The light

Turner opened his eyes, sat slowly upright and looked around.  He was in a long corridor, a bright light shining from a door at one end.

In response to Sue Vincent’s Writephoto Challenge.  I misread or got confused or perhaps did not pay attention and thought it was 99 words only.  Oh well, I’ll stick with it anyway.

Turner opened his eyes, sat slowly upright and looked around.  He was in a long corridor, a bright light shining from a door at one end.

“Where am I?” he wondered getting to his feet feeling inexplicably compelled to walk towards the light.  He could hear singing.

Slowly he walked, reaching the door, and without knocking pushed it open revealing a tall bearded man in a long white robe.

“What the hell get out of my flat” The man shouted wildly pushing him out.  “Dorris you forgot to close the bloody door again” Turner heard him shout, shuffling away.

 

Tales of Tinsel – Room 101

101 words with a twist thrown in just because…

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we.  101 words allowed only.  I know I said I was done with them.  I lie.

Slowly Damien sneaked downstairs, not daring to breathe.  He’d heard something, and he was convinced it was him!  Christmas lights twinkled as he entered the room, his heart pounding, and there he saw a bearded, round bellied man silhouetted against the moonlight.

He had him!

“Sant…” he began to shout when suddenly he noticed two bodies lying unmoving on the floor.  He knew from the matching reindeer slippers it was mum and dad.

The man stepped grinning from the darkness carrying a large sack and raised a gun with his free hand and pushed it into Damien’s chest.

“Merry Christmas kid…”

 

 

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Dripping with Drudgery

‘Tis the season to be jolly, tralalalalalalalala

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we.

Slumped against the cold brick of the station wall Darryl pulled the ragged hood of his coat over his head and twisted open the lid of the bottle of white lightning cider gripped between his legs.  It fizzed invitingly as escaped snowflakes danced on the biting breeze and he took a deep drink watching the masses pass by.

“Funny lot aren’t they” he said passing the bottle to a dirty faced, fair haired man sat next to him.

He took a drink and passed the bottle back, yellow fingers taking a cigarette from a crumpled packet.  He pulled from his pocket.  “Fun to watch though” he said struggling to light it, eventually resorting to pulling his jacket over his head to provide protection from the wind.  “So many of them yet all so very alone.”

“Do you think they’ll ever be ready” Darryl asked the fair haired man as the snow started to fall more heavily.

“My Friend” he replied, a fat bottomed girl in a red coat dropping pennies into the cup at his feet.  “Merry Christmas” he shouted as she scurried on her way.

“There are days when I think they are going to get it right but sadly each time they fall so very short.”  He ran a sleeve under his nose and sniffed.  It really was rather cold, next time he would have to ensure he had a warmer placement.

“I think they could be quite great you know” Darryl said taking another drink.  He coughed as he felt it trickle down inside him.

The fair haired man laughed.  “You really do like them don’t you” he said drawing deep on the cigarette.

“Yes I do” Darryl replied.  “They’re fun, creative, passionate, excitable, caring and…”

“And they’re violent and careless and selfish” the fair haired man interrupted.

Darryl sighed.

“I know I know“ he said picking up the cup and tipping out the coppers into his hand.

“How much did we make then” the fair haired man asked finishing the cigarette.

“One pound twenty” Darryl said, sadness etched across his face.

“And there you see my point exactly” the fair haired man said getting to his feet and dusting himself down.  “All we need is a tenner, just a tenner and they’re in” he said sharply.  “But they don’t care mate, not enough.”

Darryl put the change back in the cup and took another drink of the cider.

“I’m going to give it another ten minutes” he said rubbing his hands together against the cold.  “I’m still on the clock and you never know, this could be the day.”

“Good luck” the fair haired man replied, “I will see you back in orbit, I really need a nice cup of tea.”

BIG FUN!

I think we all wish we were just a bit like him…

20171206_1603171557322054.jpg

I saw that number plate on the way home today and it got me to thinking as to just what sort of person must they be that they are so confident in their fun factor they that he would demonstrate its apparent stellar quality in such a manner.  To have BIG FUN as your number plate you must surely be special.

Now I am going to suppose it is a man as I doubt a woman would ever boast of her ability to have fun in such a way.  Maybe it is just me and the way I was brought up but were it a woman driving such a car with that number plate I would imagine she was prone to sexual dalliances and enjoys a jolly good seeing to with anyone who was kind enough to buy her a whisky sour.  I know that is awful of me, and you know what – I blame society and my parents.  She might just actually be great fun and enjoy practical jokes and paintballing.

To be clear, those aren’t the opposite ends of some fun scale I have when assessing the funness of a woman.

So I am sat there in traffic imagining him and I did feel somewhat intimidated.  I like to think I am good fun when I am out, especially after a couple of whisky sours but he is probably the sort that makes me feel inferior and withdraw somewhat.

It was a bit like that time I saw a chap at the swimming baths with the largest penis I have ever seen.  He had a carer with him as he had some rather apparent learning difficulties but what he lacked in one regard nature had certainly compensated him for in the underpants department.  He strutted around the open change room like a Grecian god swinging care free and repeatedly bashing into the lockers.  He was having a fabulous time of it, blissfully happy and beaming from ear to ear and it left me feeling wholly inadequate.

But back to our fun time Freddie.  What must he be like I wondered?  Great hair for one – fun people are prone to fabulous hair I find, probably quite a thick head of it or maybe even a rather lovely curly to it.  It goes without saying that he is probably a fabulous dresser too.  He was driving a Mercedes so I am putting him in to the funny, charming and the life of the party type of fun rather than the whacky, silly voice office buffoon type of fun.

I bet you a fiver he had a really nice watch too.  And that he was a great lover, and kind to animals and would probably clear your drive of snow and salt it from that store of salt he keeps just in case.  In fact I bet he did all the neighbours drives.  Before they got up.

And oh what fun he is.  No party is the same without him, he lights up a room with his very presense and when it comes to charitable giving he…

Ok I think I have perhaps gone too far.  I just accidentally wrote more than five hundred words about a man I have never met and my wife will probably read this …

Love you wife x

Christmas job satisfaction ain’t what it used to be…

It’s beginning to feel a lot like go screw yourself!

 

A fat bellied fellow who is often quite mellow

‘till it comes to the end of the year

Hits December quite stressed and things all seem a mess

And he’d kill for a steak and a beer

 

But alas he must graft and the toys he must craft

As the list don’t diminish in size

Thick and fast they demand on his doorstep they land

Letters bulging with needs long and wide

 

And he says to his wife “Baby this ain’t no life”

“Lets just quit and go live somewhere warm”

She replies “Oh my dear, we are bound up I fear

With the contact to which you are sworn”

 

He protests and he pouts and he stomps and he shouts

Insists “Amazon can do it just fine,

Or the Chinese perhaps, theyre industrious chaps

And their margins are better than mine”

 

“Oh dear Nick you sweet man you just do what you can

More than that you can surely not do”

And she gives him a hug and she makes him a mug

Of hot chocolate and a biscuit or two

 

Then he stomps back to work mumbling “god what a jerk”

As a letter he reads, just received

Me me me it insists as he reads through the list

Its so long its quite hard to believe

 

“No no no” Nick protests “I think it would be best

To go see this young chap straight away”

But his wife calms him down , “Babe just put on your gown

Head up stairs I’ll be there straight away”

 

As they climb into bed she caresses his head

Says “Now Nick you just need to remember

They’re just children with needs, ok some with pure greed

But you know what it’s like each December

 

It’ll be over soon and fore long will be June

And well take a few weeks, go away

Maybe go see some sights and we’ll spend a few nights

Somewhere nice you can pick where we stay”

 

And he grumbles and sighs and then smiles and his eyes

have that twinkle she knows what comes next

“You’re a star, and you’re right” then he turns out the light

Cos its time for some hot Christmas sex

 

Sorry about the ending, I’m tired and need to get to sleep 😊

Vermicious knids

Thoughts on things which I am completely unqualified to comment upon.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we…this one is in response to the Weaving Words prompt.

I was never a political creature you know and, whilst this may surprise you, I am still not.  Yes I will admit to being somewhat obsessed with writing about the Donald but that is simply because I find him a quite repulsive creature and worthy of derision and mockery because of who he is and the quite terrible things I believe him to have done.

Ever since the ascendancy of his star I have found myself more and more interested in the politics of America and if I am not careful I shall soon find that I make a liar of myself when it comes to whether I am, in fact, politically inclined.

The thing is though, I am English,  so it matters very little where my persuasions lie.  Curiously I find  to myself far less inclined to care one jot about our very own Brexit shit storm and instead find myself compelled to understand more about just what the devil is going on across the pond.

Anyway, I have researched the basis of the political parties, delved into their history and attempted to understand as much as I can about them whilst reading as much as I could about just what is going on.  I am not an over complex sort though, and find myself already making some very basic assumptions about American politics, politicians and sometimes it’s people based on very little information and the behaviour of the people who represent the parties.

It remains a work in progress, and whilst I am quite certain that I would be blue and not red where it a choice I needed to make there is something else of which I am more and more certain the more I learn.  The GOP are such vicious beastly and quite ferocious creatures by all accounts that even they would make the vermicious knid seem tame by comparison.  I am not sure about all of it’s members obviously, but those in positions of power that I have been looking at have left me rather shocked.

I will keep working on it, and happy to have my mind changed but I think it will be quite some stretch given what I have seen. This is not to say the other lot are a whole lot better, I am sure they are equally abhorrent if you look closely enough.

Anyway, I know I am not at all qualified to comment on such things and it is rather ignorant of me to do so but I will nonetheless.  Now I will shut up.

Goodnight x and get back to writing that limerick about the chap who likes his bottom fiddling with.

Michael

P.S. It’s funny you know, when I sat down I honesty intended to write a poem about a boy who fought the knids.  Oh well…

A couple of rather rude limericks.

I am easily influenced, so here are some of the limericks you certainly don’t want your kids to read and to be honest – are rather crude.

 

Okay…a few of the ones that make me chuckle that I often avoid writing because they go too far in some regards but I am in the mood for going too far today.

There was a young fellow from China

Met this lass with a massive vagina

 

 

he would rattle inside

she would say “It’s so wide,

but was tighter when I was a minor”

 

For every vagina based limerick I feel it should be balanced out with a penis based one.  Just for good measure.

 

A well endowed fellow called Scott

has a dick he could tie in a knot

animals he could make,

dogs, swords flowers or snake

some girls found it incredibly hot

 

And just because I can one about anal sex.

 

lad I know, poor thing – anus quite wrecked

he hit forty so prostate got checked

turned out loved it so much

craved it poked, drilled and touched

far more pleasure that one might expect

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You should be shocked at all of these and roll your eyes and tut.  If you dont then you are part of the problem 😉

Thistles and Thorns

The things that hold us back…

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we.

I’ve a tale I would tell, and it might do you well

To pay heed and perhaps give some thought

To the things that constrain and the things that we blame

And on which were eternally caught

 

They’re the things in our heads, that live under our beds

And that lurk when we wake late at night

Paralysed by the doubt and the voices that shout

they defeat when we just cannot fight

 

Or you think you’re no good and that one day you could

be redeemed if you just do not stray

so you live only just and you hope pray and trust

that divine you’ll be carried away

 

so we stop in our tracks and we always look back

never trying to push on ahead

and were tangled in thorns and our minds they get torn

cant make sense of the thoughts in our heads

 

and you’re lying there scared and your wholly ensnared

to the things you believe are the truth

now perhaps they are not but you’ve sadly forgot

how to look for a sign or some proof

 

Unencumbered you’d find that the world can be kind

and there’s joy to be found and much more

we can live, love and learn and eternity spurn

for there’s hope here and now, life galore

Squirrel and Sparrow

High in the branches of the horse chestnut tree sparrow sat and watched with great interest as squirrel darted about on the ground below.

High in the branches of the horse chestnut tree sparrow sat and watched with great interest as squirrel darted about on the ground below.

“You seem rather busy today Squirrel” sparrow said.

“Oh indeed I am” squirrel said glancing up for only the briefest of moments and then returning to the rather important business of collecting nuts for the winter.  “Winter is coming Sparrow, and I must prepare.”

Sparrow watched her dart into a large crack in the side of the tree carrying a large acorn, her bushy tail still protruding.

“Do you not have enough already?” Sparrow shouted. “You have been gathering for weeks and weeks.”

Squirrel turned about and popped her head out.  “A squirrel can never have enough” she replied scuttling down the trunk of the tree and continuing to search in the golden carpet of leaves that covered the floor of the wood.

“And when do you know you have enough” Sparrow asked as Squirrel disappeared under a particularly large pile of red and yellow leaves.

Squirrel did not respond and moments passed as Sparrow waited for squirrel to emerge.

Suddenly, with a groan and an exclamation of joy she burst from the pile carrying what was most definitely the largest beechnut that sparrow had ever seen.

“My word” sparrow exclaimed, “surely now you have enough to tide you over during the dark winter months.”

Squirrel heaved it slowly towards the horse chestnut.  “Oh no” she said “the winter is long and I will most certainly need more.”

“Really?” said Sparrow, “and…”

Sparrow did not get to finish her sentence as quite suddenly, out of the high trees, Owl swooped down and in an instant her long talons wrapped around squirrel’s beech nut and hoisted it, and squirrel, up into the air.

“Let go” shouted sparrow watching owl swoop between the trees and glide up and up.

“But it’s my beech nut” squirrel shouted as ascended above the tree tops.  Squirrel hung on with all she had.  The nut was hers and she was not letting go.

Higher and higher flew owl, yet Squirrel would not let go.  Sparrow launched herself into the sky and set off after them.  “Let go squirrel, LET GO” she shouted as she neared them.

Squirrel looked down, her fingers beginning to slip as owl soared higher into the clear winter sky.

“No” she insisted, the wind blowing through her bushy tail.

Owl looked down seeing squirrel still holding on with the tiny tips of her fingers, smiled, and let go.

“It’s all mine” shouted squirrel defiantly as she hurtled towards the ground, Owl circling back to where she would soon land with a splat.

G is for god.

I’m not looking for a debate or deep discussion on whether a supernatural power does, or does not exist. 

I’m not looking for a debate or deep discussion on whether a supernatural power does, or does not exist.  You are more than welcome to leave your thoughts on the matter if you wish – but I don’t intend to get into fisticuffs over it.

I just wanted to see for myself whether I would start to write about it and then carry on given that when I sit down to write I do not always know where it will go.  I have something of a history with organised religion and whilst you will probably have noticed a passive aggressiveness in my writing towards it I don’t think it is something I have fully explored my feelings on yet.

Having got even this far I do not feel my thoughts on the matter are fully formed and I need to work on expressing them more clearly.  They’re more emotions than words and they don’t always make a lot of sense.  Actually, I might not quite know what those feelings are yet but when I do I am sure you will be the first to know.

Until then I think I will stick with my light derision and mockery until I am in a more serious mood.

Photo courtesy of pixabay

It’s Donald Monday!

Just a few thoughts on everyone’s favourite tangerine molester.

 

A fellow called Donald, well travelled

Took to twitter as shit it unravelled

Makes no sense, spewing rage

His brains gone, it’s his age

Leaves us wondering, sad and quite baffled

 

Shall we have another?

 

There once was a Potus, Don T

Who its rumoured has showered in pee

Let it run down his back

Twixt his legs, through his crack

Hence the tone of his skin don’t you see?

 

Happy Monday!

 

 

 

George and Alice

The old clock in the hall struck seven as George sat down at his writing table as he did every night.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we…this one is in response to the Weaving Words prompt.

The old clock in the hall struck seven as George sat down at his writing table as he did every night.  He opened the drawer and took out the pen she had given him on their 25th anniversary, then carefully took a sheet of the finest paper from a sheath and placed it on the desk in front of him.

He rolled the pen between his fingers and smiled as he read the inscription:

“My heart remains yours always.”

He pulled his chair to the desk, made himself comfortable and began to write.

 

My dearest Alice

Winter has come at last it seems, and the days grow shorter and we have had the first flakes of snow this evening.   Fortunately I have a good store of wood this year, and the new people on the Henderson farm have assured me they have plenty to spare should I run short.  They seem very nice, though I am not quite sure they are cut out for this life.  Time will tell.

I took a walk by the river this morning, the air cold and crisp and the skies blue with the feintest whisper of cloud.  Sadly the old bridge we built at Millers crossing has collapsed, and I fear age would insist that I am now well beyond repairing it.

Such memories it brought back and I remembered the yellow dress you wore the day we finished it.  It seems like only yesterday, and the smile you wore with it remains with me to this day.  As time passes it’s funny the things we remember and those we forget.  The smallest details of our life together I still recall and yet major events now seem like a story told to me by someone else.

Sometimes I do wonder whether I have forgotten days we spent together, yet my heart remains full of those that are still so clear to me.

My heart remains yours always

George

Gently placing the pen on the desk George then folded the paper and placed it in an envelope that he pulled from the bottom drawer.  Sealing it he then took a bundle of identical envelopes and slowly unknotted the string that bound them together.

Taking up the pen he wrote ‘Alice’ on the front and then bundled it with the others, refastening them together with the old coarse string and placing them back in the drawer.

He smiled as he stood from the desk, pushed the chair back in and turned out the light.

It had been a good day, she would have enjoyed it he thought smiling to himself as he climbed the stairs to bed.

Ronovan’s Haiku Challenge: Bold & Daring

Haiku challenge using ‘Short’ and ‘Sexy’. I feel I may be being set up…

 

It’s time for another of Ronovan’s haiku challenges.  Not done one for a few weeks…

 

Oh, Caps locks and Bold

Your point made. Very daring

come here I’ll punch you

 

You know the sort of person don’t you.  Uses Bold and Caps Locks.  Maybe even sneaks in a bit of an underline.   If you want to use CAPS LOCK to shout at me then do it to my face that I can punch you in your mouth because it’s bloody rude and believe it or not I don’t like rude people.

I guess that’s a cue for people to comment with CAPS LOCK AND BOLD.  I dare you, I will find you!

Maybe one more…

 

Fashion victims

A bold and daring outfit

you look really shit

 

Not eloquent I admit.  Theres just something about certain ensembles that leave you mostly unable to muster anything other that ‘you look really shit’.  I know this because I am that person who, no matter what they wear looks truly appalling.  I have a body that is not made for clothes but sweet mother of all things holy it needs to be covered as much and as often as possible.  Put me in a suit I look like a perverted child molesting penguin.  Shorts and tee shirt and my legs dangle out of the bottom like pale slabs of rancid pork.  Heaven forbid I should don a pair of jeans.  That is the point at which my arse cleavage makes a run for it and spills out just as you’re about to take a sip of your Latte making you wish you’d been born blind…

Anyway, happy Monday!

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/64808775/posts/1687416712

 

Head, shoulders, knees and oooh yeah baby.

So it turned out rather rude in parts…

I wrote this in response to something of a request from M.  Kinda.  Sort of.  I am pretty sure the comments goaded me into it.  Not that I take much encouragement on such things.  I am always willing to give things a try.  It probably goes too far… 🙂

Theres this woman it seems, met the man of her dreams

rather handsome and quite well to do

and they went on hot dates and they stayed out so late

so exciting being with someone new

 

Over time things progressed, and one hight she confessed

“no more waiting, I think that it’s time

let’s go back to your place” and they set off at pace

she was ready for pleasure devine

 

As she watched him undress, buttocks firm rock hard chest

pulse it raced then he ripped off her clothes

ran his hand up her thigh, made her groan squeal and sigh

goosebumps down from her head to her toes

 

Then he kissed every inch, gave her bottom a pinch

worked his way north to south quite intent

then he stopped at her feet, remarked “Oh what a treat”

but too long way down there he then spent

 

“Bloody hell” she proclaimed, his loins somewhat aflame

as he tongued, toe by toe, each in turn

and he sucked every one but her passion was gone

though her feet he continued to yearn

 

Ran his tongue ‘twixt her toes, “Oh please stop” she then goes

on to say “get your mouth off my feet!”

but he gobbles and licks, groans and then slowly spits

“Oh please baby they’re just quite a treat”

 

“How about this ” he asks, and she’s taken aback

“A caress with your soles quite divine

“I’ll lay back, use your feet, It will be quite a treat

up and down, and I’ll thrust up in time”

 

But she’s really quite shocked at the thought of his cock

‘tween her feet and she shouts “No, no, no!

How’d we get here so fast?  I don’t think it will last

get your clothes please I think you should go…”

 

“Baby please dont’ you know, it’s quite normal and so

many people like licking of toes

It’s my thing no big deal, give it time and you’ll feel

quite at home with just where my tongue goes”

 

“Not a chance” she replies, realises and sighs

“this won’t work out”.  Alas, such regret

As he dresses to go, “kiss goodbye?” she says “No!”

as his breath’s like old cheese, poo and sweat.

 

So quite sad, it’s the end and she calls up a friend

and explains that he’s gone and it’s done

and though he was very sweet his obsession with feet

not for her and just weird, not fun…

 

A Final Late Night Limerick

Need a hand with that get-well-soon card? Perhaps feeling a touch on the gassy side?

This week they will be on the matter of getting well soon, so if you know someone who ails you are more than welcome to borrow them if you’re thinking of sending a nice card and some grapes perhaps.  Let’s ease in nice and slow with something pleasant shall we.  There’s plenty of time for it to go awry I assure you.

Heard your suffering, and poorly my friend

How I hope that you’ll be on the mend

pretty soon feeling fine

itll heal up in time

told you never to pierce your bell end

 

 

Photo courtesy of pixabay

 

My final Fetish Haiku – Somnophilia

You can never unthink what you may think if you read this

Read here if you’re wondering “why the bloody hell is he writing fetish haiku?”

Now, if you’re my wife then I am sorry wife, it was only meant as a bit of fun. If you’re my parents – you probably have yourself to blame to some degree.

Somnophilia

And I think most likely the last of these.   Too much of a good thing and all that business right.

 

Eyes closed breath gently

Hes watching through your window

Seems a bit rapey

 

Apparently some find it quite trouser stiffening to enjoy watching others sleep or when theyre unconscious.  It feels really ominous to me and I dont really envisage someone lying awake watching the love of their life sleeping peacefully.  I’m thinking more someone outside your bedroom window in the bushes masturbating furiously whilst you and your significant other sleep and then emptying themselves all over your hydrangas and ruining your well kept borders.

I think I said too much…

I hope he gets prison aids.

I feel like I should be throwing rocks at something but all I muster is a bloody limerick

Wicked Donald presides from his perch

Leaves his country alas in the lurch

Muslims, gays, blacks will feel

Twitter wrath, don’t you kneel

But its fine if you gun down a church

Should you like young kids like his pal Ron

Fill your boots cos he says that’s not wrong

and hell grab your wife’s V

cos he likes it you see

and he’ll have Ivanka’s before long

Then his wall he will build and what’s more

Taking health care away from the poor

The right wing he’ll embrace

And he sees no disgrace

giving tax breaks to friends all the more

So fake news will not slow his progress

As America sinks but I guess

the whole world cannot cry

cos we idly stand by

But that’s life, well done us, what a mess