Parting is such dulcet sorrow;
My lonely heart weeps at eternal separation;
Now you are gone from me
The world is cold and empty
And a veil covers my bitter tears.

To lose my lover, my friend,
My partner through life's sad
Yet pointless journey...
My very soul is rent asunder and
Cast shattered on the wind.

But let me cease my whingeing!
Upon due reflection this is but
The stuff of which cheap sentiment is composéd.
As far as I'm concerned you can piss off
And no regrets, you silly old sod.

THIS IS THE LEPROSY TANGO. Imagine a lepers' hospital somewhere in the jungle; it's St Valentines Day and everyone is looking for love. The music begins and a solo voice rises up tunefully...

Leprosy!
I think I've got leprosy;
At least the doctors
Assure me it's so.

CHORUS
Oh! Oh! Oh!

Leprosy!
I'm pleased I've got leprosy;
At least for the moment,
Till my privy parts go.

One by one my bits
And pieces, they drop off
And I must be so careful
Whenever I cough.

Cold, cold, cold the snow outside the country church.
The quiet park, in summer filled with children's happy cries
And singing birds and mothers, babes in arms, is silent now.
Snow falls gently on the leaves and on the statue in the lake.

But in the vestry all is not so peaceful, as dear Father Reilly
Gropes his Christian way under the young girl's clothes,
Not minding her screams of terror at his clawing fingers;
"Whoaaah! For the love of Jesus, but that feels great," he moans.

Endless days' relentless bombardment laid the Somme landscape waste;
Shells by the million, a devastating deathly doom-laden din,
Craters filled with rotting bodies, men and horses,
United in indifferent, undifferentiated bestial meaninglessness;
And the helpless soldiers sang and prayed in the company of the dead.
If there were, if there really were, a god in bloody Heaven,
Surely he would have bent a holy ear, opened his holy eyes?
But no, in his divine wisdom he let it all happen.
Free will, old boy, don't you know?

Sitting by the frog pond
In the cool moonlight
Of a summer's eve,
Listening to the nocturnal croaks
From the bullrushes,
I wait for my prey,
Silently.

A movement spied, and I leap and
The slimy creature is in my grasp.
See! With an elegant paw-flick,
It sails through the air
To land where my waiting claws
Are ready for fun and games.
For me, anyway.

Stress takes its toll
work - life
balance going up in

smoke

relaxation
a necessary part of life
we find little
epiphanies

trappings of responsibility
discarded in favour
of me time
repose re centering

As I peer into the mirror
of a different world
my shoulders relax

I breath deep
and visualise
the cold roughness

of stone on my back
the smell of Virginia
and pollution tinging
the air

What does nineteen sixty nine mean to you?
The last dying tremor of the swinging sixties,
Woodstock and free love, groovy baby,
Empty-headed teenagers and wasted hippies
Dancing in the fading glimmer of their youth,
Painted, cracked beads perished in the sun.

Election won by
Naked manipulation by the rightwing media,
Greedy Tories under the scumbag toad
Lying Boris Johnson;
And after Brexit
Now England's going down the
Drain. Well done, moronic electorate

Lovely seasons we all love
and
kids also all above

somehow season can never win
with loveliest kith and kin

dream not of the days gone
cold youth has passed like dawn

hope for a sunnier tomorrow
ere comes autumn again
be in Rome or Spain
but

healthy always one must remain
ever in hopes
alive live till end
again and again

Live in Hope

Mary had an UGLY babe,
It was a horrid sight;
The obstetrician fainted with a moan
And the midwife died of fright.

When Mary first saw her child
She screamed for two whole hours
And her husband's shocked reaction was
"Please God, don't say it's ours."

Breast-feeding wasn't very nice:
It was a gruesome task;
Mary could only face the job
If the baby wore a mask.