Roddy's Rooster, man! you couldn't
  oust her
Standing up there on his dunghill fair
Announcing to the whole world, to All
  everywhere
My ****! He's the greatest doodle doer
O! that Roddy's Rooster.

He don't need no booster, does
  Roddy's Rooster
He'd even go after the goose sir
Don't you fouster with this Rooster
You'd only lose sir
Now vamoose sir.

Very dapper and quite the scrapper
Patrolling his perimeter
Strutting around the farmyard pound
Invariably, henhouse bound
If you were to meet him
It'd be "Put up your dukes sir
Me! I'm Roddy's Rooster".

With his tail feathers all fluffed up
Like a feather duster
And his chest all puffed out
Quite the Dandy and always randy
What a Suitor that Roddy's Rooster
And O! what a Wooer, that wooey
  doodler.

                         I I

He came a cropper though one day
When he fell in the Hopper
Now he's a good deal shorter
And not half as cocky as before,
Now he sits on his wall lamenting his
  fall
Thinking of the days when he used to
  have a ball
Has Lady Luck that Grand Old Duck
  deserted him I wonder.

Sad to see, now he's a bit gammy
More Bandy than Dandy
He still South's in the Summer
But has doubts in the Winter,
Now he likes to crow his woes and
  lows away
Climbing up onto his dunghill, he
   greets the day
But now in a high shrill falsetto
  voice
He sings  in a whole different way
" I've been round the Ringer but I'm
  still quite a Dinger
**** a Doodley Doo"
Now... now he's a ****** Blues singer!

O! that Roddy's Rooster.
Roddy's Rooster Yeeaahh!

I'm going to miss you old friend.
Yet you still sit on my driveway paralysed.
Reminding me of the day we passed my driving test.
Your ****** crackling old radio, the miles you'd go for me without a grumble, and that night we effortlessly out ran that flashy peacock Ferrari from two roads down.
Your ice blue metallic paint and cream leather interior. Classically understated.
Your hefty old school body panels (felt like we were trying to move a building when we pushed you defeated and exhausted to the side of the road). But you were solid, a tank, and you always kept me safe.
Roddy Rover, my first car.
I'm going to miss you old friend.

They came from the deep sky
with conquest in their eye
not content with the trees
they were here to squeeze
us
Drove us underground
put us in zoos
wailing and gnashing our only sound
hairy devils they ate Gary Neville..
tried to eat Vinnie Jones
He ate them, burped, and spat out all the bones
"Oi! monkey breath!" his battle cry
He rallied humanity he would not let us die...
Got riled up, called in his Hollywood pals
started kicking-*** and seducing gals
Rowdy Roddy Piper and Van-Damme
left those flying monkeys
looking like chewed ham
They released mankind from slavery
saving us from certain doom
The Fall of The Flying Monkeys
in a theatre near you soon.....

< So how far back can you go then ?
How far down the Rope of Songs can you go ?
You were a Rocker weren't you, you liked Rock n' Roll
In the 80's you had a Walkman, you'd be listening to tapes and songs on the radio
You also wanted to be a drummer once, you loved the power and energy there
But what about the early days though, I'm interested particularly in the early days
How far back can you go I wonder
Yea! How far back and what memories do they bring up ? >

Back in the 70's watching Top of the Pops every Thursday evening on the BBC, essential viewing
With its exciting Whole Lotta Love intro
It was something exciting, thrilling
Waiting to see your favourite Band
And to see the Charts, how they were doing
In the Seventies there was Glam Rock, my eldest brother and me we were always arguing and fighting with one another, sibling rivalry I suppose
If he supported United then I'd have to support City...silly stuff
He liked the band Slade whereas I liked...I supported Marc Bolan and T-Rex
Solid Gold East Action I really liked that song
It was very fast, he rarely did fast songs Marc
Telegram Sam..."you're my main man"
Metal Guru..."is it true"
Twentieth Century Boy..."I wanna be your toy"
The hair on your neck would stand up when he'd come on...
Slade were good though, secretly I liked Slade too, they had great songs
*** on feel the Noise/ Girls grab the boys..
Coz I luv you...Mama we'er all crazy now...
Skweeze me Pleeze me "You know how to squeeze me..."
But there were lots of other good bands and so many great songs
We used to play cards for small money...pennies, a series of different card games, and we'd put on records while we played
We even learned to play Chess and we started a Chess League between us,
We'd always listen to the music as we played.

The Sweet's "Blockbuster" with its intro of police sirens, it spent about 5 weeks at No.1 in the UK Charts...
It reminds me of...of Fish that song...Fish on Fridays, we used to have fish every Friday, I didn't like fish there was bones in it
I wouldn't eat it then Mam would get angry
One time she took a mouthful of my fish trying to prove there were no bones in it
Then suddenly she started to cough and splutter and choke
A Bone had actually got caught in her throat
I thought it was my fault, I thought I'd killed her
She had to go to hospital to get it out
I was going to tell her "I told you the fish was dangerous"
That memory just came back to me when I thought of that song and that time

Yea! I liked Marc Bolan and T-Rex, songs like Metal Guru, Twentieth Century Boy
I remember I didn't like the lyric "Twentieth Century Boy/ I wanna be your toy"
It sounded silly to me that lyric, I suppose I wanted things to make sense
And when he did that song "New York City" with the lyric
"Did you ever see a woman coming out of New York City with a frog in her hand"
I thought then he was maybe losing it a bit
< You...you were a very serious child then weren't you ? >
I suppose I was...like a lot of children are...maybe I just wanted things to make sense.

< I'm interested in the early days, even the very early days and the memories you have
How far back can you go ? What about the funny novelty songs ? >
Chuck Berry had a No. 1 with "My Ding a Ling" playing with his Ding a Ling, we all thought it was very funny
Stayed at No. 1 for several weeks
"Gimme that thing, gimme gimme that thing (or Ding)" was another funny song
"Mouldy Old Dough" by Lieutenant Pigeon a keyboard song with the constant refrain of just "Mouldy Old Dough"
Cat Stevens had a song "I can't keep it in/ I gotta let it out/ gotta show the world..."
Novelty songs were important, they'd interest even your parents
They'd pass a comment "Ha! Ha! That's a funny song"
< And there were sad songs too, weren't there, really sad songs ? >
"Billy don't be a hero don't be a fool with your life" by Paper Lace about a young bride trying to talk her young fiancee out of going off to war, he doesn't listen and never comes back, he gets killed
The Government sends her a letter, she throws it away...
"Seasons in the Sun" by Terry Jacks, 'Goodbye Michelle my little one/
We've known each other since we were nine or ten/ We climbed hills and trees skinned our knees...ABC's / O! Michelle it's hard to die when all the birds are singing in the sky..."
You'd nearly be in tears listening to it.
We used to buy Top of the Pops compilation records with lots of hits on them
Sometimes Mom would like a song, 'Stay with me' by the band Blue Mink
"Stay with me, lay with me/ Love me for longer..."
Always reminds me of my Mom that song
'Killing me softly with your song' Roberta Flack was another
'Tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree..."
At school every Friday the teacher would have a spelling test, I used win it a lot, I was good at spelling
The teacher used to give some sweets as a prize, I used bring them home to my Mum.

The Eurovision Song contest (all the European countries would put forward a song), I remember being let stay up to watch Abba win in 1972 with 'Waterloo'
In their fabulous outfits...they looked like Stars, Giants to us, Norse legends from Sweden.  They were amazing!
And what about our own Dana, the young Irish girl from Derry who won the Eurovision for Ireland for the first time with 'All kinds of everything...remind me of you"
I was too young to be allowed to stay up to watch that one
But you could probably hear the adults shouting for Joy from the room below
Happy Nay amazed to see one of our own having done so well, being recognised, flying the flag for Ireland
And then there was seeing Thin Lizzy playing 'Whiskey in the Jar' on Top of the Pops, the first Irish Rock band ever to appear on the show
It was so exciting watching them on our old Black and white TV...an Irish Band one of your very own up there on the World stage
And what about Gilbert O'Sullivan from Waterford I think reaching No. 1 in the Charts with his lovely song 'Clair'
We thought it was a love song but at the end it was revealed it was in fact about a little girl he used babysit for...so sweet.
We used to get comics and magazines secondhand, bought at jumble sales (remember jumble sales)
There was a music magazine for young kids, mainly for girls I think
It was called 'Jackie', there'd be a few in our bundle
They'd have big pictures of all the current hearthrobs
Donny Osmond, David Cassidy, the Bay City Rollers
The young fans would go crazy for their idols
I remember Donny Osmond singing Puppy Love and his version of The Twelfth of Never...
"I'll love you till the bluebells forget to bloom
I'll love you till the clover has lost its perfume
I'll love you till the poets run out of rhyme
Until the Twelfth of Never/ And that's a long long time"...
They were beautiful words about loving, a forever love
And Baby I love you by The Ronettes "Baby I love you/ I love everything about you...
All singing about this wonderful mysterious thing called...called Love.

<Can you go back further than that?>
When we'd go up the village where the amusement arcade was
There'd be songs playing, there were dreamy songs
Albatross by Fleetwood Mac, A whiter shade of Pale by Procol Harum
There was an instrumental I remember called "Sylvia" by the Dutch band Focus
There was a lovely leggy blonde girl named Sylvia in my class at school
And yes! I think she was actually from Holland
(We had a few foreign girls in our class)
Y'know I think she fancied me...did Sylvia
She used to smile at me a lot.
I have a memory of being at the fairground in the Summer with its swing boats and bumper cars
It's roundabouts with the horses and swings, the shooting gallery, the stall for throwing rings over things and taking a prize home
I remember candy floss and ice cream cones
I remember playing the penny slot machines in the amusement arcade, all the different machines
I remember a song "California Man" by The Move... wonderful Summer days.

In the Sixties an Elvis or a Beatles film was a big deal
I remember A Hard Days Night in brilliant black and white
And then "Help" in wonderful colour
Trying to get a fabulous Ring off Ringo the drummer's finger... great songs
Watching The Banana Splits "One Banana Two Banana Three Banana Four/All Bananas going right through the door...
Remember The Monkees"Hey!Hey! We're The Monkees/You never know where we'll be found... We're the young generation and we got something to say"
Last Train to Clarksville, I'm a Believer... great songs too
Remember The Age of Aquarius "This is the age of Aquarius..."
The Sixties yeah!

<Did your Mom and Dad have a Singles collection, the old 45's. Do you remember?>
On our old Dansette record player Roy Orbison singing In Dreams and its B side Sharadoba a magical Egyptian sounding song
And also It's Over about a love affair breaking up
And its wonderful B side Indian Wedding, that was my favorite song among the 45's
It told the story of Yellow Hand and White Feather two Indians getting married
But then going off into the swirling snow never to return
Gone to the Land of the Rising Sun...
You'd listen to them over and over again those songs and that wonderful haunting voice.
<And what were you thinking about, what would be running through your mind when you'd be listening to those songs?>
I remember I wanted to be special that I'd have some special powers and be able to do great things
Something that would make me stand out and that people would be amazed
Maybe some of the girls too, would be very impressed.
My Dad he liked Jim Reeves, he had a lovely velvety smooth voice
He sang Billy Bayou 'Billy Billy Bayou watch where you go/ You're walking on quicksand/ Walk slow/ Billy Billy Bayou watch what you say/ A pretty girl is gonna get you one of these days...
He sang a lot of slow love songs "Put your sweet lips a little closer to the phone and let believe that we're together all alone...
Anna Marie... Anna Marie
Four Walls to know me...

<Tell me about Christmas, the Christmas songs?>
Christmas was a magical time in our house, we'd have the Christmas tree with all the decorations and coloured lights on it
We'd have long concertina like decorations going from wall to wall, so colourful
And lots of glittery things
The songs... Slade singing 'Happy Christmas Everybody', Wizard singing 'I wish it could be Christmas everyday', Mud singing 'It'll be lonely this Christmas (without you to hold)' sounded like Elvis
Johnny Mathis singing 'When a child is born',
'Little Drummer Boy'...
In those days because of school and family you had a strong sense of belonging, having friends, attending birthdays and sports and community events and church
I remember the Christmas party in Primary school (Kindergarten), you had to bring your own treats
I'd only have some biscuits and diluted orange juice
Most people were relatively poor in those days
I was a bit embarrassed having so little
There was one boy and all he had was a bottle of milk to bring
Some used make fun of him, kids could be cruel sometimes.

I remember the teacher brought in a tape recorder once and taped every boy and girl's voice and then he'd play them back
I used dread when my voice would come up
'Cos suddenly the whole class would erupt in laughter
For some reason my voice sounded funny when taped
Even the teacher used smile
I felt so humiliated nay destroyed with them all laughing at me...
I remember... I remember singing the Christmas Carol 'Angels we have heard on high' with its chorus
"Glo..ooria, Gloria in Excelsis Deo"
It was Latin I think but I didn't know this
I thought we were singing "Gloria in a Chelsea stable"
I thought to myself "Jesus must be a supporter of Chelsea football/soccer club" heh!
We had Perry Como's Christmas album with the story of 'Frosty the Snowman' and 'The Christmas Song' ...
"chestnuts roasting on an open fire/ Jack Frost nipping at your nose/ Yuletide carols being sung by a choir/ And folks dressed up like Eskimos..."
And Bing Crosby of course, singing White Christmas
I think we all dreamed of a White Christmas
At school we'd sing 'Away in a Manger' and 'The First Nowell'
Y'know if I sing those songs even now to myself, I can... I can almost remember...

<What about the other songs you learned at school, funny songs, sad songs and the memories they bring up? >
There was a song 'Those were the days (my friend we thought they'd never end)' it was in the Charts
I think the teacher taught us it
The people in the song would be having a great time laughing and drinking and dancing in the taverns
But as they'd grow older their lives would change and they'd get lonelier and sadder...
'Puff the Magic Dragon' I remember there was a very sad bit in this song
Puff and his childhood friend would have so many great adventures together
But then one day, his friend he came no more (he'd found other toys to play with)
Poor Puff was left bereft, he slowly slunk back into his cave... this used to make me sad...
We did patriotic songs 'Roddy McCorley' (goes to die on the Bridge of Toom today)
We had a songbook at school, I still have it
It had lots of old folk songs
Oh! Susanna, Skip to my Lou, The Camptown Races
"Michael Finnegan beginagin/ He had hairs on his chinagin/ Poor old Michael Finnegan"
We used laugh at that song
"What are we going to do with the drunken sailor... early in the morning "
'Marching through Georgia' "Hurra! Hurra! We bring the Jubilee/ Hurra! Hurra! The flag that sets us free...a rousing song
The teacher would play a musical instrument, a melodica I think it was called
She'd blow into it and it had keys on top that'd she'd finger to create the notes
She divided the class into those who could sing and the others, the Crows she called us who couldn't
I was among the Crows
It made me feel bad being called a Crow.
In Primary school we used to play soccer during the breaks
It was usually the Boys from the Housing Estate versus the rest of us from the Village
There was never any tactics, the whole team en masse would just run after the ball LoL
I remember I used to get angry sometimes probably because of something someone had said to me
When I was angry I'd become like The Incredible Hulk
I'd go through the whole lot of them, beat them all
I was Unstoppable
I was the first boy in my class to ever score a goal using my head
The school would also have soccer leagues and we'd get put onto teams
But we were so small compared to the bigger older boys we'd hardly ever get a touch of the ball
But I... I managed to get a goal once which was unheard of from someone in our year
I was so happy.... delighted! My teacher even announced it to the whole class
That I'd scored... I was so chuffed
When I went home and told my parents though they didn't seem to think it was anything special....
My Dad he liked accordion music, he liked The Alexander Brothers from Scotland
They had a song 'Nobody's Child'
"I'm Nobody's Child, no one to love me/ No mother's kisses no mother's smiles/ I'm like a flower just growing wild..."

I used to sleep alone in my room
You'd be afraid there in the Dark on your own
There'd be a nightlight on the wall all lit up
A religious picture, the ****** Mary holding the child Jesus
I'd get Mom to leave the door open so I could faintly hear the voices downstairs
Sometimes I couldn't hear anything and I'd be afraid everybody had gone and left me
So I'd get up and sit on the landing listening
There was a few times when I'd actually go down the stairs
I'd be so relieved to see them all still there
I used sing songs in the dark to keep the fear away, songs we learned at school
"We're going to the Zoo Zoo Zoo/ How about You You You/ You can come too too too..."
Old MacDonald had a farm E-I-E-I O! and on that farm he had some...
"10 green bottles standing on a wall/ And if one green bottle should accidentally fall/ There'd be nine green bottles standing on the wall...
Sometimes I used recite poems we'd learned
"Two little blackbirds singing in the sun/ One flew away and then there was one... One little brick wall lonely in the sun/ Waiting for the blackbirds to come and sing again "
I also remember trying to recite to myself the multiplication tables...

<There were funny rhymes and nursery rhymes wasn't there? >
Christmas is coming/ The Goose is getting fat/ Please put a penny in the old Man's hat/ If you haven't got a penny a halfpenny will do/ If you haven't got a halfpenny God bless you...
Hickory Dickery dock/ The mouse ran up the clock...
They could be strangely violent sounding
Jack and Jill went up the hill/To fetch a pail of water/ Jack fell down and broke his crown/ And Jill came tumbling after...
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall/ Humpty Dumpty had a great fall...
Three blind mice/ See how they run/ They all run after the farmer's wife/ She cuts off their tails with a carving knife...
Girls are made of all things nice... sugar and spice/What are little boys made of/ Frogs and snails and puppy dogs tails...
Adam and Eve went up my sleeve and never came down till Christmas Eve...
I remember the early games we played, Snakes and Ladders, Ludo, Tiddlywinks trying to flick little plastic counters into a tiny plastic bucket, also playing draughts and marbles...

<Can you go back any further ? >
My Mom singing in the kitchen doing her daily chores singing some song off the radio
Dickie Rock an Irish showband singer singing
"Come back to stay/ And promise me you'll never stray/ I promise that I'll be true...
Sean Dunphy another Irish singer singing "If I could choose" (came second in the Eurovision Song contest)
Tom Jones 'The Green green grass of Home '
There was a lot of easy listening type songs on the radio Burt Bacharach type songs
Andy Williams, Englebert Huberdinck (Please release me let me go/ I don't love you anymore), Doris Day maybe
There's a lot I can't remember now
Val Doonican another Irish singer who'd made it big in the UK
(Had his own TV program for many years on the BBC)
He had a big hit with the song "Walk Tall"
"Walk tall and look the world right in the eye/That's what my mother told me when I was about knee high...
I remember one magical Christmas we got a present of a plastic projector
It came with several slides, they had wonderfully colourful cartoony pictures on them that told a story
We'd turn off all the lights and project it onto the wall
I remember it was like magic, the colours they were so vivid, they were like the colors off stained Glass windows...
The colour of things was very important when you were a kid, they'd almost create feelings inside of you
Colours came first... before words ever did
We often didn't understand the grown ups with their big words...
I remember getting collections of different kinds of toy soldiers and then staging battles
I remember collecting little toy Dinky cars they were called, that was their brand
And Matchbox cars (another brand) ... even today when I see certain colours of cars I am reminded of those old toy cars I used to play with... strange

<What are your earliest memories then? >
There was a question I always wanted to ask the adults but I never did, I thought it kind of funny and didn't want them to laugh at me
The question was "Why does Life always show me ?" An existentialist question even then.

We lived by the sea so you'd be lulled to sleep every night by the flowing up and flowing back of the sea... the tide... its gentle swaying back and forth motion
We had a black cloth picture/painting on the wall, a night scene with swans on a lake and an exotic house in the background with the Moon shining
It was so quiet and peaceful to look at...
My bedroom wallpaper had lovely red or pinkish roses
There was a colourful flower design sewn onto my pillowcase
It used to be lovely getting into bed with fresh linen...
I remember I used to get funny dreams even then, sometimes scary dreams
But I remember you were always safe 'cos in the dream you had a special ring you could put on and then the scary dream would go away (I've often wondered after was that maybe where Tolkien got his inspiration for The Lord of the Rings and Wagner the music composer for his music opera "The Ring")

<Can you go back...any further ? >
Going back further, you're almost falling off the edge of the world there
To a time... to a time when there were no words
When a child comes into the world they have no words
There's only... only The Silence... The Great Silence,
Silence is a strange thing, you can hear Silence
The fact that you can hear it means it must be changing from moment to moment
It too is just like a music, it's probably the first music
Without it there could be no other
The Music of the Spheres someone once called it
It just stays there in the background... glistening... your constant companion
Probably the first sound you ever heard, and probably the last you'll ever hear
It can grow very loud
It wasn't threatening, there were no monsters in it
Not until you went to school and learned words and heard scary stories
Did the monsters come
Words they can cast shadows... sometimes very long shadows...
There was a cot with wooden bars, I remember having a blanket with lovely warm colors on it, soft light blues and yellows, wooly sheep, Bo Peep or Bears or something
We had a golden coloured curtain with lots of designs on it in the bedroom
I remember if you looked hard enough you'd start to see faces in the curtain
Sometimes they would frighten me, they'd look very sharp and angry looking or maybe very sad unhappy looking...
I suppose today I still see faces, in my mind, in the great curtain of all my memories, all those I ever met and knew...

I remember looking at my Mom's face and not knowing what she was
Babies their a complete clean slate, have no words, they know nothing of this world
Gradually they warm to their Mom's affections and come to trust her and bond with her.
Because you had no words when very young there'd be huge gaps in your consciousness
When your consciousness would be completely clear and still
The silence and stillness would envelop you
... and there was something else... something else there... something deep in the silence
Out of it would come something very strange and quite wonderful
It'd come upon you suddenly...it was like your consciousness was changing, opening up
It was like you were descending into some great... some great complex
Your eyes would be closed but still you could see it and feel it... you were part of it
And it was so natural and so familiar...it was where you came from...it was Home
There was a first part that would lead into another part... and then another, all different
Yea, it had several stages and you'd pass through each stage from the outside going inward right to the very last stage... the very Source of Life itself
And you'd be completely at ease with yourself, you'd be completely at Home there
It'd come every night... that Special thing.,. that Special Place
Y'know sometimes when I see a little baby asleep in its pram, I know... I know where they are
Their away now, away in that Special Place
Far faraway from this world of care, so peaceful and so quiet there
Guarded by unknowingness and the Great Silence
With no fear or confusion there to bedevil it
Knowing only a relaxation so deep and a great Stillness within...

But me! I was the youngest in my house, I was always fighting with my brothers
And I was a terrible worrier just like my Mother
I'd be worried about school and the teachers, and trying to understand my (school) lessons
And there'd always be problems, arguments, confusions... humiliations and cruel harsh words spoken
At night I remember I used shake my head vigorously as if trying to rid my mind
Of words that had been spoken, words that hurt or stung...or confused me
I used bump my head gently against the wall
But no! I couldn't escape them... my peace it was broken now...it was gone
And that Special Place just like in the song Puff the Magic Dragon
It came no more...it was lost to me.

I suppose this is all I can remember, all I can recall
I guess this is where I must have come in
I suppose I must have reached the end... the End of my Rope here.

several addictions have them, several
music genres have them regarding
their listeners -
    hell, a lot of people go by a nicknames,
marijuana smokers are stoners,
or loafers,
     ******* users: coke heads -
    ****** - dope fiends?
         or is that lepers, or is it scurvy?
metal music fans: meatheads
due to their head-banging antics -
the punks the ikes,
            the gays queers -
the transgender folk trannies -
     the feminists the ****** -
although i'd call them the sapphos sisters...
anyway...
    they can beat you down with regard
to your own antics -
i'd love to see another pissy-pants
  annoy oliver reed, and see if he'd laugh...
that being said:
   alcoholics probably have the best nickname
compared to the rest of them...
ha ha - hellraisers.
ah, on that note, having mentioned oliver reed,
oh, his athos? pristine performance...
it's gonna sound gay, but i also had
a crush on aramis: you know,
that refined english gay gentlemen without
hissy fits, what can you do,
you're young, your brain is moulding,
it will full decide aged 25...
  as it turns out: it was just a glitch of a child;
anyhoo, i watched this somewhere,
that heath ledger inclined himself
to pinch a doppelganger's case for his
role as the joker, after watching a few
tom waits interviews...
     it wasn't exactly theft, given that actors
are the respectable thieves in this world,
besides that,
   so there i was, watching the 1972
film henry viii & his six wives -
and as henry viii (donald pleasence)
started to age... it dawned on me,
in a subtle way: hey! oi oi!
     it's tom hardy playing bane!
obviously without the mask and the chain
smoker's voice raspy voice -
just the mannerism / punctuation marks
in the performance;
wouldn't you know - i've actually found
a suitor, and ****, even if the production
back in the 1970s was low...
   it doesn't matter: i was watching, actors!
i was watching the respectable thieves!
i was watching actors and thieves and actors
and thieves!
actors these day? more like burglars...
and there is a difference...
    acting, as if the audience isn't in the cinema...
sneaky little buggers...
back when acting was thieving!
i still think my favourite cinematic moment
in history,
  is when octavius caesar (roddy mcdowall)
reacts to the news of mark antony's
(richard burton) death:
the soup is hot, the soup is cold,
antony is alive, antony is dead...
                    and then the furore!
those really were thieves before they were
actors... not they are "actors"
        when in fact they are burglars.

His eyes blue green
His body Roddy
His hands distinctive
Arms strongest than pillars of marble
His hair reddish blonde
His manners unforgettable
His smile stunning
His private vessel redish too
His feet huge

His Adam leaf just right
His ancestry Irish
His heart pure gold
His soul my own
His twin soul twin flame
my very own
His voice strong masculine deep.
Soprano.
His passion wet a stallion perfectly shaped all rapture is  
My voice his soprano pride
My thighs his madness
His anger his silence I fall in love.
His true loving heart my own.
His physic athletic muscular HE- MAN type body
His hight 5'8
His wealth my own
His jewels my children
His diamonds my tears my tears his diamonds his Rubies his poems.

His sonnet 75 his treasures buried for me to know his love is true

His heartbreak my own
His goals my own
His first love is me
His love making supernovae

My smile his 20 million hurried loot worth fame and great fortune.
My Knight my all
My sheikh my king of hearts

My body his pleasure his desire
My hair dark ashy moon glow over cedar- brown
My eyes vitreous reflecting colors of nature, starry looking eyes

My voice his soprano pride
My thighs his madness
My DNA his own
My height 5'4
My feet 8-1/2-9
My heart of gold his own.
My talent his own
My joy and happiness
my own
My song his delight his lyric rights

My first love him patpat
My love.
Our marriage license sleeps.

Our book; We are the authors
of our own lives and destiny..

What Dreams may come
Gone with the wind
Message in a bottle.
E. T. Phone home.
Scarlett letter A
Countless written memories.
.
Favorite places stargazing under the stars.
Boat rides waves rocking our love away.
Lover is PatRk imaginary ancient
True love.My E T.

Knight yes one King of hearts RD-present here soon.
~~~
By: Karijinbba, all rights.

for me, the greatest escapade of a Thespian to will truth
rather than power, is to depict power as a nonchalance,
a shrug of the shoulders, it's not so much a willingness
for either, but a Thespian to depict a will to power,
it's to depict the truth behind it, a nonchalance...
best exhibited by roddy mcdowall
in the film cleopatra (1963) playing
octavian / augustus...
puppets on your mark, get tightened:
dangle dangle dangle;
crucifixions in syria are like throwing
raw chicken to cats in england;
go on... flinch or nervy eye a lid to twitch
that one into your reality as non-existent
because elsewhere or taboo so the tiara lady might mind,
as: ooh **** blush pluck a few roses while i wrinkle
a fake smile that's otherwise best represented true
around the eyes.

By any measure
Accomplishing your goals is called success.
Yet in and of itself
When all is said and done it means little.

Success is not the measure of the man,
But what comes after it -
After the struggling and the inward perspective
Comes significance,

That greater purpose
For which we all should strive,
To matter,  not to ourselves
But to the lives of others,

“Hello”, he said
Eyeing me in the football stand,
And with diminished accolade
Expounded, “Your Roddy’s dad.”

And in a twinkling
The true measure came to me,
That in his world, and that of my son
I had attained significance.

Sitting in the best seat in Dublin
Gives a chance to watch the city
In its rawest way.

The outlet store that has the opposing view
And been gated for years
Is still closed. Its roof a bus shelter.

A woman walks by
Eating ice cream.
It’s Christmas in Dublin

And I imagine Roddy Doyle seeing the funny side.
The Chinese are eating a Cornetto
While we’re hiding from the rain - he might say.

Here, I know, is a piece of home
Always patiently waiting.

Music is when
Your bones vibrate
With the happiness
Of listening.
Or something less dramatic,
But still similar.
It’s when
You get goosebumps,
Or you can’t help yourself
But hum along.
Or at the very least,
It’s listen-able.

So “The Box”
By Roddy Ricch
Can just
Go die.
No offense
To all of his fans
And Roddy too.
Just my opinion.

a study of incremental autobiography:

    because in the english speaking lands:
to have lived... and then to write a book...
never is a life to be lived:
in order to produce a book...
somehow everything happens a posteriori...

no one writes anything: "informal"...
   all has to be lived prior...
and then the crown - the book...
to glue the pieces together...
a book like a forgotten cinema of memory...

i have here... an autobiographical sketch...
working from...
            doomsday rejects - six hundred...
but working back to
reading about the hellraiser movie...
from screenrat.com...

        because it wasn't christopher young's
soundtrack...
that was to be used... that came later...
but... coil's: unnatural history II: smiling
in the face of perversity...

gul'dan...
               sounds a bit like... doomsday rejects -
six hundred...
i will not... use the necessary...
diacritical marks to summon the turks:
for their advent of the balkans...
teasing vienna...

the old continent breathes...
while the new girth of a swelling of the birth
of h'america is: loaded with burdens
of its own making... for once...
the world is of not concern for these people...
iraq can fall asleep in its turmoil...
afghanistan can patch itself up to
the guard the Raj...
              Libya will burn wood once
more... to light the fires to brush
against a satisfying warmth come the dune
nights of teasing metaphors of...
siberia... the transition period from:
ex azia: ex azoth...

                      nouns are seemingly cheap...
no wonder the hebrews
decided: to cover their former
beloved in:
tetragrammaton and ha-shem...
emperor nero didn't see...
it wasn't about a fire...
a mythology of some prometheus...
already a new mythology occurred...
who stole the staff of zeus
the blink sharpening of odin's plucked
out eye: as... eaten by...
      huginn & muginn...

                  we are learning that some things...
are best left... unresolved...
i leave behind the hope for a romance
of dreams with arabia...
         i have written these letters down
on my hand... hours later i solved
a sudoku and ascribed them...
2, 3, 4 and 7 status...
               2 was the false h'eh (ה)
mirror bound inverted...
   i guess the remaining letters were
arabic...
         (ل) was 3... (el)
   (ك) was 4... (katta)...
    mirror mirror on
the blank canvas... ⅃ - (ך) or
the copernican gamma: Γ
                       or (ר): the rest...
                               and 7 became... (ز) zord...

in all the autobiographies you might read:
in all the autobiographies
of the "celestial" beings:
none could match... Octavian Augustus...
roddy mcdowall: mark anthony is dead...
is that how one says is... it?
the soup is hot... the soup is cold...
mark anthony is living... mark anthony is...
dead...

you don't read in an autobiography...
a monument of incremental addition having
taken place...
take a harold norse: memoirs of the ******* angel...
monuments to... a inch of snow!
a cry for help of a stone...
strapped to a... landslide!
a truly democrastic detail! away from...
the ego: emperor and life:
that last colliseum's worth of an audience!

i had to finish the day off...
by having a little bonfire...
enough... to clear the way for 2 tonnes of soil
coming tomorrow...
and the grass... and the new shed...
and a patch of felt...
to measure up... losing a shadow...
anything... absolutely everything!
to escape the hideous formality of language...
from each... and this day... to match:
an escape from this day...
ironing my father's shirts etc.
in anger... teasing a clenched fist...
against a wall to extract plums of hue
on the knuckles...
no... listening to jazz didn't help...

i started with shostakovich...
oh hell no...
i moved toward rachmaninov...
nope...
    wayne shorter: ju ju?
you ******* kidding me?
    infected mushroom - converting vegetarians...
after that... i figured: just listen to the iron...
pretend you tamed a dragon or something...
jazz might have been the modus operandi
of escapism of the beatnik poets...
well... if you had to escape...
music akin to... vera lynn...
                       frank sinatra...
                  leotard liberace...
        jim reeves... he does moon river...
better than anyone...
        bobby vinton - blue on blue...
   jazz the bet...
          who the hell thinks of escaping when
listening to classical music...
probably anyone...
who hasn't listened to...
the meat & gravy of... what came out
of... prog rock... attention span of listeners...
        escapism music...
   1950s pitch-perfect pocket-load
of the dream that could never leave the shores
of a... dying embrace...

and then of course... there's the little bonfire...
some slightly wet juniper branches...
and drying... roots of a yucca...
the white smoke... and walking into
it and walking out of it...
coming out stinking... suffocating...
revived... baptised by the smoke
and the smashing of mirrors never peered
into...

minding to have this burning done...
when the neighbours do not have
any washing out to dry...
a mini-event of democracy: retracted...
bold: loaned... words...
to cry and at the same time decry freedoms...
to lick the fire would imply
to have had a beard-trimmed...

escape? o.t.t. - younger brother...
              demdyke stair...
            and now coil...
the soft moon...        
     i could have wished to have escaped
with jazz...
         if i were trapped by jim reeves...
and classical music is...
the base: not the bass... point of departure...

but i have had my bonfire...
it did feel like...
   smoking a packet of cigarettes...
but there was no nicotine...
i saved 2 slingshots for now...
and...
                     a baptism of having
walked through the burning
of yucca roots and juniper...
               if a man like me would ever have
the blessening of a yesod: a foundation...
a throne...
his throne would be a dead oak...
and he would be hunched on top of it...
looking to the hour where his shadow would
tease the height of a mountain
in the fountain of naked eyes that peer with...
obnoxious scrutiny for: "truth" and...
child-argue "dialectics"...
    for the crown: the keter?
       i can... fathom... the pain...
                 of omniscience... mingling with...
telepathy...
       after all... is it... so... unwelcome...
one has to either suitor...
the discomforts of a crown...
                    with the comforts of the throne...
or the comforts of the crown...
with the discomforts of the throne...
           few: if they are not...
    ever managed to match:
the discomfort of the crown with the discomfort
of the throne...
i am indeed working on...
converting myself... back toward...
how the new testament is not simply
a greco-hebrew propaganda tool against
the romans...
            blah blah...
         but... point being...
how am i... to somehow... write in...
any other... ha ha! helpfully provided tongue?!
dig me from the trenches of...
what you wish to usurp...
and look how fiendish this will: per se...
this per se that crowns itself above your
omni- litany of ultimates!
breeds!
ha! convolvulaceae: morning glory...
  it will take... a ******* meteor to... rid your
quest to vanquish rome...
  ancient or modern...
                  you could... with... egyptian
hierogylphics... with babylonian cuneiform...
but... these letters: even i were to envision
what you came to perform...
the symbiosis found - your people:
the enriched people... who are blameless...
        ask the greeks: they'll simply yawn...
they'll sooner find the original...
in line with a greco-cyrillic parody to amuse
themselves of:
how the slavs entertained communism
that was tested on the mongols...
and how... for all the progressive allure of "left":
in the west.... blah blah...
         i can't undermine...
the ALPHABET!
              for the worth of an idea...
   it's hardly: the same as... the standard rubric
measure of spelling...
         the arabs find spacing a problem...
between punctures of digital roman...
it was always a problem...
  
              the hebrews knew it... they didn't need
to find the Ned or: keeping up with
handwritten scribbles...
the hebrew were waiting for the latin script
men to abolish handwriting and come to terms
with: letters = numbers = digits...
not chinese ideograms...
but no ******* fiver-river-flows of the greeks...
the arabs tried forever...
to imitate the weaving of the hand that
was writing... cut them apart...
crude... crude oil... about to be bull-whipped
and litmus tested... yacht *****-boys...

               ثــاـت

   (that)... i can't undermine the latin text
when i'm given no alternative to write in...
   glagolitic script? really?
  so what... bombard me
with angry-albino-*****-цeppelins?!
blitцkrieg my *** to what?
hopes for the polish-lithuanian times...
and the cossack uprising...
that... romance... sort-of... novel?

what's being question in... zee vest?
cheap ***** history novellas...
less nomad and more undercover work...
about to be subdued...
or not...
          less the diaspora as work...
and... waiting for the diaspora...
                      
thus to the lottery of *******...
the concept of...
    the gravure model...
            say... ai shinozaki...
                 beside the crude base...
page 3 milk cow **** of the eyes...
and the otherwise: niqab blinking and
touching in the dark...
a blank a limp biscuit worth
of phallus...
the collab. of iggy pop and 'avid bowie
in berlin...
ms. porcelain...
   gravure models and...
the joy of insinuation...
**** as... the mona lisa efffffffff
ffffffffect...

how... somehow: the display of feeding pouches
of seranading... buttocks inverted:
pouches of... ****
is to be mis... categorized...
as such: and not as such:
cushions...
better that i am deemed simply to exist...
rather than have... any sort of life:
abounding in me...

*** as an insinuation...
not this... perverted third person:
**** in the way sort of...
"oops"...
       i much prefer the asiatic:
nuance toward the credibility of
any ****** encounter...
the nearly squinting over the arabic
load of make-up and excess
of niqab...
           priest over pin-head...
and much more... hovering like a noose...
a halo... above the suffocating circumstance
of the ditto-head...

   that somehow the milk vessels
are topsy-turvy:
*****-**** one minute...
and... 12" ***** looking to preserve
their *** sit-on kumbayah
for the... the last lost genius
of the zodiac killer...
                  i have pardonable proof...
the crusades never took place...
or never is the never of:
finding... the philosopher's "stone":
the antithesis of res cogitans...
res vanus...
the unthinking "thing"...
       the non-thinking...
clues up horizontal...
laying back: vertical...
              
        i have to allow my shadow
this much... space...
paintbrush and canvas... and....
limits of a grief...
one that anyone can succumb to...
but: so few: fool-hearted
devolve to express...
            
   it's not that the language
is so bothersome...
but the **** is... has...
reached a fever...
       the white fluid of a woman
of body has been excavated far enough:
what ****... what *******...
what joke... what village bicycle...
harem of the eire and the ******...
what...

i like the affairs of the gravure idol...
this to tease: this to taste...
this to cleave to... this leads to unrest...
because i am never...
the third party: the culprit ******...
better than a *** doll...
and it makes you "think"...
the european counter-brave...
forward... come einstein-frankenstein...
"ism"...
              some of these...
gravure idols...
they're not photoshopped...
they're... genetically improved...
aesthetics of man...
losst count at 100,000 million...
and ther are a billion worth
of replicas...
it's not that there's something cheap
to concern oneself with...
it's that... there's always room for
improvement...
          they're not photoshopped...
inclined with liquid dead...
jelly confied... ***** wanks...

            i much like... *** as an insinuation...
rather than... being "date-*****"
by an image...
    that ball load of phallus
in the way of gratifying me from my
one true: serial trace of metaphysical
translation of: hunger...
there's that... there's also...
the concern for... a canary...
and the cage and the wolf and the world
that: just so happens...
cried a privy demand for:
being looted with one's intestines
being... untangled and readied
to compensate one's concern for
making it an item:
for clarifying: ....      measure!

who is... "ralph phiennes" without...
psychiatric membranes...
without: prescribed... limitations of...
chemical soups?
     the same as a john malkovich?
who is... "ralph fiennes"?
          lord voldermort...
but as an amalgam of...
         francis dolarhyde and...
                   dennis "spider" cleg...
what is also a bride & groom...
of beckett and kafka...
                         and... that...

  one sometimes... would wish... to know...
what one's prescribed medication are concerned
with... and what... they're... not...

yes... this is enough; for the worth
of a day: and now... a... towed....
today.