-
Oh damn and bugger! Here we go again -
my creative flow's just gurgled down the drain
-
Waking in the night I felt the draught,
cold air on my face and, in the dark,
-
"You've raised a marble tomb 'To The Unknown Soldier'
But we who survived now starve on the dole, unknown.
-
"Thoughts in conflict
do not travel far
-
When I was told "God is omnipotent"
I looked the word up to see what it meant.
-
In the stillness of this night,
All Hallow's Eve,
-
Ah, weary, weary wanderer,
would you were aware
-
-
-
On one - "His love he did not show".
Nearby - "Though loved, she did not know"
-
Dear Albert, Please consider if you're right
in ruling nothing beats the speed of light.
-
Don't apologise - it was handy that you're late.
It gave me time to mend the garden gate
-
Dear Emily, I write to say
that - having read the news today -
-
Three gypsies stood at the Pearly Gate,
Saint Peter, looking out, called "Wait"
-
Slap-slap of canvas windbreak.
sunlight seen
-
Under a sky of travelling clouds
With the wind in my jacket
-
The screen brightens
contrast sharpens
-
We're now living in a backyard with the moles
and there's a possum gave our cat a fright.
-
-
Let's raise a can to the drinking man
and the landlords and landladies too.
-
Dick Cheney's
insane he's
-
Hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle
The cow jumped over the moon,
-
Only tumbleweed rides on these rails now.
Only clouds' shadows pass along this way.
-
I searched within the nightmare of your mind
to find you cowering - gave you the key
-
I have nine gold trophies.
I need 1 more because
-
"You ask me if I want to score?
I tell you, man, I'm up to here -
-
-
Sing no songs of love or pleasure
nor to me red roses give.
-
Though fallen leaves we use as imagery
of ending - dying - in reality
-
Death is naked everywhere -
a prostitute is she.
-
My journey has been long, I've wandered far.
Now, in the fading light, I rest and turn
-
I stand unsure upon the sands of shifting circumstance.
On the far horizon lies the land, between wide waters dance -
-
See how that ballet master, Summer's breeze,
makes the flower garden dance to show
-
If the Old Year seems to have lacked rhyme and reason,
and the New Year could be just as bad - or worse,
-
(A homage to those old Victorian sentimental ballads - they may not be Art but, sod it, I like 'em)
In years to come, when I am old
|