Category Archives: verse

I'm a pessimist but I'm ok

I’m a pessimist and I’m ok
I worry all night and I sleep all day.
I do my shopping at 1 am
Then I’m sure to meet some very naughty men.
I’m a pessimist,it’s not a gay life,
Especially if you have a watchful wife.
I invent crossword puzzles for the Times.
Then I write these cunning little rhymes.
I am rich but I generally suffer panic.
Either that or I get pissed and manic.
I’m a pessimist and I love to laugh
It makes women wet themselves,just like a bad cough!
But you’re too fragile to worry about such issues,
Just fill your handbags with plenty of thick tissues.
I’m a pessimist,I’m neurotic and depressed.
Will I feel better now that I have confessed?
I earn money by writing all night long;
Then I lick my wife’s face with my bright red tongue.
That is more than enough.THE EDITOR.
No,it’s perfect.Just right.
I could not improve it.
Please remove it.

The watery moss

I went roaming country roads

I walked into  a   moss.

I sank down till I near drowned

My  clothes were  all awaft.

A policeman saw  and  dragged me out

How fortunate am I!

But for him I would have sunk,

 now I’d be dead today!

Let this be  a  grim warning

For all   witless women

Always take the  police  with you

Or you may find  you are swimming!

The oxymoron class

There is a sentence often spoke
In jest or repartee
“See how the cookie crumbles,mate.
Why don’t you have some tea?”

But my cookies don’t crumble
They bend in multi ways.
Why here are some I made for you
Only yesterday.

You want to know why cookies bend?
Well,mine are made from rubber.
They look impressive on the plate…
As good as any other.

But when you pick one up to start
And press it with your hands
It does not crumble,but just falls
Into a thousand rubber bands.

The guests suffer embarrassment
As they gaze down in dismay.
But the children and the dogs and cats
are happy as they play.

I gave my lover,one cookie
I gave him three or four
But he was never satisfied
Until I gave him more.

Then when I met him later on
He seemed to be in pain…
And claims his doctor told him off
For eating  them again

So now I’m having lessons
In how to bake real fakes.
It’s called the Oxymoron Class
And you should see our cakes.

I made one,I made two,
I made fifty four.
So now the freezer’s full right up
So I can’t make no more.

I want to crumble cookies
But mother doesn’t know.
She has gone to heaven…
Oh,how I miss her dough!

I lost my expression

ImageI went to the shop for an onion..

Then I came home with a leak.

I drank too much tea

And it made me pee.

It’s so vulgar that I should  not speak.

I went to the Market for lettuce

And then I got red as a rose.

My knickers fell off

My,how I cursed…

All those words women don’t know.

I went to the town for a paper.

And then I came home with  no face

My pocket was picked

And my purse was nicked

I lost my expression with rage.

In the harbour:Loss and Gain by Longfellow

Considered by many to be the most popular American poet of the 19th century, a storyteller, whose works are still cited – or parodied. Longfellow’s works ranged from sentimental pieces such as ‘The Village Blacksmith’ to translations of Dante. Among his most interesting works are Evangeline (1847), a narrative poem of the former French colony of Acadia, echoing such epics as Homer’s Odyssey, and the song of Hiawatha (1855), especially noted for its sing-song meter and shamanistic rhythm. Longfellow is considered the first professional American poet. A number of his phrases, such as “ships that pass in the night”, “the patter of little feet”, and “I shot an arrow into the air”, have become a common property.

    When I compare
What I have lost with what I have gained,
What I have missed with what attained,
Little room do I find for pride.I am aware
How many days have been idly spent;
How like an arrow the good intent
Has fallen short or been turned aside.But who shall dare
To measure loss and gain in this wise?
Defeat may be victory in disguise;
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.

What did you think

What an ass!

 

There once was a doctor called Spooner
Who was affected by all things lunar
When the moon was half sized
He was quite galvanized
By the bum of a lady piano tuner.

He asked her to go for a walk..

His eyes were out on their stalks.

They fell into a bush,

Whose leaves were so lush

They made love even before it went dark.

Then they went to the Parson at once.

He gave them a positive response.

You can marry today…

You need not delay.

And it all was because of one glance!

Into this world

Nature

Pink flowers

You came here gradually,
from the whirling chaos of the dreaming infant,
anchored by the maternal hand to earth.
Do not try to fly back to heaven today.
Be patient;your guides will,with no effort,
Teach you the patterns and the dance.
All you need is to be open and to trust,
For you have a place in the world.
We need your contribution.No-one else
will see this world from your perspective.
And as you trust the chaos now,fear it not
Should it return.Every creative act
involves the breaking of these barriers
by which we keep the chairs and tables
anchored into themselves.The patterns may break up
but new ones are somewhere near.Patience
with this suffering is the only route now.

You cannot go back.Heaven comes only after
you have grown roots into this earth,
grown sunward,and travailed the storms
and stinging blows;
have grown your flowers and leaves
And let them fall.
Accept.

The only way you can go
is the earthly way.
You are part of us.
We love you.
Our hands are reaching out
If you just lift your eyes.

In the Chaos,God danced and rainbows
Flew from his hands; tears fell from his eyes…………
Those tears which fertilized our earth.
He wept, knowing of the pain to come;
And yet,he did not cease to dance.

Are you hungry as you roam,
Munching polystyrene foam?
Do you have it for your tea?
I prefer a bumble bee.
Are you happy as you hum
Swigging all that dark brown rum?
I like brandy very neat.
While I bathe my painful feet.
Are you in a pensive mood?
I am feeling very rude.
Thought as gone away you see.
Now it’s just hard drink and thee.

The sky lark

July 2010
Freed from her trap
Bird soared into air,and hovered,
And floated, resting;
And flew higher, singing as she flew,
And higher again,
Till there was only her song,
Left in the silence,
Trembling.
Up on the wide,stump topped hill,
I felt the lark inside my heart
And heard her singing.
And flying up with her,
I saw gold sun and silver moon,
Moors of heather ,and sheep grazing,
Green hills,
And shimmering lakes,
Clouds,sun and sky in watery mirrors.
And sang,and dipped,and dropped,
And curled
Up the blue
Bright heaven,and rested
On the wind.
All that day
I was a lark singing.
I shall always have a vision of
A bird
That flew upwards,
Rejoicing and free
Into a deep blue sky, and high
And higher
Beyond high
Into a place, beyond eye even,
But music still sending.
I wish I were back on that heathery moor,
With the nibbling sheep and the bees sweetly humming,
Hearing again
The poignant song
Of the skylark;
A prisoner,freed by a magician,
From her trap,
So happy to be free,
So wonderful to see.

Do it again for me.

Lost amiability

I am able I am assembled
I aim .To kill Abel.
I blame Abel,I.
Am I emblematic
Of blame?
Abel,am I to blame?
At home,I am
Unable to tell.
A lamb is an emblem.
I am unable to help Abel.
Help me ,Abel,are you able?
My name is unable to be,
I mean I am unnameable.
I am Abel,I am an object
Of fraternal hate.
Love was unable
to be,to embrace. Enmity and time
Beat me.Killed me.
Dead.
They aim to disable,
A lamb dies.Call him
Abel.
I am bereft, for hate
Was able
To destroy amiability.

I aimed hate at my brother, Abel.
Hate will be unable in the
End to win.

I miss you, Abel.
My brother.
I miserable,Abel.
I am unable ,Abel,
To live,to love.
Abel,I bad.
No balm,no love,
I unable.
I un…
Un,undone.
Oh, Abel.
I bereaved myself,
Unable,
blind.
I lost,ability,
Love.
I live not.Yet
Not able
To die.
Unabled
Undone.
Done for

Homeless in London


If you get on a bus today
You may get quite a surprise.
There could be a number of people there
Who’ve been riding on it for days!
They don’t have any home of their own
They have nowhere else they can go.
So they ride a round with an oyster card,
From King’s Cross to Walthamstow.
It’s not too bad in the winter time
The buses are very well heated
And if you go upstairs near the window
You can nearly always stay seated.
It is rather too hot in the summer
But that doesn’t matter so much
You can always sit by the river
Or even lie down in a ditch.
You think there are none in London?
Well ,it’s a metaphorical word,
And if you listen and look you’ll find
The meaning has become rather blurred
Some of them sleep on the night time bus
As it goes from Victoria to Greenwich
And when it turns round they stay on board
Till the bus goes back to the garage.
I am not really sure what they do after that
I don’t think it’s very much fun.
Maybe they can sleep in the graveyard
Until their time has come?
They’ll be so happy to go up to heaven
They will be most welcome at its door,
But what will they say to the rest of us?
“Was it me that you were not there for?”

Dearness

Image

His eyes were full of dearness in the gentle bedside light..

Then I knew I loved him,despite my poor eyesight.

His eyes were full of humor and spoke to me these words

I’ll love your voice forever;you’re my own sweet singing bird.

I am swinging the bread again

I have had my imagination banned.
I ask,from why to why not and every shade of gay in between?
I don’t wish to tease you all night.
I want to be gay in every field in England,if not the world.
I’ll see which way my mind flows tonight.
Please don’t keep yelling for me down the street.
I’d like to separate the men from their toys.
Kindly go and wet Vince Cable.
Electricity and water,the leads may be faulty… you may get nuked.
He drowned her in his wrath.
She fell into the wine.
And that was only the first course of the meal.
Of course that was his design..
She only wanted a wash but he gave her a bath, Ceylon tea and first aid,
This lady was absolutely burning,
So for a climax,they had sherry trifle with brandy butter.
Are there walnuts in May?
It’s utter Bedlam in my house.
Feeling mad?You’ll love it.
Call me up,any rhyme will do.
You can text me,ring me,write me.Feel me,love me.
As long as I have time to pee.
I mean,please.
There are many saints in love.
But he surpassed all.
He planted so many trees,he was given his own thicket.
They say,it’s not real cricket…
Just a Test Match.
But it’s such a pleasure and joy
We won’t let them cop it.
She loves all and blunders too.
She asked for a Dutch cap bt they gave her a balaclava helmet and a pair of gloves
So the consequence was,
Knickers
Sorry knitting babies’ jackets
I love little pussy, she keeps me so warm.
And she never wavers.
She can plead music too with the best of When.
He’s no gentleman…he’s just the dogsbody.
Why,he even answers the door..
He’s not just drowning,he’s raving…..
He speaks many languages except for the unusual cliches..
You get my swift?
He’s bringing the lead again.
The race does go to the rift but they miss the sites for sore I’s.
Has he run a marathon or is his name Jonathan?
No,I am deaf but my IQ is 200 and increasing gaily.
Who was that you paid?
It all goes to show
Knickers…………
I wish someone would remove them all.
We have too many errors in the fire nowadays.
And it’s burning me tup.
I am a liar now but I used to sleep under the table in a box.
Insomnia,hypersomnia.nymphomania…. is it plainer now?
It’s the lesson of two weevils.
Life needs Dutch courage.
Say what you like,but the Danes make good butter.
I need references.I’m the auth