Art is a lie that makes us realise truth

Strolling along these Spanish streets
In old Pollenca Town
The buildings are softly whispering

A

Cacophony

Of

Sound

Infused in bricks and mortar
A myriad of doors
Unlock Mallorcan histories
Egyptians, Romans, Ottomans and Moors
Battles fought
Blood is shed
United together they buried their dead

Me…I sit atop the Calvario Steps
Easel and brush in hand
Watching the sinners climb to the top
From my vantage witness stand

Will they be atoned?

Well… that’s not for me to say
I just paint the pictures
I have no Masters in my life
That I am ordered to obey

From a distant echo
Float the familiar sounds of my beloved guitar
I follow my ears through the streets to my beloved Alhambra bar
There I sit and watch the world
As loves and lives unfold
I catch a whisper on the wind
Interwoven with catholic gold

I walk these streets in dead men’s feet bequeathed to me upon defeat
The price I pay I’m dammed to say will greet me on departure day
But until then my mind is free to wander through this fantasy . . .

Salvation came knocking at my door

Salvation came a knocking at my door
Offering redemption
Said the choice was mine to choose
I was one of the favoured few
Could I really honestly refuse?
After a lifetime of playing out the blues

Well…he charmed me right there on the spot
I swooned
I swayed
The man was hot
A gambit served on a plate of gold
Wrapped me up in his protective fold

Seems my eyes did open wide
Soul betrayed as I complied
Incubus secured a willing bride
Sensibility ran off quick to hide
But not before in my ear it did confide

False prophets on this earth do roam
Sent from the Vatican in holy Rome
Beware of lies disguised with love
Procurer of the pouch that ferries foxglove
Defences blind he will cut out your heart
Then display your weakness
Like a piece of art
So think real hard of the choice in hand
Implication of death you must understand

Well…it stopped me right there in my tracks
And I thanked my sense for stating the facts
I was seduced by the serpent from under the tree
As he drip fed untruths of knowledge to me
Evil, Sin, Suffering, Sickness and death
Permeated from his putrid breath
But I was destitute of vision
For I just could not see
All I saw my opportunity turning up for me

What a wretched man am I?
As I wander on this earth
Searching for the answers
That will assist me in rebirth

But as you know we are all pre-programmed courtesy of the original sin
Flawed at creation to stumble through life with this knowledge imprisoned within

Jeremy Vine

Jeremy Vine is so divine

God I love that man

Maybe in another life

I could be more than just a fan

I’d bake him cookies every day

Treat him like a king

Introduce him to my kitty cats

And teach him how to swing

Hand in hand we would stroll

Through the meadows every day

Whilst picking wild flowers

I will be leading him astray

Finally the sun will set

Upon this field of corn

And in his arms my head will rest

Until the next new day is born

Tony Ted

When I was a little girl
I thought I’d have some fun
So I tore of all my summer clothes
And ran naked in the sun
The heat it did affect me
Frazzled out my head
So I summoned out my secret friend
His name is Tony Ted

Now Tony Ted is quite some guy
We kick about a lot
He has a great big bulbous nose
And hands with liver spots
He is getting on a bit now
And has to use a stick
But the most important thing still works
His humongous slippery dick

On this hazy summer’s day
My eyes they did espy
A psychedelic vision
That filled up all the skies
Of multi-coloured chickens
Clucking in the air
Blue, Pink, Green and Purple
And a giant panda bear

Now Tony Ted and I were shocked
As the chickens began to sing
We held our hands so tightly
To each other we did cling
Panda then tapped on my shoulder
And began to give me the eye
Before I knew it
I had sprouted some wings
And discovered that I could fly

Of I flew to a magical land
With bluebells in my hair
I danced amongst the fairies
Precious nectar they did share
We drank
And drank
And had a ball
Til I was fizzy and dizzy with love
And when I awoke
To my amazement
On my head were two turtle doves

They whispered ancient secrets
Into my tulip ears
Taught me things I should not know
Like the music of the spheres
They said that Tony Ted was bad
And that I was the chosen one
I had to gather an army
And head on towards the sun

Being a little girl
I didn’t quite know what to do
So I squatted down
Took a breath
And excreted a wiggly poo

When I awoke
Back I was
In the field of corn
Shamed by being naked
As the day was born

I searched all night long for my very precious friend called Tony Ted
Only to find him face down in the strawberries
Evidently dead
Around his head the doves did fly
Innocence so pure
My secret friend
Was just a symptom
But … now at last I had found the cure!!!

Shameful infection of a twisted mind

I’ll swing the rope way up high

Strongest rafter will comply

Snap my neck with joyful glee

A piece of art for all to see

Naked as the day is born

A crown of thorns

I will adorn

Paint my lips the reddest red

Sacrificial lamb now dead

And as he opens up the door

He’ll see I’ve evened up the score

Shameful infection of a

Twisted mind

Homemade formula for all of mankind

But then …

I’ll leave the best to last

Disbelieve is such a blast

Each will receive a virginal rose

Attached to a packet

That will disclose

All what he has done to me

Sickening

Violation

Of a trusting family

And when he "hangs" his head in shame

My Innocence

WILL

BE

RECLAIMED

Outside this fabled sphere

50 little soldiers
line up neatly
in a row
Mother’s Ruin
vigilantly
guarantors the flow
One
by
One
Serenely
they succumb
with eyes anew
Mausoleum
of the
malady
Parades with
ancient held
taboos
Marching through
the chaos
Devoid
Of any fear
Searching for
alternatives
Outside this fabled sphere

Parish Priest required - All paedo's please apply

Father I do not forgive
For you are a man of sin
I saw you down by the riverbank
With Peter’s retarded twin
You took him to your special place
Where the wild roses grow
Stripped him bare
There in your lair
Before your gift
On him
You did bestow
I saw the look upon your face
As you thrust his small behind
Pure joy with a dash of nostalgia
Are words that spring to mind
And after the seed was planted
And after the deed was done
You turned the poor boy over
And continued on with your fun
The simple boy could hardly breathe
As you forced it down his throat
Fate sealed his sad dead eyes
On that riverbank so remote
And as the sun began to set
You placed him gently in his chair
Wheeled him back to your parish
As if you simply
Did not care
And now I stand before you
As you preach to the converted
About to unleash your secret
That you are one of God’s perverted

Maybe it's an age thing?

Why is it you hate me
I see it in your eyes
You don’t even try to hide it
With me
There’s no disguise
Maybe it’s an
Age thing
Why I irk you so
Maybe it’s because
You like to think
That I am
Slow
Either way
You break my heart
With your
Wicked words
The blatant disrespect
You show to me
Seems really quite
Absurd
All I’ve ever done is loved you
Protected you from harm
I’m tired of your poison
I crave to see your charm
I know it’s in there somewhere
Hidden out of view
Today
I’m going searching
Please
Give me a clue
I will break down all those barriers
In which you’re tightly bound
Sneak in very carefully
You will not hear a sound
Traverse your war torn country
Until I find your cell
Then carefully extract you
From the hell in which you dwell
Wrap you up into my arms
Make sure you’re safe and warm
I will be the guiding light
From your internal storm
And maybe in the future
When your seas are calm
We will laugh and joke together
And I will see again your charm

Farewell to my Muse ..

I am now empty

I am …

Yin without Yang

Strawberries without cream

Love without hate

Simon without Garfunkle

For … Late last night I caught my Muse packing his bags

I pleaded
I begged
Even got down on my hands and knees
All to no avail
Muse was adamant
Had had enough
Enough of what?
I asked
Enough of me he replied
I was struck dumb
What had I done?
What had I done?
Muse then sat me down
Like a naughty child
And gently began to explain to me
The reasons why he was leaving
With tears streaming down my face
I picked up my ever present pad
And noted them down

1) Delusions of grandeur
2) Inability to express thoughts/ideas coherently
3) Vulgar language for no apparent reason
4) Nonsensical political/social points of view
5) Outright refusal to listen

Even as I sat there listening
I knew Muse was telling me the truth
I do not think that he really wanted to go
But ..
To be honest
I had become such an embarrassment
To his ancestry
To the concept
That he had no choice
But to go
After I waved him goodbye
I went and sat in the fire chair
And thought to myself

Fool

We had kicked around together
For such a long time
It was just my own pure selfishness
That drove him away
Why did I not listen to him?
Take note of his wise words of wisdom?
After all he was my Muse
He was there for me
For me
Not for anyone else
For me …

God damn me

God damn me

God damn me

I have now seen the error of my ways

I am now packed
I am now ready
I am ready
To begin my own personal journey
To reclaim my Muse
To bring him back
Where he belongs
To bring him back to

ME




"O Muses, O high genius, aid me now!
O memory that engraved the things I saw,
Here shall your worth be manifest to all!"

Dante Alighieri, in Canto II of The Inferno

But still you stay ...

I watch your resentment
I watch your hate
Our empty existence
Is hard to negate
You say I’m a bully
You say I’m a cunt
No prizes here
Darling
This knife’s never blunt

But still you stay …

I destroyed your life
From the moment we met
Before me you
Stand
Now a man of regret
Once in my arms
Your soul was submersed
Now alone in our history
You’re driving
The
Hearse

But still you stay …

Kept you away from your kith and kin
Indulged your repression with cardinal sin
Parallel existence out there somewhere
Conformity’s cute
When it’s with
People that care

Dare
You

Fucked up your head
Fucked up your brain
Made you succumb
Over and over again

But still you stay …

No rules for me
I’m tough and I’m driven
The darkness of life
To me is a given
But you
On your pedestal high in the sky
Will quiver
Will quake
Will never defy
I am blamed for your weakness
Your inability to act
This futile foible
Will forever protract

But still you stay …

So I bade you farewell
And alter this course
Our race is now over
I want a divorce

Goodbye …

Pops

We buried Pops in
his
Sunday Best
On that wet
November morn
I stood there in
MY
Sunday Best

Shattered

Tattered

Torn

“Private Viewing” an hour before
In the tawdry “Chapel of Hope”
He looked real queer
In all his gear

As I stood there all forlorn

The shuffling crowd
Never knew the man
Lying here
In State
To them he was just family
To me
He was
My mate
Or so I thought
Until I caught
The eye
Of his First Born
Hanging back
Discreetly

Face

All weathered and worn

Long forgotten memories
Bubbled up
From my dim and distant past

The rows
The dogs
Mr Plod

Schizophrenia

Dictated this man’s stone
Was duly cast

Out he went
Into
A world
Where no-one ever cared
Left behind
His family

Frightened

Embarrassed

Scared

I watched this man
So lonely
With his eyes
Fixed on the floor
Whilst
The family
Just ignored him
Behaviour
That I simply
Do abhor
So I wandered over
Slowly
Stretching out my
Hand
He raised his head
And looked
At me
United we did stand
I smiled at him gently
His pain
I could not deny
We held our hands together
And bade our Pops goodbye

Families are an unpredictable breed
Often trapped between want and need
Some are cast out
Some are cast in
Never quite knowing
When the story begins
I decided a long time ago
To opt out of the family
And go with the flow
All except Pops
For he was my rock
Kept my feet on the ground
My shield from life’s knocks

So I pledge this ode to the one man that cared
And will always honour the times that we shared

ROT IN HELL YOU WICKED EVIL MAN

Rob the Nob’s an ignorant man
Ill educated
Illiterate
A
chancer’s dripping pan

The day he fell in lust with a Roman Catholic whore
He entrapped her as his prisoner
So men could not gaze at her no more

Within a month
A life was spawned
Up the aisle they did flee
This is
my friend
Just the start
Of the
???????? dynasty

Deserted by their families
Cast out
To breed alone
Rob was dictatorial
A king upon his throne

No longer would she work for Smedleys up the road
Her life to now be governed by her husband’s crazy code

First came a boy “1”
Followed by a girl “2”
Followed by a girl “3”
Followed by a girl “4”
Followed by a girl “5”
Followed by a boy “6”
Followed by a boy “7”

Now “I” stand in this pecking order
somewhere at the top
The inheritance of madness
Nobody can stop
The boys were brainwashed daily
Taunted with being gay
Withdrawal kicked in very quick
And with them it did stay
The girls were whores and sluts
Irrespective of attire
Educated so very young to
Suppress
all natural desires

After the birth of the firstborn
Rob decided to no longer work
His job was in the house now
In shadows he would lurk
Rules and regulations
Beaten with a stick
Quite an achievement really

FOR A MAN SO FUCKING THICK

Do you remember No1?
How you practised with your fists
Smashed his fucking head in
Til he was shrouded in a mist
He wore 4 jumpers every day
Because you told him he was puny
Are you proud of your inheritance?
You raving fucking loony

Note: No1’s best friend turned out to be a paedophile
but that’s a whole new chapter


Do you remember No2?
What happened when she was seven?
I don’t know what’s wrong or right
The truth lies in the vaults of heaven
She cut a blackbird’s head off
And danced with manic glee
You created all of us
One great big fucked up family
Proud?

Note: No2 ended her marriage after falling in love with
her 15 year old baby sitter


Do you remember No3?
How you decided she was loose
So she crawled inside a bottle
of alcoholic juice
Every day she went out thieving
just to feed her habit
Rob do you remember the day that
you made her eat her rabbit?
Could not put down roots
So roamed from town to town
Keeping her head above the sewer
For fear that she might drown

Note: No3 is happy and leaves the past in the past where
it belongs ... for now


Do you remember No4?
That must have been some job
for her to have been sectioned so many times
When you stand before your maker
Will you admit
to all of your crimes?
Or will you shrivel up?
Try to pass the buck?
Well … listen up here Rob
You’re running out of fucking luck

Note: No4 is now living with another fellow loony and
trying to normalise her existence


Do you remember No5
The girl now thinks that every man is a paedophile
Can you imagine anything that really is more vile?
You turned the girl into a cunning compulsive liar
Lost forever behind the shield of the constant surface fire
Are you proud of all your children?
Does your heart not swell with pride?
Is this what you envisaged?
On that day you took your bride

Note: No5 is on the lookout for a rich farmer to impregnate
her so that she can live of off his money


Do you remember No6
Oh yes, of course, he lives on the same estate
But he won’t give you the time of day
Is it time yet to contemplate?
He keeps his family separate
Tries to keep them pure
Antidote was easy
Separation from you was this man’s cure
Feeling any guilt yet?
Shame for what you’ve done?
Or do you still think that we are all bastards
Each and every one

Note: No6 lives on happily with his family and has
had no contact for 15 years ... for now


Do you remember No7
The 7th child of the 7th child
Now where do I begin?
Fed him sweets and biscuits
Smirking with that evil grin
Kicked him out the house all day
Come the rain or shine
No wonder that he ended up
With a mind that’s much maligned
Paranoid
Delusional
This man was surely worth a punt?
But not by you
Apparently
You
Fucked up fucking cunt

Note: No7 continues trying to slay the dragon and is more
grounded due to the love of his son


So fuck you Rob and fuck your ways
I will hate you til the end of days
You had no right to fuck up the lives
Of your children
Or your whore of a wife
And when you die
When the time is right
When Beelzebub has you in his sight
That’s the point the cork will blow
Time slows down and you will know
Your wicked ways were not a given
You will never ever be forgiven
Into the bowels of hell you’ll burn
To late for lessons to be learned


ROT IN HELL YOU WICKED EVIL MAN
ROT IN HELL YOU WICKED EVIL MAN
ROT IN HELL YOU WICKED EVIL MAN

ONE LIFE - LIVE IT

Small minded bitch
From a small minded town
Peddles her poison
Then watches you drown
Drown in her gossip
The chit
And the chat
Blackens your name
In silent combat
Combat your chances
Of speaking the truth
Labelled by folk
As being uncouth
Uncouth and sullied

No Time For You

Worked it out yet?
Unravelled the clue?
Clue’s in the poison
From the small minded bitch
The witch with the curtains
That
Frequently twitch
Don’t listen to gossip
Free up your mind
And it will reveal
We are one of a kind
Kind that will ride
On the cusp of a wave
The real YOU is out there
Just waiting
Be brave
Brave is for folk
That need to depart
Folk that are more
Than the sum of their parts

Take a leap of faith

Break out from the mold

Life is here to be lived

And must not be controlled

Q - Sometimes in life it is easier to stay in a situation
but you need to ask yourself WHY
A - Fear of the unknown is a powerful and often
scary enough reason to make folk stay

There are no dress rehearsals in life my friend

ONE LIFE - LIVE IT

Live it

Breathe it

Taste it

Touch it

Feel it,

ONE LIFE - LIVE IT

The Girl

The Girl was in hiding from her demons. They had taken up residency after a very successful coup d’état in the early spring of this year. The unsavoury usurpers had subscribed to strategy and tactics in order to consolidate and then take control of the Girl’s liberty and free will. Her acquiescence was the final battle fought out in the sanatorium of her already fragile mind. The demons were now the guardians of the Girl’s existence and they ruled their subject with a tyranny that was biblical in proportion.

The catalyst for these events had begun the previous summer. On that fateful day the wheels were put in motion and very slowly began to gently rock and roll. The demons began a full out campaign to recruit extra soldiers for the task in hand. Legions lined up in full combat gear; ready to be discharged at a moments notice. Camps were set up in a variety of secret locations within the Girl. Operational manoeuvres discussed on a daily basis as to the best way to secure and capture the enemy.

Prior to these events the Girl was wild and fancy free. Not a damn care in the world. Life was an unchartered adventure waiting to be explored. The Girl exuded a joie de vivre that was infectious to all she came into contact with. She loved life and embraced it fully at any opportunity that presented itself. The Girl was confident without being conceited and optimistic without out being foolish. She was creative in the arts and excelled at her studies with a natural god given talent. The girl had an enviable large circle of friends.

Unbeknownst to the Girl though there were dark forces at play which would be detrimental to her very being.

The Girl needed a dress to wear to a party that night. It was a house party that a friend of a friend was putting on. The friend’s ignorant parents had gone away for a few days and left him home alone. He was a quiet and studious boy who was desperate for something anything to happen that might make him feel just a little bit alive. He was the only child of much older parents who had unwittingly smothered him with love and affection. He yearned to escape from their sensible claw like clutches. The boy’s craving for life was abundantly clear to all who met him. Palpable would probably describe him best. So you can understand how easy it was for his peers to coerce him into having a free for all party that night at his parent’s house. As often happens with the case though, before he knew it anyone who was anyone had invited themselves along; including the Girl.

The Girl had no money but that was nothing new. Quite often she had to pop into town to acquire something or other. The Girl had no qualms whatsoever about shoplifting. No-one ever suspected her because of her effervescent charm. You would not believe what this Girl managed to ferret away in her oversized bag. The Girl’s upbringing was unconventional to say the least but that’s a story for another day. Well just say that she lived deep in the darkest bowels of the countryside with her crazy family.

The nearest big town that had any decent clothes shops was some 20 miles away. So…The Girl had to resort to the tried and tested method of hitchhiking. This was not a problem because the Girl had been doing this for years, admittingly with friends most of the time but also occasionally by herself. There had been a few scary moments through the years but nothing too bad that the Girl and her friends wouldn’t be giggling about later.
…
So with the sun beating down on her she set off over the corn fields to the nearest main road some 2 miles away. It was late summer and as she walked along she gouged herself on the wild strawberries which grew in abundance along the hedgerow. The oppressive heat of the summer was finally drawing to a close. Humidity had been given a one way ticket out of town. Air was starting to purify. Today was an introduction for mankind to start breathing again. Life was wonderful she thought to herself as she finally got to the main road

The girl was conservative in her dress. Experiences early on in life had taught her that some men were not quite how they appeared. The girl could sense which men tried to suppress these unnatural thoughts. She could see the hidden monsters lurking in the shadows. The girl knew that these monsters were salivating at the thought of being unleashed. The girl was always guarded.

It didn’t take long before a car pulled over. The Girl got in. Silently and softly the car door shut. The girl was happy. It had only taken her a few minutes before the kind man had pulled over to give her a lift. Today was going to be good.

The kind man was conservative in his dress. Experiences early on in his life had taught him to covert his inner self. He kept that part of himself in a special box. No-one ever got to see what was inside the box. It was only bought out on very special occasions. The kind man had perfected the art of illusion over many years. The kind man was always guarded.

As soon as the Girl got into the car she sensed something wasn’t right. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was but all her instincts were screaming wildly together in unison to get out of the car. The Girl was confused because the kind man was busy chatting away to her about his wife and kids back home. Apparently he was on his way to an appointment in town with his bank manager; hoping to secure a loan in order to build an extension for his Mother-in–law who was coming to live with them in the new year. The Girl began to feel hot; she felt rivulets of perspiration trickling down her back. It was difficult to breathe. She needed to get out of the car and get out now. Her sixth sense had been whispering in her ear since she first got in the car; it was trying to warn her that she was in mortal danger. So she took a deep breath and very sweetly asked the kind man to pull over and let her out. The kind man didn’t hesitate and pulled over straight away into the next lay-by. The Girl was grateful that the journey was over. Her heart began to beat to its regular rhythm. As she leaned over to open the door she felt something pull her back into the seat…

The hazy heat of the sun was beginning to subdue in its intensity. The violent ravages that poured forth from its rays earlier were now starting to subside. A beautiful azure blue sky began to beckon with warm open arms. Shimmering distorted heat dissipated and vision reclaimed its birthright. The tyrannical brutal temperature of the summer had previously been a slave driver but was now finally redundant. Jobless. Empty. Devoid. Surplus to requirements. Birds were singing melodically in the trees and chirping away happily. Everything was calm and still and serene. The malady of the madness had moved on and found a new host to reside in.

The party was in full swing when the Girl turned up. Bee lined to the booze. Kept herself to herself and surveyed the unfolding mayhem. Drunken fuelled revelry assaulting her eyes wherever she looks in the room. The Girl is watching the boy as he is desperately trying to be a part of the scene he has somehow inadvertently orchestrated. His unformed little pigeon chest is swelling with pride. So bloody grateful. The drink has soothing qualities as its slides effortlessly down her throat. It makes her forget. She needs to forget. The Girl is detached. The Girl is dirty and needs to be cleansed. She continues to watch the boy and his pathetic eagerness to please the crowd and it is starting to annoy her. How can someone be so gullible? So naïve? So bloody desperate? So blind to the situation? He is both irritating and irksome in tandem. The Girl continues to drink. And drink. And drink.

The Girl formulates a plan and staggers off to the corner and waits hungrily. Hours pass and still the Girl waits. Her appetite is gaining momentum all the while. Eventually the party peters out and people start leaving the house. It is not long before they have all left. There is just the Girl and the boy in the house now. The Girl is very still. The Girl is waiting patiently. The boy does not know that the Girl is in the corner. He begins the unenviable task of tidying away the night before. He is happy. He is content. He feels as though he has arrived. He has waited so long for his moment he can hardly contain himself. The Girl then makes her move.

With passion intense the Girl silently slithers up behind the boy. She taps him gently on his shoulder. The boy is startled and turns around. The Girl then smashes him straight in his face with all the fury that has begun to poison and flow through her veins. Pounding and smashing and pounding his face until it is fresh, wet and dripping with crimson blood. The boy falls to his knees. He has wet his pants. What a loser. The boy’s fear is tangible. It excites the Girl. She looks at the weak specimen on the floor and feels nothing but contempt. He is having trouble breathing so she kicks him in the head over and over again. The boy has now curled up into the foetal position and is awaiting his fate. The Girl then picks up a nearby cushion and places it over his kind face. She presses down and holds it there securely. The boy’s legs are jerking underneath the Girl. The movements make the Girl laugh. It reminds her of one of the old Tom and Jerry cartoons she used to watch when she was a kid.

How can the boy be so weak?

How can the boy allow her to humiliate him?

Why isn’t he fighting back?

Eventually the boy’s legs stop jerking. He is now still. The Girl releases the cushion and surveys her work. The kind man is not moving. The boy is at peace. His little pigeon chest is as it should be. The Girl’s hunger is sated. She is calm and content. As she readies herself to leave the house she takes one last look at the boy on the floor. It crosses her mind that now the boy will be the star of his own show. Ironic really that he has acquired in death what he so desperately craved for in life. Recognition.

The cornfields have an almost spiritual quality to them in the first light of the morning. There is a beauty emitted from the corn that wraps itself around the Girl like a snuggle blanket. She draws comfort from its inner sanctum as she slowly walks home. The serenity of the open countryside permeates the Girl and stills her beating heart. She feels as though she is floating through the corn on a golden carriage flanked by angels sent from the heavens above. The angels have golden trumpets and are serenading the Girl the sweetest most beautiful chords she has ever heard. The Girl is floating effortlessly through the beauty and connects with the heartbeat of mother earth itself. They are as one. United together forever. The Girl has seen the light and willingly surrendered. Nothing can hurt the Girl ever again. Nothing.

Addiction in suburbia

I watch Him
I watch Him every night
He always arrives home an hour before Her
Regular as clockwork
Not missed a working day yet in the last 6 years
Impressive
I know
By anyone’s standards
Anyway … I digress … Apologies
Let’s try again
I’ll tell it as it is my friend
I’ll try to explain it as though I am filing a police report
That will be fun
Kind of official like
But that obviously cannot be guaranteed because of the nature of this peculiar beast
Let’s have a go anyway
Ok

At 1755 PC Bathsheba reports in for duty

At 1800 his beloved company car slides effortlessly into the drive
At 1805 he enters the house
Now here we have to allow an extra 10mins in order for him to settle and prepare
Sometimes though I have to wait as long as 13mins
Those nights are tough ones
Believe you me

See I’m already loosing my train of thought

Ok screw the PC shit
Ill just say it as it is then
Again

So obviously when this anomaly (the extra 3mins – in case you’d forgotten) happens
it does cause me a certain amount of anxiety
Heart palpitations
Sweaty palms
I need my fix
And I need it now
I sit patiently and wait
And wait

Then the bedroom light goes on
It stills my beating heart
I position myself correctly
This is my cue

I know his secret
I watch him every night

Then he appears in all his glory
Standing there naked as the day he was born
He proceeds to sit down on the chair facing the vanity mirror on the dressing table.

Well … I say naked!!!

Perched on his head at a jaunty angle, I might add, is a 1920s straw hat. The crown fits
close to his head, rather like a cloche. The brim is narrow on the left side and wide on
the right side. It folds back on the front left side. Where it folds back there is a red and
navy silk faille ribbon art flower. In the back of the hat by the neck is a large navy faille bow.
The red flower is slightly soiled but otherwise the hat is in good condition.

I’m impressed because I haven’t seen this particular beauty before. It sets my heart all of a
flutter. A hot flush then spreads up from my nether regions immobilising all of my sense
and sensibility. The balmy heat is addictive in its nature.

Slowly very slowly my hand moves down …

You see he normally alternates between:

a) The 1920s turban style hat. This is rather fetching on him because of its beautiful brown silk
velvet with mauve, black, white and tan print. It is also decorated with a brown feather that is
made to look like a bird. I personally find this one somewhat alluring on him.

Or

b) The 1930s black seal skin hat. Now this hat is round and covers the top and the back of his head.
It also has a large fur covered bow on the top of the head which is lined in black silk velvet.
It is lined in mauve rayon silk. Not really to my taste I might add.

Or

c) The 1940s black wool pill box hat. This has a black faille band in the back of the head.
On the top of the hat are 3 black rayon silk leaves with black iridescent feathers that drape over
the top of the hat in the front. This is a great 1940s hat. The only flaw that I can see from my
vantage point is some slight staining to the back of the hat.

And what pray tell does he do whilst he is wearing these hats in his birthday suit in front of the
vanity mirror. Well I’ll tell you what he does. He does absolutely nothing. He just sits there
and stares at himself.

With me, unbeknownst to him, watching him watching himself.

He enthrals me each and every night. Sometimes I fantasize about putting on one of my
little hats and sneaking over there to surprise him.

Would he want me too?

Would he die of shame?

Would he encourage me?

Then I get scared and think that I’m better of just being voyeuristic. Maybe one day though
in the not too distant future I might be brave enough to venture over there. And if I’m welcomed
with opened arms then I might partake a little myself!!!

Now I am sorry if you were expecting something of a more salacious nature.

I could, some might say, be guilty of leading you up the proverbial garden path.

But you have to understand that I have studied this man for 6 long years and I find his peculiarity
strangely intoxicating.

Odd I know but then which of us in all honestly can say that they are truly normal, whatever that is?

Have you not got any little odd quirks that are only indulged upon when you are alone?

Come on be honest with me. … . Please

At 1855 She pulls into the drive and parks next to her husband.

At 1900 PC Bathsheba reports off duty

One of life's questions ...

Q - Why am I fat?

A- Because you eat too much and don't exercise.

SIMPLE AS THAT!!!

Life ...

I wake up. I wearily wash my face in luke warm resignation. As I look around the wretched room, it makes me wonder how on earth I have ended up here. What has happened in my life that dictates that I am reduced to living in this hovel?
Did I orchestrate my own demise or was it predetermined that this is my life?
Is this my life just for now?
Has my Maker got other plans for little old me that won’t play out until I have paid my penance?
I look in the mirror and see my reflection staring back at me. Is that me? She sure as hell seems familiar. Surely it’s not me. The image looks sad, lonely and unresponsive. She has deep hollow eyes. Her hair is a cheap nasty yellow colour with dark brown roots desperately trying to escape. It is the sort of face that you would cross the road from in order to avoid any sort of contact with. It is me.
I would like to say that I was once a nice girl with a nice home and loving parents. I would like to say as well that once upon a time I had a good job with real prospects. But alas…it would be a lie. All lies. Born bad, that’s me all over.
See, this is the thing, logic dictates that we cannot help our upbringing. You all have sympathy for the children of incapable and ineffective parents. But woe betide those poor little strays when they turn into adults. Who cares then? Ill tell you who cares…no-one.
Personally myself, I was the result of an imbecilic wanton slut and a naïve inexperienced petty thief who were thrown together by pregnancy. Their union was an angry piece of cinema history in the making. They would have wiped the boards, no question.
So, here I am staring at the peeling wallpaper and filthy linoleum floor, and I’m wondering why?
Why is it that I am incapable of leading a normal life?
I see you all every day going about your business, meeting for lunch, shopping, taking your children to the park. I see illicit meetings and drunk fuelled revelry. I see too much. I want to be a part of your life, but I don’t know how too. When I approach, I see fear in your eyes, I see mothers pull their children close to their breasts to protect them. I am human and I do have feelings, please stop shunning me. Slowly, very slowly I am dying. And when I die, I want to return as the morning dew, each and every day. I want to be moist, fresh, pure and renewing. I want to be the champagne that covers the hedgerows and lawns in the morning. I want the one thing that’s lacking in this life at the moment. And that one thing is … … …Hope.

Fakes

How does one acquire the skills

In order to partake

Plath out the words?

Then take my place

Along with all you fakes

Ivory Tower

As I sit here in my ivory tower
Holding all the cards but none of the power
It dawns on me; why am I here?
Logic and reason just doesn’t seem clear

Cars, Holidays and Money do not mean a dot
Yet there’s envy in your eyes
You want what I’ve got
Do think that my kingdom is happy and gay?
Sun always shines
A life so divine
Well… you know the old saying…you know what they say
If you think it’s so great…walk in my shoes for a day

Tedious boredom
Fruit full fit to burst
Never a pleasure
Always a curse

So next time you crave my life Dear Friend
Close your eyes tightly…pretend
And remember as you sit in my ivory tower
You’re holding the cards but none of the power.

Judgemental eyes

Casting aspersions with judgemental eyes
Ignorance etched on your skin
Generational genocide encoded with hate
Impregnating your glorious genes

Impotence coursing through your veins
Your inability to grasp
Forward thinking for your fellow man
Pathetically trapped in a prejudicial past

Sins of the father
Bestowed on the son
Ethnicity now a by word for scum

Empirically you gloat castigating my culture
Lurking on the side lines like a ravenous vulture

But I will rise and gently hold your biased hand
And guide you through the Promise Land
With eyes anew your sight will see
That all mankind is equally and eternally free

Liberation from this fraudulent farce

I love your wicked disrespect
How you absconded and broke free
From the chains that tried to bind you
To the poets code for all eternity
You thought to hell with all that shit
I have my axe to grind
You cast aside the literary bonds
And no longer were you blind
Free you were to use the words
Whichever way you choose
Artfully awakened via the adrenalin
You released your dormant muse
You do not play with words my friend
Your writes are real and not pretend
No descriptive flowery language here
No metaphors in pride of place
Should you run and hide under the nearest stone?
For being the modern day poets distasteful disgrace
So … Fuck the poet’s philosophies
They can shove them up their arse
I’ll take the lead from you my friend
Liberation from this fraudulent farce

Duende

Sensing your breath upon my skin
Mind shuts down
Vision begins
Melodically the chords wrap round my heart
Soul surrenders
Starts to depart

Of we fly to our magical land
You with your beloved cypress guitar in your hand
Me with that dress, castanets and red shoes
Music and dance forever infused

Cejilla is raised
Ready to perform
Sheer brilliance exudes
Bailador now transforms

Out I step in a frenzy of heat
Blind to the audience
Tuned to the beat
Enraptured I capture and quicken my pace
Brazenly displaying my posture and grace
Fierce pride and tears
Displayed through the dance
Gypsy blood never leaves nothing to chance

I toss back my hair full of contempt
Hypnotic eyes alluringly teasingly tempt
Crescendo building
Gathering yielding
Dark feelings consume and make us all whole
Duende is like catharsis for the soul

Performance now over
Back to the hills
Heat of our passion
Emblazoned with thrills
Religiously we flaunt the original sin
Immortality secured deeply within
Bodies now tired
Sleep must begin
Eternally
Sensing your breath upon my skin

Animals

“Love animals…Don’t eat them”
On the back of the truck
Do they really think that we give a fuck?

As far as I’m concerned they are there to be eaten
Does it matter so much if there battered and beaten?

The food chain is there for a reason my friend
Lentils and rice don’t appeal; why pretend?

Morels and ethics
You use as your source
So neatly nurtured from your feminist course
Stroking your egos with ignorant bliss
Never to experience that succulent kiss

Steak starts to sizzle; Smell starts to ensnare
With wild abandonment I just don’t care
Juices cascading
Rivers of fun
Full and content now
Deliciously done

So take your morels and give them a poke
And as you swallow your ethics
Try not to choke.

Vacuous Girls

What is it about Vacuous Girls that makes you want to slap them around the face with a wet fish!!!

Mommie Dearest

Today I looked into the eyes
of the woman that is
my mother.The vessel that carried
me for nine months. The vessel
that fed and nurtured me.Kept me
deep within the safety of
the ancestral womb. The vessel that
shielded me from harm. The vessel
that continually protected me
from any danger.

Then the fucking bitch went
and
expelled me out into
a world that cared
even less than
she did.

And do you know what?
Do you know what I felt?
Do you know
what I felt when I looked
into this
woman’s eyes.
Nothing
Nothing
Fucking nothing
Blank
Devoid
Empty

Now ..

How fucking sad is that?
I mean how is that so?
Why is she so vacant?
Does she not care?
Is she incapable of love?

Well actually she is capable of love
that I can attest to.
Its just not any of her children
or her husband.The only thing that
I have ever
seen this woman love
is the fucking dog!
I mean come on
It’s a fucking dog

So do you know what
I have decided
on something.
When I come back
When I return
I will return as her dog
Then Everday
Every fucking day
I will shit and piss in
every fucking room
in her piss poor fucking
hovel
of a house
in the middle of a council
estate that is overrun
with
fucking pikies
and druggies
and prostitutes

Enjoy …