By the light of the silvery mooooooon
Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead. I did them all in December but was less successful in January. Let’s see how we do in February shall we.
Scratch howl and bark
lend ear and hark
Soul tortured by the moon
danger most stark
turned at the lark
Dark hunger sated soon
Feel burning mark
And so embark
to love and hope immune
journey most dark
new patriarch
And dance to hunger’s tune
Both serious and playful. The Japanese would not approve
The haiku, so proud, tight, formal. So little saying so much. Mostly though I like to defile them with the ridiculous. Oh, and I know they’re probably Senryu. I struggle with boundaries a bit.
Tears stream down my cheeks
back arched, tense, fighting release
miles to a bathroom
More stuff from my brain meat…
Charlie’s Journey – OWPC Challenge
Deep and insightfully insightfulnessnessHo
Isn’t it great when bad things happen to terrible people.
This week my mind turns to revenge and perhaps, for that special someone who has slighted you and has now finds themselves in a pickle. Maybe you want to send them a nice card with a limerick expressing how sad you are that they have had such a lousy spell of bad luck.
Heard your wife ran away with your brother
and your father changed sex, extra mother
and your sister got nicked
down the docks sucking dicks
you caught an STD from a lover
Such bad luck you poor thing I feel sad
oh no wait, I dont feel slightly bad
cos you bullied at school
were an absolute tool
hope it’s syphilis and it drives you mad
photo courtesy of pixabay
Imagine the scene if you will…
Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead. I did them all in December but was less successful in January. Let’s see how we do in February shall we. These pieces tend to be excerpts and flashes of something that could be.
The scene: A bench between A cherry blossom, petals falling gently on the late summer breeze as the sun sets and night Descends. Our couple find themselves alone and high on the intoxicating thrill of the first flushes of romance.
He: Go on, squeeze it. It’s okay.
She: Oh you are bad.
(Jumps as it honks. Giggling pushes hair behind her ear)
She: It really is rather big isn’t it.
He: If you think that’s big then wrap your eyes around this!
She: (gasps) Oh my. That’s so huge. What size is it? Is everything so big. (winks and giggles)
He: Oh yes, and this will make your eyes water I am sure. (raises one eyebrow)
She: (More gasps and slight squeal)
He: Oh my dear indeed, I am glad you approve.
She: May I touch it?
(Lights dim, stars come out. Awkward pause ensues)
She: Shrieks as it empties all over her face
He: Gotcha (loud laughter. Slaps thigh)
She: (Smiling) Oh you are terrible.
He: You’re all wet, here let me dry you. I should have warned you it has a hair trigger and goes off at the slightest touch.
She: Oh I love it, once it starts it just never stops coming.
He: (Blushing) I am indeed a man of many talents.
She: Any many handkerchiefs it seems. (Gasps and claps as he pulls handkerchiefs from his sleeve)
Scene closes as our the camera pans away, the circus tent in the background and fades to black.
Both serious and playful. The Japanese would not approve
The haiku, so proud, tight, formal. So little saying so much. Mostly though I like to defile them with the ridiculous. Oh, and I know they’re probably Senryu. I struggle with boundaries a bit.
warm sun on my skin
drowsy, relaxed I slumber
awake lobster red
More stuff from my brain meat…
Charlie’s Journey – OWPC Challenge
Deep and insightfully insightfulnessnessHo
Isn’t it great when bad things happen to terrible people.
This week my mind turns to revenge and perhaps, for that special someone who has slighted you and has now finds themselves in a pickle. Maybe you want to send them a nice card with a limerick expressing how sad you are that they have had such a lousy spell of bad luck.
Such a shame that you’ve lost all your cash
on the markets, who knew that they’d crash
I cant lend you some, no
and this just goes to show
just be careful with that kind of stash
photo courtesy of pixabay
What darkness lies in the hearts of men?
Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead. I did them all in December but was less successful in January. Let’s see how we do in February shall we. These pieces tend to be excerpts and flashes of something that could be. The exploration of an idea…I htink I will allow myself 500 words for this one.
Simon punched snooze on his alarm and settled back onto his pillow.
“Just 5 minutes more” he mumbled to himself and closed his eyes. But as quickly as he had closed them they were suddenly wide open and he sat upright in bed. Today was the day that it would arrive.
He slipped from his bed, dragged on his clothes and headed downstairs to fired up his Laptop. He opened his Browser and logged onto the tracking company website.
Estimated time of Delivery 9am-11am
He grinned with excitement, grabbed the sales brochure and settled into his chair to wait. He flicked almost instinctively to the page for his model.
“Built of the finest cutting edge materials the M7 is designed to provide the most realistic and sensuous experience in synthetic partnerships. With 18 points of pivot and flex and a full range of customisation features this is industry leading technology at a price as certain to please in the pocket as it is in the bedroom”
He had saved every penny he could scrape together, working double shifts and picking up extra work on weekends. Even once he had the money finding a supplier that could produce everything that he wanted wasn’t easy but through an online group he had eventually found someone who could give him just what he needed.
He flicked through the brochure again. He’d been alone for so long now, this was was going to take some adjustment.
“Created to cater for both your physical and emotional needs your synthetic partner will be fine tuned to your personality and desires and our 100 point real time compatibility matrix ensures that even when you don’t know what you need your SP does.”
A sudden knock at the door caused him to jump and he sprang to his feet. It was 9:25. He opened the heavy metal door and a tall man handed him a small electronic tablet. “Sign please” he said without looking up. Simon really didn’t care how rude he was and ran his thumb over the screen and a light pinged green. The courier mumbled a thanks and turned away leaving a large plainly wrapped box behind.
Simon hurriedly carried it inside and placed it on the table in the small kitchenette. His pulse was racing. He took a small knife and carefully cut along the seam down the middle of the box and then peeled the halves open. Nestled in the packaging was a card which he took out.
On behalf of SP Industries we thank you for your customer and we are certain that you will be 100% happy with your purchase. All you need to do to initiate your SP is to place your thumb on the reader plate on the bottom of the left foot. We would though ask that you verify that you are in receipt of the model you ordered, detailed on the back of this card, before initiation as refunds cannot be accepted once initiated.
Simon flicked the card over and smiled.
MODEL/M7 Synthetic Partner/Red Hair/Green Eyes/Age 7
Both serious and playful. The Japanese would not approve
The haiku, so proud, tight, formal. So little saying so much. Mostly though I like to defile them with the ridiculous. Oh, and I know they’re probably Senryu. I struggle with boundaries a bit.
Cruel winter winds
plays havoc with my nipples
Hey! Eyes are up here!
More stuff from my brain meat…
Charlie’s Journey – OWPC Challenge
Deep and insightfully insightfulnessnessHo
Isn’t it great when bad things happen to terrible people.
This week my mind turns to revenge and perhaps, for that special someone who has slighted you and has now finds themselves in a pickle. Maybe you want to send them a nice card with a limerick expressing how sad you are that they have had such a lousy spell of bad luck.
Heard your kids been excluded, the fool
broke the pesky no strong liquor rule
when young yours were devine
so much better than mine
as you said every time outside school
photo courtesy of pixabay
Of dark and light and everywhere in between
Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead. I did them all in December but was less successful in January. Let’s see how we do in February shall we. These pieces tend to be excerpts and flashes of something that could be. The exploration of an idea…
He pens soft verse and longs for hours
and buys her gifts then sends her flowers
and writes of walks in April showers
His love and longing born
His hearts desire is not reflected
in her look, he stands rejected
her response not as expected
And so he stands forlorn
Perhaps, he thinks, this is the game
I’ve been too sweet, he does proclaim
and confident, her heart to tame
Craves rose but feels the thorn
But every time he is refused
his heart in tatters ego bruised
lost and angry frail and used
And hate spring forth from scorn.
With craving need and grinding lust
his darkened heart he cannot trust
and raging hunger he does thrust
ahead and sounds hates horn
Polite refusal fuels his shame
she love’s another, he’s to blame
and in his mouth her rancid name
he dwells until the morn
Darkness consumed he loses hope
with hood and blade and tangled rope
succumbs to hates slippery slope
Their worlds apart are torn
And in the dark desire fulfilled
he sits alone, her body chilled
and she like love his hate has killed
And so a beast is born
Both serious and playful. The Japanese would not approve
The haiku, so proud, tight, formal. So little saying so much. Mostly though I like to defile them with the ridiculous. Oh, and I know they’re probably Senryu. I struggle with boundaries a bit.
Horny teenager
eyes the vacuum eagerly
he wont…but he will
More stuff from my brain meat…
Charlie’s Journey – OWPC Challenge
Deep and insightfully insightfulnessnessHo
Isn’t it great when bad things happen to terrible people.
This week my mind turns to revenge and perhaps, for that special someone who has slighted you and has now finds themselves in a pickle. Maybe you want to send them a nice card with a limerick expressing how sad you are that they have had such a lousy spell of bad luck.
There once was a lovely young lad
found his missus in bed with her dad
said he “Babe it’s quite gross”
she replied “were just close”
that they never had kids he’s quite glad
photo courtesy of pixabay
life eh….
Ronovan provides the words. Then a haiku follows. Though mine are kinda haiku in form only and I believe senryu in every other way.
Shy wedding night bride
Red blush , blood flows to extremes
by morning less so
A bit rambly I think but the kernel of something interesting…
Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead. I did them all in December but was less successful in January. Let’s see how we do in February shall we. These pieces tend to be excerpts and flashes of something that could be. The exploration of an idea…
Julian Pribus was a good man. Ask anyone and they would tell you quite the same. He was kind and generous, he supported his local community whenever he could and were you to ask for donations for a raffle or a fund raiser then he would most certainly be there to support you.
Outside of church on a Sunday and Bible study on Tuesdays and Thursday he spent much of the rest of his time alone and lived a modest live, shying away from excess of any sort and attempting to become the best disciple of Christ he could be.
It came therefore as quite a shock when one rather overcast Sunday morning he failed to wake up), and instead of an eternity with his lord and saviour he found himself instead faced with the prospect of eternal damnation.
“Is there not someone I can speak to” he asked the creature at the check in desk. Given its scaled skin, horns and eyes like fire he assumed it was a demon.
“I’m sorry sir” it informed him quite politely, “but all decisions are final and you are in fact exactly where you are meant to be.”
“No, no please” Julian raising his voice “I assure you I have been a good person, you have it all wrong.”
The creature behind the desk was about to speak when a similarly looking large broad shouldered creature walked across. “Everything okay Gemma?” it asked placing itself between Julian and the receptionist.
“Nothing I can’t handle Carl” she answered smiling. Or at least as close to a smile as you are going to get from a demon who has been on her feet all day in shoes that quite frankly are most unsuitable. “Mr Pribus here believes that there has been a mistake. That he is in the wrong place.”
Carl placed an arm around Julian’s shoulder. “Leave him with me” he said and turning, ushered him away from the reception. Julian heard a “next” as he found himself ushered to a small waiting area to the side of the reception desks.
“Take a seat sir” Carl said stretching out a large scaled arm, long fingers tipped with what looked to be rather bloodied claws.
Julian took a seat. He suddenly felt considerably less like complaining as he looked into the face of the creature in front of him. It was everything he had ever been lead to believe he would expect he would encounter should he end up in hell, but he was a good person so he should most not be in hell.
“I am quite sure this comes as a but of a shock” Carl said squeezing his rather large self into a chair across a small table from Julian. “But there has been a change of policy you see and as of 1984 all deceased have been diverted to our offices pending a full review of bylaws and applications of all previously assumed understandings of intended passage from current to afterlife.”
“What?” said Julian rather confused. “What does that mean. A review?”
Carl looked a little uncomfortable. “It’s simply policy sir” he continued. Until a review has been completed it has been decided that all deceased seeking onward passage will be held at our facilities until head office have conducted their review.”
Julian sat open mouthed. “Are you saying everyone goes to hell? Pending a review of some sort?”
“Exactly” said Carl getting to his feet. “For those seeking onward passage at least.”
“Believers you mean? Christians?”
Carl Smiled. It was most disconcerting and he licked his lips in a way that made Julian rather uneasy. “We only take those who desire eternity, regardless of creed. Those who do not believe or seek to travel onward simply…” he paused, “they simply expire.”
By now Julian had his head in his hands. “But why the change in policy? I’ve lived a good life, I followed the bible.”
“I do not doubt it sir” Carl said placing a hand on his shoulder “but given the general state of affairs of men management simply decided that they no longer be accepting any new applicants until they sorted the whole mess out. Seems it had all become a bit of a mess. Something to do with Madonna and Jimmy Swaggert. Apparently that was the final straw. ”
Carl looked up from his hands. “So what happens now?” he asked.
Carl offered a hand and Julian got up from the table. “You have an 11 o’clock anal plundering with a colleague of mine, Derek. Thoroughly unpleasant chap but great at his job. Quite the artist. Many think that anal work is easy stuff you know, but trust me it’s a real niche skill, highly marketable.”
Julian managed a “What the…” before Carl continued.
“After that it’s a spot of lunch then you will be watching School nativity plays for the afternoon and then a pre dinner flogging where you will get to meet some of your neighbours.”
This time Carl didn’t smile.
“Now come along Mr Pribus, we have a lot to cram in this afternoon.”
Isn’t it great when bad things happen to terrible people.
This week my mind turns to revenge and perhaps, for that special someone who has slighted you and has now finds themselves in a pickle. Maybe you want to send them a nice card with a limerick expressing how sad you are that they have had such a lousy spell of bad luck.
Heard you’re no longer with John my ex
it tuns out he just used you for sex
you poor thing you must hurt
you’re just boobs in a skirt
loves young dream all now totally wrecked
photo courtesy of pixabay
A haunted tale of dark desires …
Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead. I did them all in December but was less successful in January. Let’s see how we do in February shall we. I realise I am already a day or 3 late with the first. I might do this months as poems.
Listen close listen well I’ve a story to tell
of young love, and dark force long forgotten
of a couple with dreams, but home’s not what it seems
for inside dwells a creature most rotten
Her dark spirit depraved risen up from the grave
craving vengeance for crimes kept well hidden
and she waits for her prey, and with cunning and sway
she ensnares with desires most forbidden
and with longing obscene , she creeps into his dream
this dark stranger he thinks of each night
as he lies with his wife his sworn partner for life
fills his head as she turns out the light
she sneaks into his head, he takes her to his bed
and he whispers quite sweet in her ears
as he slowly betrays and he then spends his days
craving her that at dawn disappears
Alabaster her skin, feeds the fire deep within
and he turns then away from his bride
for she cannot compare to the images fair
of his spectre, his hate grows inside
Darkness whispers and hisses, soul corrupt with her kisses
lips blood red, fingers slender, black heart
and she wills him to act, quite assured of the fact
that it’s her that now keeps them apart
He pulls further away and quite distant each day
though his wife begs and offers her heart
but ’tis all said for nought and his senses most fraught
darkness whispers “She’d keep us apart”
Filled with rage he stands tall, pushes her to the wall
fingers clenched around throat squeezing tight
darkness whispers his name, and igniting his flame
screams to kill her and come to the night
For two days there he sits, cold skin, eyes two dead slits
voice now gone all alone he now waits
his mind broken soul lost at such terrible cost
darkness laughs, with rank joy celebrates
For revenge is most sweet, a delectable treat
she retires to the dark and then sleeps
’till again she awakes and revenge again takes
and into young loves bed slowly creeps
limericks to make you roll your eyes and make tutting noises.
I believe that the limerick form can cheer up even the most horrid of subjects. What do you reckon?
There once was a butcher named Chuck
would sell any old meat for a buck
he’d sell dachshunds as steak
sell you minced rat and steak
‘stead of chicken you’d get pigeon or duck
There once was a Baker call Ned
quite a perv, things he did with the bread
doughnut holes…yeah believe it
used his bits to achieve it
late at night he’d take croissants to bed
A fellow, a candlestick maker
had a wife who in bed was a faker
so he took to his bed
brought his work home instead
now quite easy for him to placate her
Today I’d like to you to Fandango. He probably has a real name like Brian or Carl but Fandango is far more exciting. Never short of a flash fiction piece or a thought on the world he always has something to say and loves doing what he does. Well worth a read if you like that sort of thing.
Not that I would. But if I had to.
People are forever musing on here aren’t they. You can’t swing a cat without encountering musings of one description of another.
Not that I would advocate swinging cats. I would not. I don’t even know where that saying comes from. Perhaps it was an old way of measuring things? Now again I repeat that I would not but if I were to swing an animal then it would probably be something a little more manageable like a tortoise or a guinea pig. Cats are notoriously averse to being swung and have far too many sharp and pointy bits to be buggering around with trying to work out how wide your living room is to see if your new sofa will fit.
If I absolutely had to know whether the new 3 piece would squeeze through the door then I would punt for a measuring tortoise. They are a bit short of purchase points though so it’s probably wise to put it in some sort of cloth sack to swing it thereby reducing the chance of losing one’s grip and sending the measuring tortoise soaring through a window. Last thing you want is glass all over and having to use something a little smaller to then measure the window so you can order new glass. If you were in need of measuring a window though, and again this is just hypothetical, then I reckon a squirrel would do the job. Red though not grey, the grey ones are a a bit feisty. If you cant get your hands on a squirrel then maybe try a hamster. A red squirrel is generally equal to 2 hamsters.
Just for reference the Tortoise in the picture above is equal to 7 red squirrels, so 14 hamsters. Or is that a turtle? Doesn’t matter they are pretty much interchangeable.
Oh and for those living in hot countries, do not use a lizard because we all know their tails fall off and the sight of the orphaned tail wriggling about will likely upset the kids. Unless of course you can get your hands on a chameleon they work really well as they move pretty slowly though can be a bugger to find once you’ve put them down. A friend of mine who lays carpets swears by chameleons but goes through two or three a month.
Not that I would though. What a ridiculous and rather cruel idea.
Besides, everybody knows the old fashioned way of measuring things was by swinging small soot faced children, recently emerged from cleaning chimneys or making smocks and bed caps.
Inappropriate and just a bit…meh
There once was a chap who loved cake
so much so that for sponges he’d ache
for panache he would pine
for gateau most sublime
fell in love with a lass who could bake
It’s saturday…not my best day for limericks.
Want more stuff? I have lots of stuff…
I don’t have a dog called Caper – Daily prompt
Image courtesy of me
What makes me follow…
I’ve been doing this for a while now and I am often conflicted with how best to use my time as I want to read as many people as possible on here but the truth of the matter is that simply is not possible. This is not intended as an excuse, but rather an acknowledgement and from that stems the question – how will I decide who to follow and read.
Turns out, for me, it’s about the author and not necessarily the work. Connections with authors seems to matter as much to me as their work, and if that person allows you into their world in a way that is more than just the words for that day then I find myself wanting to return to find out more about them. The most compelling blogs I have followed are also quite often those where the author takes time to build the relationship with their reader. They post and reply to comments in a meaningful way, they show an interest in your opinion and they seem genuinely interested in engaging rather than simply throwing a work out there and waiting for the likes.
Now that’s not always the case, and obviously an interest in the work of the person helps and if that interest extends to enjoyment all the better. I enjoy the odd bit of poetry, and have re-blogged some and will be re-blogging more of my favourites in coming weeks. Recently though I stumbled upon this chap who I not only enjoyed immensely but also followed because his poetry was so damned good. The rhyming and metre and flow was just some so ridiculously enjoyable I felt compelled to.
Anyway, not sure where that came from because I was going to write about Yoga and people who do yoga and yoga pants but that will have to wait for another day.
“You see that girl” he said looking over at a canary is a small cage on a dresser next to the window. “you see those vapour trails? That was me once.”
These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words only. I’m less strict about that now. They dont always finish, I just like to try and evoke a certain feeling or scene.
Amos sat in the old rocker looking out across the open fields in front of the farm house. He watched wisps of clouds dancing across the sky and jet trails slowly dissolving into the blue and remembered a time, long ago now, when he was more than the frail old man now living out the last of his days watching the seasons pass from his window. Snippets of another life he was no longer sure were even his.
“You see that girl” he said looking over at a canary is a small cage on a dresser next to the window. “you see those vapour trails? That was me once.”
The small yellow bird cheeped almost as if in response.
His eyes weren’t what they once were but he could still make out the feint outline of the city in the distance and he watched as shuttles, from this distance mere specks, took off and headed upwards towards the east pacific low orbit station.
There was a flash of silver as the sun caught the side of a large long haul transporter rising slowly upwards and he remembered, not at all fondly, the early days long before anti-grav when they had to strap you to a rocket just to get you into orbit.
He didn’t miss the take offs but he each landing was fresh in his mind as the day he had made them
“Good times” he mumbled to himself rolling a small red rock no larger than a thumbnail between his fingers, a memento of his last trip to Mars smuggled home and his most prized possession. He rocked slowly and pulled a blanket over his knees. He looked at it and his eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face. He had kept it locked away for decades but today, today he wanted to hold it. It was softer to the touch than he remembered, perhaps from being kept in the old cigarette tin in the dresser.
“I went there you know” he told his canary. He had told her uncountable times but he didn’t know that, not anymore. His once sharp mind was now a lottery when it came to the things he remembered and the things he did not. “I saw sunrise over the Martian planes, before we stopped going there and trust me, it was a sight to behold. Miles of red, like a sea of blood stretched out before us.”
The canary cheeped and cleaned her feathers, then hopped down to the bottom of the cage.
“Oh yes” he continued proudly, fragments of past glories now darting about his mind. “I was a real American hero indeed.”
The canary chirped again, and then for a second time as Amos suddenly stiffened, a look of pain etched across his face. His right arm reached for his chest and the small rock fell from his hand. Amos gasped as the bird continued to chirp loudly, now in full cardiac arrest. Hands clenched into fists the life ebbed slowly from his body as his eyes glazed over and with a final gasp Amos McCartney drifted into nothing.
And with that final, his body now relaxed the chair rocked forward crushing the small rock fragment, red dust smeared on the carpet beneath the runner of the old rocking chair. The canary chirped wildly, hopping up to the small wooden perch and then back to the cage floor but there was nobody to hear it or heed it’s warnings.
Slowly, spreading out from the spot under the chair a red stain began to creep. It first engulfed the chair and Amos, turning them a dark ochre red and, moments later, the wood and flesh and plaid blanket on his knees suddenly collapsed into dust. The canary chirped wildly, flying around the small cage panicked.
Outwards it then began to spread and in a moment the chirps of the canary were silenced…
Once a prudish young woman named Jude
Had a belly that seemed to protrude
It turned out to be gas
Cos she not let her ass
pass wind as he found it quite rude
I once worked with a woman called Cath
Didn’t shower and seldom did bath
god the stench from her pits
Tits and rank naughty bit
It’s not funny you so shouldn’t laugh
Want more stuff? I have lots of stuff…
I set myself a challenge this week…
Fatties in space – The Poem. Not for kiddies
Image courtesy of me
Limericks? In the middle of the day? Surely not…
There once was a teacher named Tash
Who one day she did sprout a moustache
Cross her lip it did wend
And curl up at the end
Joined the circus and made loads of cash
There once was a farmer maned Bert
Loved his milk cows so much that it hurt
Went too far, made me shudder
What he did with that udder
Let’s just say that it caused quite the squirt…
There once was dancer called Shirley
Who’s pubes were quite thick and most curly
It was full and so plush
A most seventies bush
Who’d have thought for a creature most girly
Want more stuff? I have lots of stuff…
I set myself a challenge this week…
Fatties in space – The Poem. Not for kiddies
Image courtesy of me
You should not like them but you will…
I believe that the limerick form can cheer up even the most horrid of subjects. What do you reckon?
That title is a bit over the top isn’t it. Sorry.
A fellow quite fond of a spank
Gave up his well paid job in the Bank
Now he spends each day addled
High on coke getting paddled
By a 6ft tall angry blonde yank
There one hailed a man from Peru
Without pork he simply could not do
He could not live without
Daily servings of snout
Curly tails, pointy ears, trotters too
Orange man king of U S of A
Cannot stand the poor, sick, black or gay
God forbid you’re all 4
He will kill you for sure
Just as soon as he gets his own way
Afterwards 