Opting For........(POETS RALLY week 50)

 

Have you often been this acrid
You, the keeper of that tongue?
Lashing it so recklessly
With that little mood you swung

Stop being oh, so touchy
Stop delving in so deep
The whole world, ain't against you
It's the hours you chose to keep

It's a struggle, some requirements
Often have to change their path
Unexpected rings, and social flings
Familiar aftermath

Some excuses really are,
The truth, and so you see
Disappointment scales the plans
In which we can't foresee

No damn hidden agenda
No one's stabbed you in the back
Short notice comes in bouts at times
It's hard to keep on track

Tainting those in colours
With that tarry, tarry brush
Might end in sad extinction
If a heart you lamely crush

Some fib to spare a feeling
We've survived it at all before
But some in selfish attitude
Head you straight for the front door

Make a scene, by all means, honey
Scream and shout and stomp and curse
Is it worth it, these huge mountains?
If you tumble off headfirst?

The Hiding Swallow.......

I waded through those heaving sheaths of wheat. Open heart, clogged head. A few days ago I found out you are not my real brother and it is your blood that is pure.

Our parents chose me well. Colouring, in eyes, of skin, was consistent with theirs. Two blues couldn't make a brown - right? So my copper hair and azure eyes secured the lie that gave me acceptance and substance of who I was. Never ever questioned. Until now.

Why couldn't I work it out? You, Mathew, with your matinee features, ease of tanning, your confidence roaring, and me with my plain face, pasty skin and placid nature. How could we share the same genes? My protector, my shield. You were my hero and I often felt like your bane.

Father told me in that hospital room before he died, that I have a birth mother out there somewhere. Knowing you now live so far away, I think he got scared for old quiescent me. I have no one else. I understand this revelation I was never to find out, but with mum gone, he panicked. This helped his passing, no secrets, no pain, no linger. Just peace.


So, I'll see you tomorrow and together we'll arrange the funeral. I can't believe it's been 13 years and you haven't married! That was expected of me too, but virtual recluses aren't likely to taste matrimony.  I'm surprised at you, though. All the girls that wanted to be my friend just to get closer to you! My handsome big brother........

Before you head back, Mathew, will you trek through the wheat field with me?  Remember how we used to take that shortcut home and risked time and again, the rage of the farmer?  But the beauty of that field, the performance that captivated, was when the swallows circled us, speed and angle perfect, catching the winged insects we disturbed while paving our golden route. You told me they only appeared to those with pure hearts. No liars, cheats or fakers would ever be encircled. Only those who truly feel love. What will our chances be? Will your protective shadow ever be standing behind mine again?


I bit my lip yesterday and tasted the blood as it filled my mouth. Yours would taste no different, if the swallows ever misjudged the dive and speared your heart. Welcome home, Mathew.

Caress For Less

I'm into the habit now of trying to watch an online movie a night in my 'me' time. Never would I download any films to my comp *(he's getting on a bit) and I don't want to lumber him with any more applications and shit. The lure of the laptop is enticing me greatly. But I've faith in this old rattler yet. Sometimes, all he needs is a bit of a clear out and he complies better (bit like the cheaper-half!).

After a huge search, and some trial and error, I found a great site with no complications, no download and no sign-up. Just a click and you're off with the choice of two screen sizes. So tonight I'm regressing back into my musical youth and watching, in pure cheese 80's rock and roll, Some Kind Of Wonderful, with Eric Stoltz, hair as ginger as the title colour. Takes me back to my first kiss, with you, Robert McMillan, you balding ex-lothario, you........

 *whisper

Sunday Snippet (32)

I often see signs like this when I'm out and about:

Honestly, this kind of slanging must do some damage to their confidence.....! What makes it worse is that these signs are found near schools and busy suburban areas. If it's better grades society wants out of  kids, then this shock tactic ain't gonna work.......!

Calling September

Takes simply a heatwave to burn out my notions
Hiding away from the day in recluse
No matter how hard the lotions and drenches
Can tempt to accept you, I bear my excuse

My skin white and freckled, hair fair and like floss
A prisoner inside and out
Rays never ending, the fire in the dust
A master of death and of drought

African Queens, Spanish Señoritas
Asian girls and red hot Femme Fatales
Lap up the sun with no real consternation
As I'm facing a season of Hell

Not all women love a tanning of amber
Nor bathe as the temperature creeps
While Helios sits high admiring his minions
I struggle to gain me a sleep

Days are too long and the birds sing too early
In praise of the hot day ahead
Outside it's like punishment, so I remain indoors
Air conditioned, lacklustre, in bed

So I'm Calling September to hurry and bring me
Cooling air as his evenings draw near
With the promise of winter sun, crisp and dark mornings
Which I'll walk through without any fear.

I Love The Sound Of..............

While cursing the functions of my camera, I managed to capture (unwittingly until I got home) this little corker.  Filmed at a Casino and No Need For Idols gig, here's PrettyBoy's beloved (Stacey) innocently adding to the entertainment while he adds a drum roll (standard procedure in such cases....!):



That's my twirly girly.......!

Who's Fighting Who.....?

PrettyBoy and NorseGod both love the Foo Fighters - a band that haven't quite impressed me the way Nirvana or Queens of the Stone Age have - but this incident at a recent festival where they performed, totally got my approval. Maybe their songs will grow on me a bit more now.  The irony is in the name of the band, I suppose, but respect to lead singer Dave Ghrol.  Who needs security, eh?

A Plug For Rhombusheed....!

I just had to share this picture of my niece, Rachel, (7) at my brother's recent 60th Birthday Bash (with a 60's 70's 80's music theme!) She shafted somebody for the wig and looked 20 times better anyhow...! Peace, kiddo........!

                  *************************************************************************

Me & Me

Red hair with some blonde highlights,
a gift from God, you see.                                                                                      
Though he didn't throw away the mould,
he made another 'me'.

Identical in every way,
from height, to weight, to features.
A criss-cross of my own damn self,
fooled friends and foes and teachers.

We have a waddled walk, they say,
a cackling laugh to boot.
There's a strange breeze when we leave a room,
unitedly astute.

Our telepathic stories
can leave jaws a drooping down.
Although 500 miles away -
I know when she's in town!

Our soppy hearts are similar,
we cry at weepy stories.
And reminisce through albums,
telling tales of our joint glories.

We've felt each others' sadness,
but no sharing aches and pains.
Deliberating right from wrong?
I'm on my side again!

It has been rather useful though,
this chance to intermix.
One present sent from both of us,
two back - yeah, that's the trick!

But..............

Don't let this twin thing fool you,
though she has my DNA.
We're chalk and cheesy mostly,
not all roads display 'One Way'.

Her taste in men is awful,
and her music choice is chronic.
My cat's fluffy and fragile,
her dog's borderline demonic.

She'll choose the hottest spice to try,
no water standing by.
Whereas just a hint of onion,
makes me cry and cry and cry.

She'll bake in her back garden,
'til she turns to lobster red.
While just a ruddy chink of light,
makes me want to stay in bed.

A smoker since her school days,
yet, I've never had a puff
(though I've had a sneaky inhale
of that marijuana stuff!)

And her love for wine astounds me,
not a country she's not tried.
If a grape needed direction,
she would make the perfect guide!

Don't start me on the tattoos,
needless, forever-inky scars.
That her bygone masterpiece just
looks like bruises from afar....

Her craft is model icing,
literally on the cake.
For celebrations catering,
all walks of life she makes.

Me? I'm at my best when,
slapping paint upon a wall.
Mural of some kiddies' hero,
or giant logos of football!

I could go on here forever,
splitting replica's apart.
She'll always be my twin sis
the same beating of one heart.

We share love and we share laughter
Go through Hell if she did too.
Protected though, forever.
Could you love another 'you'?.

                                                                

  Penned for Poets Rally Week 47, and dedicated to my twin sister (right).....ps....my hair has been cut and styled to match hers now!

Sunday Snippet (31)

I'm not one to scoff at other peoples beliefs, but if Buddhists are supposed to live their lives without want and greed and all that, how come Buddha's such a chubby (but very likable!) little bloke? 

Go on, mate - fill your boots. I promise I won't tell as long as you leave me the gherkin....!!

Get To 'F'

This week's F-ing find:  Flexible Friends......

 

Café Au Too Late

**Since this poem is a little confusing, well the format anyhow, to some, I'll try to explain the concept of it.   It's actually about the same woman who has flashbacks to her youth, where she was bullied.  The regular font speaks of her meantime circumstances, whereas the italics speak of her childhood misery. And, of course, the scene is set in a burger-bar & cafe. Hope this helps...!**


Whipping downwards, I watched, the cream in the coffee, swirling and stirring around
I never looked over at the table next to me, not a singular whisper or sound

I did love you so much in all kinds of manners, of course I accepted your choice
A girl knocked her drink, felt the splashes on my cheek, she yelped with a lash to her voice

Complications in living, a struggle to manage, we were happy to face them as one
A squirt shot from the sachet, a barbeque sauce stain, and reason for them to poke fun

You told me we'd go on complete in our unity,  always - and then your heart froze
The boy let out laughter and threw a straw at me, I suppose that's the way that it goes

Can it be that I'm loveless, a patch not quite able, to mend as the tear rips along
Pushed my back as I walked to the toilets to wash up, I'd be welling up here before long

Empty rooms and our savings, divided belongings, bin bags that carry a tale
Head hanging down, hair that covered my red face, sighing hard to no avail

Making waves and emotions, back to the mentions of singular guidances now
Far too scared to tell tales to the teachers or mothers, just continue to mop my own brow

Leaning over my coffee pot, I saw her crying, the jibers now running away
Sidled along, let the girl sit next to me, for we knew where our own heartaches lay
      ************************************************************************
So, what's here then....?

New Casino Tracks - Go Grab A Beer (or wine) For A Listen....!

Now, as we all know, I never bang on about my sons' bands!  But I thought I'd give one of them a right good Blogger flogging! Finally, Casino's new tracks are up for a public hearing offence - for being so damned good. It's outrageous!!! All spruced up in Facebook with new pictures (including the album covers) and general run down of Casino world.

 The link below will take you to 6 of their recorded tracks (many, many more to come). And if you think you're too old to listen to whippersnapper stuff, try a micro-listen to Starlight, Lynette, Waiting Up and The High. And if you recommend a friend to join the Facebook fanatics - there's a free WHAM bar in it for you. Yes,.......I've got your attention now, eh?  All video's to the songs will be found on the sidebar of both my blogs or by written request.

You can buy individual tracks or wait for release of the album, but don't miss out a listen for now. Here's the link below and all I ask is for a marked visit to their page or join the fan base there. 4000 Facebook fans (so far) can't all be wrong, can they...?

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Casino/124252040948745?sk=app_178091127385
  

My Girl

Reflecting on your birthday, how you popped into the world.
My one and only daughter, firstborn, little baby girl.
I recall that very morning, as the niggles started up
Held my breath, bit my lip, stared into my coffee cup

Uh-oh! The planned arrival's curiously making waves.
It only cramps a little bit, I must try to be brave.
Soon your dad came to Maternity, a smile upon his face
A floppy rose in one hand, and a watch to set the pace.

Looking quite uncomfortable, from sit, to stand, to sit
I didn't like the set up, not one single bloody bit!
He asked how I was doing and I lashed out with my tongue
For it felt I had an open brolly sticking up my bum!

You weren't too concerned about making your appearance
And all I wanted here and now was full-blown baby clearance!
Deliver us from pain and things, it was beyond a joke
Not even sweat stained lullaby's were able to evoke!

I huffed and puffed and panted, swore and knocked some flowers down
Prayed to God: '...just kill me now...', while in my labour gown.
You still maintained a lie-in, in no hurry to appear
While I told your dad he's 'in for it, when we get out of here!'

They offered pain relief for me, I took it and was grateful
But that just slowed the process down, how could they be so hateful!
Then  'crack ' you burst your bubble, water gushing all about
I felt worse than central reservoir, depleted and washed-out!

Now, I felt you coming, waves of chronic, gripping stuff!
Dilating me to number 10 - when 4 was bad enough!
But, yes, indeed, still here was I , the mid-wife quite confounded
I'd said good-night-and-morning twice, akimbo and abounded....

This baby was the champion, a sac of pure control
There would be no Miss-taking,  Little Miss's  future role!
So, where that strength was mustered, Heaven knows from where it came
I purged so hard, I soon saw stars and lighter I became.

You were swabbed and robed and measured, checked out quickly by the nurse
Who handed me sweet little 'you' and forgave my need to curse!
Twenty-seven long hard hours, it took you to comply
I kissed your bloodied forehead and the pain just waved goodbye.

But from the moment I first saw you -  what a rush of pinking air.
A girl when they all said 'a boy',  you made your mark from there!
A chubby little face you had and fingers long and thin
A heart that beat so very fast, a precious stone within.

The beginning of a story,  chapters that just captivate
I don't believe in magic, just the power to create.
My perfect little baba, my funny, funny girl
An addition and a honour to this huge revolving world!

Get It Right Up Ye.........!

Plastic Elastic 




I was surfing through cable guff last night and came across a programme on beauty and vanity ect.   One  subject of the show was 48 year-old Mariam, whom had spent more than £20,000 on lifts and tucks over the years. There was a HUGE difference, she was wrinkle free and taut but cocked up the whole effect by still sporting an eighties bubble perm and last decade clothes.  Now she was no more than a younger looking obvious old dear. For £20,000 I'd have wanted to be asked what year at high school I was in!!

But the political overview alerted that more money was spent on boob jobs and viagra per year than on research into Altzheimers disease - a condition the programme picked at random to compare, I hope. Otherwise there's a chance by 2045 that the elderly will mostly have perky tits and stiff todgers but no fucking idea why!

ps.....I'll stick to my dedicated and timely twice a day rinse with Dove soap and be happy to one day fling my boob over my shoulder while I scour away with a buffer!

Music Matters!

Only a few here will know who Bernard Butler is, but this is a beautiful little message to music fans in general out there. You'll know all the influences, however!

Sunday Snippet (30)

 I burned my hand recently and the first reaction was to get it as cold as possible, so used the old method of cold water, which soothed and worked a treat. Then it lead to me thinking that that's rather unfair. I mean - why can't you put something blunt on a cut, or straight salt on a sore tooth...? Seems mother nature's not all she's cracked up to be!

When The Morning Comes ( The Boy )

The boy's off the rails again, he's gone and lost himself
He'll try to find his way back home, but he doesn't want your help.
'Don't waste your words on me', the boy says in his way
The girl behind him starts to cry, but he doesn't shift his gaze.

Where has he been?
What has he done?
Is all forgotten when the morning comes.

His senses start to burn, his friends become his foes.
He'll be your friend again in time, it's just the way it goes.
It's all just bravado, the boy's a drama queen,
You know he's just like you and me, he likes to cause a scene.

But where has he been?
What has he done?
Is all forgotten when the morning comes. 

It's then seeped into his mind, he tries to understand.
Before you take the leap of faith, you let go of a hand hand.
The world's just one big sigh, inhaled and blown away
Surface only to correct, the value of his day.


Where have you been?
What have you done?
Can you forgive him, when the morning comes?

Listen up!?  Fancy listening to it...?


http://tigerlilley.blogspot.com/2011/05/when-morning-comes.html