Okay. Well, that didn’t work

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I have a very bad feeling.

Tell me I’m wrong.

That I have written myself into obscurity.

That I was too clever by half.

That no one knew what the f*** I was writing about

in the previous post ‘Not a nightingale ode’.

It was a glass of red wine.

But that’s what happens when you put up a post

while you’ve been drinking

while you’ve been rhapsodizing about a glass

of red wine

Scratching His Cerebrals

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What are you doing? I asked.

Scratching my cerebrals, uncle would answer studying the crossword before him, his right hand deftly scratching his scalp, between loose strands of sandy hair, as though he had nits.

It seemed to work. The more furious he scratched, the better he got, the crossword soon solved.

Then uncle would go out in the garden and within a short space of time, as aunty used to say, he’d be ‘off with the fairies’.

Perhaps the two activities were allied.

Perhaps I caught it from uncle but whenever I work on a poem or a piece of stubborn flash fiction, I scratch my cerebrals too.

My partner caught me at it one morning.

Stop it, you’ll go blind, she says.

We both chuckle.

It’s good to make light of things then go back to scratching your cerebrals should things become difficult.

 

  • picture courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Even the Stinkers

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Most people think of stars when they think

Of infinity

Or grains of sand

But I think Adam Sandler,

All the films of his I haven’t seen

And all those I have

Even the stinkers like ‘Little Nicky’

I want to see again and again

and again.

There are so many.

Almost as many as the stars

and the guy’s still making them!

But as Jim Croce says, ‘there’s never enough time

To do the things you want to do,’

It’s just not funny.

 

  • what’s your favourite Adam Sandler film?
  • what’s one you hate?
  • when you think of infinity, what comes into your mind?

Yesterdays

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All the poems about yesterday are nostalgic

As are the songs.

My mother called Macca’s ‘Yesterday’ mawkish.

But my yesterday was shit.

If yesterday were a punching bag I’d pummel it

To a pulp.

There are some things like the Holocaust you can’t

Say anything good about.

Yesterday was like that.

Sometime in the Future it might be possible

To say something good about yesterday

But it’d be a stretch.

 

  • photo by Rotorn Kuperman on Pixels.com
  • you ever have days like that?

 

 

Axe Throwing

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My daughter has been Axe Throwing with some friends from work.

Apparently it is the new thing.

It’s a bit like darts only more dangerous,

I’ve been hit with a dart in the hand the last time I played,

Being hit with a hatchet would be a totally different thing.

People are encouraged to bury the hatchet in the target not in each other.

This is not ‘Vikings’.

It looks like fun. I’m thinking of going along.

But I have too many axes to grind so I better

stick to darts.

 

* have you ever been axe throwing? or taken part in any other dangerous activity?

*if axe throwing is a more dangerous form of darts what is a more dangerous form of chess?

 

Locked Out

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Let me in. Let me in, I say.

I’ve been locked out.

Do you know how late it is?

Maybe it’s a mistake. I forgive you.

Just let me in. Please.

I need to get back inside my own body

So I can get to sleep.

 

* photo by Gina Neri from Unsplash