You should Kendra because she has stuff worth reading and a fabulous way of saying it. She also has a brilliant grasp of profanity and I casually suggested she do a spoken word kinda thing with one of her posts and guess what…she only bloody well went and did it.
A piece on being made up of one quarter Kentucky fried chicken and three quarters middle aged dad.
I wrote here, some while ago, on the matter of being fat and being on a diet. That didn’t last though because I have a real love of all things delicious and a self destructive streak that simply will not listen no matter how tight my trousers may be or how jiggly my man bosoms.
I did though do something I have been putting off for a while and go for a full medical check up recently. The sort you pay a lot for and they issue you with a terrifying report afterwards which has charts in it that prove that you’re lucky to be alive and that you are made up of one quarter Kentucky Fried Chicken. Probably my thighs. They are quite succulent.
So, it was with some trepidation that I headed to Leeds and signed in, nervous about what was to follow but relieved in a way that I had done something positive. I am getting on after all, I am 46 this year.
Now I don’t smoke, and drink only occasionally, but I don’t eat well at all and get far too little exercise. By too little I mean pretty much none – unless you count running back upstairs from the kitchen late at night because the blinds are up and the neighbours can probably see me eating handfuls of wafer thin ham straight from the fridge in my pants.
They ran a full battery of tests on all of my major bits and pieces, took blood and other bodily fluids to pore over and even tested my hearing. I’m a bit deaf on the wife side apparently.
There was a not wholly unpleasant episode involving lubricant and the snap of a rubber glove which men of a particular age are subjected to and the caress of an educated hand to ensure that all was ship shape in the underpants department.
How did it work out?
Well turns out It could have been a lot worse though I hope very much it was the kick up my full bottom that I needed. Almost everything came back better than I hoped though I apparently need to eat more nuts, oily fish and avocado. Easy enough I guess. The two areas for concern were my weight (which I did not need to pay someone £300 to tell me – I do have a mirror) and my blood pressure. They’re obviously linked but it did result in me having to go on medication as it was worryingly high.
I felt rather chastened I will admit,
So what now? Well a few weeks in on the meds and I feel noticeably better and I seem to almost have my eating under control. Its surprising what you are capable of when you the ramifications are laid out for you by someone with a certificate on his wall that entitles him to caress your testicles.
I’ll let you know how I get on.
You know the drill. Small Japanese poems using the words Lake and Calm. Go!
Two words, endless possibilities.
Lake: Silver and gold
Calm descends at fall of day
a tranquil mirror
or perhaps a Tanka…
Calm I watch the lake
The body is well weighed down
she won’t resurface
Best call the insurance folk
boat adrift, calm lake
waves lapping at the shoreline
drunken fishing trip
Maybe a teeny weeny haiku
at camp crystal lake
If music were a woman then I think perhaps she would be my dirty secret rather than my soul mate.
Mel, who you can and should read, posted a piece earlier today which you can read here. Mel has a load of posts, and I would recommend reading all about Charlie in particular. Most enjoyable indeed.
Anyway, it got me to thinking about my own relationship with music. I say relationship, but to be honest it is more a series of dirty one night stands than something more meaningful and long term. I doubt very much that music and I will be slipping off for a romantic weekend to a little cabin somewhere to celebrate a lifetime of loyal partnership though there may well be the chance of a dirty romp in the back of the car.
Ask me who I love and I will tell you that I adore Prince and would happily let him touch me inappropriately (were he not dead – something that still upsets me terribly). I would also insist that I love all things eighties, that I have a thing for rather loud and nasty metal and own most of Bob Dylan’s early works on Vinyl. I also had an awkward jazz phase (and have the Dave Brubeck red vinyls to prove it), a pop stage and a particularly filthy long weekend where I was into rap music but that just made me a bit sweary and it turns out that there is no appropriate time for a fat middle aged programmer to be using the ‘N’ word. No matter how fly or dope his tunes.
There isn’t much I haven’t tried but mostly I seem to resort back to the music I loved when I was in my teens in the eighties. And Volbeat. I heard Volbeat for the first time about 5 years ago and since then have fallen very much in love with their rockabilly metal. I’ve even seen them in concert a couple of times and took my kids to see them. Our Tom loves them especially, and he is only 9.
I then realised that technology has played a big part in my on off romance with music, particularly in recent years. The music varies slightly but how and when I listen to it has been hugely influenced by the way I access it. For many years I had the same old stack of CD’s and cassettes and things did not vary much at all. Perhaps that was to do with having a young family and trying to work on my career. Probably. But as the years have progressed and I have found more time I have dipped in and out of music and most often as I have discovered new technology.
I dabbled with peer-to-peer sharing for a while and found myself stealing all manner of music I had never really listened to but that did not last long as I also stole some pirated films and a particular copy of the Lord of the Rings ended up being a virus so I packed that in pretty quickly.
iTunes then made me super horny for all the music I had forgotten from the eighties and nineties (and sometimes later), and for a long time I amassed a ton of stuff that I hadn’t really appreciated at the time and enjoyed it a lot more as I got older. I ended up with everything Hootie and the Blowfish had done which when I look back was just a bit weird. They were okay but I’m not sure I needed their entire collection.
Spotify and Deezer followed and that was quite fabulous and I had a nifty little speaker I would plug my phone into as I browsed endlessly but I would always end up coming back to the things from my youth. I will admit to having a real thing for Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Band which I picked up from my dad.
Sonos speakers followed and I put them through out the house and again these gave me a new lease of life and it was not long before I was treating my neighbours to hours and hours of Erasure and the Pet ship boys.
Recently my listening time has increased again on the back of picking up a couple of Amazon Alexas which I have hooked into my Sonos speakers and Spotify and Amazon music accounts and between me and the boys there is often sometime playing in multiple rooms throughout the house.
Funny how it goes though because the kids are mostly into eighties music and volbeat…I do wonder what will be next.
You’d have thought I’d have given up on this idea by now wouldn’t you. But no. No I haven’t.
The big day came around, as our pair left the ground
and to space they did head quite excited
soon of gravity free they would quite happily
give into their lust now ignited
Not constrained by their girth or the pull of the earth
they were sure to express their desire
to the chamber they floated, rotund hot and bloated
loins smouldered then soon set on fire
Hungry mouths warm wet lips bulging crotch quite pert nips
they cavorted and drifted through space
arching backs roaming hands loves wet warmth swollen glands
In huge bosom he buries his face
Set free from their weight, she’s the food on his plate
he devours from angles quite kinky
with his mouth he then pleases his tongue he then teases
and lord look where he just stuck his pinky
Heaving flesh they’re entwined to their passion resigned
hungry mouths they consume head to feet
Right way upside down how they both go to town
Like that time at the all you can eat
Now the entree is done and its time for more fun
its the main, shes bent over and waiting
Massive buttocks quite round what a sight most profound
he approaches his mouth salivating
Hands on hips legs akimbo, head thrown back like a limbo
how he handles her bulk into place
with no effort he fills her the pleasure it thrills her
Just like ribs, puts a smile on her face
Then with coital alignment and subtle refinement
its doggy, jack hammer then twister
little dipper, wheel barrow, for her age she’s quite narrow
though the Zebra Lunge gave her a blister
As they peak in their lust one more move is a must
and he grabs her and spins her around
They explode with delight and embrace close and tight
For the pleasure and love they have found
She caresses his chins and quite sated she grins
satisfied for the first time in years
pudding eyes drink her in shes his goddess of sin
such pleasure it brings them to tears
Well I think that is enough really. I will miss them,
This week I will be covering gender fluidity, inappropriate love for South American animals, naked dancing and of course…Donald Trump.
My friend met this lass one December
Gender fluid, trust me I remember
One day she’s a bloke
Next a woman, no joke
Took a lot to not always offend her him them shim …look, she had a lovely bottom and they were very happy and that’s all that matters right. Love is never simple but well worth the effort and labels really can get in the way sometimes.
A Peruvian who so loved his llama
When it died shipped it to an embalmer
When returned he was thrilled
Sexily posed and quite filled
Now he spoons it at night, sans pyjama
A naturist nun loved a giggle
and to dance and my word did she jiggle
Pendulous she would swing
Heaving breasts, quite the thing
And her bottom quite wildly she’d wiggle
There once was a POTUS called Trump
An orange small handed vile lump
Make things great? There’s no hope
Your wife’s boobs he will grope
And your sister he’ll most surely hump
Dirty haiku about Mick Hucknall
Before you read this you really ought to familiarise yourself with the man that is Mick Hucknall. But be wary of getting too close, he is surely smouldering.
Oh sweet Mick Hucknall
Simply red and solo king
Titian haired flower
Lover of repute
scores deflowered, fiery lord
ladies simply swoon
Flowery ginger bollocks
rampant love machine
flower, oh simply
I want to fall from the stars
straight into your arms
Okay so I never intended to suddenly be writing dirty poetry about Mick Hucknall but hey, that is the lure of the man!
Just a thought or two
So, I wrote here about the busy week I had culminating in events of the weekend, and following that I found myself rather weary for a few days and catching up on things so had no opportunity to write.
The majority of the stuff I published in the last week and a half were written before last week commenced so I found myself having done little or no writing for over a week when I sat down to write this morning.
Curious it was that I really struggled. I’ve been able to churn out up to 3 or 4 pieces a day for months effortlessly but when I sat there everything seemed very foreign to me. I looked at my previous posts and they seemed wholly unfamiliar and whilst I have tried to keep up with comments I had to keep going back to look at what I had written. Lots of the ideas I had seemed rather empty and it struck me that my brain has been in a wholly different non creative place.
Browsing through my reader I wondered how much I had missed. I have read a few things recently but so very little as I slipped back into the routines I had before I took up writing a few months ago and it struck me how very easy it would be for me to simply put down my pen and to not write again.
I had a few pointless conference calls at work today so I managed to scribble down a few limericks and haiku, and slowly things started to feel familiar again. Tonight I have managed to plonk myself in front of the keyboard and I can just about feel the ideas starting to come back and thoughts forming.
I haven’t done this for long, so perhaps I do not have the muscle memory quite formed yet but I am now more aware of the need to keep feeding my brain and to try and maintain the creative processes because I didn’t much like the idea of not doing this again though it would be quite easy to let something else take its place because life can just get in the way sometimes.
An ode to ignorance
So if I was not English, and I think I will suppose
The type of things I would enjoy, and ponder upon those
For foreign, people often seem, when seen on the TV
their weird ways, their lovely teeth, they’re really not like me
If French all day Id feast on Cheese and pastries I’d consume
and walk around in open shirts, with frills and pantaloons
turn up my nose at things not french and art I would adore
and get myself a second wife and hide her like a whore
If Spanish I would surely sleep each day from noon ’till 5
I need a nap, been up since 9, if not I’d not survive
Then mostly I’d eat squid for tea and sip on wine all night
and watch the Brits on holiday – they drink and puke and fight
If German born Id surely spend efficient time at work
then home for beer and sausage and some sauerkraut, what a perk
in leather shorts I’d strut around, my bare chest on display
and dance to David Hasselhoff, fat bottom I would sway
Across the pond I think perhaps gun toting I would be
it seems it fine if I shoot dead the folk who bother me
Defend myself from innocents not like me, how sublime
I’d get myself grenades and guns, some rockets and a mine
OK, so I will stop that there. I kind of lost my sense of humour the day that daft twat started shooting people at a country and western concert and found myself hating everyone and everything and just wondering how on earth do we end up doing such awful things to each other. I got that far before I calmed down a little but still felt all of this frustration at the stupidity of people and then started writing and thought yeah Im just as bad, mocking people so I stopped but I then thought oh heavens just press publish because it is what you felt at the time. I had this desire to just ridicule and mock, but not too severely. Passive mockery if you will.
Anyway, it is what it is and I am what I am. I do find humour in most things and most situations and for the most part think the world is quite hilarious. Then I started taking myself far too seriously.
you should have seen what I had planned to write about the Chinese and the Italians…awful awful stuff.
just a few bits and pieces
A chap with a taste for wild nights
bought a hooker in basque and black tights
unprotected he played
wife found out that he’d strayed
came home scratched and all covered in bites
Young lovers but still in their teens
hormones on fire and tight jeans
got knocked up by mistake
what a big one to make
Oh well, so much for all of your dreams
A POTUS hailed “Son of a bitch”
as the players stood firm on the pitch
don’t you dare take a knee
it’s offensive to me
and my white privileged buddies, all rich
Haiku me baby one more time…
Using the words Ghost and haunt. I shall start with a piece entitled: ‘Drunken Liaison’
I wake up sweating
You haunt my sleep like a ghost
what was I thinking
Let’s try another
I’m the ghost, the dark
dreams haunted, hid under your bed
Gosh it needs a clean
Meh. Maybe a Tanka
She ghosts him, ice cold
he haunts her, stalking every move
“Get out of my damn bushes
now I’m calling the police!”
cold tranquil of night
ghostly noises emanate
haunt me all you like
In the garden you’re buried
such peace and quiet at last
piffle and tosh…
photo courtesy of Kudybadarota @ pixabay
Minuscule Japanese poetry
Not really written much lately. Let’s get back into the swing of things with some light Haiku work.
A slave to loves need
the heart wants what the heart wants
mistakes made in haste
Guess it’s a start
Son has stomach ache
he thinks it’s a heart attack
Just needed a poo
I hope for the day
Donald needs a new heart, gets
a poor black muslim’s
How wicked I know. Aslan will surely punish me. Bed I think…good night.
A quick scribble on the week that was and on being a bit of a knob.
Ever have one of those weeks you think will never end? The sort that keeps you wound up and all frantic with your innards all knotted, only to look back at the week and think “What was all the fuss about?”
I had one of those.
I have a decent job, one that I am pretty good at and that does not particularly vex me. Just the way i like things – without vex.
This week’s vex though came in the form of a Rugby festival that I organise and deliver for about 800 children. I do it because I love the club my kids play at, it is part of the community and over the last few years has become a huge part of my life and my families. They discovered I was bad ass at spreadsheets (my words obviously, not theirs) and before you know it I am involved in all manner of things including being in charge of this thing (though I am still unsure how).
Planning includes doing a lot of the actual work needed in the run up including things such as putting up fences and gazebos and a list of other jobs as long as my arm. I have this all in hand, no problems, and love doing it. Then, with a week to go I seem to head into a spiral of panic and am convinced that it is going to be a disaster and become a complete arsehole and beat myself up.
So today, the big day arrives and with the exception of some major traffic and parking issues it goes off really well. There is a brilliant team of people there making sure
Whilst the cars queue and some people rant and perform it seems the end of the world and I am convinced it is going to be a disaster. I’ve organised everything so of course traffic on a tiny Island housing 70 million people is my fault.
Eventually, a semblance of calm ensues and I take a walk through the site to see what we have put on and I had a right lump in my throat. 800 children ranging from 6 to 11 playing rugby, having a wonderful time and not a care in the world amongst them. 7 hours later we are all packed away, I have had a couple of Woo-woo’s and I get home to take a look at my emails and Facebook to discover a load of thanks and congratulations on a great day and how they’re looking forward to next year.
I know there are probably loads of deep and meaning things I could assume about myself in this regard but mostly I thought “stop being such a dick, you prepared for this, enjoy yourself more because one day you will be dead.”
Nothing is the end of the world, apart from the end of the world of course.
Anyway, I’ve been up for a very long time and I don’t usually post about things like this and I am going to bed secretly quite proud and a little bit emotional about what we achieved today.
Yeah you know what time it is!
A quite lovely temptress from Dover
loved to frolic and roll in the clover
She would lie in the dew
with a fellow or two
caught a chill, went without a pullover
This molester in charge of the States
filled with anger and bile how he hates
The sick and the poor
and the blacks even more
and brown people with Mexican traits
A chap from Niece grew a large beard
said his wife “Love, it looks rather weird,
So perhaps have a shave
and in bed please behave
don’t come near me until that thing’s sheared.”
A butcher from Leeds who loved pies
Cant resist them, though trust me tries
Now his belly’s quite round
and his man boobs profound
and you should see the size of his thighs
Zoom zoom zoom
I don’t really have time to write this weekend as I am coordinating a rugby festival for 800 children but a few limericks occurred to me today so Ill just get these out of my head as I need to make some room for other things.
There once was a Farmer of note
had a thing, quite obscene, with a goat
Neighbours frowned, disapproved
as they did acts quite lewd
“We’re quite happy” he said, quote, unquote
Wrong I know but stuff happens. I lived on a farm and there was this cow with no ears and one day one of the lads who milked them was found…Actually no I’ll stop there.
A chap I know finds Santa scary
with his beard so big white and hairy
and his bulging great sack
and his lock picking knack
Christmas eve, keeps the lights on quite wary
anyway moving along swiftly. Let’s end with a Donald one. If you’ve read my blog for any length of time you know how much I like to write about him.
There’s this POTUS who loves groping mums
wives and sisters and aunties and nuns
You’ll be next, not discreet
he will send off a tweet
share his conquest of you with his chums
Courtesy of Free-Napster@pixabay
I tried, I really did.
Right, so I sit down intent on writing something deep and moving in response to Michelle’s prompt and all I can think about is George Michael and careless whisper.
The song is not simply simply tugging at the edges of my thinking as I write, but rather it in my face, freshly waxed wearing only tight leather pants, gyrating suggestively and occasionally thrusting it’s bulge at me quite provocatively shouting “Look at me! Look at Me!”
I’ve tried a few lines of touching prose but each time I think I am getting somewhere it then sneaks up behind me, wraps its hands tenderly around my waist, grinds against me whispering into my ear “Never gonna dance again…”
Given how intent it was on being heard I thought perhaps listening to it might vanquish it from my thinking. Get it over and done with as it was but alas that did not quite work out as I had hoped. Sitting at the desk where I write in the spare room in only my boxers, illuminated by the light of my small screen screen listening to careless whisper, my wife noticed me and passed commented that perhaps I should light a few candles or was there maybe something I needed to tell her.
I attempted to explain my predicament but I had started a playlist and suddenly “I want your sex” started to play and the moment for explanations was lost.
Oh well, maybe next time eh.
Photo courtesy of Comfreak@pixabay
Such a non event that it doesn’t even get a picture.
There I was about to write a post on the subject of “Even more tales of alien probing” when I realised that this was going to be my 200th post. 95 days have passed since I published Armitage and wow has it flown.
My first instincts were that this should be something special, perhaps reflecting on my experience but I have done that a few times already and can’t be bothered to do it again. I considered writing about all the fabulous folk who’s work I have liked or the WordPress community I feel a part of but decided against that also.
I think I would prefer to simply pass the event by, as I do my birthdays as I get older, and not put any expectation on myself. I write much better when I am simply making up nonsense and waffling on with abandon.
Maybe when I hit 500 posts I might do something special but for now, nothing to read here, a total non event on every level.
p.s. Okay, maybe just a limerick because you’ve taken time to give it a read.
A woman from work, Laura Nook
turned to whoring to make a quick buck
On her back making cash
till she got quite a rash
and then syphillis and aids, what bad luck
Not a piece I am particularly proud of but it is what it is. *Presses publish*
I know, my last piece was rather dark. So how about limericks to lighten the mood. This week I will be mostly considering terrorists and fundamentalist sorts who thinks the only way is their way.
Hmmm. I should probably delete that. All sounds just a bit angry.
An american chap who gets weird
if he sees a tanned bloke with a beard
thinks they all carry bombs
and oppress wives and moms
bought a gun, shot a few, as I’d feared
A bomber killed folk in God’s name
people think all his kind are the same
blew himself all to bits
what a right bunch of shits
But we cant give all Muslims the blame
Hmmm. Not as light hearted as I had hoped for.
A godly man fancied this kid
you’d be shocked at the bad things he did
but the church saw no crime
said “Don’t do it next time”
and made sure that his sins were well hid
Think I might be in a bit of a mood and rather judgemental. Oh well.
A fellow quite grumpy, a Brit
sat typing some quite nasty shit
think hes in quite a mood
maybe he needs some food
and a nap and to swear less, that’s it
Not a piece I am particularly proud of but it is what it is. *Presses publish*
You’d think we could be nice to each other wouldn’t you…
“Where are we going uncle?” Eleanor asked as she was swept slowly along with the crowd.
“To the memorial service” uncle answered not looking up.
“Why?” She asked holding up her sign just like the other excited children.
“Because you’re a good girl”
“Am I?” She asked.
“Yes you are” Uncle replied. “That’s why I bought you the backpack” he continued, his hand on her shoulder steering her through the crowd. “That is a very pretty sign Eleanor, did you do it all by yourself?” he asked.
“Mummy helped me make it” she said quite proud. She didn’t see Uncle very often since he moved away but he always bought her gifts when he visited.
He took her hand and lead her through the masses. There were so many people, more than she had ever seen before.
“I can’t see” she said jumping up and down, her view blocked by a tall man carrying a candle.
Uncle reached down, his hand snaked into her back pack. Leaning forward he whispered in her ear.
photo courtesy of Elaine Farrington Johnson
I feel rather tired of people being complete arse holes to other lately…
Small Japanese poem GO GO GO!
Thanks to Colleen It’s that time again. Small Japanese poem GO GO GO!
First up a 3/5/3
Lost in mist
Now the traditional haiku
Cold mist rolling in
vague shapes in the dark
Twisted eerie shapes
cold Mist enveloped spectres
heart racing in chest
Tanka with different spelling and meaning because why not?
Dirty ex girlfriend
I missed your shape when you left
and the way you moved
But you spent all my money
I think hookers are cheaper
I did a few serious ones before that…you know I cant be serious for long.
Okay, my first Cinquain now. Sorry.
Bumbling, hating, grabbing
spewing filthy oral garbage
Photo courtesy of carloyuen@pixabay
I am not best pleased.
It’s me, the Universe. Call me what you will, Jesus, Allah, Buddah, The Great Nothing, Merlin, Aslan…I do not mind particularly. My closest friends call me Darren.
Not been here for a while, so just popped in to check up on you and I will admit, you never cease to disappoint me. You really cannot be nice to each other for five minutes can you. I turn my back to enjoy a rather lovely supernova sun and when I come back you’re at one another like you always are.
I was going to list the wars you’re waging against each other but you know what, I really cannot be bothered. Please, slaughter away – the sooner you’re all dead the better. I plan to bring the dinosaurs back – they were far cooler than you lot. Oh, I may keep the Japanese – they’re cool too and I think a world populated by dinosaurs and the Japanese would be freaking awesome.
I was going to suggest that it’s about time the Americans took a good hard look at themselves and stopped shooting each other for no good reason but, well, for one they won’t listen because they seem rather fond of such beastly things and secondly, the NRA have sorted me out with a sweet holiday home so I should probably hold my tongue.
Oh, and do not go blaming me for those storms you’re having. Act of god my big fat celestial bottom. If you insist on ejaculating inside one another willy nilly and living wherever you choose with no consideration for common sense and then building homes on coastal swamps and places known as ‘Tornado Alley’ what do you bloody well expect. I didn’t send the storms and I didn’t give your kids cancer either (despite what a lot of the christians reckon) . Bad things just happen okay. It’s part of the circle of Life. You should listen to Elton John more.
I noticed what you’ve done to the polar ice caps too. Great job you dicks. I always liked them, lovely and tranquil they are. Do you not realise what a lovely planet you live on? Perhaps not – given the quite awful manner in which you treat it. I noticed a turtle with a plastic straw lodged in its nose. It’s not funny, stop laughing. You’ve dumped so much plastic in the seas that it will certainly outlast you lot. Good bloody riddance I reckon.
Oh, and special mention to the Americans. Bravo on Donald. As if being disliked by the majority of the planet wasn’t enough you choose that to be in charge. It has actually made my list of top 3 of monumental humanity cock ups. It is easily on par with the fact that the Greeks can’t seem to install decent plumbing – despite their creative genius, and the small matter of JarJar Binks. George..Serious?
I’m going now, I hope you finish each other off some time soon because I can’t wait to see a Ninja riding a stegosaurus, it is going to be frigging fantastic.
Photo courtesy of Werner22brigitte @ Pixabay
A 6 sentence story.
“Now remember” said Jefferson as the ramp in the belly of the Calista retracted, “you are to follow protocol at all times – understood?”
“Copy that” Helliwell responded smiling, “you worry too much boss, prelim reports that this place is completely lifeless – something wiped out everything sometime in the last 5000 years.”
“There” said Helliwell pointing excitedly to a small shimmering pool in the dusty planet surface, “that’s got to be what command have sent us up here for – water!”
Taking a small bottle from his belt Jefferson bent down to take a sample, and as he made contact with the substance he collapsed instantly, falling into Helliwell and causing him to crash to the surface.
Hours passed, and both men lay motionless in the ochre dust, twin suns passing overhead as dust devils danced across the desolation.
As darkness fell both men suddenly began to move and stood slowly, their eyes now completely black : “Fitssssss like a glove” Jefferson hissed as Helliwell turned to look at him pointing to the Calista and smiling, “It’ssssssss Time to go find a new planet to devour”
Haiku, tanka, what more could u want…
I do like these, they allow me to explore the good, the bad and the downright ugly when it comes to my ability to write minuscule Japanese style poems.
Lets start with the 3/5/3 Haiku and do something quite obvious.
Silk on skin
a sweet summer breeze
Now for a right old defiling
Silk against my skin
caressing me as I move
I love the wife’s pants
Okay maybe a Tanka now. Thats the old Haiku with two more lines added on of 7 syllables each because …well why the hell not!
Her skin is like silk
Caressing her, pulse racing
winter frosted breath
Oh wait I’m still wearing gloves
Think she needs a new razor
It’s something I guess. Happy Tuesday!
Daily Haiku’s are so last month. I think it’s time to bring back a more meaty haiku ensemble a little less frequently.
Daily Haiku’s are so last month. I think it’s time to bring back a more meaty haiku ensemble a little less frequently. The deal was to take the rather serious haiku form and treat it with a little disrespect and hopefully a dash of humour.
Secret Santa? No?
You make baby Jesus cry
Doing shots, fun times
Chug chug, life of the party
threw up on the bed
Oh bugger my subconscious seems to be wandering to Christmas already. No, no, no – that simply will not do!
Got the kids a dog
cavorting, barks of delight
urine stained carpets
Taking out the trash
cabbage juice on my good shoes
bloody cheap bin bags
That’s more like it. tales of the mundane. Maybe 3 more. That’s like a weeks worth of daily late night haiku right there.
Check Donald T’s twitter feed
juices flowing now
Donald: Players must stand
Women, non whites, poor, sick and
Muslim can kneel though
Oh Orange moron
with your juicy puckered lips
just ripe for prison
I know, enough is enough.
So, seems there are a number of milestones I have almost hit with my blog after some experimentation this month.
So, seems there are a number of milestones I have almost hit with my blog after some experimentation this month. I upped my outputs, introducing a couple of daily themed limericks and haiku and then looked to do at least one fiction piece and one challenge piece each day also and it has certainly kept me busy and given me the chance to write some different pieces.
I fiddled around with timings to see how and when they would get the best coverage and when I had a look today it seems I’ve doubled or tripled the views, likes, visitors and comments from month 1 to month 3.
I don’t think I like it though.
All seemed rather planned and thought out and it became something of a burden so I won’t be doing that anymore. I think I shall simply return to writing whenever I can and publishing it in the evening. Nice and simple, no compulsion to have to produce anything for any when.
I think I might write a little less too. Not that I don’t enjoy it I do – very much – but I think I need a bit more balance. This last month I have churned out a stack of stuff on all manner of things as I have really been enjoying the writing but it has got in the way of life and that just won’t do.
Looking back at some of the stuff I have written I think perhaps I might try focus a little more on a few of the pieces I’ve started but never finished and to try and be a bit more disciplined when it comes to finishing things before I head off on another tangent. I am certain I have quite a few ‘Part 1’ pieces on the blog somewhere that deserve a little attention.
On the plus side, I’m rather chuffed that I have done nearly 200 pieces and had more than 2000 visitors. who have liked my work plenty. Feels great to be able to connect with people who follow my stuff regularly and next week I am guest blogger for someone that’s been following me from early doors which I am looking forward to immensely.
I had always said to myself that I would give it a couple of months to see whether I could write a bit and whether I liked blogging and I think on the whole I do, so I think I will keep doing it.
I still have too many limericks about Donald Trump inside to stop now, and thanks for all of your support!