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Terry Collett Oct 2012
O’Brien took
the comic
Sutcliffe was holding
and said

what the ****
you got here Sutcliffe?
give it back O’Brien
he went to ******

back the comic
O’Brien held it away
hey Davies
see what Sutcliffe’s

got inside
the comic cover
and he showed Davies
the magazine

of women
in all states
of undress
look at the **** on her

Davies said
give it back
Sutcliffe said
O’Brien showed you

the centre fold
of some woman
posing in a position
you thought

most uncomfortable
come on O’Brien
give it to me
in case a prefect sees it

and we're hauled
in front of Thompson
and get caned
O’Brien scanned

through more pages
with Davies looking
over his shoulder
where did you get

this magazine from Sutcliffe?
found it
he said
where?

Davies asked
somewhere
Sutcliffe muttered
where somewhere?

O’Brien said
Sutcliffe looked at you
then around
the playground

of the school
under my old man's shoes
in the cupboard
he said quietly

you looked at O’Brien
gaping at the magazine
his eyes peering intently
look at her Davies

fancy waking up
with her beside you huh?
Davies grinned
and pulled the page

to show you
the woman had a mole
on her left breast
you noticed

Sutcliffe snatched back
the magazine
and pulled
the comic cover

back in place
Davies laughed
and O’Brien said
you're a *****

young man Sutcliffe
you enjoyed the look
Sutcliffe said
as he stuffed

the comic into
his inside
coat pocket
and buttoned it up

any more under
your old man's shoes?
O’Brien asked
no

Sutcliffe said
just that one
shame
Davies said

you noticed
Mr Austin’s
sports car drive
into the playground

his pockmarked face
staring at you
from his car seat
Austin’s arrived

Sutcliffe said
you all watched
as he parked his car
then looked away

as he made his way
towards you all
the sky was grey
the start of Fall.
Dr Sam Burton Sep 2014
Whales have no wings to fly
But they have eyes to cry

Whales are so big but kind
They're not easy to find

Whales are definitely so nice
**** them not to eat with rice.


Today is Saturday, Sept. 28, the 269th day of 2014 with 94 to follow.

The moon is waxing. Morning stars are Jupiter, Uranus and Venus. Evening stars are Mars, Mercury, Neptune and Saturn.


In 1825, in England, George Stephenson operated the first locomotive to pull a passenger train.



A thought for the day:



No place epitomizes the American experience and the American spirit more than New York City. -- Michael Bloomberg.



QUOTES FOR THE DAY:




He who is void of virtuous attachments in private life is, or very soon will be, void of all regard for his country. There is seldom an instance of a man guilty of betraying his country, who had not before lost the feeling of moral obligations in his private connections.

------------------------

How strangely will the Tools of a Tyrant pervert the plain Meaning of Words!



Samuel Adams



In university they don't tell you that the greater part of the law is learning to tolerate fools.




Doris Lessing




“The character inherent in the American people has done all that has been accomplished; and it would have done somewhat more, if the government had not sometimes got in its way.”



Henry David Thoreau



"Everything you can imagine is real."



Pablo Picasso



“Ugly. Is irrelevant. It is an immeasurable insult to a woman, and then supposedly the worst crime you can commit as a woman. But ugly, as beautiful, is an illusion.”



Margaret Cho




POETRY




TO THE THAWING WIND



Robert Frost





Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate'er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit's crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o'er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.


About this poem
"To the Thawing Wind" was first published in Frost's collection "A Boy's Will" (Holt, 1915).

About Robert Frost
Robert Frost was born on March 26, 1874, in San Francisco. He was the recipient of four Pulitzer Prizes during his lifetime and read at President John F. Kennedy's inauguration. Frost died in Boston on Jan. 29, 1963.

*
The Academy of American Poets is a nonprofit, mission-driven organization, whose aim is to make poetry available to a wider audience. Email The Academy at poem-a-day[at]poets.org.



This poem is in the public domain.
Distributed by King Features Syndicate





A TIP FOR WOMEN




Choosing Eyeliner



Make sure the color of your eyeliner complements your eyes. Dark brown eyes benefit from plum shades. If you have lighter eyes, try navy and charcoal. Brown eyeliner works well no matter what color your eyes are!




JOKES



WHALES



A little girl was talking to her teacher about whales.

The teacher said it was physically impossible for a whale to swallow a human because even though it was a very large mammal its throat was very small.

The little girl stated that Jonah was swallowed by a whale.

Irritated, the teacher reiterated that a whale could not swallow a human; it was physically impossible.

The little girl: said, "When I get to heaven I will ask Jonah".

The teacher: asked, " What if Jonah went to hell?"

The little girl: replied, "Then you ask him".





JURY SELECTION

The tiresome jury selection process continued, each side hotly contesting and dismissing potential jurors. Don O'Brian was called for his question session.

"Property holder?"

"Yes, I am, Your Honor."

"Married or single?"

"Married for twenty years, Your Honor."

"Formed or expressed an opinion?"

"Not in twenty years, Your Honor."





Questionable Predictions



Nostradamus recently turned 500. Here are some other predictions from lesser lights:

- Law will be simplified (over the next century). Lawyers will have diminished, and their fees will have been vastly curtailed. --Junius Henri Browne 1893

- By 1960, work will be limited to three hours a day. --John Langdon-Davies

- Hurrah, Boys, we've caught them napping. We'll finish them up and go home to our station. --George A. Custer, 1876, prior to the Battle of Little Big Horn

- Get rid of the pointed-ears guy. --NBC executive, regarding Mr. Spock of STAR TREK, 1966

- Telephones (will) bring peace on earth, eliminate Southern accents, and save the farm by making farmers less lonely. --printed in THE WALL STREET JOURNAL, Century-old Pronouncements, 1995





Stupid True Headlines



- Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Expert Says

- Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers

- Safety Experts Say School Bus Passengers Should Be Belted

- Drunk Gets Nine Months in Violin Case

- Survivor of Siamese Twins Joins Parents

- Farmer Bill Dies in House

- Iraqi Head Seeks Arms

- Is There a Ring of Debris around Uranus?

- Stud Tires Out

- Prostitutes Appeal to Pope

- Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over

- Soviet ****** Lands Short of Goal Again

- British Left Waffles on Falkland Islands

- Lung Cancer in Women Mushrooms

- Eye Drops off Shelf

- Teacher Strikes Idle Kids

- Include your Children When Baking Cookies

- Squad Helps Dog Bite Victim

- Shot Off Woman's Leg Helps Nicklaus to 66

- Enraged Cow Injures Farmer with Axe

- Plane Too Close to Ground, Crash Probe Told

- Miners Refuse to Work after Death

- Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant

- Stolen Painting Found by Tree

- Two Soviet Ships Collide, One Dies

- Two Sisters Reunited after 18 Years in Checkout Counter

- Killer Sentenced to Die for Second Time in 10 Years



- Never Withhold ****** Infection from Loved One

- Drunken Drivers Paid $1000 in '84

- War Dims Hope for Peace

- If Strike isn't Settled Quickly, It May Last a While

- Cold Wave Linked to Temperatures

- Enfields Couple Slain; Police Suspect Homicide

- Red Tape Holds Up New Bridge

- Deer **** 17,000

- Typhoon Rips Through Cemetery; Hundreds Dead

- Man Struck by Lightning Faces Battery Charge

- New Study of Obesity Looks for Larger Test Group

- Astronaut Takes Blame for Gas in Spacecraft

- Kids Make Nutritious Snacks

- Chef Throws His Heart into Helping Feed Needy

- Arson Suspect is Held in Massachusetts Fire

- British Union Finds Dwarfs in Short Supply

- Ban On Soliciting Dead in Trotwood

- Lansing Residents Can Drop Off Trees

- Local High School Dropouts Cut in Half

- New Vaccine May Contain Rabies

- Man Minus Ear Waives Hearing

- Deaf College Opens Doors to Hearing

- Air Head Fired

- Steals Clock, Faces Time

- Prosecutor Releases Probe into Undersheriff

- Old School Pillars are Replaced by Alumni

- Bank Drive-in Window Blocked by Board

- Hospitals are Sued by 7 Foot Doctors

- Some Pieces of Rock Hudson Sold at Auction

- *** Education Delayed, Teachers Request Training





HAVE A FABULOUS SUNDAY!
Who put that crease in your soul,
Davies, ready this fine morning
For the staid chapel, where the Book's frown
Sobers the sunlight?  Who taught you to pray
And scheme at once, your eyes turning
Skyward, while your swift mind weighs
Your heifer's chances in the next town's
Fair on Thursday?  Are your heart's coals
Kindled for God, or is the burning
Of your lean cheeks because you sit
Too near that girl's smouldering gaze?
Tell me, Davies, for the faint breeze
From heaven freshens and I roll in it,
Who taught you your deft poise?
Here’s is an example from
A butterfly;
That on a rough, hard rock
Happy can lie,
Friendless and all alone
On this unsweetened stone.
Now let my bed be hard,
No care take I;
I will make my joy
Like this
Small butterfly,
Whose happy heart has power
To make a stone a flower.

ምሳሌ

አነሆ ምሳሌ ለኛ
ከቢራቢሮ
አልቦ ጓደኛ
ሆና ብቸኛ
የድንጋይ አልጋው
ባይሆንም ደንበኛ
ሻካራ ደረቅ አለት ላይ
ረክታ የምትተኛ፣
እኔም አልጋዬ ቢሆን ደረቅ
ከቶ አልሰቀቅ
ግድ የለም አልቸገር
አሁን ደስታዬን ከዚች
ቢራቢሮ ልበደር፣
ልቧ ጉልበት ያለው
አለቱን ወደአበባ ለመቀየር!

(በዊሊያም ሔነሪ ዳቪስ) //
Lifestyle,taking life easy,contentment with what one has
Sean Hunt May 2016
BEHOLD her, single in the field,
  Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
  Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,        
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
  More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
  Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?—
  Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
  And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
  As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
  And o'er the sickle bending;—
I listen'd, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

---------------------------------  This poem inspired my poem >>>
I Never Know
(Inspired by ‘Another Solitary Reaper’  by Wordsworth)

I never know if, out of sight
Another stands by in delight
Listening to my melody
Intended  just for me

If I sing in the open air
And only birds can hear me there
I wonder what response they have
I know they cannot clap

‘Tis very well they hear!
Though we can see no ears
I could be wrong but
I doubt that they enjoy our song

We think we are alone a lot
When we are not
Assumptions made are wrong
About who listens to our songs

Sean Hunt  May 11th 2016
(Inspired by ‘Another Solitary Reaper’  by Wordsworth)

I visited Wordsworth Trust in Grasmere this morning.  They have established a poetry blog and are inviting poems from the public for consideration.  They are selecting some for publication on their website.  They are specifically asking people to read 'The Solitary Reaper' by Wordsworth and write a poem inspired by his poem.  So this is my effort.  If anyone wishes to do the same you could publish the poem here and then contact Simon Davies at Wordsworth Trust by email or send a link to your poem on Hello Poetry.  I think I will try the latter.   Simon's email address is:  [email protected].

My idea worked well;  I copied the Hello Poetry url link and pasted it in my comment on the Wordsworth comments page.........i.e
thoughts on “Another Solitary Reaper”

https://wordsworth.org.uk/blog/2016/05/04/another-solitary-reaper/

Sean Hunt
11TH MAY 2016 AT 5:31 PM
Your comment is awaiting moderation.

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1648554/i-never-know/

I wrote a poem inspired by this Wordsworth poem and I uploaded it to a web poetry site (link above). What struck me about the poem was not the actual imagined idyllic experience of a surprised eavesdropping walker, listening to a well-sung song, it was for me, the non-awareness of the singer that she was being listened to and enjoyed; I found this to be the most interesting aspect of the described scene. Thank you for the encouragement to read this poem and be inspired by it Simon _/_
REPLY
#wordsworth
This is a Wordsworth Poem that inspired my poem 'I Never Know'
Sia Jane Jan 2014
I found you, cast away in the shadows,
hiding from the laughter, of those
painted clown faces

I found you, on the rooftop
sat with your arms, clasped
to you, wrapped around

Searching through the crowd
blinded, the lights of this
crazy, maddening fairground

Colours forming, moving
the Northern lights, blazing
blues, green, pinks, yellows

Kids and lovers, screaming
the Matterhorn spinning,
a frisbee gondola swinging

Midsummer Fair, a fresh green common
distracted, I turn, the Midnight Express
decorated, loosely dressed women and men

Axles rattling in and out
Ferris wheels, bumper cars, waltzes
Ray Davies playing, side stalls and games

Rubber ducks hooked, fathers shadowing
***** misplacing baskets, a high strike to the bell
in among mirrors, I now find myself reflecting

A cacophony of sounds, noise
music of Bob Bradley penetrating
these convex mirrors, movers and shakers

I pace past drag queens, circus freaks
footsteps moving in timely accord
the Helter Skelter, confused, disorderly haste

I am the whirlwind, climbing outside
the spiral tower, to the top
stars and constellations above

At its peak, I see you
you've climbed onto the rooftop
again

I always found you here
hide and seek, morphed into
children's games of sardines

I find you, you have hidden
I stay with you,
until we are found

Together.

© Sia Jane
"Helter Skelter" takes its name from the much older adverb meaning "in confused, disorderly haste"
Paul Gilhooley May 2016
Widnes aint much, but to me she’s sweet home,
Safe refuge from wherever I roam,
Many may claim that she’s ugly and ******,
But open your eyes, and she’s really quite pretty.

From down by the snig, to up to the Crown,
There’s pubs a plenty where sorrows can drown,
The Globe, The Coterie, now Pesto of course,
But to all us old locals, it’s still the Black Horse.

Town centre drunks, laugh while they rant,
Old ICI and their Paraquat plant,
An industrial past, its dirt and its grime,
A ***** old river, her sludge and her slime.

Of nature reserves, we have quite a few,
From out of our wastelands, something wonderful grew,
Wildlife thriving where once we dumped *******,
Now even the Mersey lives once more with fish.

The factory smells that insulted our noses,
Spike Island, proud host once to the Stone Roses,
Paul Simon himself, when loneliness found,
On one of our stations,  wrote Homeward Bound.

The Beatles once played our dear Queens Hall,
Derelict now, no more curtains to call,
We love our music live and loud,
We truly are a passionate crowd.

A sporty town, but leagues our game,
Tho’ recent years have been quite a shame,
Myler, Karalius, Davies, Offiah,
Crowned World champs, our status climbed higher.

Proud we cheered in old Naughton Park,
The cowsheds, cold, smelly and dark,
The glory days, they came and went,
Old fans speak in sad lament.

The whole town’s roads, my how they’ve changed,
Drivers sit there now, all deranged,
Confusing sets of roundabouts,
That lead us there, or thereabouts.

Morrisons, Aldi and now a Tesco,
Asda Halebank, well that had to go,
A curious accent, not manc or scouse,
Just hear us speak with Woolyback nouse.

W’s in words, like one, two, three, foewer,
And entering homes, through a front doewer,
It’s hard to explain in a few lines here,
But a few minutes in town, and all becomes clear.

Bowling, cinema and now an ice rink,
The town is recovering, back from the brink,
There’s Costa, Next, Boots and Wilkos,
Who else is coming, no one quite knows.

Widnes has changed in my 40 years,
But filled with hopes now instead of fears,
Change for the better? Let’s wait and see,
But no matter what, she’s still home to me.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2012
Poem written about my beloved home town.  She aint much, but she's home to me.
William Clifton Jan 2018
Met a girl called Stormy and I took her back to my place
Feelin' guilded, feelin' rich, hiding affairs everywhere
Stop! Pay off. Stay in control

Stormy, please don't write about me
Cuz I'm really not as sane as can be
And there are Reds, under my bed
And there are Putin's men in my head
And there's a slew of FBI, watching me
They keep stoppin' me, touchin' me, catchin' me, coverin' me

Paranoia, self destroyer. Paranoia, Don's destroyer

Well I hardly sleep, then awake 'n start Tweetin' out fears
Stormy looked at him and thought you will pay well my dear
She said Don, so many things go wrong with you
One day you're gonna self-destruct
You're down, then up, 'n then I'll take you out
You got ah good thing goin', why Tweet the self-doubt

Richee boy ya' self-destroyer. Tweetin' boy ya' self-destroyer

Privileged boy's got so much to live for
POTUS to go for, so much to lie for
You blow it all with, paranoia
Don's so insecure, the self-destroyer

Paranoia, it' will destroy ya
(Here he Tweets again!) paranoia, Storm will destroy yah!
David Bird Feb 2010
So now we have captain Cook
OK, he might be worth a look
  But Andrew Strauss
  Back in his house
To my very core I am shook

In the test team new names do pop
With Carberry right at the top
  All rounders not thin
  With Tredwell for spin
And Wright giving a biff and a bop

Shahzard is there for swing
Of reverse he can be king
  And if Prior gets vexed
  Steve Davies comes next
Pardon me if start to sing.

Onto the **** One-Day side
This I simply cannot abide
  Or believe what I read
  Cook is now made to lead
At table bottom we will reside.
......
Fury-inducing ODI selections detract from some sensible test ones.
Matt Revans Oct 2015
What is this life, if full of care,

We social network, unaware....

We sit indoors, connect with friends,

Whilst interaction dies and ends.


No time to spend with kids or spouse,

Thoughts ever beyond the home and house.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Our lives descending into plight.

No time to notice real life's glance,

Viewed from an iPad screen askance.

No time to wait, do things with ease,

Crippled by virtuality's disease.

A poor life this if, full of care,

We social network, unaware.

Matt Revans
©Copyright
DieingEmbers Dec 2012
Avast yer hearty where's the party
where be the festive cheer
no Yule tide log nor mug of grog
to toast this time of year

Shiver me mate an empty plate
where is the fine roast bird
with golden veg around the edge
and gravy thickly stirred

Where be the cake for Davies sake
packed full of fruit and nuts
and marzipan with icing grand
to stuff this pirates guts

No double cream is this a dream
and figgy pudding... None
no sausage rolls or sweet filled bowls
where as your spirit gone

It's times like this I really miss
the indies and the tropics
let's go the pub I'm sure they've grub
and *** from clear optics

We'll make this night happy and bright
we'll share our love with friends
and toast for peace and wars to cease
and suffering to end

Let's do our parts open our hearts
let's share with folks our smile
and day by day in our own way
be happy for awhile
Merry Christmas to one & all from Jacob the Pirate Mouse
Johnny Noiπ Nov 2018
Approximate Area for 25 km. 1160 was born. (184) 600 A cruise ship in the Mediterranean Sea, Mediterranean coast, will ravage the rain in the German Pipe, beginning at the beginning of the clump. The walls and trees contained in black wood, the black, black plank and the books on the declaration contained murders of women. A better place in the world where you live. Glossary The wording of the word is our living way of life when we think of our son as being turned into police. As the fire started to rise in the city, his mother met him and the same insurance company that his mother took from him. Hunters come from Sinai and 600-1, but Griffin Road, Christianity, Philosophy, Religion, School, Philippines, School, Peter's home, numbers, and clinics Clinics, Organs, and Clinics in Illinois. [253] Air Elephant Connie [Bible reading, homosexuality, half of the teachings and opponents after the first half, marches and accidents] distinguish between Christian terminology, first-person concepts. "The first fish is not easy." Google Northland has won it and now it's won with nice numbers. Songs playing while drinking alcohol, Tues Khong Khong Pigworth. Are you in the hands of the designer? Is King Cyrus Giving Up Now? ****** Young Davies, North Carolina, Salad bike, Salvador Dalit, Matt, Sandy, California, Robert, San Paolo, Brazil, Brazil! 8 from South Carolina and from 30 to 50 years into British and British British British British British British British British Breton Baptist The worst report ever issued by the Norwegian to Hamilton to Hameem. Carson, Carol, Our horses are going there. [Central Park] Many services provide guidance on the Google homepage. Are there health and wellness issues? In Christ, Leeds, Visa, Kali Cities, and Robert Kour, Robert A. Tony Stone - Christian Democrats Roub. The company is good, historian, US. "1", "1". Read articles like the Massachusetts Heavy Duty Horse and Genocide Crimes in the US Puzzles Like Newton. Another factor is to keep in mind. Chris Schwarzer, Mary Chana and Christina Christine know the little problem with Joseph Kennedy. The sun's fulfillment is not political, power, and power. Google is like Google as part of the newsstand. In Washington, United States, and Britain. where are you from? Freedom From Free Freedom, you are your control and your place in the community. Music of your music. The Bible. "At first, as different species are being prepared." Google ****** East is one of the most popular forms. And then follow his rules, but the rules are wrong. Make it as a tortoise as a center? How much sun is with your friends, but the highest peak, North Carolina. Solobino, Rawley, Martin, Sandwich Saint Robert Stuart and Paul Blackbird in Brazil, Brazil, and Vilnius Spanish. Note: A note 11 or 30 to receive a British Heritage Home from the Oregon Teacher, UK, British House, British Columbia. Hermes Trismegistus; Hermès, Hermes identifies the men. Mrs. Norris Russell, Hon. [Central Park] Most customers use Google services, health, and quality. Life Cyborg Sr. Robert and Willis, Physician Psychologist. Robert A Rocks Robert and Robert and Robert Kree warns that there are no guns in the meetings. Scenario photos in the United States are interesting. "World", "1", James Newton Apple Money Model Marc, Marissa Kitty's American Joy.
Benjamin Davies Nov 2013
I.
The humdrum whitewashed wall of my balcony
overlooks almost everyone here,
but it’s yellowed in the slightly
past-the-season holiday lights
winking behind my back.
Rip them out, and yet
the still flaming cigarette butts alight
the charred pupils watching.
Never quite willed away.

II.
Today I saw a hairy upper-ankle poking
out from a tie-dye dress
and out-of-fashion Birkenstocks.
Adam leering through
the straightened golden curtains,
and I thought: woman? No.
You wouldn’t catch me out like that.

III.
The end of my mug’s looming
and only now am I confident
in passing personal judgment.
The last drops smile while they cling
resolutely to the inner-rim.
How they refuse to fall!
The sprightly demon climbing
the wet, ridged inner-walls
of my throat is parched,
strumming on my vocal chords,
and I’m singing,
obscenely.

IV.
You can’t come into my house
before I’ve cleaned it up,
flipped the cushions, hidden
all the plastic cups and washed
the clear ones to look like glass.
I’ve gotta Lysol, Clear-ox, and detox,
then I’ll let you in, maybe.

V.
My balcony knows too much about me.


-BRD

Copyright @2012 by Ben Davies
Terry Collett Jun 2014
Myfanwy Price plopped in the armchair, sipped at her drink, gazed at the ceiling with a slight squint; spotted a drawing pin that broke up the off-white space like a boil on the buttocks. If Joshua Jones thinks he can drop me like a hot coal he can think again, she moaned to the room in her alto voice that clung to the air around her dark-haired head like a bad smell. Thinks he can do that to me, does he? I’ll show him, she mused darkly, holding the glass above her head, peering down at her slippered feet that lay there like sleeping puppies. After all I’ve done for him, the po-faced prat, she muttered, bringing the glass down to her lips, taking a sip as though it were poison. Just like her dad, dreary as dripping, chapel bred born and dead, at least in the head, she mused, crossing her legs disturbing the puppies, peering through the glass, imagining Dai Davies coming through the door of her bed-sit with an armful of flowers and chocolates, a cuddly kiss with a promise of more, as the evening sky grew dim as her brother Bryan, the kiss lingered in her mind and over her fantasy lips. Mum was right about men, she groaned, wondering if poison was too quick for Jones the Bones or whether she could smother him with a pillow as he laid sleeping in that squat flat of his, where she’d slept once in the single bed that smelt of onions and rotting flesh. She scratched her fleshy thigh, gave a sigh, pulled a face at her reflection in the darkening window, wanted more than wanton ***, the sight of Jones the Bones hanging from the window with his trousers round his skinny ankles, his buttocks bare for all of Cardiff to see and stare. She stood, poured herself another drink, placed a record on her gramophone. Buddy Holly’s Peggy Sue, a daydream of being in his manly arms, and being squeezed, and adding her alto groan to that of young Buddy’s baritone or tenor or whatever. She waltzed the room with her partnered glass gave it kiss and squeeze. Remembering her dad’s stern face; his sermon voice that rattled timbers, she kicked her leg like a dancer, spun it round and round until it got dizzy; plopped in the armchair with a fit of giggles; spilt drink on her dress that seeped to her drawers; sniffing and sighing she poured it all down in a drunken swallow; watched the evening sky darken like her mood and tangled hair. Jones the Bones would pay, she sighed. He’d not lay her aside like an empty glass; go off for another to kiss and cuddle in his dingy flat with its onions and flesh, rotting and foul, she mused sadly, rubbing her breast, pulling her bra that had slipped in her dancing. Mum was right about men, with their ***** thoughts, their wanton ways, wandering hands over hills and stays. She stared at the glass; with a deep dark sigh, she crossed her legs; let the sleeping slippered puppies lie.
A WELSH GIRL IN 1959 AND HER FURIES.
Eric Feb 2019
I lie alone among the walls
Everything is grey and white
I got full moon in my eyes
I am on my way to satellites

Sweet young nurse,she said I was the worst
thing she could recall
Or the worst thing in this zoo
Is it monday or a tuesday
Or a ******* 21st century
They cuffed me to the bed
Til my hands and feet turned red
They said I am a mess
5 minutes from the Davies chest
There was a white-haired guy
He looked like a retired god
Finally at his place
In his greek-styled cloth
Everyone fell off the wagon right into one place
They got spaced minds and swollen faces

The are all insomniac junkies and gods
They got snakes in their boots
Doing their time on a farm, they are all on the rush
And every time the nurse walks by they all have a crush

We are stuck for eternity
For many nights and days
On a halfway to sanity
To get back to our ways

Treacherous sun brought us some news
Blinded my fool moons
This wasted afternoon
Somebody may never get out of this place
Some races end in here in disgrace

Bandaged body over me,no sign of breath
First rays of light brought the first harvest of death
A Jim-Davies-esque poster cartoon of my guts
on display at the Smithsonian as though
I could pretend to be any other poet
with my insides outstretched because
I cannot feel without cohesion or medication or
either, or—
it's lost upon synchronization.

I hear some wormy **** gobbling
(insanely might I add)
about Marx or Engels or one or both twice over.
I'm too busy trying to impress myself with this
Jenga block tower of carefully balanced fibs to notice
why you cry when the sun sleeps.
I don't exactly care so much as it intrigues me.
Another feeling stimulating what's lost.
I imagine sunshine & weep.

— The End —