and the kinds of things you’d fall into face first

Who sauntered into a cafe in Massey
that just opened up two weeks previous
where the food was warm and made from home
and the owner who swore to high heaven
and piled her Sci-Fi collection to the ceiling
in forms of books and VHS

but Massey herself was drowned in a small town
where there was little history and heavy mist
and the museum was closed for renovations
and the stores were run by diplomats
or sleezebag no-cats
and there was one man who wouldn’t show us a room
because his baby sitter hadn’t come yet
but the babysitter showed up through the backdoor within seconds
though I hadn't seen another face

        and the room was a landfill
        and smelled of stale cat **** anyhow
        and the lobby stacked to the ceiling with empty beer box cans bottles
        and the taps ran cold yellow and hot black through spigots

but we would be staying down the street
at the inn of an East-Indian couple

who’s eyes were not dilated 
and the room smelled
lemon-scented

and kept on driving lovingly without a care in the world
but only one of us had his arms around a girl
and how lonely I felt driving with Jacob
in the fog of the Agawa pass;

following twin red eyes down a steep void mass
where the birch trees have no heads
and the marshes pool under the jagged foothills
that climb from the water above their necks

that form great behemoths
with great voices bellowing and faces chiselled hard looking down
and my own face turned upward toward the rain

Wheels turning on a black asphalt river running uphill around great Superior
that is the ocean that isn’t the ocean but is as big as the sea
and the cloud banks dig deep and terrible walls

and the sky ends five times before night truly falls
and the sun sets slower here than anywhere
but the sky was only two miles high and ten long anyway

The empty train tracks that seldom run
and some rails have been lifted out
with a handful of spikes that now lay dormant

and the hill sides start to resemble *******
or faces or the slow curving back of some great whale

-and those, who were finally stranded at four pumps
with none but the professional Jacob reading great biblical instructions at the nozzle
nowhere at midnight in a town surrounded

by moose roads
                             moose lanes
                                                     moose rivers
and everything mooses

ending up sleeping in the maw of a great white wolf inn
run by Julf or Wolf or John but was German nonetheless

and woke up with radios armed
and arms full
and coffee up to the teeth
with teeth chattering
and I swear to God I saw snowy peaks
but those came to me in waking dream:

"Mountains dressed in white canvas
gowns and me who placed
my hands upon their *******
that filled the sky"

Passing through a buffet of inns and motels
and spending our time unpacking and repacking
and talking about drinking and cheap sandwiches
but me not having a drink in eight days

and in one professional inn we received a professional scamming
and no we would not be staying here again
and what would a trip across the country be like
if there wasn’t one final royal scamming to be had

and dreams start to return to me from years of dreamless sleep:

and I dream of hers back home
and ribbons in a raven black lattice of hair
and Cassadaic exploits with soft but honest words

and being on time with the trains across the plains  
and the moon with a shower of prairie blonde
and one of my father with kind words
and my mother on a bicycle reassuring my every decision

Passing eventually through great plains of vast nothingness
but was disappointed in seeing that I could see
and that the rumours were false
and that nothingness really had a population
and that the great flat land has bumps and curves and etchings and textures too

beautiful bright golden yellow like sprawling fingers
white knuckled ablaze reaching up toward the sun
that in this world had only one sky that lasted a thousand years

and prairie driving lasts no more than a mountain peak
and points of ember that softly sigh with the one breath
of our cars windows that rushes by with gratitude for your smile

And who was caught up with the madness in the air
with big foaming cigarettes in mouths
who dragged and stuffed down those rolling fumes endlessly
while St. Jacob sang at the way stations and billboards and the radio
which was turned off

and me myself and I running our mouth like the coughing engine
chasing a highway babe known as the Lady Valkyrie out from Winnipeg
all the way to Saskatoon driving all day without ever slowing down
and eating up all our gas like pez and finally catching her;

      Valkyrie who taught me to drive fast
      and hovering 175 in slipstreams
      and flowing behind her like a great ghost Cassady ******* in dreamland Nebraska
      only 10 highway crossings counted from home.

Lady Valkyrie who took me West.
Lady Valkyrie who burst my wings into flame as I drew a close with the sun.
Lady Valkyrie who had me howl at slender moon;

     who formed as a snowflake
     in the light on the street
     and was gone by morning
     before I asked her name

and how are we?
and how many?

Even with old Tom devil singing stereo
and riding shotgun the entire trip from day one
singing about his pony, and his own personal flophouse circus,
and what was he building in there?

There is a fair amount of us here in these cars.
Finally at light’s end finding acquiescence in all things
and meeting with her eye one last time; flashed her a wink and there I was, gone.
Down the final highway crossing blowing wind and fancy and mouth puttering off
roaring laughter into the distance like some tremendous Phoenix.

Goodnight Lady Valkyrie.

The evening descends and turns into a sandwich hysteria
as we find ourselves riding between cities of transports
and that one mad man that passed us speeding crazy
and almost hit head-on with Him flowing East

and passed more and more until he was head of the line
but me driving mad lunacy followed his tail to the bumper
passing fifteen trucks total to find our other car
and felt the great turbine pull of acceleration that was not mine

mad-stacked behind two great beasts
and everyone thought us moon-crazy; Biblical Jake
and Mad Hair Me driving a thousand
eschewing great gusts of wind speed flying

Smashing into the great ephedrine sunset haze of Saskatoon
and hungry for food stuffed with the thoughts of bedsheets
off the highway immediately into the rotting liver of dark downtown
but was greeted by an open Hertz garage
with a five-piece fanfare brass barrage
William Tell and a Debussy Reverie
and found our way to bedsheets most comfortably

Driving out of Saskatoon feeling distance behind me.
Finding nothing but the dead and hollow corpses of roadside ventures;

more carcasses than cars
and one as big as a moose
and one as big as a bear
and no hairier

and driving out of sunshine plain reading comic book strip billboards
and trees start to build up momentum
and remembering our secret fungi in the glove compartment
that we drove three thousand kilometres without remembering

and we had a "Jesus Jacob, put it away brother"
and went screaming blinded by smoke and paranoia
and three swerves got us right
and we hugged the holy white line until twilight

And driving until the night again takes me foremast
and knows my secret fear in her *****
as the road turns into a lucid *** black and makes me dizzy
and every shadow is a moose and a wildcat and a billy goat
and some other car

and I find myself driving faster up this great slanderous waterfall until I meet eye
with another at a thousand feet horizontal

then two eyes

then a thousand wide-eyed peaks stretching faces upturned to the celestial black
with clouds laid flat as if some angel were sleeping ******* on a smokestack
and the mountains make themselves clear to me after waiting a lifetime for a glimpse
then they shy away behind some old lamppost and I don’t see them until tomorrow

and even tomorrow brings a greater distance with the sunlight dividing stone like 'The Ancient of Days'
and moving forward puts all into perspective

while false cabins give way
and the gas stations give way
and the last lamppost gives way
and its only distance now that will make you true
and make your peaks come alive

Like a bullrush, great grey slopes leap forth as if branded by fire
then the first peaks take me by surprise
and I’m told that these are nothing but children to their parents
and the roads curve into a gentle valley
and we’re in the feeding zone

behind the gates of some great geological zoo
watching these lumbering beasts
finishing up some great tribal *******
because tomorrow they will be shrunk
and tomorrow ever-after smaller

Nonetheless, breathless in turn I became
it began snowing and the pines took on a different shape
and the mountains became covered white
and great glaciers could be seen creeping
and tourists seen gawking at waterfalls and waterfowls
and fowl play between two stones a thousand miles high

climbing these Jasper slopes flying against wind and stone
and every creak lets out its gentle tone and soft moans
as these tyres rub flat against your back
your ancient skin your rock-hard bones

and this peak is that peak and it’s this one too
and that’s Temple, and that’s Whistler
and that’s Glasgow and that’s Whistler again
and those are the Three Sisters with ******* ablaze

and soft glowing haze your sun sets again among your peaks
and we wonder how all these caves formed
and marvelled at what the flood brought to your feet
as roads lay wasted by the roadside

in the epiphany of 3:00am realizing
that great Alta's straights and highway crossings
are formed in torturous mess from mines of 'Mt. Bleed'
and broken ribs and liver of crushed mountain passes
and the grey stones taxidermied and peeled off
and laid flat painted black and yellow;
the highways built from the insides
of the mountain shells

Who gave a “What now. New-Brunswick?”

and a “What now, Quebec, and Ontario, and Manitoba, and Saskatchewan";
**** fools clumsily dancing in the valleys; then the rolling hills; then the sea that was a lake
then the prairies and not yet the mountains;

running naked in formation with me at the lead
and running naked giving the finger to the moon
and the contrails, and every passing blur on the highway
dodging rocks, and sandbars
and the watchful eye of Mr. and Mrs. Law
and holes dug-up by prairie dogs
and watching with no music
as the family caravans drove on by

but drove off laughing every time until two got anxious for bed and slowed behind
while the rambling Jacob and I had to wait in the half-moon spectacle
of a black-tongue asphalt side-road hacking darts and watching for grizzlies
for the other two to finish up with their birthday *** exploits
though it was nobodies birthday

and then a timezone was between us
 and they were in the distant future
and nobodies birthday was in an hour from now

then everything was good
and everyone was satiated
then everything was a different time again
and I was running on no sleep or a lot of it
leaping backward in time every so often
like gaining a new day but losing space on the surface of your eye

but I stared up through curtains of starlight to mother moon
and wondered if you also stared
and was dumbfounded by the majesty of it all

and only one Caribou was seen the entire trip
and only one live animal, and some forsaken deer
and only a snake or a lonesome caterpillar could be seen crossing such highway straights
but the water more refreshing and brighter than steel
and glittered as if it were hiding some celestial gem
and great ravines and valleys flowed between everything
and I saw in my own eye prehistoric beasts roaming catastrophe upon these plains
but the peaks grew ever higher and I left the ground behind
Tony Luxton Sep 2015
Walking along the narrow track,
parents shepherding ice cream kids,
making way for pushchairs, making waves.
The lakeside watch on ducks and swans.
The nodding smiles and genteel grins,
like a 50's Sunday promenade,
while walking sticks wait by benches
dreams die when mobiles chime.
Tony Luxton Jan 2016
Visitors pass from empty bed
to empty bed, like Royals,
silently soaking up the dread
atmosphere with remote respect.

Examining clipboard histories,
rehearsing their medical soaps.
Volunteers answer questions,
the front line troops in trying
to raise our war dead back to life.

Have a care John Willie was not
just a private, not a number,
nor a diagnosis. He was
a person and a brave soldier.

Old photos frame soldiers' pains,
they're wearing posterity masks,
hiding feelings and memories
that lurch back again and again.
Lawrence Hall Jun 2019
With its four-beat
Putt-putt, putt-putt
Continental rhythm
Putt-putt, putt-putt
It plows and putts
Putt-putt, putt-putt
It pulls and putts
Putt-putt, putt-putt
It plants and putts
Putt-putt, putt-putt
It digs and putts
Putt-putt, putt-putt
It mows and putts
Putt-putt, putt-putt
It rakes and putts
Putt-putt, putt-putt
It bales and putts
Putt-putt, putt-putt
A little oil, a little gas
Putt-putt, putt-putt
A sweet machine
Putt-putt, putt-putt
Upon the grass
Putt-putt, putt-putt
When all is done
Putt-putt, putt-putt
And all is said
Putt-putt, putt-putt
There’s nothing like
Putt-putt, putt-putt
Massey-Ferguson red
Putt-putt, putt-putt!
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
marriegegirl Jun 2014
<p><p>Vous ne seriez pas normalement penser à un jour du mariage de l'Alabama dans un 30 degré cadre hivernal rapide .Mais je vous assure .cette soirée douce de couleur simple est chaude comme ils viennent .Enveloppements Pashmina pour les « femmes de ménage .les liens de la laine à la main.une cérémonie et la  <p><a href="http://modedomicile.com/goods.php?id=2187" target="blank"><img width="240" height="320" src="http://188.138.88.219/imagesld/td//t35/productthumb/1/2340935353535393799.jpg"></a></p>  réception éclatante à Stone Bridge Farm鈥c'est une galerie que vous aurez envie de s'acoquiner avec n'importe quel moment de l'année !\u003cp\u003e<p>ColorsSeasonsWinterSettingsFarmStylesModern De la belle mariée .J'ai épousé mon mari douce journée d'hiver le plus parfait à Cullman .Alabama à Stone Bridge Farm .Alors qu'il était un frisquet 30 degrés le jour de notre mariage .la chaleur de nos amis et de la famille ( et beaucoup de danse ! ) Nous a empêché de congélation !Mon inspiration pour le mariage était tout confortables et élégantes .Je voulais aussi de lier des éléments de Noël sans trop le thème des vacances .Lorsqu'on pense à la demoiselle d'honneur les couleurs de robe .je voulais éviter rouge ou vert .j'ai donc choisi une palette neutre .J'ai donné mes demoiselles d'honneur des options d'habillage et leur a permis de choisir leurs propres robes .Je voulais qu'ils se sentent à l'aise et très beau!Je leur ai aussi donné pashminas et robes crème pour les aider à rester au chaud tout au long de la journée.Ma robe de la collection Anne Barge Blue Willow a été faite d'un matériau de point suisse que j'ai tout de suite tombé en amour avec .Le matériau unique.doux complété le thème du mariage .<p>La cérémonie a eu lieu à la chapelle en bois magnifique à Stone Bridge Farm .Arbres de Noël et de cyprès ornés de la chapelle .ce qui porte à juste la bonne quantité de touches de Noël .Les bancs en bois et des bougies dans les fenêtres ajoutées à l' agrément !La musique de Noël douce a été joué par le pianiste et violoniste comme invités étaient assis .Mon pasteur nous a mariés avec les douces histoires personnelles sur Tyler et moi dans le sermon .<p>La réception a eu lieu à côté.dans leur belle salle de réception.Tout <b>robe ceremonie fille</b>  sur la réception dégageait une ambiance chaleureuse et confortable .Mon mari .Tyler .était un ancien mascotte de l'Université Auburn .si naturellement .Aubie Tigre dû faire une apparition à la réception.En outre.le gâteau du marié sélectionnée Aubie assis sur le dessus de l'enseigne Auburn University .un monument bien connu dans la communauté Auburn .Nous avons tous dansé toute la nuit de la musique fantastique de Az Izz.who dansé tout autant que nous avons tous fait !<p>Mes choses préférées au sujet de notre mariage étaient les contacts personnels dispersés dans la journée.Maman super talentueux Tyler fait arc les liens des garçons d'honneur de laine gris .En outre.son cousin  <a href="http://www.modedomicile.com/robe-demoiselle-d-honneur-fille-c-2"><b>robe ceremonie fille</b></a>  en fait le gâteau génial Aubie !Mon meilleur ami .et dame d'honneur .esquissés toutes les images pour le programme de mariage .mon mari et talentueux conçu le programme lui-même.Le pianiste qui a joué lors de la cérémonie a également joué dans le mariage de mes parents .Toutes ces touches personnelles ont rendu notre journée encore plus spéciale .Au lieu de regarder en arrière et de voir un jour froid d'hiver en Alabama .nous sommes remplis de souvenirs chaleureux de notre famille et les amis qui nous entourent sur ​​le plus beau jour de notre vie Photographie <p>: Couleur Brandon Gresham - Simple | Fleurs : . Avagrâce Designs A Stone Bridge Farm | Robe de mariée : The White Room | Invitations: Frappée | demoiselles d'honneur robes : ASOS | Restauration : Stone Bridge Farm | Cheveux Et Maquillage Bretagne Benton Massey | Calligraphie : Sarah Tate Designs | Band : Az Izz | Bridegâteau : Gâteaux créatifs de Cullman | demoiselle d'honneur Robes : Cible | Cérémonie et réception Lieu: Stone Bridge Farm | marié et garçons d'honneur Tenue: M. Burch Tenue de soirée | gâteau du marié : cake Creations Hannah Whitner | Robe de Réception : BHLDN | planification de mariage et conception:Stone  <a href="http://www.modedomicile.com/robe-de-soir%C3%A9e-grande-taille-c-58"><b>robe de soirée grande taille</b></a>  Bridge FarmBHLDN est un membre de notre Look Book .Pour plus d'informations sur la façon dont les membres sont choisis .cliquez ici</p>
martin Jan 2013
A Massey Fergie tractor
An old VW beetle
A worn out pair of boots
Manuela the 3 legged dog, and Senora
In their humble tumble home

The small concession to modern life
Just a mobile phone

Nothing special here
No status or wealth is evident
I love you Senor Mujica!
You do not change your way of life
Just because you're President
The president of Uraguay to be specific.
A former revolutionary and long term political prisoner,
he gives away 90%  of his salary.  Google him!
Ken Pepiton Nov 2019
In life's darkest, coldest histories, only those told
first tongue, empower courage in the
knowing emparted, as if we
were there. Our best
effort brought us
here, some how. We feel we must stand up for

our self, eh, what about my self? There's a burr, eh?
A dullness revealing fractured christline
constructs and the core, where
courage is stored in true
chain breaking known thought processes,
so
secret you may not be
allowed to know, like when we were kids with
no internet and no adults would
tells us how adultery functions
with usury and political magicians to enslave
us according to sortings in standardized tests.

Conceal weakness with signs of power,

make believe, show believers believable

e-visons as evident possibles,

so the power, small though it be,
the power of the people,
who hold no truths
self
evident, id est evincing and convincing
us, these rights are right,
for those who use us right,

words, true, make free the ready writer to
presume reading truth makes free
thinking go wild, like con
funsion making
sunlight...

in the past hear it... this little light of mine
no chain nor twisted trifold cord can
quench, a word
to the wise is leaven enough for the whole ******
loaf.
Shew, see,
we can wield power, if we can believe
the king, is where the kingdom is,
and any child who asks her pooka can know,
the kingdom is where I always behold
the face of God, angel-baby...

or we can imagine,
we have this power to create entire
othernesses,

similar to our self,
our logos and these pre-loaded breathing
algorithims of in and outs, ups and downs,

twisting and sooming assumed id-intities
are mea nd we wander, meander,

flow in the trough of a spiraling wave
pulling the rain back to the sea,

so each water weness we imagine may be re
used, for goodness knows what,
universal solvency was one
water function ac
cused of causing, aitiatic tic tic time bomb

Jerry-rigged, Rubic cubed trigger,

gay blades shaved the iron legs, y'know
**** Deus is punishing truth,

the true power of any pun
ish bin ein Berliner mit Arizona Prickly Pear jelly,

laughing into funk-tion-ality the oddities of beings
not me,
in my meanderings through optional doors
inside the narrow way,
ala the way to Petra, we've seen the way

similar in every fractal way to the tracks of tears

cuttin crevases through pressure packed dust that
must
have piled suddenly high, for,
when it flowed as the red mud that stopped
right there at the edge of the Sedona
manifestation of oddities.

Check it out. Google Earth it.

**** Deus wannabe, meet my old friend from
the foundery in Arkansas,
E Pluribis Unem Massey

crazy now, there is a man by that name, with a .jr,
a link forgotten,
save the memory that may be in the water,
we used to wash the grime of burning iron into
the river to rust into louisiana to feed
the phyto plankton past the delta
grease of seeping poison
insolvent in the universe, save for fire

fire can burnishit tic make it bright, reflecting
mirrors for the smoke

choking the me who can't see, how Wattie Piper
virus was passed on to
EPluribis Massey, Jr., but it must have been
some variation on the
living words,
like:
I think I can, and the congregation
responds:
as a man thinks, in his heart, so is he.

As the waters all flow to the sea, take no thought
for tomorrow,
take it as granted, today.
Overcoming is done one step at a time, and there is always a place to put one's foot, if, if, if you can remember knowing how to ride a bike, minus the bike.
Gaffer Oct 2015
The old church lay in ruins, left to languish in time.
He was sitting on the grave talking to Sergeant R Johnston.
Well, I suppose you want an update on the war.
Let me see now, where do I begin.
Monday 0500 hrs, Pete was the first to moan, ******* hate early mornings.
Well, you would stay up all night playing cards.
Yeah, well just you remember that’s two million quid you owe me.
You better watch my back then, don’t hesitate to take a bullet for me, and for fucksakes if you’re throwing grenades about, don’t forget, it’s not the pin you throw, it’s the grenade.
*******, I got over excited.
The attack was sudden, Tony got hit, we were lucky, the ambush was poorly planned, we killed five before they ran.
Back at camp, I was starving, full English was a must, pass the sauce old chap, is that this months ******* you're reading, just love reading the stories.
Yeah right.
Just last week I was reading about this woman who made love to an onion, brought tears to my eyes, do you know her life unravelled in front of her.
You’re full of ****, don’t get the pictures sticky.
News came in, Tony didn’t make it.
The trip to the ******* tent seemed less appealing now.
Kit check, clean rifle, count bullets, kit check, clean rifle, count bullets.
Letter from home, Mary and John are getting married, Mary.
I’ve to see that shrink, what do I say to him.
Tell him you want to unburden yourself, so we’ll call it quits on the money I owe you.
*******, I’ll warm him up for you.
Half an hour later.
******* ******, said my brain was like an onion.
He did, did he, the ***** *******, I was wondering where that magazine went.
You better go see him.
Come in, I’m Dr Massey, I’m going to have an informal chat with you, sort of get to know you, anything you want to ask me.
Your fly is open.
So sorry, right lets get started, you’ve been involved in a lot of the fighting recently, talk me through it.
Let me see, we’re heading out of camp, now I always check the lunch menu before we go, it’s fish, simple dish, not to long on the hot plate, splash of lemon, great. We’re at a standoff, so I say to Pete, toss a grenade at them, guy's a genius with a grenade, can throw it for miles.
Though for some reason he’s mixed up the procedure, the grenade ends up killing the livestock, the enemy see this as an insult and go bonkers.
Then just as things couldn’t get any worse, I get back to camp to find the chefs burnt the fish, I mean, how the hell can you burn fish.
Right, this is interesting, go on.
Next day we’re heading out, steak’s on the menu, now I like my steak well done, so I was looking forward to lunch. Quiet morning, get back to camp, the idiot’s used a flamethrower on the steaks, swear to god he’s the real enemy.
Can i ask you, when you’re on home leave, do you get flashbacks, and if so, how do you deal with them.
I usually discuss everything with Sergeant Johnston.
Right, this is good, he’s been through this himself.
Oh yes, amazing man, do you know he survived the Somme only to be killed a year later in a mining accident.
Okay, wind back a bit, you talk to Sergeant Johnston who is actually dead, does he talk back you.
Come on doc, he’s like the chefs best effort at cooking, dead.
Okay that was quite interesting, what’s on the menu today.
Lasagne.
Is that good.
If you want to die, yes, better off reading a magazine.
Do you read a lot.
Yes I was reading this magazine on the workings of the human body, right up your street doc, but I seem to have misplaced it.
Well I hope you find it.
So do I doc, it will be a definite relief.
sadness is her grounding  ******* her release fantasizing bizarre scenarios escaping in literature movies music clothes she wonders if men feel cheated by her small ******* her mouth and hips not wide enough even though she has not slept with a man for years her aging depresses her stiffness of her muscles dryness of her skin thinning of her hair lapses of thought memory yet she manages to appear quite astute and stylish

2

what if you realize there is no god no one listening to your prayers no one watching over you god is preposterous myth like santa claus there is no reason to conduct yourself morally responsibly monkey screeches laughter claps wildly swings tree to tree

3

if wars were won by spiritual psychological intellectual development we’d be a different planet yet wars are won by technological advances and brute force we are an over-populating world many parents unfit unqualified inexperienced to raise children of the future this madness is heading to frightful reckoning massey mining british petroleum monsanto wall street g.e. (it’s not a light bulb more mutual fund of entertainment banks and loans appliances washington lobbyists more) these ******* **** pillage mother earth our home with unconscionable deceit greed cruelty

4

magic is tricky sometimes sincere most times contrived face of moon is woman she is sad maybe crying do you remember us making love i don’t like seeing men give in to bribes i turn away lose interest twists my stomach when will we learn i don’t know anything about planet venus yet wish she will help us with her love i’ve written too many words not sure if i’m repeating ideas do not want to bore burden you with tremendous sorrow tried seriously to **** myself twice i’m old school still pray it doesn’t matter that no one is listening i need prayer need god dear god please help me us find happiness love success weary of isolation every day i fight between self will and destiny fate patterns signals i am so conflicted where is peace?

5

this dispersion is no good way to start the morning sun is up sky is blue birds are singing flying around teasing each other no matter where the world is heading i’m going to seek find fun gratitude beauty i've just created something that never existed before each breath a birth each breath a death tiny thoughts lives micro existence the cliffs of dover are made entirely from skeletons of ancient sea creatures i stepped over rocks encrusted with shells vacant inhabited we come and go oh the fossils oh the dreams stepped on coming out of their shells spider dreamer weaving web of life whose life? mine? who am i? i am you you are here with me pure unrequited love nothing matters but our spontaneous dance nothing matters but our crying over red wine passionate search for truth oh goddess of compassion let love come to us all truest holy love uniting opposites filling all the holes not a single inch of emptiness genius of love the poets creator of all genius exquisite satisfaction in emptiness forever unfolding paradox flower of paradox infinite petals forever blooming eternal spring breeze petals of paradox falling from my hair falling all over streets houses limestone cliffs granite giants fertile valley farmland my hands form a cup i offer up to you
Jeffery Massey Feb 2016
WITNESS ME by Jeffery Massey 2016

I see you when u touch me so
Like the beat of a hummingbirds wing.
I Soften as  your burning gaze sets fire to my ❤,
As my soul so lightly trembles
Awash in your flowery fragrance
Drifting lightly ever so tender your rose petal hair;
Your Truth I hear, Your Voice so near
Shimmering Wind Chimes within my secret desire
Lost so long hiding the treasure within me you seek...
I see your piercing reality throughout time's arrow...
WITNESS me as your love see me too...
SG Holter Feb 2015
By the house where I
Lived my first two years
Stood a barn that a hundred years ago
Held pigs and horses.

The swallows sang me to sleep.
I can still smell the barnhouse that
Only held a Massey-F tractor by then.
All things change,

Some places more than people.
But the swallows don't care.
Neither they, nor the barn or
I are there. Anymore.
I long for the smell of fresh turned soil , an experience I've never forgotten ..
The smell of diesel , oil and grease  ..The ringing of harrow and bush hog ...
My Liberty overalls and size ten clod hoppers , suede cowboy hat , pocket watch and Bloodhound tobacco ..
Bob White Quail walking the wood line waiting to
get their fill of turned ground morsels , grains and grasshoppers ..
Curious Whitetailed Deer hiding in the shadows , Redtailed Hawks
with a keen eye for field rats escaping the plow ..
A sixty two Massey Harris that ran like a' Top ' through rain
and heat , never missing a beat !
My mind prays for the simple life of man and machine , the brushfires
of March , the restoration of God's green earth ..
Copyright January 23 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Donall Dempsey Jul 2018
"BE NOT AFRAID OF THEM THAT **** THE BODY."
( for Wendy Falla  )

Perotine Massey
is giving birth

amidst the flames
of 1556.

Her belly bursts open
with the fire's ire

and her fair-haired man child
is born in Death's embrace

"to be consumed
to ashes."

A man named House
snatches the new born from the flames.

But the child is ordered to be
thrown back!

Birth and Death
the same to him.

A born martyr.

An horrendous Herodian act
by this "...graceless generation

of Popish tormentors..."
this the era of Mary ****** Tudor.

Now over 400 years away
I stare into the Past

the heat of this summer's day
making my skin blsiter

a yellow butterfly alights upon
the Commemorative bronzed words

held in place
by a spider's web

it trembles every
now and then

in both past
and present

flying between
both times

"...faithful unto
death..."
Guillemine Gilbert and Perotine Massey were sisters, who lived with their mother, Catherine Cauchés (sometimes given as "Katherine Cawches"). Perotine was the wife of a Norman Calvinist minister, who was in London, possibly to avoid persecution. The three women were brought to court on a charge of receiving a stolen goblet. Although they were found to be not guilty of that charge, it emerged that their religious views were contrary to those required by the church authorities. They were returned to prison in Castle Cornet and later found guilty of heresy by an Ecclesiastical court held in the Town Church and handed over to the Royal Court for sentencing where they were condemned to death.

The execution was carried out on or around 18 July 1556.[2]:39 All three were burnt on the same fire; they ought to have been strangled beforehand, but the rope broke before they died and they were thrown into the fire alive. John Foxe recorded that Perotine was "great with child" and that "the belly of the woman burst asunder by the vehemence of the flame, the infant, being a fair man-child, fell into the fire".

The baby was rescued by a W. House and laid on the grass] taken by the Provost to the Bailiff, Hellier Gosselin who ordered that "it should be carried back again, and cast into the fire."

On the death of Queen Mary (1558), the Bailiff and the Roman Catholic élite of the island were subjected to a series of commissions and investigations encompassing not only the circumstances of the execution of the women, but also embezzlement; James Amy, the Dean, was committed to prison in Castle Cornet and dispossessed of his living. Gosselin was dismissed from his post in 1562 but along with the Jurats managed to obtain a pardon from Elizabeth I.

Reactions to the executions played a role in the rise of Calvinism in the Channel Islands.

In 1567 Thomas Harding criticized Foxe's account, not for his description of the event, for which Foxe quotes eye-witnesses and official documents, but on the grounds that Perotine Massey was responsible for the death of her own child; had she revealed in court that she was pregnant, the execution would have had to have been postponed until after the birth.

A memorial plaque to the martyrs can be found on the Tower Hill steps in Saint Peter Port, near the site of the execution. It was unveiled at a commemorative service on 24 April 1999.

"Be not afraid of them that **** the body.."
(MATTHEW 10:28)

Faithful unto death........Rev 2:16
Lawrence Hall Sep 2018
Changing the channels in the middle of the night
Mixing old plots into a new program
Ugatti sells tickets to an illegal fight
Another quarter for the juke box, Sam

Patrick McGoohan strides angrily into Rick’s
But finds that he has lost his credit card
Vultures, vultures everywhere, Number Six
Ilsa falls for Major Strasser quite hard

Rick’s Place is purchased by Raymond Massey
And Leonard Cohen in his famous blue coat
Emails of transit from Kate Beckinsale, so classy -
‘Tis she who leaves poor Rick that rain-stained note

And Captain Reynaud?

He ends his days pushing each shopping cart
In from the parking lot down at Wal-Mart
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
Miceal Kearney Sep 2010
I found a ewe today,
stiff as a stone.
Her maturing lamb, just lying there.
Massey Ferguson Undertakers remove,
as the lamb; busy, jumping around with the rest.

The flock is rotated between OBGYN,
buttercup-ed fields, the barber to your dinner plate.
Still, on cold nights and wet days,
underneath the ash, the lamb looks out —
heavy, like the leaves — sort of
still hoping;
Marshal Gebbie Jun 2011
A toast to the life of my good mate, Bill Massey


We toasted life with “steinies”
Watching Ngauruhoe smoke,.
We clambered over tussock
Laughing easily, “bloke to bloke”.
I Knew him as a good sort
Those forty years long past
But realised much later
That Bill’s friendships last.

To appreciate the standards
That Bill would always keep,
The quality of thought
That his ministrations reap.
The camaraderie enjoyed
And the bounteous Joi de Vivre,
And the lengthy conversations
Over occasional  cold beer.

Elements of friendship
That once won are not lost
Until cruel deaths intervention
Is counted heavily, as cost.
But the flip realisation
Is now readily made clear
That time shared gave value
That we both held as dear.

Bill was a good friend
In a firm, gentle way
And I thank my good fortune
For that long distant day,
When he entered my door
And smiling, held out his hand
And I entered the realm
Of a Gentleman’s Man.

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
21 June 2011
CK Baker Aug 2021
Some days we'd lay about the milled plank deck
eyes to the sky
shoulders pinned
deliberating
on the hickory trees
and pillow clouds
and heavenly contrails

the warm caress  
of a mid-summer wind
whispering through the hayfields
coondog at our side
sandhill crane still
feet in the shallows
of the Haldimand pond

a soft trickle coming
from the Pickerel stream
creaks from the woodshed whistle
as the Massey Ferguson
putters her way
up the county line

catharsis in place
(in this ethereal space)
just a garden variety day
...with fire ants
and fowler toads
and golden honey bees
THE ALLAN FAMILY STORY PART 4




YA SEE, I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A LITTLE COOL KID TO THE FAMILY

IN MY MUM AND DADS EYES, AND I USED TO PLAY SHOWS LIKE THE COOPERS

FAMILY, WHICH IS ABOUT RON AND SALLY’S QUEST TO OPEN A FAMILY BUSINESS

IN A HOSPITAL, WHERE THEY HAD A SON, DAVID, AND HE MARRIED RAELEEN

AND THEY HAD A BOY NAMED DON COOPER, AND THEY HAD A DAUGHTER NAMED

SUE COOPER WHO MARRIED BIKIE JOHN PRENDTH, AND HAD A LITTLE BOY NAMED

FRANK PRENDTH, AND I WAS GETTING INSPIRATION FROM MAGAZINES AND TV

ON HOW TO BRING MORE CHARACTERS, LIKE JACK RUNNING THE BAR, JEAN AS THE COOK

AND MARTIN TATE, AS THE AMBULANCE DRIVER, WHO WAS A BIT OF AN ALCOHOLIC

WHO WAS IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH MENTAL HEALTH NURSE, MICHELLE TATE, AND THE

THEME SONG WAS, AIN’T SHE SWEET, SEE HER COMING DOWN THE STREET

I ASK HER VERY CONFIDENTIALLY, AIN’T SHE SWEET, AIN’T SHE NICE

LOOK HER OVER ONCE OR TWICE, I ASK YOU VERY CONFIDENTIALLY AIN’T SHE NICE

JUST CAST AN EYE, IN HER DIRECTION, OH ME OH MY, AIN’T THAT PERFECTION

I REPEAT, I THINK THAT’S KIND OF NEAT, I ASK YOU VERY CONFIDENIALLY AIN’T SHE NICE

AND I PLAYED BEWITCHED, AND MY BROTHER SAID, DO YOU PLAY IT, THAT IS SO STUPID

BUT IF I WANNA PLAY A SHOW, I WILL PLAY A SHOW, I DO WHAT I WANNA DO, IT’S LIKE THIS

WRITING, AND I ENJOYED TWITCHING MY NOSE TRYING TO ZAP MYSELF 1 MILLION DOLLARS

OR TO A REMOTE RESTAURANT IN THE HEART OF TOWN,

MY NEXT SHOW, I PLAYED WAS LIVE STOCK, ABOUT A VET NAMED MARK SARGENT, COMING TO

START A PRACTICE IN CLAXTON HILL, AND EACH EPISODE HE WENT ABOUT HIS ROUNDS AT ALL

THE FARMS IN THE DISTRICT, AND ROBBO’S PUB, WHERE MARK OFTEN WENT FOR FRIDAY AND

SATURDAY NIGHT DRINKS, AND A LOT OF THE KIDS OF CLAXTON HILL, WERE OFTEN GETTING INTO

PROBLEMS, I GOT THIS IDEA, FROM A MIXTURE OF ALL THE SOAPS IN THE 80S AND ALSO THE VET

SHOW, CALLED, ALL CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL, EVERY NEW YEARS EVE, I WILL PLAY A NEW YEARS SHOW

FEATURING THE NEW YEAR TIGER, AND THE CAST OF ALL MY FAKE TELEVISION SHOW CHARACTERS

AND ONCE AT MY GRANDMAS HOUSE, I PLAYED A CHRISTMAS SHOW IN HER BACKYARD AND I WAS A LOUD WILD DUDE

I SANG WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS, WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS

AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR, AND SOME KIDS CAME TO ME, AND SAID, CAN YOU SHUT UP, WE WANT YOU TO SHUT UP

THIS WAS BECAUSE, I RAN AWAY FROM TEASERS AS A KID, CAUSE I WAS A TAD SCARED, MY BROTHER WASN’T THOUGH, HE STAYED

WITH THEM, AND THE KIDS SAID WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS

CAUSE WE’RE TEASING YOU, YA SEE I THOUGHT I WAS A REAL MANS KID, YA SEE I THOUGHT JUST BECAUSE I WAS A SPORTS WATCHER

IT MEANS I GET LEFT ALONE, IT DOESN’T SILENCE ME, IF I WANT TO PL;AY SHOWS, I WILL DO IT IN MY ROOM, AND ALL THE ADULTS

WERE WORRIED, CAUSE THEIR PERFECT AURA WAS RUINED, AND TO THESE KIDS, I WAS A REAL SHY PERSON, BUT I USED

TO TEASE AT SCHOOL, I NEVER WAGGED UNLESS IT WAS THE LAST DAY AT SCHOOL, BECAUSE, I LIKED MY MATES AT SCHOOL

THEY WERE ALL SO NICE TO ME, I JUST ENJOYED THESE POOR LITTLE KIDDIES, IN THE BACKYARD OF MY GRANNY’S HOUSE

AND I PLAYED AUSSIE RULES IN THE FRONT YARD, YA SEE, I PLAYED MY WEEKLY MAFL TOURNAMENT, AND MY BROTHER PLAYED HIS COMP

YA SEE, WHEN MY BROTHER WAS AT A MATES HOUSE, I DID MY MAFL TOURNAMENT, AND DAD CAME OUT AND SAID, YOU HAVE TO

LIVE IN THE REAL WORLD, BRIAN, CAUSE, THIS ISN’T A FOOTY GROUND, IT’S A FRONT YARD WITH A GARDEN, AND MUMMY WANTS

TO GROW FLOWERS, SO I WILL TAKE YOUR FOOTBALL AND BAN IT FROM YOU, I KNOW YOU ARE A KID, BUT, MUMMY WANTS

TO START A GARDEN, AND I USED TO GET TEASED, BY PEOPLE WALKING PAST, SAYING, I ACT LIKE AN IDIOT OUTSIDE, AND I

SAID, I AM NOT SHY, I LIKE PLAYING FOOTY WITH MY BROTHER OUTSIDE, I PLAYED JAILBIRD AT MY SCHOOL, WHICH IS ABOUT

TWO BIRDS, JAIL BIRD FLIES AROUND THE JAIL CHECKING ON EACH INMATES WELL BEING, AND FREE BIRD, CAPTURES THE

CRIMINALS TO BRING THEM TO JAILBIRD TO BE LOCKED AWAY, AND MY SCHOOL LOOKED AT IT AS ME TALKING TO THE TREES

ME AND MY BROTHER, USED TO PLAY FRONT YARD AND BACKYARD CRICKET, MY COUNTRY WAS MYTH WITH PLAYERS LIKE
DEAN MASSEY, ASHLEY MONDEY, AND MYSELF, MY BROTHERS COUNTRY

WAS ETHIOPIA, WITH PLAYERS LIKE TRINNEN, BOTANY, LAITLAT, AND MANY MORE, AND THE STREET USED TO COME IN AND

PLAY YARD CRICKET WITH US, I ENJOYED THIS, MY MATE LYLE WAS A REALLY WILD BOWLER, I CAN HARDLY HIT ANY OF HIS BOWLS

THEY ARE SO **** FAST, I START TO THINK THAT LYLE WAS A VERY FAST BOWLER IN HIS PREVIOUS LIFE, I ALSO PLAYED

WATER CRICKET IN THE SWIMMING POOL, AND THIS WAS EVER SO FUN, BUT ON A HOT DAY, AND THE BALL WAS HIT OUT

OF THE WATER, IT WAS HARD FOR EACH OF US TO GET OUT OF THE NICE COOL WATER TO FETCH THE BALL,

I PLAYED SPORTS SHOWS WITH MY BROTHER, AND WE GOT IN MANY FIGHTS, LIKE NORMAL KIDS DO, AND

DAD SAT THERE WATCHING TV, SAYING ME AND MUMMY DIDN’T REALISE HAVING KIDS WILL BE THIS HARD

LIKE HE CRAWLED UNDER A ROCK OR SOMETHING, I WATCHED FAMOUS FIVE AND SECRET VALLEY AND

I WATCHED SKIPPY, WHERE KIDS WERE GETTING ******* ALL THE TIME, AND I WATCHED YOU CAN’T DO THAT ON TV

AND SAW KIDS IN A DUNGEON, YEAH HYPED ME OUT, I BOUGHT MAGAZINES, AND PUT TEXTA GAGS ON KIDS MOUTHS

AND TEXTA DRAW ROPE AROUND THOSE KIDS, MY BROTHER SAID TO MELINDA, WE SHOULDN’T TELL OUR PARENTS EVERYTHING

I DANCED TO POISON AND EVERY SATURDAY MORNING I WATCHED THE RAGE TOP 50 ON ABC TV, AND EACH WEEK

I WROTE THE CHART DOWN, LIKE I HAD AUTISM OR SOMETHING, AND AFTER THAT, I WENT TO BOWLING

AND I WATCHED THE CHART WITH MY BROTHER, WHEN HE GOT OUT OF BED, AND WE PARTIED TO THE CHART SHOW EVERY SATURDAY MORNING

THEY STOPPED DOING THAT IN 2008, BUT I LOST INTEREST IN DOING THAT, WHEN I FOUND OUT ALL MY PROBLEMS ARE A RESULT

OF SCHITZOPHRENIA, AND I PRETENDED I WAS A BIG TV MANAGER, GOING FROM PUB TO PUB, WHAT IS ACTUALLY WRONG WITH THAT

BUT I WAS PRETENDING TOO MUCH, 1 2 3 4 DO THE SCHITZOPHRENIC FROM MY FIRST DIAGNOSIS TO MY CURRENT SITUATION

I AM ON MEDICATION, NOW I AM REFORMED, CAUSE THIS SHOWS THAT I AM A FAMILY PERSON.
way back in the 1960s
was a hard time for me
i was kidnapped and thrown to sharks
which made me scared to do some things
i couldn't be a typical Australian
because of the great steve bradley
but i tried to show everyone i loved life
despite of what he did
way back in 1965 my brothers last life bill woodfull died
and he had no reason to come back
he was a famous cricketer and thought he found his peace
but then as he floated around the cosmos looking for his purpose
he noticed that not everyone gets the perfect life he had
he felt bad for greame  thorne
you know being taken away so young
while he was an old man who captained Australia through the body line test, and in 1969, greame thorne became me (brian allan)
and i was loving my new life with my new family
and despite me being thrown to the sharks
i still loved my poppy splashing me with the hose
and in the year of 1971 bill woodfull entered in my family as
my brother (chris allan), and i was excited to have a brother
even if buddha and athena put him in this family to make me
feel great after my tragic time in the 60s
we watched cricket and chris played cricket
and i went to watch him
we had our fights like all brothers do
but the spiritual bond of a old time famous cricketer helping
a fallen child was always there
he played cricket with me even if his friends wanted him to
go over his house and we pretended we had our own cricket teams
my brother remembered don bradman from his previous life
and wanted to be like him
and we had a lot of fun playing backyard cricket you know
real famous cricketers helps kidnapped kids even in spirit
we had a lot of fun together and we tackled each other on the bed
we had our teddy bears and cuddly toys as our families
and we pretended we were fathers to all of our cuddly toys
it was fun
we watched music chart shows and played Aussie rules in the front yard and i used to listen to my brother play his and other peoples music, it was fun and very exciting
we used to get in trouble and i wasn't very normal like i didn't play up that much, but my previous life was scaring me, but that wasn't
my brothers fault, you see if you see a famous sports star helping a kid who has problems, well my brother's previous life did it to my previous life
my brother wrote a song for me and gave it to me on my 40th birthday and i took him to the club for his 40th birthday
and now i am 51 and he will soon be 49, and we had a  lot of fun
seeing it all started as bill woodfull coming in to help out greame thorne, ya know make him love life
my cricketers were
dean massey
joe massey
sam binny
and more including myself

my brothers cricketers were
trinnen
botany
laitlat the fast bowler
and more including himself played as aussie cricketers too
i liked to use peter sleep
my brother liked kim hughes
so greame thorne thanks bill woodfull  for helping him through his next life
brian and chris allan
Atlanta is 45 miles far too close
The only sound I want is Bear Creek
flowing , morning cattle off to the
highland , topwater bass in the stream lowland
A snorting old buck in the grassland
A Massey Harris turning plowland
The sound of rain tapping on a tin roof
The clicking of a stallions hoofs
Distant thunder on a lazy Hill Country night
The March moon shining bright* ...
Copyright February 28 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Tonights shower rambles East , a rusted Massey Ferguson looks like a four legged beast .. The Rainwater from tall trees patters individual ponds , a smatter of fog then a suspicious woodland song .. Bullfrogs become ennobled .. A Barn Owl strikes the midnight chorus
A security light battles night to no avail ..  Katydids croon tall tales
Night slowly grows louder ..  A northbound train at the one o'clock hour* ...
Copyright 15 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Dani Aug 2018
Excerpt from ‘The Wind on the Downs’
"That you are round about me, I believe;
And knowing you are happy; should I grieve?
And when I leave the meadow, almost wait,"
(Continued by Dani Massey)
For you to show up where I have placed the bait.
Love is keeping me here as long as the day,
Coming back until I have your say.
This is something I need to know,
Did you want to stay or want to go?
Give me all my prayers to read again,
So I can fix them in permanent pen.
Let me know so I can think of your face,
And not cry, but remember your grace.
Show me you can feel no more pain,
Show me that I am truly sane,
And that I am right about that place,
Because I know you can see His face.
The perfect peace you surely can feel,
I know that is part of the deal.
It will be a while for me, my turn I have to wait,
For the privilege to see the perfectly pearly gate.
When my name is called I know I am ready to go,
But your choice, I need to know!
When a loved one passes it to hard because we just don't know... A grieving moment all of us have where you ask for a sign, anything to tell you that your loved on is okay beyond this world of life.
Wk kortas Jul 2019
There is no question of her cycling up the hill;
She has no upscale concoction
Of carbon-fiber frame and painstakingly engineered gear-ratios.
Her bike is a single-speed Schwinn
Of as uncertain vintage
As the woman herself,
And she walks it,
An occasional spoke missing,
The paint chipped here and there,
Up where she once climbed
In a ’54 Chrysler convertible
Next to the man
She later visited at the TB sanitorium
Which once sat at the top of the street,
Two sons giggling and bickering
In the back seat
(The boys long since gone,
Having fled the snow and the downsizing
For other climes)
But now she peddles her bike
Around Massey and State Streets for a bit
Before she coasts back downhill,
And sometimes drivers glare
At her (she is, to be fair
Something of an impediment to traffic)
And carfuls of kids or soldiers in convoys
Headed up to Fort Drum
Will heckle her--Hey, lady!
The Tour De France was last month
!
She no longer has any interest in
The stares or commentary;
She is focused on the bottom of the hill.
Lawrence Hall May 2018
Light fog, dense air - how should one think of them
The sun – he seems to be holding his breath
Until, oh, nine or so, when he exhales
Soul-******* heat upon the steaming earth

The Massey-Ferguson sits patiently
Through all those dawn-lit diagnostic chores:
Check the oil, check the gas, and **** the points
Safety checks all ‘round before the mowing begins

Old hat, old gloves, old boots, a fresh cigar
And old eyes focused on a field afar
(Bush-Hog is a brand of farm-tractor-mounted rotary mowing machines and other types of farm equipment.  Bush-Hog enjoys an excellent reputation, and so to mow fields and pastures, even with another brand, is referred to as bush-hogging)
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
alternatively known as: trying to sober up... but keep on drinking.

i remember this time,
when a girl i was ******* slapped me
silly...
    because i assumely lied to her...
about getting a university degree...
and oh, what a pain that slap was,
given the ****** that came after.
throw a ******* penny into the fountain
for the last ten minutes i was trying
to sober-up,
      and yes, i was slapping myself
in the face... over 6ft...
     and weighing over 100 kilograms...
a slap by me... i felt it on my cheek...
i almost lost a tooth...
and i had a case for stating: my neck!
my neck!
         but you know what was
agry. puzzlig, painful?
        it wasn't the memory of being
slapped by a russian girlfriend,
and then her fetish for mirrors,
and how she loved looking at her herself
getting ****** in the mirrors...
oh... what an image to glare into...
            no, but i was slapped on cheek by her...
so today, i was reading the newspaper,
meaning: it was a *sunday
...
    i started drinking, and then slapping
myself in the face...
      but that wasn't painful...
    what was? the magazine read the headline:
100 albums you have to hear
before you die...
     in the live rubric:
     stop making sense - talking heads,
mtv unplugged in new york - nirvana,
  1969 the velvet underground - the velvet undergroeund,
live at massey hall 1971 - neil young,
live! - bob marley and the wailers...
  now... slapping yourself in the face
to rememeber an ex-girlfriend is past painful...
it's just itchy...
         it's just an idea of a mosquito...
    you get used to it, like love might be compared to malaria,
you can take a hundred girls slapping
you in the face,
   after which you start slapping yourself
to estimate that 100 girls could slap you and
that you'd still **** them...
  what's painful? the 100 album playlist...
   what the **** happened to tom waits'
  live album         glitter & doom (live)...
which is akin to the doors', roadhouse blues
live...     i really would prefer to slap myself toward
a 1000 times silly... than excuse tom waits' album
not being mentioned in the century of
worthwhile albums...
    come on... live circus?!
          come on!              goin' out west?!
goin' out west live, is as good as the doors'
version of roadhouse blues!
the studio version doesn't match-up to it,
not even half as much!
      sometimes recording music, live,
      propagates the need for a judas...
                    you really need a thief somtimes...
i mean, sometimes the art-work comes with the audience,
rather than "claustrophobic", locked in a recording studio;
it's basically the energy, of the immediacy of feedback.
betterdays Feb 2018
the page remains unturned
tho the bottom corner
has been worried into a soft dog ear

it is not that the words are boring
the plot mundane, or the prose stilted
it is I who cannot read the black ink
the same words repeating in my mind

as i stare out into the garden
my ability to read is well below par
as i day dream the hours away

content to be a  warm, squishy cushion
to the tuxedo rex cat,
as he dreams panther dreams
and purrs like a Massey Ferguson

outside the window, in the hazy warmth
a dragonfly darts about the garden,
before settling with dainty precision
upon the craggy green mossed rock
at the pond's edge, a pause, a blink,
then the insect alights again

i too should be up and about....
but i am anchored by lassitude
and  three and a half kilos
of contented cat....
whose daydreams  are not
to be disturbed....
that's my excuse.....anyway
Ken Pepiton Nov 2022
1966 - Alensky, no,
never heard of him. So,
we can imagine bionic man,

the arrogant right used man,
the standard left twist,
enemy, opposing force…

and, today is the first glimpse,
KPIX Reports, Saul Alinsky.

Heard by locals within the range
of the CBS affiliate in the Bay Area,

that one, with the prison in the middle,
Alcatraz, and Otis Redding set, to sit
and sing with me,  by the dock
on that bay, where sea lions coexist,
but the Ohlone could not,

those whose toes walked this way,
this mean middle im-mediate way,

weyekin, wake and think, we be kind
a like you, we from one, Epluribis Unem,

from many, one.
I knew a man, an indigenous survivor,
who ran the big magnet
at the wreckin' yard  that fed the foundery,
owned and operated by the Didions,
North American Foundery Company.
-open shop
- no union then…

Epluribis Unem Massey, was not a noisy man.
He showed me how to shear steel.
Did not say a thing, but showed me,
so I knew.
Do this wrong, one time, and you die.
Quick, or slow, no body will hear you scream.

In a Foundery running a Didion shaker,
no body will hear you scream.
test
NIGEL Dec 2020
The Ballad Of Foxham Bill

I  knew a man down Wiltshire way,
We called him Foxham Bill.
He’d sit astride his tractor
And swagger up Spirthill.

Up top he’d stop and look around,
A broad smile on his face,
Below the farm he knew so well
His life bound to that place.

Before he set to work each day
He’d ponder on his fold;
With pride he’d think about his wife,
His three girls good as gold.

On his descent he’d fill the lanes,
Surveying his estate.
We’d strain our necks and back our cars,
Give way to Bill’s old crate.

It stayed that way for years I guess,
His routine would hardly falter,
But then daughter June a sailor met
Who brought her to the altar.

Next Mary flew around the world,
Back-packing I’d heard say,
Got fixed up with an Aussie lass
When cruising down Sydney way.

Now down to one, his pride and joy
(She’d never tasted town),
Bill had a boy in mind for her
With him she’d settle down.

But Julie, bless her, took the veil
And married her school mate.
They took a plane one Saturday
And now live in Kuwait.

Wife Betty would not leave the roost,
Of that he could be certain,
With thirty years under the yoke
She’d make their final curtain.

But ringing in the church one day
Elizabeth met Sam-
Within three weeks of knowing him
She’d left for Chippenham.

Now every day he climbed that hill
His swagger was no more,
His smile had gone, he wore a frown,
His tractor lost it’s roar.

As bad luck went, his was the worst,
Alone now on his farm,
He worked away the lonely days
And tried not to self-harm.

One day a Jaguar pulled up,
A stranger knocked his door.
He said his farm and land was sold-
His tenancy no more.

So Foxham Bill, a farmer spent,
Took all his compensation
And bought a house in Bremhill Wick,
Investment ‘gainst inflation.

His Massey Ferguson he kept
A’rusting on his drive,
And every day took all he had
To try and stay alive.

The NHS it did it’s best,
They would not taste defeat,
With CBT and counselling
They’d have Bill on his feet.

But then one morn I took my rod
And set out for the river,
It wasn’t a chill that caught my breath
Or a  wind that made me shiver.

For in the midst of Avon’s flow,
It’s front wheels spinning free,
Was that tired old red tractor
And Bill hanging from a tree.

So dear reader, I’d say to you
(Be you rich or poor)
The only constant thing is change
Of that you can be sure.









© (no references, veiled or otherwise, to any person living or dead )
A very British poem, probably not good to plan things too much, lest those who watch may surprise you with changes!  :- )
Charles Brookfield - 1893
William Gillette - 1899-1930 - 1,300 performances in 30 yrs.
Sherlock Holmes movie Baffled - 1900 Silent/Short - Max Goldberg
John F. Preston - 1900
Charles Rice – 1904
Karoly Baumann - 1905
Maurice Costello - 1905
Viggo Larsen – 1908
Alwin Neub – 1908, 1911, 1914
Otto Lagoni - 1910
Holger Rasmussen – 1911
Mack Sennett – 1911-1912
George Treville - 1912
Harry Benham - 1913
James Bragington - 1914
Francis Ford - 1914
H.A. Saintbury – 1916
Hugo Fink - 1917
Sam Robinson - 1918
Eille Norwood - 1921 Silent short movie - The Dying Detective
Burt Lytell - 1921
Dennis Neillson-Terry - 1921
John Barrymore – 1922
Hamilton Deane – 1923-1932
Tod Slaughter – 1928, 1930
Richard Gordon – 1930-1933, 1936
Clive Brook – 1929/1930/1932
Arthur Wontner – 1931- 1937 – Movie Series
Raymond Massey - 1931
Robert Rendel - 1932
Reginald Owen - 1933
Felix Alymer - 1933
Louis Hector – 1934-1935, 1937
Bruno Guttner – 1937, 1939, 1942-1943
Orson Welles - 1938
Basil Rathbone - 1939-1946
Cedric Hardwick – 1945
Tom Conway – 1947
Howard Marion-Crawford - 1948
John Stanley – 1948-1949
Alan Napier - 1949
Alan Wheatley - 1951
John Longden - 1951
Laidman Browne - 1951
Carleton Hobbs - 1952-1969
Ronald Howard - 1954/55 (39 episodes)
John Gielgud - 1954-1955
Peter Cushing - 1959, 1968, 1984
Christopher Lee - 1962, 1970, 1992
Douglas Wilmer - 1964
John Neville - 1965, 1970, 1978
Robert Stephens - 1970
Stewart Granger – 1972  
John Cleese – 1973
Larry Hagman - 1974
Robert Powell - 1974
Rolf Becker - 1974
John Wood – 1974-1975
Leonard Nimoy - 1976
Douglas Wilmer - 1976
Roger Moore - 1976
Nicol Williamson - 1976
Kevin McCarthy - 1977
Christopher Plummer - 1977
Peter Cook - 1977
Paxton Whitehead - 1978
Barry Foster - 1978
Geoffrey Whitehead - 1979-1980
Graham Armitage - 1979-1980, 1985
Keith Mitchell - 1979
Charlton Heston - 1980
Frank Langella - 1980
Vasily Livanov - Russian T.V. - 1979-1981, 1983 & 1986
John Moffatt - 1981
Guy Henry - 1982
Tom Baker – 1982  
Ian Richardson - 1983
Peter O’Toole – 1983 (animated T.V. films – Australian)
Jeremy Brett - 1984-1994
Nicholas Rowe - 1984
Guy Rolfe – 1984
Dinsdale Landen - 1987
Tim Pigott-Smith – 1987
Anthony Higgins – 1987
Michael Pennington - 1987
Roger Rees - 1988
Ron Moody - 1988-1989
Clive Merrison - 1989-1998, 2002, 2004, 2008-2010
Edward Woodward - 1990
Simon Callow - 1990
Richard E. Grant 1992
Robert Powell – 1993
Patrick McNee – 1993
Anthony Higgins – 1993
1998-2019:  John Gilbert - Episodes 1-18
                     Lawrence Albert - Episode 20
                     John Patrick Lowrie - Episodes 21-65 & 67-until
                     Dennis Bateman - Episode 66
Jason Gray-Stanford – 1999-2001 – Animation
Matt Frewer – 2000-2001
Joaquim de Almeida - 2001
Richard Roxburgh - 2002
James D’Arcy - 2002
Andrew Sachs - 2004
Rupert Everett – 2004
Jonathan Pryce - 2007
Javier Marzan – 2007
Roger Llewellyn – 2009
Robert Downey Jr. 2009 & 2011
Ben Syder – 2010
Nicholas Briggs – 2010-2018
Igor Petrenko - Russian T.V. Series - 2013
Benedict Cumberbatch - 2010-2016
Christian Rode – 2010, 2014
Anthony P.D. Mann - 2011 (More like a thriller "spoof" by V Movies)
Samuel Tady – 2011, 2014, 2017-2018 (Tady Bros. Productions/on YouTube)
Johnny Lee Miller – 2012-2019
Benjamin Lawlor - 2013
Seamus Dever - 2014
Ian McKellen – 2015
Euan Morton – 2015
Gregory Wooddell - 2015
Paul Andrew Goldsmith – 2015-2016
Ewen Bremner - 2016
Jay Taylor – 2017-2018
Yuko Takeuchi – 2018 (HBO Asia – female ‘Holmes’)
Orlando Wells - 2018
Johnny Depp – 2018 (animation)
Will Ferrell – 2018
Nicholas Boulton – 2020
Henry Cavill - 2020
Ethan Bell – 2020 (Fan Film on YouTube)
Ethan Thomas Jung – 2020 Fan Adv.
      (Vagabond Repertory Theater Company—YouTube)

This list is not exhaustive. however, these are some of the
many actors who have played Sherlock Holmes on stage,
screen, radio and T.V. adaptations.
Ryan O'Leary Jul 2018
This lady bird has evolved
to camouflage herself from
Laurent Adrian's Massey Ferguson
currently spraying poison in the valley.

The black dots read "**** Monsanto"
Ryan O'Leary Feb 9
A for sale sign had a tilt on it

and glue of the “ SOLD" chevron

had long given up the ghost,

permitting it to take off in the wind.


It might have made it to the stream

near-by, could be attached to the side

of a boat in Audley Cove by now or

floating face down, under, under offer.


Grass had grown up to the window

sills, the flap of the letterbox was open,

it looked as though it was about to

throw-up its un-masticated missives.


The thumb button of the door bell

was removed and a sock wrapped

round the knocker was worse for

wear, toe holes needing darning.


Lace curtains, supposedly the

sign of mad women may have

been already there when he

bought the house 10 years, it were.


Crows had taken advantage of the

two *** house and no doubt the well

fertilised gutters could be attributed

to their droppings, on both sides.


Redundant down pipes invited ivy

which encroached, and like a pair

of alter boys doing the rounds up the

gable it went meeting at the apex.


Last seasons apples had regular

visits from Thrushes Blackbirds and

Magpies, the Squirrels looked on

curiously at my observation in still.


Massey red Fergusson had a

Robin on the bonnet where flying

ladies pose, the + & — battery

cables were dangling deciduously.


Attempts to slip my envelope under the

door was blocked by a home made snake

but the top pane of a 9 x 9 sash was a

convenient cat flap, so I air mailed.


One last attempt availed of nothing, hello

hello is anybody home must have been a

common occurrence or why else would a

sign inside of the glass read  FFO KCUF.

— The End —