Month: November 2016

Daily Muse

Re-load the page, Jacinta,
let’s see what comes up next.
The Breaking News is shocking
and leaves us all perplexed.

Rachel’s married Slugger Jones
but she really wanted Sam,
and Trixie’s told her mother
that she wants to be a man.

The doctor’s a transvestite
and his son is not his son:
He’s the daughter of the plumber
who used to be a nun.

Re-load again, Jacinta,
for all the latest news.
What would we ever talk about
without our daily Muse?


 

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Audit

Twemlow’s bathing in a barrel
and Quain is up a tree,
Leonora’s in the Blue Room
reading Speak, Memory.

So all is well in my mad world,
all my characters are here.
I sometimes do an audit
just to feel them near.


 

Inspirational poem

The rescue party found him
amid the drifting snows,
still playing on the harpsichord,
but this time with his toes.

Adversity can sometimes
bring out the best in folk,
like when you toast marshmallows
as your house goes up in smoke,

So take a tip from Twemlow
(he’s the guy in the snow)
and call every misadventure
an opportunity to grow.


 

Oversight

There should be lids on ears
to block out sound,
as eyelids block out light.

Open and close at will,
to hear or not to hear.

Why eyes but not ears?
Admit the sound but not the light?
One more flaw in God’s design,
an unforgivable oversight.


 

The kindness of the long-distance runner

My theme is Thelma Thweedle,
who chased the Southend bus
from the stop outside Tesco’s
to the one near Toys’R’Us.

She caught the bus (just in time),
and hauled herself on board,
only to discover
it was bound for Wallingford.

So Thelma punched the driver
and commandeered the bus,
shouting through the window
‘Southend or bust!’

That was twenty years ago,
the driver still can’t see,
but Thelma’s now the mascot
for Southend F.C.

She runs along the sidelines,
as fleet as any hind,
and passes round her handbag,
a collection for the blind.


 

The jerk

One wishes
that the dishes
might somehow clean themselves,
then climb back,
prim and proper,
onto the kitchen shelves.

But no, it seems we can’t have that.
God wants us all to work,
while he sits there laughing,
like a total jerk.


 

The pa’dox

Gonna git me some o’ that eddercation, learn to read them books they got over at the schoolhouse.

Poppa says I can be anything I want if I got eddercation.

Only, Poppa never got no eddercation himself, so how in hell does he know?

So I asked him, and he said ’It’s a pa’dox, son. Now fuck off and read.’