humans

as life goes by
we note the sky
as all the clouds and birds go by
we cook the stews and sit in pews
and read the news and catch the flus
and dance around as best we might
as masters of our perfect sight.
All praise to humans in the well
may we all abide the rising swell
and not forget
there is a bet
that there be a heaven and a hell
and neither's there at all the bells
but only here in all the tells.

more of this n that

THE LEFT/ as required

Best not to limit yourself
to what's supposed.
We are not here to be the hosed
nor here to keep the garden neat, Magritte.

Best to do just as you like
and fuck the fuckers turning right...
and bring them back to some accord,
some by word and some by sword.

We end up in the same old place
of who's got what and who has face
but after all, and here's the thing,
we all belong
and wear that ring.

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1Eileen Lawless

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John Arthur Fitzpatrick

18 mins · 

It's much the same
and that's the truth
what experts say
from Ted to Ruth,
and in the great expanse to come
we are far more interested
in our bum.
So we remain
a kind of stain
a kind of song
without refrain
and shrink the limits of domain
for cum and bum and rum sustain.
We are not pirates at the mast
or folk who choose
to wear no mask
we fuck around in towns of clowns
with mental meaning so profound.
Sometimes we slip into ourselves
and find our truths
so much like elves.
be off with this
be off with that
and have some guile
to chew the fat.
be yourself
for just one minute
tis an amazing thing
with no one in it.

PSYCHOLOGY In this world they make it easy to conform to life and feel so breezy but best for you to not believe in substance or in great reprieve just find your way the best you can with deserved respect and club in hand.

wine is drunk smoke is smoked and the day settles down thus unprovoked what is new and what will be is uncertain as the things you see but all in all the all provide for those who stand and those who slide and in the end we gather round to soothe the coffin into the ground we want what's new but there's the task to find a new thing in the ask.

poem todaywine is drunk smoke is smoked and the day settles down thus unprovoked what is new and what will be is uncertain as the things you see but all in all the all provide for those who stand and those who slide and in the end we gather round to soothe the coffin into the ground we want what's new but there's the task to find a new thing in the ask.

wine is drunk

smoke is smoked

and the day settles down

thus unprovoked

what is new

and what will be

is uncertain as the things you see

but all in all

the all provide

for those who stand

and those who slide

and in the end

we gather round

to soothe the coffin

into the ground

we want what's new

but there's the task

to find a new thing

in the ask.

what does a real human story ever do , if it is good, except to escape and find some new way for us?. I like fiction. It shows us the only real way forward. I think it was Lawrence Durrell who noted that...life is an awful mess and the only way we ever get to show the brilliance of life is through fiction...and I do agree. Fiction is in our hearts and souls, fiction creates what is necessary to do...and, indeed, what can be done.

Mr John Parker kissed Mrs Parker and then disappeared into nearby Alaska, as was normal, for his business. He, now, a week later, lay deep in 3 foot of new snow, watching the fine glistening road so far ahead of him. The Honda CRV came along, as was expected, in the far distance, at the right time. Parker was a mile away, well hidden in a drift of a new snow mound. Parker liked 'the cold'. He chewed on the ice to stop any steamy breath escaping him. Parker focused. The long distance rifle was pretty well perfect. His first shot hit the driver between the eyes, and blew those blue eyes across the shiny car. His second shot hit the small girl in the baby car seat behind him, in the liver. John felt a deep delight of accomplishment, and then wondered if his daughter was okay, back in Ontario. The Honda swerved on the icy road and ended up, slowing squealing on the ice road, into a heap of new snow by the side, for someone to find, much later. The sun was shining. It was 30 degrees below zero. There was no wind. There was no distraction.