You know what?...

...I've had enough. I'm sick of being sick, of being tired and lonely and sad and sorry.. Damn it all, I don't need this. So, fitness, new bike, no more idiotic paperwork piles, more fun, more breakfasts out, fewer miserable bastards all round. And, you may well know who you are, (and if not, I don't care,) some people who will never get a word from me again. Not worth it..

This new blog is for ranting, writing, and righting..

Poem, sorry about this (actually, not sorry) for my Lovely Man

Dining Room

There’s a dead man in the dining room, mother

His mouth is open and he’s so dreadfully yellow

Did you know he was going to be there?

I knew, and not, and it’s still a surprise that anyone could be so still and quiet

There’s a dead man in our dining room, mother

His hair is all uncombed and his pyjama trousers are wrinkled

But his t-shirt doesn’t have any food on the front, at least

And his hands are so pale and closed, his nails so clean

There’s a dead man in my dining room, mother

And he’s taking up the whole of one wall with his great electric bed

I will lay him flat, so that the undertakers men do not have to straighten him out 

Before they put him in his cheap coffin and roll him away

There’s a dead man in a dining room, mother

Silent, alone, empty, gone,

And he’s mummified, skin like stretched parchment and dry paper

A cartoon corpse

There’s a dead man in your dining room, mother

I hope you will make him welcome, as I cannot

And take his cold hand in your cold hand of bone

And lead him into the light of a new life

December 7th 2019