Once upon there was a cheeky little monkey
Who played a funny trick on me
He saw me walking down the street
And snuck a banana in front of my feet
As I stepped, it went squish
I landed right on my tush
My feet in the air
Banana everywhere!
That naughty little monkey laughed until he cried
He laughed so hard he nearly died
He laughed so much he didn’t see as I put
A ripe banana in front of his foot!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Downstream
Alcoholics call it the moment of clarity
No doubt it will be the cause of some hilarity
I’ve spent many years honing my mantra to life
One to get me through times of panic and strife
It seems I allowed it to slip my mind
And it was unbelievably hard to find
I hope you don’t mind if I share
My thoughts on the matter here
Take the salmon – a fish
A tasty supper dish
He spends his life swimming upstream
Can you hear his embattled scream?
When he finally arrives at the top
He’s got one good fuck before his heart will stop
Take the duck
Who doesn’t give a fuck
He floats downstream with a lazy quack
Let life’s troubles run like water off his back
He follows the summer sun
In search of good times and all sorts of fun
Flies through the skies
‘Til the day he dies
I think I’d rather be a duck
All this background rhymes and context
Is to set the stage for another promotion concept
They want a wheel
They’ve got one
We lost the appeal
They won
No doubt it will be the cause of some hilarity
I’ve spent many years honing my mantra to life
One to get me through times of panic and strife
It seems I allowed it to slip my mind
And it was unbelievably hard to find
I hope you don’t mind if I share
My thoughts on the matter here
Take the salmon – a fish
A tasty supper dish
He spends his life swimming upstream
Can you hear his embattled scream?
When he finally arrives at the top
He’s got one good fuck before his heart will stop
Take the duck
Who doesn’t give a fuck
He floats downstream with a lazy quack
Let life’s troubles run like water off his back
He follows the summer sun
In search of good times and all sorts of fun
Flies through the skies
‘Til the day he dies
I think I’d rather be a duck
All this background rhymes and context
Is to set the stage for another promotion concept
They want a wheel
They’ve got one
We lost the appeal
They won
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The Hungry T-Rex by James
Once upon a time
A T-Rex went out to dine
“Mmm,” he said, “I’m think that maybe
“I’ll have a juicy dinosaur baby.”
He ate it up and cleaned his plate
“That was awesome, that was great!”
On Monday he had an empty tummy
He thought, “I need something yummy!”
He gave a might T-Rex roar
And ate up every dinosaur!
The next time he went out to eat
He couldn’t find a single piece of meat
So the big old nasty greedy guts
Had to live on fruit and nuts!
Soon, the T-Rex had quite enough
Of noshing on veggies, nuts and stuff
He yelled, “I’m going into space
To find another eating place!”
He travelled far, he travelled wide
Across the universe’s great divide
He ate up everything he could find
Leaving nothing at all behind
But when he ate up little Pluto
His tummy began to grow and grow
It blew up like a big balloon
Into the size of a big full moon
And POP he went and off he blew
In between the stars he flew
If look up into the sky
You may see T-Rex fly by
That’s what happens when you’re rude
And stuff yourself with too much food
A T-Rex went out to dine
“Mmm,” he said, “I’m think that maybe
“I’ll have a juicy dinosaur baby.”
He ate it up and cleaned his plate
“That was awesome, that was great!”
On Monday he had an empty tummy
He thought, “I need something yummy!”
He gave a might T-Rex roar
And ate up every dinosaur!
The next time he went out to eat
He couldn’t find a single piece of meat
So the big old nasty greedy guts
Had to live on fruit and nuts!
Soon, the T-Rex had quite enough
Of noshing on veggies, nuts and stuff
He yelled, “I’m going into space
To find another eating place!”
He travelled far, he travelled wide
Across the universe’s great divide
He ate up everything he could find
Leaving nothing at all behind
But when he ate up little Pluto
His tummy began to grow and grow
It blew up like a big balloon
Into the size of a big full moon
And POP he went and off he blew
In between the stars he flew
If look up into the sky
You may see T-Rex fly by
That’s what happens when you’re rude
And stuff yourself with too much food
Friday, October 31, 2008
Beware
Listen up, don’t go in there
I’m warning you to please beware
The mirror’s playing nasty tricks
Turning young and pretty chicks
Into crones and evil witches
Giving birth to hardcore bitches
Showing wrinkles where there’s none
Making you crave high cholesterol buns
Urging you to break your diet
Can you hear it whispering, “Come on just try it!”
And the laughter echoes as you scream
After all it’s Halloween
I’m warning you to please beware
The mirror’s playing nasty tricks
Turning young and pretty chicks
Into crones and evil witches
Giving birth to hardcore bitches
Showing wrinkles where there’s none
Making you crave high cholesterol buns
Urging you to break your diet
Can you hear it whispering, “Come on just try it!”
And the laughter echoes as you scream
After all it’s Halloween
Trick
A pirate and a fairy
A wizard and a witch
It’s time or very nearly
To eat stuff sweet and rich
Knocking on each and every door
For loads of chocolate bars and more
A wizard and a witch
It’s time or very nearly
To eat stuff sweet and rich
Knocking on each and every door
For loads of chocolate bars and more
Bats
The whole office is going through a complete upheaval
Marais has gone completely evil
Christina has gone totally bats
Scott’s cutting out big black cats
I hope we get to trick or treat
With loads of candy corn to eat
I fear there’ll be less treats than tricks
That’s how creative’s get their kicks
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Tent
Toasted marshmallows in the flames
Ghost stories and monsters that know your name
Stars that light way your way to bed
In a snug little tent to lay your head
My son is going on his first campout
With dad and his friends and without
His mum to tuck him in at night
Or his little brother to give him a fright
They’re leaving on the 7th of November
I’d like it to be a weekend to remember
The thing is my money has already been spent
And I don’t have the cash to buy him a tent
If you have one I could borrow
You would save a small boy from irreparable sorrow
And earn my eternal gratitude
And a bottle of something nice (or two!)
Ghost stories and monsters that know your name
Stars that light way your way to bed
In a snug little tent to lay your head
My son is going on his first campout
With dad and his friends and without
His mum to tuck him in at night
Or his little brother to give him a fright
They’re leaving on the 7th of November
I’d like it to be a weekend to remember
The thing is my money has already been spent
And I don’t have the cash to buy him a tent
If you have one I could borrow
You would save a small boy from irreparable sorrow
And earn my eternal gratitude
And a bottle of something nice (or two!)
Monday, October 27, 2008
Domestic Bliss
There are tomes to be read on wedded bliss
From what to wear to how to kiss
The perfect lingerie to wear
La Sensa (I’d just like to share)
When you make the change to Mrs from Miss
Well, you’ve probably already made a list
Kamasutra positions learnt
You might have got your fingers burnt
Twisting this way, twisting that
Carpet burns upon the mat
You may be able to put your foot behind your head
But there is simpler way to get a man in bed
A little look, a subtle smile
You won’t even have to wait a while
It has been said in ages past
That food is the way to tame a man’s heart
At this I have to disagree
Love is simpler by far you see
For there’s plenty of magic in simple things
Like a pair of golden wedding rings
From what to wear to how to kiss
The perfect lingerie to wear
La Sensa (I’d just like to share)
When you make the change to Mrs from Miss
Well, you’ve probably already made a list
Kamasutra positions learnt
You might have got your fingers burnt
Twisting this way, twisting that
Carpet burns upon the mat
You may be able to put your foot behind your head
But there is simpler way to get a man in bed
A little look, a subtle smile
You won’t even have to wait a while
It has been said in ages past
That food is the way to tame a man’s heart
At this I have to disagree
Love is simpler by far you see
For there’s plenty of magic in simple things
Like a pair of golden wedding rings
Friday, October 24, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
The Golden Thread
A bright golden thread running through
Each and every job we do
Give me a length of 24 carat
A golden noose and a hook to hang it
Pretty little puppet on a golden string
I can make you dance and make you sing
Each and every job we do
Give me a length of 24 carat
A golden noose and a hook to hang it
Pretty little puppet on a golden string
I can make you dance and make you sing
Office gossip
Sticks and stones
May break my bones
But words can never hurt me
There’s a sentiment with which I have to disagree
Malicious little rumours get underneath the skin
I’m damned if for a second I’ll let that woman win
I haven’t stolen from her nor said I want her job
Yet she wants to put me up in front of a lynch mob
I haven’t killed a kitten or had sex with her boyfriend
Yet this wave of vitriol seems to have no end
I’m caught in a nightmarish kindergarten flashback
Under siege from an ill-disguised, ill-timed attack
I keep expecting her to come and pull my pigtails
Or scratch the skin off my back with her talonlike false nails
I will admit I had a laugh when first I became aware
She had in for me and I’d better beware
Now it’s not amusing but petty and bizarre
And the gossip and the little lies have left a painful scar
May break my bones
But words can never hurt me
There’s a sentiment with which I have to disagree
Malicious little rumours get underneath the skin
I’m damned if for a second I’ll let that woman win
I haven’t stolen from her nor said I want her job
Yet she wants to put me up in front of a lynch mob
I haven’t killed a kitten or had sex with her boyfriend
Yet this wave of vitriol seems to have no end
I’m caught in a nightmarish kindergarten flashback
Under siege from an ill-disguised, ill-timed attack
I keep expecting her to come and pull my pigtails
Or scratch the skin off my back with her talonlike false nails
I will admit I had a laugh when first I became aware
She had in for me and I’d better beware
Now it’s not amusing but petty and bizarre
And the gossip and the little lies have left a painful scar
Monday, October 20, 2008
The Bard
The course of true love never does run smooth
So said the Bard in some vain effort to soothe
The ruffled feathers of young love’s pride
What he should have said was run and hide
But his words ring true across time’s divide
For an erstwhile creator of a virgin bride
Who meets an errant billionaire
And embarks on a passionate and doomed affair
I always scoffed and said “Oh pooh,
If they can write this drivel so can you!”
Well it’s a bloody sight harder I’ll have you know
They don’t put on all that sex for show
In between the standard grunt and shove
They still have to fall in love
Reveal their secrets, break their hearts
In under 5 000 words
It’s an art I tell you and I one I will hone
If I want a literary agent of my own
You can turn up your nose at old Mills and Boon
They still make over 4 million women swoon
So said the Bard in some vain effort to soothe
The ruffled feathers of young love’s pride
What he should have said was run and hide
But his words ring true across time’s divide
For an erstwhile creator of a virgin bride
Who meets an errant billionaire
And embarks on a passionate and doomed affair
I always scoffed and said “Oh pooh,
If they can write this drivel so can you!”
Well it’s a bloody sight harder I’ll have you know
They don’t put on all that sex for show
In between the standard grunt and shove
They still have to fall in love
Reveal their secrets, break their hearts
In under 5 000 words
It’s an art I tell you and I one I will hone
If I want a literary agent of my own
You can turn up your nose at old Mills and Boon
They still make over 4 million women swoon
Up the creek without a paddle
I guess its time to learn to laugh
Even if it is on my own behalf
I’m filming a script 3 minutes long
For which I have to be super hero strong
My erstwhile voiceover artist has a debilitating stutter
Likely to turn me into some crazed axe wielding nutter
I’ve hit a brick wall in my effort to circumvent
Her unfortunate speech impediment
So pray for me in the days to come
Sitting head in hands feeling oh so glum
It’s not very funny I have to admit
Not for me and not for the girl who bit
Off way more than she can chew
She’s up the creek - no paddles - in a leaky old canoe
Even if it is on my own behalf
I’m filming a script 3 minutes long
For which I have to be super hero strong
My erstwhile voiceover artist has a debilitating stutter
Likely to turn me into some crazed axe wielding nutter
I’ve hit a brick wall in my effort to circumvent
Her unfortunate speech impediment
So pray for me in the days to come
Sitting head in hands feeling oh so glum
It’s not very funny I have to admit
Not for me and not for the girl who bit
Off way more than she can chew
She’s up the creek - no paddles - in a leaky old canoe
Monday, October 13, 2008
Mojo
Worked a little mojo
Sipped a ice cold Slo-Jo
Put the plan in motion
Made a little potion
Learnt the in and outs
Turned my back on nagging doubts
Now I know how to do it right
I just have to sit down and write
Easier said than done
Its going to be a lot of fun
But making time has never been
A talent of mine, or so it seems
Sipped a ice cold Slo-Jo
Put the plan in motion
Made a little potion
Learnt the in and outs
Turned my back on nagging doubts
Now I know how to do it right
I just have to sit down and write
Easier said than done
Its going to be a lot of fun
But making time has never been
A talent of mine, or so it seems
Friday, October 10, 2008
Blessed Be
Write a tale of loss and love
Earth below and sky above
Weave a tale of mystery
Kisses stolen, hearts set free
A drop of ink to mark the page
A drop of blood to set the stage
A feather from an angel’s wing
Bound within a golden ring
The power of the printed word
Bring to my hand a gold reward
To give the ones who hold my heart
A home, a start, a glowing hearth
I commit you safe and sound
To come to life beneath the ground
Strong and safe and swift and free
As I wish
So mote it be
Earth below and sky above
Weave a tale of mystery
Kisses stolen, hearts set free
A drop of ink to mark the page
A drop of blood to set the stage
A feather from an angel’s wing
Bound within a golden ring
The power of the printed word
Bring to my hand a gold reward
To give the ones who hold my heart
A home, a start, a glowing hearth
I commit you safe and sound
To come to life beneath the ground
Strong and safe and swift and free
As I wish
So mote it be
Web cast
Cast a spell
Spin a web
Silver moon
And golden thread
Thrice times round
Goddess bound
One for luck
One for love
Earth below
Sky above
Wings for dreams taking flight
A flame to warm the darkest night
A diamond drop of new spring rain
Thrice time round and bound again
Born of creativity
As I wish
So mote it be
Spin a web
Silver moon
And golden thread
Thrice times round
Goddess bound
One for luck
One for love
Earth below
Sky above
Wings for dreams taking flight
A flame to warm the darkest night
A diamond drop of new spring rain
Thrice time round and bound again
Born of creativity
As I wish
So mote it be
Charms
As green as the emerald isle
Heart’s desire within those eyes
Soft voices weaving ancient charms
Bind her to these open arms
Heart’s desire within those eyes
Soft voices weaving ancient charms
Bind her to these open arms
The last
The moon
Covers me
In robes of silver
A whisper of wind
Lifts a prayer
On high
Goddess Blessed
An ancient circle
Standing stones
Stand together
Stand alone
Soft tendrils of green
Anchor me to earth
Diamond drops of dew
Glisten new formed upon my throat
The flames of passion
Fanned to heat the blood
The wheels turns
And returns
I have walked this path before
My feet ache from the journey
My head spins with lessons still not learnt
My hands scream from the agony of holding on to fast
This time
This time
This time will be the last
Covers me
In robes of silver
A whisper of wind
Lifts a prayer
On high
Goddess Blessed
An ancient circle
Standing stones
Stand together
Stand alone
Soft tendrils of green
Anchor me to earth
Diamond drops of dew
Glisten new formed upon my throat
The flames of passion
Fanned to heat the blood
The wheels turns
And returns
I have walked this path before
My feet ache from the journey
My head spins with lessons still not learnt
My hands scream from the agony of holding on to fast
This time
This time
This time will be the last
Feet of clay
I followed the path you laid at my feet
I willed the eyes to see, the heart to beat
I did my duty one thousand fold
Lived one hundred lifetimes old
I know what it is I have to do
It is the why I never knew
Silent whispers in the dark
Of a greater whole, just one small part
One day when it is done
When the final days have just begun
I will look up to see you standing there
As you did when you first appeared
And I shall take my leave and go
Into the mists of long ago
Until that day I meet my love
Between this world and the one above
Stolen kisses ever sweet
Give wings to these tired, aching feet
I willed the eyes to see, the heart to beat
I did my duty one thousand fold
Lived one hundred lifetimes old
I know what it is I have to do
It is the why I never knew
Silent whispers in the dark
Of a greater whole, just one small part
One day when it is done
When the final days have just begun
I will look up to see you standing there
As you did when you first appeared
And I shall take my leave and go
Into the mists of long ago
Until that day I meet my love
Between this world and the one above
Stolen kisses ever sweet
Give wings to these tired, aching feet
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Special Needs Barbie
Life’s all about loss and gain
Road trip down memory lane
Do you remember your first Barbie?
Long blonde hair and oh so pretty?
Did you cut off her golden tresses?
Dress her up in pretty dresses?
Did she have a pink Cabriolet?
A horse, a castle and Ken over to play?
I saved for months to buy one of my own
I washed the car and did chores all over our home
Then piggy bank in hand Dad and I
Went to the toy store my Barbie to buy
A few months later my puppy arrived
And then my beautiful Barbie survived
A brutal attack on her pretty little face
An amputee Barbie, she lost no grace
I loved her still with all my heart
Of my childhood imaginings an integral part
I don’t care if her boobs are far too large
She always struck me as a chick who takes charge
Now my small girl has a Barbie of her own
A fairy princess on a rainbow throne
There’s something magic in her eyes
When she spreads her wings and starts to fly
Road trip down memory lane
Do you remember your first Barbie?
Long blonde hair and oh so pretty?
Did you cut off her golden tresses?
Dress her up in pretty dresses?
Did she have a pink Cabriolet?
A horse, a castle and Ken over to play?
I saved for months to buy one of my own
I washed the car and did chores all over our home
Then piggy bank in hand Dad and I
Went to the toy store my Barbie to buy
A few months later my puppy arrived
And then my beautiful Barbie survived
A brutal attack on her pretty little face
An amputee Barbie, she lost no grace
I loved her still with all my heart
Of my childhood imaginings an integral part
I don’t care if her boobs are far too large
She always struck me as a chick who takes charge
Now my small girl has a Barbie of her own
A fairy princess on a rainbow throne
There’s something magic in her eyes
When she spreads her wings and starts to fly
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
The Mulberry Bush
La la la
And so we go around the mulberry bush
In a headless chicken mad rush
Client service peers at adjoining desks
Incapable of lifting up their heads
And simply asking "Hey, what's up?'
Instead they cluck and make a fuss!
And so we go around the mulberry bush
In a headless chicken mad rush
Client service peers at adjoining desks
Incapable of lifting up their heads
And simply asking "Hey, what's up?'
Instead they cluck and make a fuss!
Zippo
Sick to my stomach
I can’t eat
Just bow in silent supplication
Before a porcelain bowl
In this darkness I offer
One prayer from the bottom of my soul
Grant me a silver Zippo
So I know which way to go
I can’t eat
Just bow in silent supplication
Before a porcelain bowl
In this darkness I offer
One prayer from the bottom of my soul
Grant me a silver Zippo
So I know which way to go
Mr Churchill
Winston’s black dog
Nipping at my heels
Danced with devil
Made some deals
Time to collect on
One spirit broken
Two wings clipped
One voice silent
Pile it all on a glowing pyre
Set the remnants of my life on fire
In this cold cold night
My hands are like ice
Warming them at these flames
Comes at too high a price
Nipping at my heels
Danced with devil
Made some deals
Time to collect on
One spirit broken
Two wings clipped
One voice silent
Pile it all on a glowing pyre
Set the remnants of my life on fire
In this cold cold night
My hands are like ice
Warming them at these flames
Comes at too high a price
Not waving but drowning
Hold it together
While a heart is breaking
Stand firm
While the ground is shaking
Hold up the roof
While the walls are falling down
Keep my head above water
Even while I drown
While a heart is breaking
Stand firm
While the ground is shaking
Hold up the roof
While the walls are falling down
Keep my head above water
Even while I drown
Monday, October 6, 2008
Trials and Tribulations
We live life in extremes
Highs and lows and few in-betweens
Just when I think its all plain sailing
I’m overboard in 10 foot waves arms flailing
It started with a telephone call at 1 pm sharp
Yesterday afternoon from a hungry loan shark
The bank has foreclosed upon our home
Despite the positive balance on our loan
“Oh yes”, they said, “there’s been an error”
No need to feel such abject terror
Unfortunately there’s a judgment in your names
And it’s really a terrible crying shame
There’s nothing really that we can do
Sadly it’s all up to you
To hire an overpriced attorney
With a highly overrated LLB
To go to court and demand they rescind
Cry “mea culpa” and admit that they sinned
All this at our personal cost
Money we can regard as irrevocably lost
I wish my sorry tale ended there
But there is another mishap I must share
On the way to watch the fireworks at the school
(which by the way were awesome and cool)
Some vehicularly challenged PDI
(“Previously Disadvantaged Individual as named by those on high)
Drove straight into the rear of my car
As we sat stationary following yonder star
He ranted and raved that we were in the wrong
We gathered a rather interesting throng
Who agreed with us that he was a nutter
Deserving of his place in nearest gutter
Nonetheless he has no insurance and no employ
Except probably as someone’s garden boy
“You can’t leave me here, you owe me money!”
I know one-day we’ll look back and find this funny
But right now I can’t find the silver lining
And can only find solace in this pitiful whining
Highs and lows and few in-betweens
Just when I think its all plain sailing
I’m overboard in 10 foot waves arms flailing
It started with a telephone call at 1 pm sharp
Yesterday afternoon from a hungry loan shark
The bank has foreclosed upon our home
Despite the positive balance on our loan
“Oh yes”, they said, “there’s been an error”
No need to feel such abject terror
Unfortunately there’s a judgment in your names
And it’s really a terrible crying shame
There’s nothing really that we can do
Sadly it’s all up to you
To hire an overpriced attorney
With a highly overrated LLB
To go to court and demand they rescind
Cry “mea culpa” and admit that they sinned
All this at our personal cost
Money we can regard as irrevocably lost
I wish my sorry tale ended there
But there is another mishap I must share
On the way to watch the fireworks at the school
(which by the way were awesome and cool)
Some vehicularly challenged PDI
(“Previously Disadvantaged Individual as named by those on high)
Drove straight into the rear of my car
As we sat stationary following yonder star
He ranted and raved that we were in the wrong
We gathered a rather interesting throng
Who agreed with us that he was a nutter
Deserving of his place in nearest gutter
Nonetheless he has no insurance and no employ
Except probably as someone’s garden boy
“You can’t leave me here, you owe me money!”
I know one-day we’ll look back and find this funny
But right now I can’t find the silver lining
And can only find solace in this pitiful whining
Friday, October 3, 2008
Chanel
Bubble of laughter
Clink of glass on glass
What is it you are after?
Do I dare ask?
Soft slip of satin
Sweet echo of Chanel
Reminiscent scent
Remember when
We were heaven sent?
Clink of glass on glass
What is it you are after?
Do I dare ask?
Soft slip of satin
Sweet echo of Chanel
Reminiscent scent
Remember when
We were heaven sent?
Stamping ground
A long confinement
Old stamping ground
New names and places
Taken seed and grown
Moved on
Like the swans
To some warmer clime
Old stamping ground
New names and places
Taken seed and grown
Moved on
Like the swans
To some warmer clime
Thief
You stole my words
From my mouth
Before they were full formed
When I saw the look in your eyes
I should have been forewarned
A faint echo of an old dance tune
The swirl of silk in a darkened room
Your shadow etched in the spaces between
Transformed into some otherworldly Queen
No coronation street for me
To satisfy your curiosity
Take this golden crown away
Save it for a rainy day
It was not meant for me
From my mouth
Before they were full formed
When I saw the look in your eyes
I should have been forewarned
A faint echo of an old dance tune
The swirl of silk in a darkened room
Your shadow etched in the spaces between
Transformed into some otherworldly Queen
No coronation street for me
To satisfy your curiosity
Take this golden crown away
Save it for a rainy day
It was not meant for me
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Stirring
Theo’s on form ranting and raving
I can see him through the window
Animated arms waving
Marais has a giant invisible spoon
Stirring away in the heat of the noon
Bronwyn’s torn between laughter and tears
I empathize with her obvious fears
That she’ll be stuck listening to them for hours
Caught between two warring powers
I can see him through the window
Animated arms waving
Marais has a giant invisible spoon
Stirring away in the heat of the noon
Bronwyn’s torn between laughter and tears
I empathize with her obvious fears
That she’ll be stuck listening to them for hours
Caught between two warring powers
Each day from 1 to 2 I am allowed to look
At the pages of the ubiquitous Facebook
But for some or other reason today
That access has been taken away
I fail to see why it is such a crime
To log in from time to time
I don’t spend all day catching up with friends
With hellos, goodbyes and making amends
Now I can only enter for a brief little hour
It seems like this is the work of some higher power
At the pages of the ubiquitous Facebook
But for some or other reason today
That access has been taken away
I fail to see why it is such a crime
To log in from time to time
I don’t spend all day catching up with friends
With hellos, goodbyes and making amends
Now I can only enter for a brief little hour
It seems like this is the work of some higher power
Dinner with De Niro
Zaheera has recently flown in from Dubai
On another quick hello goodbye
We played message tag for a day or two
But now we’ve plans for a dinner à deux
Its not exactly dinner with de Niro
But you can always join us at Doppio Zero
On another quick hello goodbye
We played message tag for a day or two
But now we’ve plans for a dinner à deux
Its not exactly dinner with de Niro
But you can always join us at Doppio Zero
Footloose
This morning I chased cobwebs from my head
Wondered what to wear as I lay lazy in bed
Motivated at last I donned summer dress
Then catapulted from relaxed to completely stressed
With a realization that hit like a ice cold shower
I left my shoes in my mother’s garden bower
Not exactly footloose and fancy free
I went on a crazy shoe throwing frenzy
This heel’s broken; this one’s not a pair
Oh my god I have no shoes to wear
Today was one of those where I needed high heels
To give me that certain je ne sais coi feel
Instead this mistress’s feet are firmly on the floor
In a pair of flats I have never ever worn
So now I am completely obsessed
With blowing some cash in my beloved Nine West
Wondered what to wear as I lay lazy in bed
Motivated at last I donned summer dress
Then catapulted from relaxed to completely stressed
With a realization that hit like a ice cold shower
I left my shoes in my mother’s garden bower
Not exactly footloose and fancy free
I went on a crazy shoe throwing frenzy
This heel’s broken; this one’s not a pair
Oh my god I have no shoes to wear
Today was one of those where I needed high heels
To give me that certain je ne sais coi feel
Instead this mistress’s feet are firmly on the floor
In a pair of flats I have never ever worn
So now I am completely obsessed
With blowing some cash in my beloved Nine West
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
En route
An exercise in patience
A test of endurance
Stationery we sat
We talked about this and that
Chewed the fat
I had a power nap
Closed my eyes
Had nightmares of my imminent demise
Of sheer unadulterated boredom
Claustrophobic intervention
No halfway decent radio station
Time ticked on and we stayed put
Waiting 2 hours to put foot
Marais and Warren are great guys
But if I thought time in their company would fly
I was sorely mistaken
I’ve reached that point at thirty two
Where I bid each second of life a fair adieu
No longer do I chase the seconds on the clock
Instead I hear the steady tick tock
Of life passing by at an amazing rate
Not yet quite resigned to my fate
A test of endurance
Stationery we sat
We talked about this and that
Chewed the fat
I had a power nap
Closed my eyes
Had nightmares of my imminent demise
Of sheer unadulterated boredom
Claustrophobic intervention
No halfway decent radio station
Time ticked on and we stayed put
Waiting 2 hours to put foot
Marais and Warren are great guys
But if I thought time in their company would fly
I was sorely mistaken
I’ve reached that point at thirty two
Where I bid each second of life a fair adieu
No longer do I chase the seconds on the clock
Instead I hear the steady tick tock
Of life passing by at an amazing rate
Not yet quite resigned to my fate
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
A Brother's Prerogative
Small boy aged six and I
See eye to eye
On protecting small girl aged 2
From the likes of boys like you
Should one attempt to garner a kiss
From our beautiful and sprightly Miss
At that point a brother’s true nature calls
To rise up kick the offender in the balls
See eye to eye
On protecting small girl aged 2
From the likes of boys like you
Should one attempt to garner a kiss
From our beautiful and sprightly Miss
At that point a brother’s true nature calls
To rise up kick the offender in the balls
Funny
A funny day
Ha ha and peculiar
A funny feeling
Like a wish you were here
Head in the clouds
I can’t seem to touch ground
Maybe the wind will blow me away
Ha ha and peculiar
A funny feeling
Like a wish you were here
Head in the clouds
I can’t seem to touch ground
Maybe the wind will blow me away
Monday, September 29, 2008
Take the Stairs
Small choices
Define a man’s life
Like a smoke break
Or working late
The express elevator
Stopped
Solitary confinement
41 hours later
The doors open
Tomorrow
He’ll choose the stairs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_bMhNI_TY8
Define a man’s life
Like a smoke break
Or working late
The express elevator
Stopped
Solitary confinement
41 hours later
The doors open
Tomorrow
He’ll choose the stairs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_bMhNI_TY8
Phnom Penh
I wonder if Miss Sander
Is back at work today
Or sitting by the waterhole
Watching hippos play?
I wonder if young Julie
Is feeling in the mood
To chat to yours truly
While I snack on city food?
I wonder if she’s missing
A big Mac now and then
Sometime reminiscing
About curry from Phnom Penh?
I wonder if she’s cooking
Meat cut straight from the hoof
Or if the chimney’s smoking
From flames burning through the roof?
Is back at work today
Or sitting by the waterhole
Watching hippos play?
I wonder if young Julie
Is feeling in the mood
To chat to yours truly
While I snack on city food?
I wonder if she’s missing
A big Mac now and then
Sometime reminiscing
About curry from Phnom Penh?
I wonder if she’s cooking
Meat cut straight from the hoof
Or if the chimney’s smoking
From flames burning through the roof?
Morning People
Each morning I wake blinded by the light
Engulfed in flames are my dreams of the night
There is much to be said for the cold clear light of day
But I’d take another hour in bed to acclimatize my head
For getting up is not child’s play
Whatever so-called “morning people” say
Engulfed in flames are my dreams of the night
There is much to be said for the cold clear light of day
But I’d take another hour in bed to acclimatize my head
For getting up is not child’s play
Whatever so-called “morning people” say
Madiba
Mandela’s story as told by a small boy aged 6 in all its glory
Mandela was born
He grew up
Trouble came
When he said that white and black people were all the same
They put him in prison
And then set him free
He became our President
And we all said Yippee!
Mandela was born
He grew up
Trouble came
When he said that white and black people were all the same
They put him in prison
And then set him free
He became our President
And we all said Yippee!
Email on request
You sit across from me all day long
You let me know very vocally when anything is wrong
We chat upon the balcony cigarette in hand
Which is why I don't really understand
Why you need me to send an email to gmail.com
Tomorrow why don't you ask your mom?
You let me know very vocally when anything is wrong
We chat upon the balcony cigarette in hand
Which is why I don't really understand
Why you need me to send an email to gmail.com
Tomorrow why don't you ask your mom?
Friday, September 26, 2008
Pop!
Helium balloon
Rises free in the sky
Playing in the wind
I watch it fly by
A fragile thing
It bursts in a flash
Collapsed into a piece of plastic trash
There’s nothing so sharp
As a well chosen word
I think golden silence
Is by far preferred
Rises free in the sky
Playing in the wind
I watch it fly by
A fragile thing
It bursts in a flash
Collapsed into a piece of plastic trash
There’s nothing so sharp
As a well chosen word
I think golden silence
Is by far preferred
To Julie
Has deepest, darkest Africa swallowed you up?
Even your darling brother has heard ne’er a peep
You haven’t been run over by an out of control jeep?
Or mauled by a lion and now in his tum?
Or killed Cliffy and now on the run?
Tomorrow I’ll resort to old fashioned mail
With a stamp and an envelope and the pace of a snail
What’s going on in the goopy green swamp?
Can you hear a hungry hippo going stomp?
Are you singing with the birds in morning chorus?
(Damn, I’ll have to look for a rhyme in the thesaurus)
Are you creeping through the jungle with a really big gun?
Are you having lots and lots of fun?
For heaven’s sake girl, drop me a bone
Better yet, pick up the goddamn phone!
Even your darling brother has heard ne’er a peep
You haven’t been run over by an out of control jeep?
Or mauled by a lion and now in his tum?
Or killed Cliffy and now on the run?
Tomorrow I’ll resort to old fashioned mail
With a stamp and an envelope and the pace of a snail
What’s going on in the goopy green swamp?
Can you hear a hungry hippo going stomp?
Are you singing with the birds in morning chorus?
(Damn, I’ll have to look for a rhyme in the thesaurus)
Are you creeping through the jungle with a really big gun?
Are you having lots and lots of fun?
For heaven’s sake girl, drop me a bone
Better yet, pick up the goddamn phone!
Bloody Hell!
They say things happen not in twos but in threes
Now this very fate has cut me off at the knees
At the risk of sounding totally paranoid
I’m beginning to get really annoyed
It appears someone has been at it again
Pilfering drawers with complete disdain
While I do not mourn the loss of Duran Duran
If we were in Saudi they would cut off your hand
However when it comes to my new Verve CD
I have to send out a truly heartfelt plea
Please please return it to me!
I understand the desire to listen to the Verve
But to nick from me takes a hell of a lot of nerve
As for Duran Duran
You can keep it, you obviously need it
You sad sad man
(or woman – so as not to be discriminatory)
Now this very fate has cut me off at the knees
At the risk of sounding totally paranoid
I’m beginning to get really annoyed
It appears someone has been at it again
Pilfering drawers with complete disdain
While I do not mourn the loss of Duran Duran
If we were in Saudi they would cut off your hand
However when it comes to my new Verve CD
I have to send out a truly heartfelt plea
Please please return it to me!
I understand the desire to listen to the Verve
But to nick from me takes a hell of a lot of nerve
As for Duran Duran
You can keep it, you obviously need it
You sad sad man
(or woman – so as not to be discriminatory)
Bonfire of the Vanities
Each month I wait with bated breath
For my Vanity Fair to arrive on my desk
And now it is gone
Please return it to me extremely post haste
Or you shall find yourself down the corridors chased
By a spitting mad vixen with bad PMS
Give it back now and we can avoid this distress
For my Vanity Fair to arrive on my desk
And now it is gone
Please return it to me extremely post haste
Or you shall find yourself down the corridors chased
By a spitting mad vixen with bad PMS
Give it back now and we can avoid this distress
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Invoices
If only I was writing with news from the bank
So you could call me with effusive thanks
As your balance shot skywards safe in the black
You could move into a mansion from your suburban shack
Alas, I send this asking for cash
For the copy I wrote for you in a flash
If I sat at your corner with a sad cardboard sign
I hope you'd throw me buck for this little rhyme
So you could call me with effusive thanks
As your balance shot skywards safe in the black
You could move into a mansion from your suburban shack
Alas, I send this asking for cash
For the copy I wrote for you in a flash
If I sat at your corner with a sad cardboard sign
I hope you'd throw me buck for this little rhyme
PC CPR
My laptop is terminally ill
I hate to harp upon this still
This morning I prepared to boot it up
And pottered off to fill my cup
Upon returning to my chair
I offered up a single prayer
To no avail the screen was black
I called IT cried “Alas, alack!”
They came, they saw, they shook their heads, they left.
I stood alone, utterly bereft
In anguish I gave it one good thump
And then the darling thing came up trumps
I have the gift of IT CPR
I brought back it to life with ne’er a scar
I copied off everything trivial and bizarre
And am checking it in to IT ER
I hate to harp upon this still
This morning I prepared to boot it up
And pottered off to fill my cup
Upon returning to my chair
I offered up a single prayer
To no avail the screen was black
I called IT cried “Alas, alack!”
They came, they saw, they shook their heads, they left.
I stood alone, utterly bereft
In anguish I gave it one good thump
And then the darling thing came up trumps
I have the gift of IT CPR
I brought back it to life with ne’er a scar
I copied off everything trivial and bizarre
And am checking it in to IT ER
The Shoe
Arriving home a strange plateau
Met my weary eyes
A single shoe laid out for show
In a large men’s size
It took centre stage in my garden green
I wondered if the owner screamed
As dogs 1 and 2 ripped off his shoe
Met my weary eyes
A single shoe laid out for show
In a large men’s size
It took centre stage in my garden green
I wondered if the owner screamed
As dogs 1 and 2 ripped off his shoe
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Green grass
Under breath mutters
Bird flutters
At the closed window
Glass cage shutters
Is the grass greener?
Get a window cleaner
Bird flutters
At the closed window
Glass cage shutters
Is the grass greener?
Get a window cleaner
Embrace
Its nightmare season
On this city street
Echoes in my ears
Pounding heart beat
Shadows loom
Head spins
Start to swoon
Running on empty
Desperately seeking
Can’t catch
That breath
Elusive air
If I manage to scream
Will anyone care?
Coins in my pocket
Nerves jangling
On the edge
Sweet sweet daylight
Chase away the demons of this night
On this city street
Echoes in my ears
Pounding heart beat
Shadows loom
Head spins
Start to swoon
Running on empty
Desperately seeking
Can’t catch
That breath
Elusive air
If I manage to scream
Will anyone care?
Coins in my pocket
Nerves jangling
On the edge
Sweet sweet daylight
Chase away the demons of this night
Monday, September 22, 2008
Oh Jessica, Oh Jessica
Explain to me this bizarre male saga
Over an actress named Jessica Alba
I call her an actress in the loosest of terms
A definition the Academy confirms
She is brainless, talentless and totally inept
But, and here’s the crux, she has really really cute breasts
Which only serves to underline
The sad sad state of the average male mind
Over an actress named Jessica Alba
I call her an actress in the loosest of terms
A definition the Academy confirms
She is brainless, talentless and totally inept
But, and here’s the crux, she has really really cute breasts
Which only serves to underline
The sad sad state of the average male mind
"Relax" said the nightman
These four walls are closing in
Each day further encroaching
On my personal space
This place is Hotel California-esque
In a manner quite grotesque
Distorted reflections through the glass
We blithely continue playing this farce
I think people are tunneling under the desks
Escaping their cubicle – quite obsessed
Others, like me, are too depressed
We’ve given up fighting and are far too stressed
If you have a comment on my campaign
Put your 10 cents in the jar and move away
Each day further encroaching
On my personal space
This place is Hotel California-esque
In a manner quite grotesque
Distorted reflections through the glass
We blithely continue playing this farce
I think people are tunneling under the desks
Escaping their cubicle – quite obsessed
Others, like me, are too depressed
We’ve given up fighting and are far too stressed
If you have a comment on my campaign
Put your 10 cents in the jar and move away
Los desaparecidos
Where are you?
Swallowed up in the deep dark
Los desaparecidos
Missing, I presume
The silence creeps
Insidious scenarios
Breed in the hours before dawn
That dank tunnel calls
A belly black descent
There is no turning back
To seek that pinprick of light
Casting a giant shadow show
Against the walls
It’s cold in here
Echoes of my heartbeat
Footfall
A ghostly chase
At a dismal crawl
Relative time
Warps continuity
Do you hear me?
Do you miss me?
Swallowed up in the deep dark
Los desaparecidos
Missing, I presume
The silence creeps
Insidious scenarios
Breed in the hours before dawn
That dank tunnel calls
A belly black descent
There is no turning back
To seek that pinprick of light
Casting a giant shadow show
Against the walls
It’s cold in here
Echoes of my heartbeat
Footfall
A ghostly chase
At a dismal crawl
Relative time
Warps continuity
Do you hear me?
Do you miss me?
On PMS and Werewolves
The black dog throws back his heavy head and howls
Festoons of saliva drip from his jowls
Insatiable hunger pangs crippling agony
He’s on the move and stalking me
I crawl in the wet dank undergrowth
Stifle a quickly muttered oath
My scent too strong to miss
Wait for that final hot breathy kiss
No wagging tail, no dog this
No childhood memory to reminisce
Bide my time, this to shall pass
Not the first time, not the last
Festoons of saliva drip from his jowls
Insatiable hunger pangs crippling agony
He’s on the move and stalking me
I crawl in the wet dank undergrowth
Stifle a quickly muttered oath
My scent too strong to miss
Wait for that final hot breathy kiss
No wagging tail, no dog this
No childhood memory to reminisce
Bide my time, this to shall pass
Not the first time, not the last
Friday, September 19, 2008
I wanna be a Cowboy baby!
If I'd been a 1920s flapper
I'd have made a pretty hot slapper
If I'd been born in 1960
I'd probably have been a hippie
With flowers in my hair
Staging sit-ins in some square
But I am a boomer baby
I survived the 1980s
I play loud music unapologetically
And dress (well - and this is what my friends say) eclectically
When I grew up I wanted legitimate employ
Dammit I wish I'd been a cowboy!
Aspirin grows on trees
Flowers and trees get stressed out too
Let’s keep it between me and you
Blinding migraines, panic attacks
Terrible paranoia of a chopping axe
Popping pills is not a wholly human foible
Plants take them too when things get unbearable
They go one step further and make their own
A pharmaceutical lab in their very own home
The BBC says they make their own aspirin
I wonder if they make their own Valium
Three legged race
Tightly wound
Need to unwind
Not my fate
As I now find...
Small boy aged six
Must be at school
So early I deem it to be cruel
And unusual punishment
I hated sports day in my time
Jolly hockey stocks etc.
Beaten down in my youthful prime
I ran the three-legged race
With the tallest girl who ever graced
The playing field
Bear in mind that I was 3 foot three
I barely came up to her knee
We never made it past the start
Or get the bloody knots apart
The saga is not yet complete
While watching older son compete
Younger son must get in the saddle
I think I’m up the creek without a paddle
Once reunited we must race
To their father’s work family day
On Sunday there’s another party
At which I must be hale and hearty
I shall have to don my uber woman mask
And embrace my ability to multi-task
A day of silence
A day of silence
Savour the quiet
A voice stilled
The space filled
With colour
Whispers in the wind
The tales of tall old trees
Cicadas playing violin
Birds flying on the breeze
Sultry summer days are coming
The earth crying out in thirst
We watch the clouds scudding by
Waiting for that pregnant burst
And hot hard drops of rain to fall
Plop, a pause, Plop, another …
Then all at once the curtain falls
And the dance begins
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Many Happy Returns
A pyre of flame
A crowd of people singing my name
Take a breath
And make a thousand secret wishes
Candy and chips load up the dishes
She wants a fancy cake
Ice cream and magic shapes
She wants a Princess encased in cream
More presents than she ever dreamed
Streamers, balloons and a musty smelling clown
Guaranteed to turn a frown upside down
Small girl stands face contorted with fear
She cannot extinguish all the fire
Face burning bright to the laughter of her peers
How many boyfriends does she have this year?
These days I hold my breath to see
If a lover is waiting in the wings for me
Pretend that’s it’s not such a dig deal
Don’t really want the whole birthday spiel
But, that small girl inside these womanly curves
Still deserves to be a Queen for a day
And invite her friends to come and play
Another year older and deeper in debt
Light up another cheap cigarette
A crowd of people singing my name
Take a breath
And make a thousand secret wishes
Candy and chips load up the dishes
She wants a fancy cake
Ice cream and magic shapes
She wants a Princess encased in cream
More presents than she ever dreamed
Streamers, balloons and a musty smelling clown
Guaranteed to turn a frown upside down
Small girl stands face contorted with fear
She cannot extinguish all the fire
Face burning bright to the laughter of her peers
How many boyfriends does she have this year?
These days I hold my breath to see
If a lover is waiting in the wings for me
Pretend that’s it’s not such a dig deal
Don’t really want the whole birthday spiel
But, that small girl inside these womanly curves
Still deserves to be a Queen for a day
And invite her friends to come and play
Another year older and deeper in debt
Light up another cheap cigarette
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Warrior
America home of the National Guard
America Warrior
Patriot and proud
Makes me shed a tear
For the boys of yesteryear
In my motherland
Stood gun in hand
We denied they were ever there
Now who are they?
Defending what?
I know not one single man
Who would lay down their life for this land
America Warrior
Patriot and proud
Makes me shed a tear
For the boys of yesteryear
In my motherland
Stood gun in hand
We denied they were ever there
Now who are they?
Defending what?
I know not one single man
Who would lay down their life for this land
To Sam in lieu of a brief cont.
I am plagued by an indescribable sense of loss
Your faces confined to memory
Where are you now?
Have you forgotten us?
Warren, do you remember days gone by
You'd stop past us with an easy smile
We wait breath bated to see you again
Brief in hand - and a short work potent while
To make things pretty
On Carnival City
Sam, I've struck out on Lucky Strike
But I just might have a Super Light
With your name on it
Maybe you can come down
In a little bit?
Your faces confined to memory
Where are you now?
Have you forgotten us?
Warren, do you remember days gone by
You'd stop past us with an easy smile
We wait breath bated to see you again
Brief in hand - and a short work potent while
To make things pretty
On Carnival City
Sam, I've struck out on Lucky Strike
But I just might have a Super Light
With your name on it
Maybe you can come down
In a little bit?
Divine
Call it karma
Divine retribution
When opportunity knocks
Remember when
You stabbed me
Right between the shoulder blades
With your power hungry mania
When you stole my spirit
In broad daylight
A smile upon your lips
A scorpion to my frog
The tide has turned
Old friend
This time it seems
I am on top
Divine retribution
When opportunity knocks
Remember when
You stabbed me
Right between the shoulder blades
With your power hungry mania
When you stole my spirit
In broad daylight
A smile upon your lips
A scorpion to my frog
The tide has turned
Old friend
This time it seems
I am on top
To Marais in the spirit of post-rationalisation
My words of wisdom
Pearls before swine
Place them in the layout
And don't start to whine
I know they are long winded
Bullshit artistry
All about living positively
Yet keep your counsel to yourself
And put your comments on the shelf
When you're finished this job completely
Perhaps you will make me another cup of tea?
Pearls before swine
Place them in the layout
And don't start to whine
I know they are long winded
Bullshit artistry
All about living positively
Yet keep your counsel to yourself
And put your comments on the shelf
When you're finished this job completely
Perhaps you will make me another cup of tea?
To Sam in lieu of a brief
I can't wait to work on Carnival City
Which makes it all the more a pity
That I sit at my desk without a brief
It almosts makes me cry with grief
If you send me one by tomorrow morning
I can give Marais ample warning
To create something magical
To hold MVGs everywhere in thrall
And if you come down Traffic to provoke
Perhaps we could share a quick smoke?
Which makes it all the more a pity
That I sit at my desk without a brief
It almosts makes me cry with grief
If you send me one by tomorrow morning
I can give Marais ample warning
To create something magical
To hold MVGs everywhere in thrall
And if you come down Traffic to provoke
Perhaps we could share a quick smoke?
Monday, September 15, 2008
Moonlit
I awoke on this
The first day
Looking like Medusa
On a good day
Painted on lips
Long black lashes
Fluttery for flattery
Cosmetic touches
Keep this girl
From Monday’s clutches
These late nights
Moon lit
Paid off
Just a little bit
Little rhymes
Sent etherwise
An unexpected
Windfall
Surprise
Surprise
The first day
Looking like Medusa
On a good day
Painted on lips
Long black lashes
Fluttery for flattery
Cosmetic touches
Keep this girl
From Monday’s clutches
These late nights
Moon lit
Paid off
Just a little bit
Little rhymes
Sent etherwise
An unexpected
Windfall
Surprise
Surprise
Weekend Murmurs
Friday night
A door slams
A fright
A jump
A guilty face
Did I interrupt a tête-à -tête?
An office bound flirtation
Out of hand
A glass too many
And la la land
A bucket clasped to breast
He leads her to an early rest
I shudder now to try and think
How her head must ache
From too much drink
Saturday dawned
Too bright
And too early
But the promise of a bluebird song
Hurried small feet along
And we rode in the soft summer morning
A stallion neighed without warning
A small boy’s smile near split the sky
A moment of joy money cannot buy
Sunday
Lazy day
To the beat of a bongo drum
Played by a Rastafarian
We swung gently
under the tall tall trees
Rocked to sleep by voices
murmuring on the breeze
A catch of conversation
Between a mother and a son
The question of fraternal duty
To ensure his sister’s chastity
When masculine temptation calls
Small boy just smiles and quietly states,
“Mum, I’ll kick him in the balls!”
I train them young
And keep them keen
She’ll stay untouched until 18
A door slams
A fright
A jump
A guilty face
Did I interrupt a tête-à -tête?
An office bound flirtation
Out of hand
A glass too many
And la la land
A bucket clasped to breast
He leads her to an early rest
I shudder now to try and think
How her head must ache
From too much drink
Saturday dawned
Too bright
And too early
But the promise of a bluebird song
Hurried small feet along
And we rode in the soft summer morning
A stallion neighed without warning
A small boy’s smile near split the sky
A moment of joy money cannot buy
Sunday
Lazy day
To the beat of a bongo drum
Played by a Rastafarian
We swung gently
under the tall tall trees
Rocked to sleep by voices
murmuring on the breeze
A catch of conversation
Between a mother and a son
The question of fraternal duty
To ensure his sister’s chastity
When masculine temptation calls
Small boy just smiles and quietly states,
“Mum, I’ll kick him in the balls!”
I train them young
And keep them keen
She’ll stay untouched until 18
Friday, September 12, 2008
Annual Appraisals
It’s that pucker up time
of year
When the only words to pass your lips are
“Yes sir”
When your tongue bleeds bitten
hot liquid drops
of unspoken words
Leaving a bitter taste
Soft feathers of wings clipped
Fall in a soft storm to the floor
Eyes shut tight
As you take more
Punishment
Golden silence reigns supreme
Mute you stand and scream
Daring to believe
It might be worth it
To simply stand and take it
of year
When the only words to pass your lips are
“Yes sir”
When your tongue bleeds bitten
hot liquid drops
of unspoken words
Leaving a bitter taste
Soft feathers of wings clipped
Fall in a soft storm to the floor
Eyes shut tight
As you take more
Punishment
Golden silence reigns supreme
Mute you stand and scream
Daring to believe
It might be worth it
To simply stand and take it
Hang Dog
On Monday morning bright and early
A new traffic lady, I’ll her Shirley
Which is not her real name
I wouldn’t like to name and shame
By Wednesday afternoon she
had endeared herself to few
She yelled across the studio “Hey you!”
When at last someone yelled back
Her veneer summarily began to crack
On Thursday morning in our email box
We found a missive full of shocks
Shirley went AWOL or MIA
Wednesday was her very last day
The consequences have been dire
She’s left her teams deep in the mire
They’ve spent the week immersed in Facebook
Without any work at which to look
However, and here’s comes the thing
She never told them anything
Now there they sit on a giant backlog
With faces well described as hangdog
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Flight of Fancy
I left my words
Underneath the stars
The sky and sun
Now they’ve become
One with the world
And the stories they told
Have aged and weathered
Turned and blossomed
Into young green leaves
The sweet spring wind
Whispers the tales and verse
To the bees and the birds
Shhh child
Be quiet and still
Let them take you on a flight of fancy
Underneath the stars
The sky and sun
Now they’ve become
One with the world
And the stories they told
Have aged and weathered
Turned and blossomed
Into young green leaves
The sweet spring wind
Whispers the tales and verse
To the bees and the birds
Shhh child
Be quiet and still
Let them take you on a flight of fancy
Small Boy
Small boy aged six
Is upping sticks
And moving out of the house
He’s going to live in a tent out back
And creep back
Mouse quiet
In the dark
Or when Ben 10 is going through his paces
Or he needs a cuddle
And help tying his laces
Is upping sticks
And moving out of the house
He’s going to live in a tent out back
And creep back
Mouse quiet
In the dark
Or when Ben 10 is going through his paces
Or he needs a cuddle
And help tying his laces
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Random Acts of Kindness
A quantum physics moment
A casual spark
between strangers transforms
the dark
of a day of madness
Some small random act of kindness
We sat bumper to bumper
I let you squeeze in
You blew me a kiss
And gave a cheeky little grin
I don’t know your name
But I know who you are
And I thank you for that moment
While I sat there in my car
A casual spark
between strangers transforms
the dark
of a day of madness
Some small random act of kindness
We sat bumper to bumper
I let you squeeze in
You blew me a kiss
And gave a cheeky little grin
I don’t know your name
But I know who you are
And I thank you for that moment
While I sat there in my car
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Action Man
The fragile political hierarchy
Between client and crew and agency
Befuddles me
Client speaks to agency sotto voice
Agency to director in due course
Director to crew – do not interfere
Do not speak too loud or stand too near
Get a Grip on yourself
Set the scene
Mask the lights
Got Speed
Freak
And Action
Man
The Big Mac
We stand
Our ground
As the heavens weep
And the earth trembles
To hear him speak
Behold my children, behold!
For one walks among you now so bold
Who runs with the lion and hunts the dawn
A voice thunders in the dark waterfall of night
A solitary birdsong a herald to the light
Between client and crew and agency
Befuddles me
Client speaks to agency sotto voice
Agency to director in due course
Director to crew – do not interfere
Do not speak too loud or stand too near
Get a Grip on yourself
Set the scene
Mask the lights
Got Speed
Freak
And Action
Man
The Big Mac
We stand
Our ground
As the heavens weep
And the earth trembles
To hear him speak
Behold my children, behold!
For one walks among you now so bold
Who runs with the lion and hunts the dawn
A voice thunders in the dark waterfall of night
A solitary birdsong a herald to the light
In memoriam
She steps up onto the ledge
And never once looks down
She raises her face to the sun and the sky
Warming her skin in the clear light of dawn
In that split second she knows she could fly
Shrugs off this mortal coil
Stands up straight and strong
Spreads her mighty wings
As she takes flight
I swear I can hear the strains of angel song
And never once looks down
She raises her face to the sun and the sky
Warming her skin in the clear light of dawn
In that split second she knows she could fly
Shrugs off this mortal coil
Stands up straight and strong
Spreads her mighty wings
As she takes flight
I swear I can hear the strains of angel song
Monday, September 8, 2008
Flower Child
I spent last night sitting on the dock of the bay
Watching the tide roll away
Reminiscing ‘bout the times not so long ago
When we walked down Polk Street in San Francisco
We danced with red devils and caught the streetcars home
If home is where the heart is that’s where I want to go
It crossed my mind that I was born in wrong time for me
I see myself a flower child and a blissful happy hippie
I’d lie on the grass in the Golden Gate Park
And watch the lollipop faces streaming by
I’d build the world a brand new home and furnish it with love
I’d be sitting in the morning sun
Sitting when the evening come
Just sitting on the dock of the bay
Wasting time
Watching the tide roll away
Reminiscing ‘bout the times not so long ago
When we walked down Polk Street in San Francisco
We danced with red devils and caught the streetcars home
If home is where the heart is that’s where I want to go
It crossed my mind that I was born in wrong time for me
I see myself a flower child and a blissful happy hippie
I’d lie on the grass in the Golden Gate Park
And watch the lollipop faces streaming by
I’d build the world a brand new home and furnish it with love
I’d be sitting in the morning sun
Sitting when the evening come
Just sitting on the dock of the bay
Wasting time
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Sunday Night Tummy
It’s that time on a Sunday night
When I start thinking of turning off the light
And turning in and shutting my eyes
And hoping for a dream in which I fly
I’ve been told by a reputable source
Whom I know I can trust absolutely of course
That people stop dreaming of flying up high
When they of their creativity fall shy
It saddens my heart to think of their feet
All wrapped up in their bedroom sheet
By shutting the door on imagining
They’ve cut themselves off from the world within
I know one boy who flies every night
In between the stars so bright
He was born 4 years ago today
With the innate urge to run and play
He filled my heart with so much pride
As he took in his stride his first real horse ride
The smile on his face took my breath quite away
I know where we’ll be each and every Saturday
Wrapping torn lies strewn round my floor
And robots and transformers lying in the door
But more than the presents he found
The love from those who love having him around
The fact that knowing his mum and his dad
His grandfather, granny, grandma and granddad
His cousin, his aunties and godparents near and far
Think he is the very best boy by far
Far outweighed the red guitar for our very own super Rock Star
I’m away from the office for most of Monday
No briefs had better go astray
No car accidents or other mishaps
Better befall any one of my chaps
I’m off on a shoot and I have to say
That I am excited in a sweet childish way
Being me I did check the important facts
Like is there going to be enough delicious snacks?
Now tired inertia has truly set in
It’s time that I went and turned in
I’ve got that funny feeling deep in my tum
You get on Sunday nights that signals the end of the fun
I’ve had it since school days – do you know what I mean?
The knowledge that things are not quite as they seem
When I start thinking of turning off the light
And turning in and shutting my eyes
And hoping for a dream in which I fly
I’ve been told by a reputable source
Whom I know I can trust absolutely of course
That people stop dreaming of flying up high
When they of their creativity fall shy
It saddens my heart to think of their feet
All wrapped up in their bedroom sheet
By shutting the door on imagining
They’ve cut themselves off from the world within
I know one boy who flies every night
In between the stars so bright
He was born 4 years ago today
With the innate urge to run and play
He filled my heart with so much pride
As he took in his stride his first real horse ride
The smile on his face took my breath quite away
I know where we’ll be each and every Saturday
Wrapping torn lies strewn round my floor
And robots and transformers lying in the door
But more than the presents he found
The love from those who love having him around
The fact that knowing his mum and his dad
His grandfather, granny, grandma and granddad
His cousin, his aunties and godparents near and far
Think he is the very best boy by far
Far outweighed the red guitar for our very own super Rock Star
I’m away from the office for most of Monday
No briefs had better go astray
No car accidents or other mishaps
Better befall any one of my chaps
I’m off on a shoot and I have to say
That I am excited in a sweet childish way
Being me I did check the important facts
Like is there going to be enough delicious snacks?
Now tired inertia has truly set in
It’s time that I went and turned in
I’ve got that funny feeling deep in my tum
You get on Sunday nights that signals the end of the fun
I’ve had it since school days – do you know what I mean?
The knowledge that things are not quite as they seem
Friday, September 5, 2008
A herd of seahorse
My head is filled with bits of fluff
Cotton wool and other stuff
I stayed up until almost two
Because I had important things to do
I made an awesome robot cake
And my colleague here thought I could not bake
It’s covered with cream cheese icing in blue
And jelly tots and Smarties with absolutely none for you
A fractal, tactile symphony
It’s a mystery to me
I’m quite at sea
When it comes to post rationalizing this pretentious AV
Ignite, tonight
I just might
Spontaneously combust
Is the demographically correct poet
Literate, good looking and perfectly articulate?
I wonder if I qualify for an honorary PHD in generating bullshit?
So I’m sitting here feeling dizzy
With some marketing types in IT
In chinos, shirts and ties
Who never quite meet your eyes
I think they hide behind
Big words and catchy little anagrams
To hide the fact they really don’t understand
The animatics are fantastic
Award winning and very slick
But where is Africa catching on fire
A sure fire way to alight my ire
Now a herd of wild seahorse
Are galloping through the land
And Neptune looks on benign
His scepter in his hand
A little lost mermaid surfaces
And then dives quickly beneath
The waves, she’s no where near ready
To sacrifice her beautiful tail for a pair of human feet
While I understand the longing to waltz upon the land
Why give up the deep blue sea for an ungrateful man
So she could dance the night away
But had no voice to say
“He’s mine” and so some other girl stole him right away
And now the little mermaid has a pair of Jimmy Choos
And a handbag from Gucci so she can never loose
Her perfect composure as she stares across sea
And leaves her footprints in the sand as she
Wonders what became of her palace beneath the waves
And the pearls and pretty fishes whose company she craves
I’m taking the small boy aged 4 on an awfully big adventure
A great white steed awaits who carry will him swift and sure
I’ll carry the echo all through my life of the pure sound of his laughter
I hope his friends all liked the cake and left not a crumb
I really want to be his absolutely perfect mum
His brother aged 6 is moving out
He’s ranted and raved and had a shout
He’s going live in a tent in the backyard
I think I’ve just been handed the red card
Equivalent in small boy parenting
I’ll spend tonight in abject pleading groveling
Cotton wool and other stuff
I stayed up until almost two
Because I had important things to do
I made an awesome robot cake
And my colleague here thought I could not bake
It’s covered with cream cheese icing in blue
And jelly tots and Smarties with absolutely none for you
A fractal, tactile symphony
It’s a mystery to me
I’m quite at sea
When it comes to post rationalizing this pretentious AV
Ignite, tonight
I just might
Spontaneously combust
Is the demographically correct poet
Literate, good looking and perfectly articulate?
I wonder if I qualify for an honorary PHD in generating bullshit?
So I’m sitting here feeling dizzy
With some marketing types in IT
In chinos, shirts and ties
Who never quite meet your eyes
I think they hide behind
Big words and catchy little anagrams
To hide the fact they really don’t understand
The animatics are fantastic
Award winning and very slick
But where is Africa catching on fire
A sure fire way to alight my ire
Now a herd of wild seahorse
Are galloping through the land
And Neptune looks on benign
His scepter in his hand
A little lost mermaid surfaces
And then dives quickly beneath
The waves, she’s no where near ready
To sacrifice her beautiful tail for a pair of human feet
While I understand the longing to waltz upon the land
Why give up the deep blue sea for an ungrateful man
So she could dance the night away
But had no voice to say
“He’s mine” and so some other girl stole him right away
And now the little mermaid has a pair of Jimmy Choos
And a handbag from Gucci so she can never loose
Her perfect composure as she stares across sea
And leaves her footprints in the sand as she
Wonders what became of her palace beneath the waves
And the pearls and pretty fishes whose company she craves
I’m taking the small boy aged 4 on an awfully big adventure
A great white steed awaits who carry will him swift and sure
I’ll carry the echo all through my life of the pure sound of his laughter
I hope his friends all liked the cake and left not a crumb
I really want to be his absolutely perfect mum
His brother aged 6 is moving out
He’s ranted and raved and had a shout
He’s going live in a tent in the backyard
I think I’ve just been handed the red card
Equivalent in small boy parenting
I’ll spend tonight in abject pleading groveling
Thursday, September 4, 2008
The road to hell
Driving down the road to hell
I’m plagued with good intentions
I think this is when your friends
Are supposed to start an intervention
Basically I came to work with the purest of intents
To restrain myself from giving my art director my ten cents
Worth of copywriter creative critique
He does not really like it if I question his technique
Now the technique of teenage dating
Had not changed much in passing years
There are still notes passed in class
and broken hearted tears
The phone that never stops ringing from the time
you’ve walked in the door
They’ve chatted all day already
and now they want to talk some more!
The love letters decorated with hearts and kissing couples
That’s the kind of thing right there that gets a kid in trouble
But things would be much simpler if
as grown ups we could say, “Hello
Would you like to be my girlfriend,
please tick yes or no?”
Speaking of feet in mouths I empathise
I undertook for my 4 year old’s party to provide
Some things to eat and more to drink
A cake and sweets and what do you think
About it, if the cake was a robot, well?
I think it’s fab. Yeah really swell
Can you detect any rising panic there?
Of course I can do it, I won’t turn a hair
Which is why I must give thanks to Scott
Who has drawn me an awesome cake robot
I have been having a post-modernist discussion
About literature and poetry and a child’s imagination
How stories are woven from the magic of the air
To create a reality that is almost but not quite here
I realise what a privileged life I have led
With a father who read me poetry before I went to bed
The Highwayman and Edward Lear
Treasure Island and Edward Bear
Stories of heroes both alive and dead
Who never ever ever in the face of danger fled
And when the wind is a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees
And the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas
And the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
Then I hear the highwayman come riding, riding, riding
I hear him come riding up to the old inn door
He doesn’t live on celluloid
And cannot by any man be destroyed
For he lives in my heart and every night
He gallops through my dreams in sheer delight
I’m plagued with good intentions
I think this is when your friends
Are supposed to start an intervention
Basically I came to work with the purest of intents
To restrain myself from giving my art director my ten cents
Worth of copywriter creative critique
He does not really like it if I question his technique
Now the technique of teenage dating
Had not changed much in passing years
There are still notes passed in class
and broken hearted tears
The phone that never stops ringing from the time
you’ve walked in the door
They’ve chatted all day already
and now they want to talk some more!
The love letters decorated with hearts and kissing couples
That’s the kind of thing right there that gets a kid in trouble
But things would be much simpler if
as grown ups we could say, “Hello
Would you like to be my girlfriend,
please tick yes or no?”
Speaking of feet in mouths I empathise
I undertook for my 4 year old’s party to provide
Some things to eat and more to drink
A cake and sweets and what do you think
About it, if the cake was a robot, well?
I think it’s fab. Yeah really swell
Can you detect any rising panic there?
Of course I can do it, I won’t turn a hair
Which is why I must give thanks to Scott
Who has drawn me an awesome cake robot
I have been having a post-modernist discussion
About literature and poetry and a child’s imagination
How stories are woven from the magic of the air
To create a reality that is almost but not quite here
I realise what a privileged life I have led
With a father who read me poetry before I went to bed
The Highwayman and Edward Lear
Treasure Island and Edward Bear
Stories of heroes both alive and dead
Who never ever ever in the face of danger fled
And when the wind is a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees
And the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas
And the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
Then I hear the highwayman come riding, riding, riding
I hear him come riding up to the old inn door
He doesn’t live on celluloid
And cannot by any man be destroyed
For he lives in my heart and every night
He gallops through my dreams in sheer delight
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Betelgeuse Betelgeuse Betelgeuse
The Energizer Bunny is practicing his drum roll
Inside the confines of my head
I don’t mean to be a party pooper
But I wish he’d go somewhere else instead
The rhythmic pounding of his drum beat
And the pitter patter of his little rabbit feet
Are driving me completely out of my mind
I think its punishment for the gig I declined
Some American Indian tribe
Who probably on magic mushrooms imbibe
Said that one should only speak
When one had something important to say
If I followed that rule I’d be silent all day
Still there’s a lesson in there somewhere I’m sure
Not to waste words that will never be heard
There are times when it’s better to commit to the wind
One’s practiced laments at someone else’s sins
How high one’s horse is, is a matter of perspective
And hardly one that you could call objective
My 16 hand Arabian stallion
May only appear as some Shetland pony rapscallion
Aside from which I’m a lousy jockey
Better suited to playing hockey
I’ve reading a list of what constitutes the perfect man
I think the whole thing is a bit of a sham
I’ll take a bet it was written late one boozy night
After some chick had been in fight
There’s a response too from a misguided guy
Who could patent his particular bunch of creepy pick up lines
A word to the wise, don’t grab her ass
Or make some bigoted asinine remark
Or rabbit on endlessly about your car
How much money you make
And how you once met some star
She couldn’t care less or about as much you
Care about the fact she’s wearing Jimmy Choos
God, I’m hungry I can’t even think
About what type of guys Peroni drink
The thing about free food is this
You have to wait around for it
Then queue in line and hand over your ticket
It reminds me of Betelgeuse in the waiting room
Between the after-life and the recently occupied tomb
“Hey Vix, can you quickly give me a line?
The deadline’s at 3 and I’m running out of time”
Sure thing, but it works quid pro quo
Can you whip me up a design before you go?
Oh yeah and Milo over there was just thinking
If I had a headline or some body copy writing
We could stick it over there where it won’t get in the way
I guess its not like anyone’s gonna read it anyway
So yes I am feeling put upon and completely secondary
Post rationalizing designs and feeling contrary
I’d just like another semantically minded person
To give me some well deserved consolation
A sudden flash of memory
Just crept up upon me
One of those funny little moments
That pepper the life of parents
One boy of 6, one boy of 4
A girl of 2, need I say more?
Each has a DVD safely in his or her paw
All of which apparently made it in the door
The girl has hers; she’s kept it in sight
She wants to watch Barbie tonight
The boys don’t have the faintest clue
Did I have it? No did you?
I line them up and patiently trace
The steps they took to reach this place
Exasperated I berate the boy of 4 with these words of truth
A 2 year old girl kept hers safe, why can’t you?
He shrugged and gave me the smile I so enjoy
“I don’t know,” he says, “’cause I’m a boy?”
Inside the confines of my head
I don’t mean to be a party pooper
But I wish he’d go somewhere else instead
The rhythmic pounding of his drum beat
And the pitter patter of his little rabbit feet
Are driving me completely out of my mind
I think its punishment for the gig I declined
Some American Indian tribe
Who probably on magic mushrooms imbibe
Said that one should only speak
When one had something important to say
If I followed that rule I’d be silent all day
Still there’s a lesson in there somewhere I’m sure
Not to waste words that will never be heard
There are times when it’s better to commit to the wind
One’s practiced laments at someone else’s sins
How high one’s horse is, is a matter of perspective
And hardly one that you could call objective
My 16 hand Arabian stallion
May only appear as some Shetland pony rapscallion
Aside from which I’m a lousy jockey
Better suited to playing hockey
I’ve reading a list of what constitutes the perfect man
I think the whole thing is a bit of a sham
I’ll take a bet it was written late one boozy night
After some chick had been in fight
There’s a response too from a misguided guy
Who could patent his particular bunch of creepy pick up lines
A word to the wise, don’t grab her ass
Or make some bigoted asinine remark
Or rabbit on endlessly about your car
How much money you make
And how you once met some star
She couldn’t care less or about as much you
Care about the fact she’s wearing Jimmy Choos
God, I’m hungry I can’t even think
About what type of guys Peroni drink
The thing about free food is this
You have to wait around for it
Then queue in line and hand over your ticket
It reminds me of Betelgeuse in the waiting room
Between the after-life and the recently occupied tomb
“Hey Vix, can you quickly give me a line?
The deadline’s at 3 and I’m running out of time”
Sure thing, but it works quid pro quo
Can you whip me up a design before you go?
Oh yeah and Milo over there was just thinking
If I had a headline or some body copy writing
We could stick it over there where it won’t get in the way
I guess its not like anyone’s gonna read it anyway
So yes I am feeling put upon and completely secondary
Post rationalizing designs and feeling contrary
I’d just like another semantically minded person
To give me some well deserved consolation
A sudden flash of memory
Just crept up upon me
One of those funny little moments
That pepper the life of parents
One boy of 6, one boy of 4
A girl of 2, need I say more?
Each has a DVD safely in his or her paw
All of which apparently made it in the door
The girl has hers; she’s kept it in sight
She wants to watch Barbie tonight
The boys don’t have the faintest clue
Did I have it? No did you?
I line them up and patiently trace
The steps they took to reach this place
Exasperated I berate the boy of 4 with these words of truth
A 2 year old girl kept hers safe, why can’t you?
He shrugged and gave me the smile I so enjoy
“I don’t know,” he says, “’cause I’m a boy?”
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Beware the Jabberwock, my son
Sun came up on Tuesday morning
Hit me right in the eye without any preemptory warning
My car needs to go into ICU
To pay for the damage I’ll probably write an IOU
The email’s not working and IT won’t answer calls
They’ve stuck up a disclaimer on all the restroom walls
Sadly my biggest problem has nothing to do with mail
I’ve encountered a critical error and my PC is about to fail
Of course everyone of you who uses Apple Mac
Will be gearing up at this point for another PC attack
I beg you save it for another day
I’m not in the mood for sharp word play
The bathing ape is biding his time
Our problem child client had committed the ultimate crime
Against creativity and all things bright and beautiful
Despite all that whatever he does will turn out truly wonderful
I know he feels that his integrity has been brought into question
But now is perhaps the time to exercise discretion
Let’s make the client happy so they will go away
And come back to worry us again on some other distant day
(I’m trying not to smoke another cigarette
I don’t think its working and I’ll succumb I bet
Out of sheer frustration and general ennui
What more can you expect from a member of the bourgeoisie?)
I feel a bit like Alice falling down the rabbit hole
Veering off the straight narrow and losing my control
I cannot figure out if I should be big or small
Can I enter Wonderland or am I just too tall?
I know that I am very late for a very important date
I quite expect the Queen of Hearts me shortly to berate
I wouldn’t like to be beheaded or to have to play croquet
It’s hardly a game in which I am au fait
But I wouldn’t mind a stroll with the walrus down the beach
I’m sure he and the carpenter have a lot that they could teach
A girl like me who’s wandering off the beaten track
Or I could join the Mad Hatter for a little teatime snack
It doesn’t really matter what size I am it seems
After all I’m only a figment of the Red King’s happy dreams
Have you ever watched a lion sleeping in the sun
Ignoring the playful advances of his son
The sheer inertness of the feline form
The enjoyment of a full bodied yawn
The stretch that starts at his very toes
And moves muscle by muscle to the tip of his nose?
I want to snooze in the sun like an African king
Instead of sitting at a desk pretending to be working
Hit me right in the eye without any preemptory warning
My car needs to go into ICU
To pay for the damage I’ll probably write an IOU
The email’s not working and IT won’t answer calls
They’ve stuck up a disclaimer on all the restroom walls
Sadly my biggest problem has nothing to do with mail
I’ve encountered a critical error and my PC is about to fail
Of course everyone of you who uses Apple Mac
Will be gearing up at this point for another PC attack
I beg you save it for another day
I’m not in the mood for sharp word play
The bathing ape is biding his time
Our problem child client had committed the ultimate crime
Against creativity and all things bright and beautiful
Despite all that whatever he does will turn out truly wonderful
I know he feels that his integrity has been brought into question
But now is perhaps the time to exercise discretion
Let’s make the client happy so they will go away
And come back to worry us again on some other distant day
(I’m trying not to smoke another cigarette
I don’t think its working and I’ll succumb I bet
Out of sheer frustration and general ennui
What more can you expect from a member of the bourgeoisie?)
I feel a bit like Alice falling down the rabbit hole
Veering off the straight narrow and losing my control
I cannot figure out if I should be big or small
Can I enter Wonderland or am I just too tall?
I know that I am very late for a very important date
I quite expect the Queen of Hearts me shortly to berate
I wouldn’t like to be beheaded or to have to play croquet
It’s hardly a game in which I am au fait
But I wouldn’t mind a stroll with the walrus down the beach
I’m sure he and the carpenter have a lot that they could teach
A girl like me who’s wandering off the beaten track
Or I could join the Mad Hatter for a little teatime snack
It doesn’t really matter what size I am it seems
After all I’m only a figment of the Red King’s happy dreams
Have you ever watched a lion sleeping in the sun
Ignoring the playful advances of his son
The sheer inertness of the feline form
The enjoyment of a full bodied yawn
The stretch that starts at his very toes
And moves muscle by muscle to the tip of his nose?
I want to snooze in the sun like an African king
Instead of sitting at a desk pretending to be working
Monday, September 1, 2008
The Look
In the thick of a seedy pool hall
It’s not about luck at all
It’s in the way you walk on through
The casual way you chalk your cue
The practiced way your rack the set
And the smile you give as you accept the bet
It’s in the way you shrug and say
“I really don’t think it’s my lucky day!”
It comes down to the way you approach the break
Your calm steady gaze as you make
The shot and the manner in which
You calmly dismiss the competition
It’s our long standing pool playing tradition
The act of coolly psyching out
The opposition, leaving them without a doubt
That they don’ t have a hope in hell
Of playing even vaguely well
So Jules and I we raised some hell
We played pool divinely well
We accepted the challenge with a smile
From some gentlemen totally without guile
We beat them fair and square
With our particular brand of flair
And left them standing at the table
Totally unable to show
The damage to the male ego
The following morning I had to go
To the birthday party as I told you so
My head felt like a helium balloon
Floating somewhere up near the moon
I smiled politely at all and sundry
And downed fresh orange juice with glee
I spent the rest of the day in bed
Nursing a very very poor sore head!
On Friday, my BodyTalk therapist mentioned detox in offhand tones
It didn't communicate feeling ill to my bones
I spent most of the weekend sick in bed
Feeling horrible from my toes right up to my head
I threw up and lay down and then did it again
Doubled up with excruciating stomach pain
I'm still reeling a little from the after effects
A little like suffering vertigo if you’re a tyrannosaurus rex
Luke’s turning 4 as I think I’ve said
And I’ve avoided a party this year, instead
We’re taking the Gang to Buddy Bear
To make their own best friend forever
I hope I get the invites out in time
Or I’ll be a Mum cut down in her prime!
I got a little something to put a spring in my step
For spring day a fabulous strawberry punnet
The peacock’s been getting into the spirit of things
Parading his tail feathers and puffing out his wings
The pea hen doesn’t seem so keen
I think she likes to keep him mean
Aside from which it’s cold outside
Especially for a child bride
I realise that my cigarette addiction
Is more than a physical affliction
I smoke because I’m bored
Because for 10 minutes I’m assured
Of something to do and someone to chat to
Of getting some sun and some fresh air
Imagining what I would buy if I were a millionaire
So I succumbed and had a puff
Only to realise that I’ve had enough
Of tobacco breath and that queasy feeling
Now I’ll spend the next week climbing the ceiling
Marias should count his blessings one to ten
That I don’t have PMS and hate all men
He needs to start watching his choice of words
When describing chicks, girls and birds
Actually it’s just me he’s out to offend
Or simply put, to drive me round the bend
I think it’s time I put my status into play
And delegate some work his way
He’ll need to love me then I think
Especially if he plans to have a drink
At the bar when it opens at 4
I have the power to shut the door
On those aspirations and call the CD
To turn Marais into a very very busy little bee
It’s not about luck at all
It’s in the way you walk on through
The casual way you chalk your cue
The practiced way your rack the set
And the smile you give as you accept the bet
It’s in the way you shrug and say
“I really don’t think it’s my lucky day!”
It comes down to the way you approach the break
Your calm steady gaze as you make
The shot and the manner in which
You calmly dismiss the competition
It’s our long standing pool playing tradition
The act of coolly psyching out
The opposition, leaving them without a doubt
That they don’ t have a hope in hell
Of playing even vaguely well
So Jules and I we raised some hell
We played pool divinely well
We accepted the challenge with a smile
From some gentlemen totally without guile
We beat them fair and square
With our particular brand of flair
And left them standing at the table
Totally unable to show
The damage to the male ego
The following morning I had to go
To the birthday party as I told you so
My head felt like a helium balloon
Floating somewhere up near the moon
I smiled politely at all and sundry
And downed fresh orange juice with glee
I spent the rest of the day in bed
Nursing a very very poor sore head!
On Friday, my BodyTalk therapist mentioned detox in offhand tones
It didn't communicate feeling ill to my bones
I spent most of the weekend sick in bed
Feeling horrible from my toes right up to my head
I threw up and lay down and then did it again
Doubled up with excruciating stomach pain
I'm still reeling a little from the after effects
A little like suffering vertigo if you’re a tyrannosaurus rex
Luke’s turning 4 as I think I’ve said
And I’ve avoided a party this year, instead
We’re taking the Gang to Buddy Bear
To make their own best friend forever
I hope I get the invites out in time
Or I’ll be a Mum cut down in her prime!
I got a little something to put a spring in my step
For spring day a fabulous strawberry punnet
The peacock’s been getting into the spirit of things
Parading his tail feathers and puffing out his wings
The pea hen doesn’t seem so keen
I think she likes to keep him mean
Aside from which it’s cold outside
Especially for a child bride
I realise that my cigarette addiction
Is more than a physical affliction
I smoke because I’m bored
Because for 10 minutes I’m assured
Of something to do and someone to chat to
Of getting some sun and some fresh air
Imagining what I would buy if I were a millionaire
So I succumbed and had a puff
Only to realise that I’ve had enough
Of tobacco breath and that queasy feeling
Now I’ll spend the next week climbing the ceiling
Marias should count his blessings one to ten
That I don’t have PMS and hate all men
He needs to start watching his choice of words
When describing chicks, girls and birds
Actually it’s just me he’s out to offend
Or simply put, to drive me round the bend
I think it’s time I put my status into play
And delegate some work his way
He’ll need to love me then I think
Especially if he plans to have a drink
At the bar when it opens at 4
I have the power to shut the door
On those aspirations and call the CD
To turn Marais into a very very busy little bee
Friday, August 29, 2008
Columbine
Although I’ve taken serious measures in my kids’ music education
I am encountering a high degree of immense frustration
Not liking Led Zeppelin is simply not an option
They simply transcend personal opinion
Jim Morrison is another case in point
Where my six year old’s reaction was designed to disappoint
His music tastes seem more to lie
Somewhere around nineteen eighty nine
My team is going off for an extended creative lunch
I am struggling to repress the uneasy hunch
That it will once again be postponed
Or despite a collective saddened moan
We’ll have to come back before going home
I will not entertain such a gloomy outlook
I’m going to call the restaurant to book
A table for 5 and if we get out of here alive
Then we’ll order a round of Tequila or two
Bugger! I knew it was too good to be true!
I’ve just been told not to hold my hopes high
That my CD is in all likelihood going to spit in my eye
I’ve asked my team to remain at large
Until I’ve chatted to the man in charge
If lunch is out we’re going on strike
Like every other industry and demand some rights!
Barring that I’ll go postal and do a Columbine
And send the powers that be off to meet with the Divine
I’m off tomorrow morning to another birthday party
With another cake decorated with over a thousand Smarties
And small six year old children running riot everywhere
By ten o’clock I’ll be tearing out my hair
From the sheer effort to make polite conversation
While praying piously for some salvation
It brings to mind my mother who always had a friend
With a child just my age so mature must intend
For us to be best pals and play along just so
When in fact we loathed each other and couldn’t wait to go
You see I am so happy that my son has found a gang
But I cannot comprehend I that would make me want to hang
Out with their parents and try desperately to pretend
That because my son likes theirs we are now best friends
I will hopefully find Teresa who tends to boycott these occasions
And have a clandestine cigarette and plan evasive action
I spent year selling this beloved country
Before I almost committed hari kiri
But the brief hiatus I have been experiencing
Went up in smoke sometime last evening
I’ve received three briefs on the very same issue
All totally different and making reach for a tissue
To wipe away the tears caused by the bubbling swells of hysteria
That threaten to form a Tsunami like disaster area
The outcome of this afternoon’s excursion
Is that we shall undertake a little subversion
Come quarter to one we pack up our stuff
Say not a word and disappear in a puff
Of proverbial smoke to order that Tequila
Or perhaps a frozen strawberry Margherita!
I am encountering a high degree of immense frustration
Not liking Led Zeppelin is simply not an option
They simply transcend personal opinion
Jim Morrison is another case in point
Where my six year old’s reaction was designed to disappoint
His music tastes seem more to lie
Somewhere around nineteen eighty nine
My team is going off for an extended creative lunch
I am struggling to repress the uneasy hunch
That it will once again be postponed
Or despite a collective saddened moan
We’ll have to come back before going home
I will not entertain such a gloomy outlook
I’m going to call the restaurant to book
A table for 5 and if we get out of here alive
Then we’ll order a round of Tequila or two
Bugger! I knew it was too good to be true!
I’ve just been told not to hold my hopes high
That my CD is in all likelihood going to spit in my eye
I’ve asked my team to remain at large
Until I’ve chatted to the man in charge
If lunch is out we’re going on strike
Like every other industry and demand some rights!
Barring that I’ll go postal and do a Columbine
And send the powers that be off to meet with the Divine
I’m off tomorrow morning to another birthday party
With another cake decorated with over a thousand Smarties
And small six year old children running riot everywhere
By ten o’clock I’ll be tearing out my hair
From the sheer effort to make polite conversation
While praying piously for some salvation
It brings to mind my mother who always had a friend
With a child just my age so mature must intend
For us to be best pals and play along just so
When in fact we loathed each other and couldn’t wait to go
You see I am so happy that my son has found a gang
But I cannot comprehend I that would make me want to hang
Out with their parents and try desperately to pretend
That because my son likes theirs we are now best friends
I will hopefully find Teresa who tends to boycott these occasions
And have a clandestine cigarette and plan evasive action
I spent year selling this beloved country
Before I almost committed hari kiri
But the brief hiatus I have been experiencing
Went up in smoke sometime last evening
I’ve received three briefs on the very same issue
All totally different and making reach for a tissue
To wipe away the tears caused by the bubbling swells of hysteria
That threaten to form a Tsunami like disaster area
The outcome of this afternoon’s excursion
Is that we shall undertake a little subversion
Come quarter to one we pack up our stuff
Say not a word and disappear in a puff
Of proverbial smoke to order that Tequila
Or perhaps a frozen strawberry Margherita!
Thursday, August 28, 2008
When I grow up
Do you remember being small
Standing on a chair to make you tall
Enough to reach the cookie jar
So far away it may as well have been hidden on a star?
Do you remember what it was you wanted to be
When you were all grown up and no longer knee
high to grasshopper? When you could be anything
From a doctor to a pilot or a lion trainer in the ring?
I wonder how many of us became
The type of people we played in that game?
And how many of us kept those dreams to ourselves
And boxed them away in the topmost dusty shelves
To take down and open when everyone is asleep
And imagine what we could have been if we’d just taken a leap
Of faith and dared to fail
Or blaze a star studded glittering trail
Across the sky
I fear it takes a braver woman than I
Standing on a chair to make you tall
Enough to reach the cookie jar
So far away it may as well have been hidden on a star?
Do you remember what it was you wanted to be
When you were all grown up and no longer knee
high to grasshopper? When you could be anything
From a doctor to a pilot or a lion trainer in the ring?
I wonder how many of us became
The type of people we played in that game?
And how many of us kept those dreams to ourselves
And boxed them away in the topmost dusty shelves
To take down and open when everyone is asleep
And imagine what we could have been if we’d just taken a leap
Of faith and dared to fail
Or blaze a star studded glittering trail
Across the sky
I fear it takes a braver woman than I
Pixie Dust
You know that absolutely amazing feeling
As your feet lift off the floor and your head touches the ceiling?
The cold night air against your face
And an eagle who challenges you to a race
Flying loop di loops around the stars
And soaring on wings that once were arms
He says that grown ups can’t fly in their dreams
I can’t find the words for how sad that seems
At least it means I’m still a child yippee!
For I love to skim the tops of the trees
And see the city lights far far below me
To dive into clouds and ride the night wind
And wake up in the morning with a wide wide wide grin.
I’m sorry if you can no longer fly
Perhaps if you gave it one more try?
Remember what Peter Pan said
And put happy thoughts into your head
Then all you need is faith and trust
And a little bit of pixie dust
As your feet lift off the floor and your head touches the ceiling?
The cold night air against your face
And an eagle who challenges you to a race
Flying loop di loops around the stars
And soaring on wings that once were arms
He says that grown ups can’t fly in their dreams
I can’t find the words for how sad that seems
At least it means I’m still a child yippee!
For I love to skim the tops of the trees
And see the city lights far far below me
To dive into clouds and ride the night wind
And wake up in the morning with a wide wide wide grin.
I’m sorry if you can no longer fly
Perhaps if you gave it one more try?
Remember what Peter Pan said
And put happy thoughts into your head
Then all you need is faith and trust
And a little bit of pixie dust
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Moving On
I’ve cheered up now quite a bit
Got over this morning’s earlier snit
Which is why when asked to fill in
yet another appraisal form
I was filled with glowing praise
for my the way my colleague performs
The kind where boys are men and lovely young ladies swoon
I don’t imagine it will be the kind of literary flavour
I would ask my mother and father to savour
But I hope it might help bring some dosh
Which lets face it would help quite a lot
If you have any ideas please send them over smartish
I keep starting scenarios but lose impetus at the finish
No smart comment from the peanut gallery
You may find yourself in some romantic parody
I’ve stolen moments every day
To read a Vanity Fair page
I’ve shed some tears over poor old Zim
And looked enviously on supermodels so damn slim
I’ve read the fairytale of Carla Bruni
And Nicky Haslam – how cool is he?
Larger than life like the irrepressible Taki
Unafraid to speak his mind,
Unfettered by social norms and unpleasant climes
Imagine we could follow the sun
In search of parties, clubs and fun?
I’m in a rare and awkward situation
Without a job demanding creation
Although in times of crisis and trauma
I long for a hiatus and a late night chicken korma
Now that I have the time on my hands
I’m gripped by panic for when it all ends
There must be a pay-back for this time of quiet
Sooner or later there’ll be a riot
And I worry that I may lose the plot
And not be able to write a jot
So give me some work Fee,
Please, please, please
I’ll even take a brief on SAT!
I’m sitting in a meeting trying hard to seem focussed
While all the time keeping my kegs firmly crossed
Please don’t ask for something clever from me
All I think of is how much I need to wee
Great. Are we decided then? Let’s move!
I’ve taken a breather caught my breath
And found a site called La Blogotheque
There’s a music video for a band named Menomena
The song “Wet and Rusting” has become a phenomena
Take a quick look at what music can do
To two little people walking down the rue
Somewhere in
Let the joy of music tell their bodies what to do
My Brave Face
I’ve lost my brave face
I can’t find it anyplace
I really need it on today
I need to hear my father say
“Chin up, stout fella, it’ll be okay”
I need eyedrops made by appointment to the Queen
To give my eyes that shiny, sparkly sheen
I need some expensive make-up base
To wipe away the streaks the tears have traced
I need some long-lasting lipstick to paint on a smile
I need someplace to curl up and sleep for a while
So if you happen to find it lying around somewhere
You can find me sitting right here
Why the deep pit of self inflicted misery?
The loss of my usual misplaced bravery?
I woke up this morning to a cold realization
That my best friend will no longer be in this nation
And totally selfish though it may be
I feel suddenly bereft and lonely
Email and Facebook will still connect us
But a pool table will stand empty at Bohemians
No more glasses of cheap red wine
I might sink into a deep decline
No matter, it’s just a passing phase
It’ll only last a couple of days
I’m suffering complete hormonal overload
Which means that I’m bound to explode
Over the smallest, stupidest thing
Not really filled with the joys of spring
The worst thing about this malady
Is that it hurts the people close to me
I’m writing here my heartfelt apology
For my totally screwed up psychology
So please don’t look too closely at me
You’ll only see the screaming banshee
Who has staged a pretty well-orchestrated escape
And assumed my face, my voice and shape
I’m feeling the effects of nostalgic memories
For the friendly faces that once surrounded me
Nighttime ghosts of girls I knew
Who lived every moment brave and strong and true
Whose days down here were numbered on some celestial board
Who stuffed in every single experience that they could
No more nights in Morris Minors or hanging out with bands
Now I see them in my dreams in some other far off land
There are other faces captured in fading photographs
Of some or other time when we shared a few loud laughs
When all the world lay before us as an oyster at our feet
And we had yet to sample the bitter taste of defeat
We’ve grown up to be wise
A few more wrinkles around the eyes
I hope that somewhere in there safely stored inside
Is a little bit of innocence, a little remnant of the child
I can’t find it anyplace
I really need it on today
I need to hear my father say
“Chin up, stout fella, it’ll be okay”
I need eyedrops made by appointment to the Queen
To give my eyes that shiny, sparkly sheen
I need some expensive make-up base
To wipe away the streaks the tears have traced
I need some long-lasting lipstick to paint on a smile
I need someplace to curl up and sleep for a while
So if you happen to find it lying around somewhere
You can find me sitting right here
Why the deep pit of self inflicted misery?
The loss of my usual misplaced bravery?
I woke up this morning to a cold realization
That my best friend will no longer be in this nation
And totally selfish though it may be
I feel suddenly bereft and lonely
Email and Facebook will still connect us
But a pool table will stand empty at Bohemians
No more glasses of cheap red wine
I might sink into a deep decline
No matter, it’s just a passing phase
It’ll only last a couple of days
I’m suffering complete hormonal overload
Which means that I’m bound to explode
Over the smallest, stupidest thing
Not really filled with the joys of spring
The worst thing about this malady
Is that it hurts the people close to me
I’m writing here my heartfelt apology
For my totally screwed up psychology
So please don’t look too closely at me
You’ll only see the screaming banshee
Who has staged a pretty well-orchestrated escape
And assumed my face, my voice and shape
I’m feeling the effects of nostalgic memories
For the friendly faces that once surrounded me
Nighttime ghosts of girls I knew
Who lived every moment brave and strong and true
Whose days down here were numbered on some celestial board
Who stuffed in every single experience that they could
No more nights in Morris Minors or hanging out with bands
Now I see them in my dreams in some other far off land
There are other faces captured in fading photographs
Of some or other time when we shared a few loud laughs
When all the world lay before us as an oyster at our feet
And we had yet to sample the bitter taste of defeat
We’ve grown up to be wise
A few more wrinkles around the eyes
I hope that somewhere in there safely stored inside
Is a little bit of innocence, a little remnant of the child
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