She saved them all in the end…
Thank God the sun refused to shine,
Or I might have thought I was loving you!
Walking into that same old trap,
heading for the same old crap,
Early mornings, afternoon nap,
A woman who could really sap.
Then out she came with the magic word,
Something I’m glad I just heard,
Something that made my fears end,
“Honey I just want to be your friend.”
(On being friend-zoned)
Teenage recollections.
You never really know do you Al?
Take a tip from someone who is blue now, it’s really easy.
It was a very nice evening you spent together , said the wind.
A final Kiss?
Bliss? Miss?
What exactly was that, Miss?
You want more?
Nil Satis (nisi optimum!)
Labore et tenacitate!
That was the great approach to developing a good?
Working?
Relationship?
She asked me for my ideal house,
My Tree,
My Sun,
My snake!!!
Psychobabble analysis.
“You’re just so normal
I will forget it.”
I left that day.
Closed my door.
Closed my heart.
Then searched for the next one to open.
Last night I had a weird dream.
I will recount what I can remember then interpret the meaning.
So in this dream…
I am in a suburban landscape moving carefully to avoid groups of marauding Zombies and Vampires. With the large number in this sweet suburbia it was impossible to move without detection and so I was constantly in conflict with one or two members of these murderous creatures.
The bizarre thing was my fighting always involved beating them off with very long heavy rods. The idea was to swing the rod as rapidly as possible and decapitate my assailants. This seemed to be working fine and I was making progress toward some kind of undefined safe haven. Then at one beautiful garden a whole troop of Vampires headed my way.
I ran as fast as I could, but felt they were gaining on me. Suddenly there was a canal so I jumped in knowing that Vampires can’t cross water. I moved as fast as possible and escaped across the canal being chased by water borne Zombie rats.
As I recovered my breath on the other side I was attacked by a lone Zombie dressed as a Headmaster. As I spun to quickly take off its head I found myself face to face with a Vampire Priest…
At this point I awoke drenched in sweat with my heart racing.
So what does it all mean?
Well over the last few years my life has been in constant conflict with my ex-wife and her lawyers, and the idiots that run my school. So it’s easy to see what the dream was about.
Vampires – the blood sucking lawyers who will soon be cut down by the Law Society for running a confrontational action and lying about me.
Zombies – the empty headed, unqualified, inexperienced, narcissistic talentless management that haunt my days. The want to drain me of knowledge as they have none. Again they will be decapitated in the International Media.
Zombie rats – my so-called friends who live in the arseholes of the managers in the belief they will be given a promotion.
Either that or I’m just fuckin Nuts…
What the feck have I been reading recently?
War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells – old Physicists joke… where do you get mercury from?
Hg wells…
The Bastard of Istanbul by Elif Shafak – reminds me of my old friend Chris
After Hitler by Michael Jones – Europe is still recovering
The Middle East by Bernard Lewis – 2000 years of History which is almost all about the rise of Islam
The Stanier Pacifics of the LMS by Cecil J. Allen – a history of steam engines, published in 1950 at 3/6
Extreme Risk by Major Chris Hunter – a life fighting bomb making terrorists
And I forgot
Rumi – selected poems
Rain
She came for me again last night;
During an outpouring.
A downpour of emotion causing consternation in my peregrination.
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
This alternative reality explained online.
“She is a Zombie!”
The logic was irrational, no fraction of truth.
We dated –
We dined –
We whined –
We unwound later that night.
She left my bed leaving nothing but an aroma
Like the guilty effervescence of a Penguins’ fish and chips supper.
“Again my heart aches,” I called to my God.
“Does a drowsy numbness fill thy sense?”
Go outside inside in the rain came the venerable suggestion.
“She will be waiting for you.”
But there is no inside outside
and she never waits.
Broken Heart too.
Palpitations thrusting love in the limelight;
Made it hard, to sleep last night?
One demands sex – the go-to man she calls me.
One demands a kiss – a temptation easily avoided selfish woman.
One is carrying too much guilt – her crazy bundle of joy.
“I want to go to Dubai!” she cried.
She cries a lot these days,
Consumed in anger and remorse as her man departed.
“Seven years!” she told me.
“Seven years and all the time he cavorted off screen!”
She asked my why?
But I am a mere mortal man
“Because he can!
In Kazakhstan!”
She asked me to wait,
Eight years and counting down towards nuptials
At my graveside.
“Why did I wait?” she implores. “Eight years without love!
Loneliness imposed in my lack of trust!”
Wait not my sweet thing.
Seize the Carp! Every day!
Keep on fishing!
“Am I fisher of men or a fisher of fish?” she cries.
“I am a fissure of the heart,” I reply.
Love – by Rumi and Otway.
Lazy Sunday Afternoon;
Waiting!
Waiting for You!
Another girl, Another City, Another delay.
“I fought with my sister – sorry darling.”
Patient man, paying penance perhaps prolonging painful parting.
Yet she comes, walking in glowing delight;
Waking my breaking heart to new –
Old feelings of love and respect and affection and two.
“I turned down three for you! 0329 came the last demand!”
I will come she said; I was asleep.
My broken heart no longer needs the pain, the shallow victories,
The crazies – it was fun while it lasted.
Now I look for a Gallery in the Sun,
Fields of waving corn with dreams of you in Bluey Green.
“Turquoise” she said “But I need to lose ten kilos.”
Come on home to me – I will wait for a while.
“Deep and meaningless!”
Be my love.
On learning to ride; Women.
Sylvia Pike
Had a bike,
Until she met Mike.
Then she bought a trike.
Broken Heart
I will diminish and Go West,
Wearing a string vest,
And have a good long rest
If I don’t pass the test.
When first I came to Kazakhstan,
I never dreamt of Lana Scan.
Or how on Earth it could ever be
That I would see myself in effigy.
Backstabbing cronies telling lies
I want to stab them in the eyes,
And ride roughshod upon their heads
As I set fire to their feather beds.
Rumour lies in gossip in pubs,
Talentless twats; that gets the rub!
Personal histories that leak like a sieve,
They wonder why no fucks I give!
Great times in Almaty City,
Going soon, mores the pity.
Svetlana I have to leave the area;
Fancy a stroll in Gran Canaria?
Maybe just take it on the chin,
Kazak clichés growing thin.
Lana Scan can you please tell me
Why I was barking up the wrong tree?
