Out of sorts

I was a little bit bored and so I found myself a life (of sorts)
With a wife (of sorts – ow, she just hit me !)
And then I found myself out of sorts
With my wife of sorts
And my life of sorts -
Kind of a thought
(Of sorts).

I hate cooking

Grass harvested from the moon,
Herbs that grew on a glacier in the Andes,
Pollen that floated from Everest,
2 hours shopping,
2 hours in the kitchen,
10 minutes eating,
1 hour washing up,
3 hours crying -

I HATE cooking!

November 2007

Upside down

Maybe shadows are actually real
And the rain’s falling UP, not down -
And the sun only shines on BAD days
And a smile is in fact a frown.

Maybe the weather’s WORSE in Haiwaii,
Maybe drink makes me BETTER for wear -
Perhaps when I laugh I’m weeping,
And when I’m polite I SWEAR.

Maybe it’s all an illusion,
Perhaps it’s just me that is MAD:
Maybe the only solution
Is to always be UNHAPPY-GLAD.

Granddaughter

Sleeping on my grandma
Like a cosy slug,
Heavy in my stillness
In her gentle hug.

Words

He’s not in, ‘cos he’s out;
She’s not out, ‘cos she’s in -
Shouldn’t somebody make tautology
A sin ?

Wallflower

Ah well, sweet peas
Let us tremble at the knees,
No one knows my name -
Now isn’t that a shame?

Living with cat

I was looked after by a cat once -
It didn’t run over me in its car,
Or yowl and howl at me when I tripped in its path,
Nor did it slam the door in my face when I begged for food,
Or throw cold water over my copulating misdeeds late at night,
Or swear at me when I crapped on its lawn.

Yes, I could tell it was a good cat,
And so I let it feed me.

Now, aged 95 (or 10 years in cat terms)
I patrol groggily its lawns and crocus-beds,
Frighten off mice (just for the hell of it)
And am pleased to yodel pleasingly
At 4 o’clock in the morning.

Today, however, I’m off on a trip to the vets,
And am no longer sure whether I’ll be coming back.

This is this

This is this
And that is as it should be;
Who knows
There’s no telling
And in the end
It will be -
Because
All over the place
Things aren’t what they seem,
Never are
Since it’s all in the eye of the beholder
And what do you know ?

I know prose that says nothing
In a rhyme
Saying lots of things, really.

Meeting

I didn’t like him, he didn’t like me -
I have no idea why that should be.

Poet’s Life

A poet’s life is not half bad,
In fact it is a little sad -
Sat in front of reams of paper,
Eating now, and eating later.

Me and my video recorder

I once programmed a video-recorder -
Sat there for hours growing tetchy and grumpy,
Melded mind with plastic,
Brain-cells with paper instructions,
Feelings with electricity and silicon junctions,
Finally broke through to enlightenment
And found myself staring aghast and flabberghasted
At a remote that actually seemed to be doing its job!

Lost the battery the next week,
The week after that the video got kicked,
The week after that unplugged,
And then my kids pressed all the wrong buttons.

Now MY buttons stay firmly unpressed,
I will not rise to the bait of ‘how easy it is’,
Nor will I describe in loving detail to my friends
How convenient it’s made my life.

Instead it sits there, sulking and glowering,
And I ignore it -
Best way to deal with
MACHINES THAT DON’T WANT TO FUNCTION!

Life

If life is but a dream,
Why is it that I want to scream ?
And if instead a nightmare,
Who was it said, ‘Put that one there?’

T.V. thoughts

That the flickering owl in the corner
Eats my spirit
No one can deny:
But beat me with bananas,
Splash my face with water,
Chase me with your hoop la -
I’m not gonna die.

That the flickering owl with the wide eye
Is good for me
No one can deny:
But feed me with your opium,
Spear me with magic uranium,
Don’t bust my head with your learningum -
I don’t wanna fly.