The trouble with
a pity party is…
there’s only one person at the party
And a party,
that does not make
Neither does it make a wake
Break up the party
Nothing to see here
Time to go home folks.
Break it up!
The party’s over.
The trouble with
a pity party is…
there’s only one person at the party
And a party,
that does not make
Neither does it make a wake
Break up the party
Nothing to see here
Time to go home folks.
Break it up!
The party’s over.
It’s hiding in the shadows
I say it won’t last
The murky old memories
Cobwebs of the past
Detritus and debris
Lying on the floor
The body of regret
Dead behind the door
Bitterness and sorrow
Smells of rot and rust
Of damp, dark mildew
Of mold, dank and must.
It’s hiding in the shadows
The pain and the love
The joy and the anger
Mingle in the dust
The hopes and the what-if’s
Broken dreams, failed schemes
Scramble for the strip of light
That peeps beyond the beams
I listen for footsteps
But they are silent in the hall
What’s hiding in the shadows
Won’t come out at all.
Is frozen in the distance
And cannot move or go.
It’s stuck in aged decades
Of many moons ago.
This shadow is looming
And it won’t let me be.
What’s hiding in the shadows
Well, that thing…
Is me.
Every day is Christmas Day, if you are truly free.
-Me.
When I’m filling a stocking for someone special, I try to fill it with:
-Something to eat
-Something to drink
-Something to wear – usually socks and boxers or both (Obviously thinking about spouse here)
-Something to write in, diary or notepad with pen.
-Some type of useful gadget that needs batteries. I was going to buy a nose/ear trimmer for my spouse but realised I’d never actually seen any stray hairs sprouting from either orifice, in thirty years, and so thought this might be a bit insulting. Turns out he would have welcomed them. I suppose he’s been doing it in secret, trimming, I mean. (An ideal Christmas gift opportunity down the pan).
Some type of exciting but esentially useless gadget, that appeals to men’s little-boy-that-never-grew-up mentality.
Something to drink out of – Christmas themed or other type of drink vehicle filled with socks, marshmallows and/or generic hot chocolate mix. Got him a Batman mug and socks that I secretly wanted. (Christmas is nothing if not about sacrifice).
Something to splash on. (Got to be Brut lotion in his case)
Something out of the box/miscellaneous, unexpected, that doesn’t fit into any category.
Booby prize – Actually, only just thought about this one, as a possible stocking filler idea.
Toiletries- Just the few essential packs of razors and shaving foam.
Mastermind Vintage – A really cheap perfume for men, that smells like sugar, with a tiny bit of musk, which he obviously didn’t like, which he gave to me. Remember these are not the real present/gift items. It’s fun supplementary.
Lambrini Rhubarb – He likes sweet things and he doesn’t normally drink so I thought lightweight, sweet, refreshing and delicious, can’t lose, but again, he passed it onto me. I’m sensing a pattern here. Tastes like melted plastic to me. Like the Christmas Pudding and Custard Stout I bought, which tasted like nothing I’ve ever drank before, and hope I never will again, I thought it would go straight down the sink, and for me to pour alcohol down the sink, it has to be bad, but I drank a can of this, and now I have heartburn.
As usual, everything was last minute for me this year, like the men you see going out at Christmas Eve to buy perfume. Actually, it’s usually the day before, under cover of darkness, at 4.30 p.m, and you can see the pain in their eyes, even in the winter solstice.
I try to include a delicate balance of different useful things, but it was a bit hit and miss this year, more miss than hit. So… I’m going to have a P.S Day. Things forgotten and not purchased through lack of time, energy, indecision, trauma, hot discount store, or some other reason and we’re going to have another Christmas Stocking, in the next few days, a sort of add on, an expansion, like those video games, only with those nose hair trimmers nestling uncomfortably on top.
Merry Christmas Everyone!
We know what it does
How it does it
Where it goes
Why it comes
What it’s going to do next
Yet are still mesmerised
By the waves
Lapping on the shore
And the tides going in and out
And the diamonds on the blue
When the sun is shining
And the fury of a storm
Foaming at the corners of its mouth.
Insults will put you down
If you let them
A jibe here
A stab there
But a criticism
Or an inneundo
Like a rotting wInter leaf
Before spring
Can sail away on the wind
If you’re slow to take offense
It’s tiring to be offended
Day after day
An exhausting round
Of mind games
Of word wars
Of battles that can’t be seen
Blood shed covertly
Will hurt just as much
But they know not what they do
Accept failure of others
Even if they can’t keep their hurt in
Long enough
To keep from hurting you
Sometimes, it’s not personal
If a glass falls
Its many shards will scatter
In all directions
And chances are
One or two willl cross your path
But sometimes, it is personal
Smiles and knives have been sharpened over time
And tipped with poison
With you in mind
Perhaps for many years
And expertedly pointed
At your back
For a well aimed
Well planned
Bullseye!
But whether it’s wrong time, wrong place
Or accidently on purpose
You can nurse a slight all day
And all it does is take away
From what is important
To you and your life.
The desire to relive youth
Comes on like a contagion
A midlife crisis is an apt word
To describe the malady
Many go there
But some never return
A clock can be biological
Ticking loud enough
To cause ears to bleed
And heads to explode
And minds to claw
At the walls of time
Like a trapped animal
Remembering suddenly
Things never done
Places never been
Hearts never explored
Lands never conquered
Dreams never realised
Emotions never felt
Repression never lifted
Oceans never explored
Projects never finished
The clock can be cerebral
A desire or need to ram
And jam in, as much as possible
Like filling a suitcase to bursting
So it can’t be closed
Easily
Red sports car
Leather jacket
Guitar
A younger model
A need to re-affirm
Masculintiy
Femininity
Desirability
Or all three
And a hope to escape
The existance one finds themselves
Embroiled in.
The midlife crisis is actually
Three quarters of the way into life
Creating an air of desperation
Suffocation
Drowning
Falling
A need to fall
Sweet surrender
To practice for that other surrender
Of death
But hopefully
Once the crisis is over
You come away – unscathed
Without leaving too many casualties
In your wake
And it’s back to reality
Normality need not be
Stale soup and slippers
Instead, it can be sanity
And staid need not be stagnant
And dreams need not be broken
And summer can burst through
The illusion of spring.
Penalties are…
Humiliation
For everyone involved
Penalties are…
The homocides
That never get solved
Penalties are…
The liars
That hide their stash
When everyone else
Is putting in the cash
Penalties are…
The shirker
Who gets in late
Penalties get lucky
And cannot wait
Penalties are…
Random
On a game board rolled
Penalties are easy way
Yet come up
Fools gold
Penalties are…
Unrequited Love
Dreams Unrealized
Hard Work and Skill
Count for nothing
When there are penalties.
Be watchful of wolf
In sheep garments
And wary of sheep
In wolf attire
Discern motivation
What do people want from you?
Because they will want something.
Money?
Sex?
Power?
Other?
You’re not so much liked
As ‘loved’
Or ‘desired’
Or ‘wanted’
For their pleasure
For their id
For their ‘Dupers Delight’
What can you do for them?
What are they lacking?
What gap can you fill?
Or are you maybe
Simply stalked
And hunted for your fur
Either hot or cold
Up or down
No centre ground
No temperate clime
Sweet or Sour
Here or There
Passion or placid
Love or not
No grey area
No neutral zone
Fast or slow
No sideline
No sitting
On the fence
Good or bad
Rain or shine
No point being
Lukewarm
Or tepid
Or mediocre
Or middle of the road
Because if you’re in the
Middle of the road…
You get hit by cars.