A Dedication, and an extra cheap Christmas present!

What bitterness a woman can consume, before the soured flavour she will become
What hope required to fix the damage, when all is ash in the sight of a Jaded mad woman

Dedicated to a special blogger

Bitter no more, Jaded a mere thing to be become

What bitterness a man can consume, before the soured flavour he will become
What hope required to fix the damage, when all is ash in the sight of a Jaded madman

The Christmas Sheep

There once upon a barn was a Christmas sheep, its wool all fluffy and nicely sheen, perfectly managed and oh so clean

On the eve of Christmas four years passed the farmer would say “Lamb this year” and laugh, the farmer’s wife then to be cruel would remove the humble sheep’s wool, to make the husband a jumper so jolly and nice that when visiting the naked creature he would mockingly wear

One year the sheep planned and thought hard, how best to punish the tormenting pair, fates so fitting as to levy all that unfair in a blow so wonderfully pure

So with the wife’s sheers it cleaved every lock of her lovely hair, a drugged scotch to subdue the taunting mare

Then the farmer came to say his line and laugh, as the shotgun silenced his attempt to tease the grinning farmyard animal, as deep into the wounded man’s eyes it coldly stared

The papers recounted an angry wife shooting her hair cutting husband of many years, prison for her as to this day a cry of “It wasn’t me” makes the sheep cheer with joy

The husband claiming it was a wooly clad assailant that wielded the weapon that caused his wound, to the mad house he remains this day as every year a card with a hoof print he receives on Christmas day

The sheep now happy as many a patron does admire a wooly coat so bright and clean, the petting zoo so much nicer than that cold barn

The odd claim from a mistreating worker that the humble animal has threatened them with no less than a menacing baaa, coupled with a sinister stare, dismissed as foolish whimsy as that worker corrects thier ways so quick as to be reminded of this Christmas tale

Colours of the mood

I see in shades of lesser moods and grey as all around rejoice in the colour of merry souls and light filled days

A ghost like vision to haunt mine eyes as no such joy will brighten sun full skies

……

Hopping clouds, flipping the bird to life and droningly singing random crap in your clutter afflicted abode

Yawning widely, rubbing eyes and planning when your pillow can lovingly caress with restful bliss a weary head

Signs as ever in the history of signpost marking events that the week needs to end and brains over burdened are perilously perched on the cliff like edge

Not only required is the peaceful embrace of rest but a broad side of manic charged crazy, the laden decks of this ship back breakingly over stacked, inherit instability the lullaby of madmen’s charms to rock this beast to be without provoke released

Flames asunder and held in check when willingly calm winds are needed to carry into ports with bars the crew wall bouncing to the source of a drink

The weekend is calling with shrill tones in a manner most bemused, for it knows it is salvation for one over pushed

Retreat

I will enjoy deserts of isolation, far from what feels like an eternity in an ocean of sirens and storms

My humanity may it whither, far from the rich waters that feed poison vines that choke sanity, the source of my woes

Farm yard freak outs and frogs on TV

An art in motion of happy edged hippies on a depressive high. The bird flipped a smoke in the hay to carry forth the bunny of the sky. Eagle marijuana the cloud nine legal high as wings carry charcoal bunnies cause the drugs made sight to the spiritually blind. Bad rigs a plenty in the depths of where strung out owls took a hit of vodka after a natural high. Skip happy rabbits sung angels in reality TV to win a ticket to bigville as birds on acid cheered their sighs. Oh what a farmer will do on the waterbed from heaven when the madman leaked his meds into the water supply. Farmers wife dancing with fairies around the maypole as frogs a plenty give cheers with lillypads in her wellington boot thigh highs. Sheep dog walking funny from a head on with the messed up cloud that mooed like a cow. And all in reasons for a madman freaking out crazy and his pills falling in the water supply.

Kings and Fools

“I am but a fool in regal robes”
Said the king to the man whom held the sword

“My jingling cap replaced with a crown of jewels”
As the executioner swung the blade

Fuck it!

The best of solutions are those that arrive in thier own time

But in the ditch of a bad day in Hell there ain’t no time to be picky, so take a shot either way

Cause if you’re making a decision in that kind of crap shot, screw the mess, you’re in Hell anyway!

Lies

At the heart of every lie is a truth to twist
Each truth a dagger, a pain I would not miss