Just one of these things.
When skies turn grey, horizon’s shrouded
Compass bearing wayward, lost
I find my comfort wrapped in you
and threads that bind, knit tight.
Drawing close such warmth I find
life’s colours woven through this cloth
though mended, frayed, it’s patched with love
and never out of reach.
This love, this life, our ever more
through storms that roar and rage,
my shelter until morning comes
and sun shines on my face.
Words perhaps? Not Rhymey ones. The other type.
Lips like fire set worlds ablaze
and reckless how they run
those crimson tongues charred ruins make
and promise they turn to ash.
In sweat soaked sheets they smoulder still
the merest spark brings it to life
and lies once more sing sweetest strain
until burnt out flame fades to black.
Just a few libnes…I’m off to bed.
With lark and blood red sky you wake
and stirring reach and grasping nought
but still beside you etched in silk
that cold impression, there quite still.
Do not neglect your hygiene
And scotch guard your couch
I have written before about why I started my blog. For those who missed it one of the main reasons was due to a friend who’s wife, an aspiring writer and a vile human being, insisting that anyone that self publishes does so as an act of vanity which is probably why she had never been published and for the most part refused to work. Writers retreats she enjoyed a plenty I believe.
Anyway, perhaps I ended up proving her point, but I suggested to my friend that I would from that day forth take up writing and publish a book before she did just to prove the point that surely it isn’t that hard and perhaps if she wasn’t such a horrible cow she might have achieved more.
Anyway, the result of that rant can now be found on Amazon in the form of my first book ‘A Collection of Inappropriate Limericks. Its only 300 or so of my limericks but it’s something I guess. Something I made that perhaps my grandkids will hold one day and ask “What the fuck was wrong with Grandad?”
Paperback out now with the E-book to follow on the twelfth mostly because I made a mistake setting it up and couldn’t work out how to remedy it.’
Oh and I dedicated it to her too. Seemed only right.
Paperback in the UK is here
And in the US here
UK E-Book can be preordered here for delivery on the 12th of April.
The US E-Book is here
Who’d have thought it eh…
Regrets I’ve bundled, wrapped in hope
and set aflame to warm myself
at night as fire side burns so bright
with what and if and maybe so.
Instead I choose a path of is
and simply tis just how it goes
and from my tongue hyperbole
flows as the streams of passing time.
And cinders drift into the sky
as light illuminates my face
deep lined with things I now forget
and carefree watch them pass me by.
Angles and filters
Perfect image does portray
Time the truth reveals
This England I now roam of green
which for another time holds dear
would at the hearth of days long gone
stand, warm itself hid from the storm.
Crisp cricket whites hung on the line
and tea enjoyed at summer fair,
and fingers black from Sunday papers
beckon sunset shine on her once more.
Dreams sweet as jam from berries tart
of who she was and could have been
from mirror turns at sight most foul
and searches for the good old days.
A glimpse of March through my camera
Bitter, time can oft erode
those things that once were sweet and true
and brackish floods filled with disdain
deposits leave, debris piled high,
obscurring paths once so well trod.
And lost I wander searching still
for distant lights of home and hearth
whilst stars turn black as tempest stirs
and to an end I slowly snake
and there forget your name.
God’s child once had no wifi
Mouth dry, full of regrets and lies
and fading dreams of what we had
they fill my mind when eyes I close
and raging ‘gainst the lovers sunset
I thrash between these sullied sheets.
There in the distance, silhouette,
you walk where once we lingered long
into the night and then slip softly
hand in hand
into someone else’s forever.
I’ve had flu all week so not written anything and this is the best I can muster.
Backs packed and gloom descending
as the weekend nears it’s ending
‘Monday blues’ on twitter trending
and I curse that I have not yet won the lottery.
For Monday, it sucks balls you see
the thought of it quite bothers me
I’ve felt this way since after tea
and I curse that I have never played the lottery.
One final sleep
‘neath blankets cold
of eath and clay and stone.
And to my end I walk at last
no evermore, or well lived past
and to the darkness wide and vast
I enter all alone.
And you shall be my final thought
my life, my hopes, my joy
remember me, the things I wrought,
my kind and loving boy.
Were I to hear you call my name
and turn, to see you one more time,
a souvenir, momento of what was.
A keepsake of sweet memories
I would commit to not forget
or reckless scant attention pay
for fear of losing priceless gift.
No holding back, no front’s, no walls
this truth I’ve kept for far too long
and though again you walk away
unburdened watch you leave…
When old and grey still close I keep
those memories dear to my heart
and ‘fore I walk to final sleep
and lonely paths to then depart
A final time I will relive and tender recollect
each smile you gifted though I often sadly did neglect
your light by which I found my way and through the dark did chart.
Love generous and without cost
so freely gave and not repaid
and eager how I ate my fill
as sunset sank beyond that hill
were dreams way back were made.
And so at last, though late I know
you lie as pale and cold as snow
and how I wish I had the time
of days were you were always mine
Stupid, childish, purile and ridiculous. Meh, least I’m not fiddlign with kids or beatign my wife or listenign to K-Pop.
Hey week, yeah you, yes over here
it’s over now and how I fear
I need to let you know you suck
and right now I don’t give a fuck
about how monday made me blue
Tuesday, wednesday, Thursday too
cos Friday my balls oft caress
and leaves my trousers quite the mess
and saturday, well that’s hard core
my skimpy clad foul mouthed hot whore
Sunday will spoon me, there’s no lack
I feel it’s love pressed to my back
You did your best and hey that’s fine
something something 69!
One of mine I did for Linda.
Those moments where you cross my mind
and fondly I recall just how
we filled our days with blissful laughter
nights I felt such warm embrace.
And as I linger, holding tight
to thoughts I know will soon drift off
like smoke upon the summer breeze
I live again just one more time.
That once, that chance, that single glimpse
that slipped away and from my grasp
relived and dearly held once more
until again or never more.
And if you’re jealous or threatened by someone else’s accomplishments, keep it to yourself, why act out on it? Stop underestimating people…
via How To Not Over-under Your Over — Clever Girl Writes…
Borrowed some emotions from someone far deeper than me.
If cut then I should surely bleed
were I not drained, face cold and white,
and curled beneath your naked branches
fade for lack of love and light.
Roots of dismay my heart entangle
moss grows thick upon my chest
and to the earth I am returned
at last, in peace, to sleep, to rest
Long day…just let it out I reckon.
Might I suggest if you don’t mind
you place your lips on my behind
and there remain and tender linger
and oh look, a middle finger
just for you, in fact there’s more
you offspring of a rancid whore
and siphilitic hobo dad
in fact I would be rather glad
if you succumbed to aids, grew frail
and had your mouth abused in jail
by strapping chaps called Whale and Moose
who’d leave your anus gaping loose
If given half a chance
and unrepentent dare to take
that single opportunity
and in the moment
And would you
If you full well knew
that daylight would no sins reveal
and faultless you would
sit and smile
feel no guilt?
Under blankets as heavy as church roof lead
held down by the weight of the world.
Cigarette breath, yellowed teeth, finger to the lips
and harshest repercussions.
Not a word.
In the morning smile and say it’s just a dream.
A nightmare born in velvet plush and gold adorned
and echoes batter on the doors
and innocense do steal away.
And ever more to pay.
A thousand sunsets I would give
for just one more night in your arms
and sorry would not pass my lips
though every moment stolen
unrepentent would I be.
And as I watch you leave
another thousand would I offer
and days to come surrender
for this now
and no tomorrow