In the midst of sadness and despair

Another of these…

You know I like a good prompt and these are M’s for February. Why not give them a whirl.

Your sweet whisper the zephyr in my sails,

Still waters stretched before me.

And golden sunset calls me on

And horizons set me free

.

Clouds circle dark, waves stirred to life

And day turns into night

Cold watery claws scratch at my sides

And sanity takes flight

.

I dash myself against your rocks

Stare into your abyss

Drifting with the flotsam lost

Still hunger for your kiss

.

And golden daylight comes again

I swim towards your shore

though sirens call me to their arms

to lead me home once more

The edge of forever

Breathless I stare into the void

You know I like a good prompt and these are M’s for February. Why not give them a whirl.

A lifetime you gave me, willingly,

and I drank and devoured every drop.

My belly full I sense alas my race is run.

I gorged and feared the settings sun

And begged her please to stop

.

.

She shook her head and took my hand

And led me to nightfall’s brink.

A price to pay for banquet sweet,

Dark nothing swirled about my feet

And slowly into darkness did I sink.

.

.

Into light I melt, to be no more

All I am returned once more

A life lived well, and as I fade

Pure joy I feel for life I made

I smile and am no more

.

Circle in the sky

Long I laboured beneath your golden gaze…

You know I like a good prompt and these are M’s for February.  Why not give them a whirl.

 

Long I laboured beneath your golden gaze.

Day upon day and into so many years now long forgot

In every one I sensed you there

you whispered that you’d leave me not.

 

Time races headlong to this final sunset

warm embrace upon my pallid skin

through misty eyes I recall your face

and feel your warmth burn deep within.

 

Though darkness calls beyond the stars

to nothing will I fade

This life, this love, this evermore

of memories are made.

 

 

A Sunday Limerick.

It’s been a week. Let’s have one shall we…It works if you make Peking rhyme with squeaking trust me…

Once a buggery fan born in Peking

one day woke found his sphincter was leaking

used a cork from some rum

rammed it straight up his bum

worked a treat, when it walked made a squeaking.

January’s Gifs. All rather rude.

Theyre out there embeddded in my bits and pieces…

I’ve rather enjoyed doing some of these this month.  Okay so stand alone these might look odd but I promise that in context they make perfect sense.

 

Screw you haiku

Screw you Haiku. Dirty Bastard.

Another Dirty Friday Limerick.

Oh him again. In limerick form.

 

 

 

Let’s try be serious this week and see how it goes. > Saturday.

Now I’m just making stuff up for sh1ts and giggles…

I drank your lies,

Tepid they filled my mouth, trickling down my eager throat.

Such sweet promises and sublime simple surrender.

Idle and bloated I lay like a roadside carcass

swollen by the seering sun, and watched your soft cherry lips.

Eagerly, foolishly, I clung to every word,

each sickly syllable a noose tight around my throat

and sleepwalking I follow, my hand in yours

over coals lit red with flames of broken promises

eyes streaming as acrid tomorrows drift ever skywards

Let’s try be serious this week and see how it goes. > Friday.

Happy friday people. A day late.

Oh I’d smile and watch you weep

Tears as cold as your heart

Beautiful promise you couldn’t keep

Sickly sweet they dripped from your tongue

How I’d laugh as you tell me why

Acrid lies spilling over your lips

Pooling stagnant at your feet

As I remember his hands, gentle on your hips

Sweet moments soured and stained

And fists clenched, confined to experience

A heart now free once chained

No regrets, no forgiveness. Just nothing.

Let’s try be serious this week and see how it goes. > Thursday.

A little late….

Alone she stands and silent mourns

Snow whipped about her feet

Dreams buried in a grave of lies

Air foul where once was sweet

And tears streaming down her cheeks

Fists clenched, jaw resolute

A rage inside pushed deep down low

Her screams once wild now mute

The trust now lost the joy departed

Cold earth on loves corpse piled

No rose she lays no prayers she speaks

Wipes her face, then turns, and smiles

Let’s try be serious this week and see how it goes. > Tuesday.

Tuesday and still going strong…Bit dark though I will be honet. Perhaps tomorrow I will be serious about someone riding a bike. How dark can that get?

On the shore he stands, tempest raging, sky turned black

and defiant screams into the wind

Demands the ocean calm and give her back

and tears demand forgiveness for his sins

 

Atop the waves white horses rear and furious race

headlong, stamped and crash about his feet

and tousled hair is whipped about his sallow face

no surrender, no forgiveness no retreat

 

Nature’s fury taunts and mocks, he hears her calls.

The sun obscured, dark finger pointed, accusations fly

and though he begs she stays within deep prison walls

doomed to repeat and every night to die

 

 

 

 

Let’s try be serious this week and see how it goes. > Monday.

More serious poems becauise I’m just that kinda guy. No I am really. Honest. Look at my rhyming n stuff.

Mouth full of lies and the soft sigh of thighs,

oblivious he swims in waters deep.

And entangled dragged low by her strong undertow

full red lips, creamy skin, whispered promises keep.

And so blinded, and chided and ever reminded

how she bends to her will and devours

very easy succumbs to the beat of her drums

and he withers with autumnal flowers

and so belly fat, filled, he’s a slave to her will

appetite, ravenous, quenched

too late rails, cold and frail, and her darkness prevails

on the shoreline cold lifeless and drenched

 

 

 

Let’s try be serious this week and see how it goes. > Sunday

How about a poem to start. A poem can be a frightfully serious thing.

Through golden shards I see her one last time

Summer’s fading light reflected

and slow she turns away.

And ever since each moment tight in chains I’m bound.

Such cruel memories remind me often,

of things that I gladly a king’s ransom would pay,

and to forget.

And then, with sun on my face I look to her and at last,

as love lost fades into bliss I rest.

 

Friday limerick. Explicit and not for children

Contains wholly inappropriate language. I mean really bad. The ‘C’ word. You were warned.

A tourette’s suffering fine voiced young fellow

joined a group and sang sweet acapello

Until he stood at the front

shouted “Tit, shit, fuck, cunt”

in a rather deep baritone bellow

I went on a bit of a road trip today to look at a van (which I bought and shall cover in a future post). I was driving along a snowy back water in Cheshire pondering how I might do a gif drawing of a dildo bike with accompanying limerick (watch out for that on Saturday) when ‘accapello’ and ‘fellow ‘ just dropped into my head. That is often the way with limericks atually. I get the three rhying words and that usually ests up the whole thing.

Anyway this one occured to me. I rather enjoyed it and even had a chuckle, but alas I then forgot it. Now this actually happens a lot but I don’t usually mind because there are always more to be had but this one I liked.

After about 45 minutes of racking my brain it eventually came back to me and I am glad it did. Offensive on a number of fronts I am sure but I remain rather proud of it. Oh and there’s one to follow about a Dildo bike. Cannot wait to do the GIF for it!

A limerick because it’s thursday

Old school with nothing weird…kinda…sorta…

Once a man with legs crooked and bowed

staggered drunk late one night down the road

when he started to vomit

got flung over a bonnet

and a semi squished him like a toad

Well I dont know where that came from but it’s somethign I guess.  It’s only a dodgy limerick after all, not like Im out luring kids into vans with puppies and sweets.

 

 

 

Oh those yummy dirty bits

A poem. About bits. Of stuff.

There are those who will dine

on fine foods and great wine

and who want just the finest of treats

But not me, no, no way

I’m quite proud when I say

Im a fan of the less refined meats

 

Give me Pies filled with heart

though it does make me fart

give me puddings of tripe, brains and balls

though it makes me quite gassy

I can still keep it classy

and with gravy for sure eat it all

 

Give me chicken arse flan

I’m not bothered with ham

give me dishes pile high with pig scrotum

I’ve this recipe for stew

with the balls of gnu

and some others, so good,  ‘cos I wrote ’em

 

Oh I cannot resist

the dark meats on my list

how i crave juicy brains, spine and liver

feed me pies filled with wings

of all high flying things

lick my lips in delight how I shiver

 

Dont cast doubt or dispute

nature’s leftover fruit

say ‘perhaps’ if your offered intestines

you might just take delight

at each savoury bite

as you wash it down with rich red house wines