As a non-golfing husband I revel at tales
Of sunshine filled days chasing small *****,
Some in the rough others in sand,
All these brave girls fighting nature's pitfalls.

I hear of the times the flock of wild ducks
Hindered a drive that was perfectly hit,
And what of those trees that magically moved
With a subsequent shout 'I just want to quit'.

But then I'm regaled with feats of great skill
Such as the time a Birdie was made,
Out comes the flask, big glugs all around,
Magical moments that no-one would trade.

They say Golf's a passion a lifelong pursuit,
One day may be heaven the other pure hell,
Neither cool mornings nor that full midday heat,
Apparently stops that will to excel.

Yet there's one thing I notice each week,
Yes the real pleasure from playing the game
And what's not to like from those magical views
But without one's good friends the day's not the same.

So to all poor Golf widowers awoken by shrilling alarms,
Then never quite knowing what time we'll see our fair brides,
There's a much higher calling we can but embrace,
'Happy wife happy life' the true gift this pastime provides.

Look at you, you stupid b*tch,
Hanging from the rafters,
Despite being cold youre still
So fat, one too many afters.

If I had to list all the ways
That you so let me down,
The first one would be long ago
That you refused to drown.

Look at you, you're so fat,
And don't you blame the baby,
It's been eleven days since you
Had him, go on a diet maybe.

Look at you.
Just look at the state of you.

I love him
For five days out of a fortnight
Sometimes less
We spend more time talking
About how much we miss each other
Than we do making up for the lost time
Our five days every fortnight
Are split between his family and friends
And my work
So we end up with weekends
I love him for two days out of a fortnight
And I miss him for 261 days a year
We spend time more time fighting
About how to spend our time
Than we do spending it together
Our bank accounts are more connected
Than sometimes it feels like we are
I get to love him two days out of a fortnight
The same amount of time spent on that plane
Sitting next to strangers
Working for those two days just the same
I love him for one third of the year
The rest I deal with the pain
Patiently waiting for him to come home
And say that was my last day

I am a decrepit old man
On the brink of sacred flesh
Don’t know what I’m searching for
Just pounding it out

I dreamed of perfection
I’m hoping this is my resurrection
The pound of young flesh on my screen
Just whacking it out

Give me wings to flee from this hell
Give me the time wasted before I get old
One thing that I learnt in this long endless life
Is deceit and lies and to cover it all up

When I was a young fella I was a walking *******
Now in my late years, it seems nothin has changed
It was great for a while there and it was all going great
The siren call from my laptop just too much to take

Give me wings to flee from this hell
Give me the time wasted before I get old
One thing that I learnt in this long endless life
Is deceit and lies and to cover it all up

Car tyres are flat and rego run out
Sittin like a pig in mud with no shower in sight
I had it all… daughters…. And a faithful wife
How did we live our best years and have nothin’ to share?

Give me wings to flee from this hell
Give me the time wasted before I get old
One thing that I learnt in this long endless life
Is deceit and lies and to cover it all up

Alone with screen and my hand
Thrashing the cold sheets in my unmade bed
Surfing the net is just a band aid I can’t tear off
Pounding the surf trying to stay afloat

Give me wings to flee from this hell
Give me time wasted before I get old
If I could rise from this wave that I am on
No more deceit or lies when I am alone

“Completely under the impression she would resume her status outside” he thought..
maybe my own words betrayed me as the knife entered Brutus

Unhinged,
could the mind play a game, it saw the movies but did it Saw 5?

Animals huddled around the man made entry salivating at the idea of another chance,
ravenous they paced hungry for a sole sight  

What could be for dinner?
If an appearance not made would both beings have to consider drastic measures. A voyage? A continental trip to parts unknown? Meeting ghosts are not my style but Anthony Bourdain was surely welcome.

Was that a twitch from the ****,
all beings in the area stood at attention awaiting a response from the opening. Informal gestures and gazing eyes they dampen any doubts of their desires.

“How dare they keep us waiting”
the impatient thoughts arose out of the sandy concrete mixture. Those who knew of the situation stood steadfast and steady — this might be it

No “read” stamp,
hope has begun to dwindle.
I too wished of a different outcome but life demands transitions.

My beloved!
I feel in me, my beloved
Every day and night, you
are the Savior of my feelings
My beloved!