Posts

Showing posts from January, 2025
Image
  Swirls And Curls Colours of psychedelia   transcending summer sunshine swirling and curling like creamy ringlets of tie dyed hair unbraided and free. Psychedelia in waiting   for the spikes and razors of punk to come. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/
Image
  Only A Rose It was only a rose I gave to you, a pink rose plucked from the bush carefully   by my own fair hand. It was only a rose. But I knew you loved roses, loved each one more than the last as you took them   smilingly from my own fair hands. The bush grew so many roses and hands. It seemed to know your love of them, those pink roses   and my own fair hands plucked to make you a perfect bouquet. https://www.amazon.com/Alien-Buddha-Zine-71-black/dp/B0DTQ7V2V9?fbclid=IwY2xjawIIJxlleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHfONnxA9fcneVjgbrYAgD59-uT8yq1SM_6quZLVERGKqM9Qwy2WLxzlc4g_aem_tJrP4bho06buS57I98rglw
Image
  Pie In The Sky Souls would be saved, and little girls re-born as angels, that’s what they taught her in Sunday School when they’d sung ‘In The Sweet Bye and Bye’. She loved the tune, the melody and sang a snatch to her father. “That’s pie in the sky,” her father laughed. He sang the same tune to her but with different words. “Joe Hill wrote these” her father said and she liked those words better she was a child of life after all and didn’t want to wait for death to eat her pie. So she learned them all and sang them on the next Sunday. That was the last time she went to Sunday School. She was a bad influence, they had said. Her father laughed when she told him. She sighed and looked up at the sky. She knew there was no pie there, only on earth for the lucky ones. https://www.pikerpress.com/article.php?aID=10956
Image
  Fare Thee Well Fare thee well the dead, undead and undying. Even when only the bones remain there’s a dance to be danced and laughs to be had loud and louder laughs playing out in the music. Fare thee well the undying dead. https://www.amazon.co.uk/Poetry-Dead-II-Youre-Forever/dp/B0DRSQMZBY/ref=asc_df_B0DRSQMZBY?tag=bingshoppinga-21&linkCode=df0&hvadid=80676863943709&hvnetw=o&hvqmt=e&hvbmt=be&hvdev=c&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=&hvtargid=pla-4584276327053802&psc=1&msclkid=c20d7be718061bf452701c7f82ca3a05
Image
  Regrets Regrets are best forgotten, laid to rest in peace or   in restless confusion. Dump them with the other debris, the detritus of the past no longer needed. They will be taken away in time,   disposed of in the future, by the future. Displaced by more things   to regret and forget. And by more things to keep and remember. https://poetrywivenhoe.org/2025/01/day-781-regrets-white/
Image
 https://www.thehooletsnook.com/stories--poems/screaming
Image
  Annabel And The Artist Annabel had been a Social Worker for a good many years. She’d seen it all, or so she’d thought. And then she met the artist. Neighbours had reported concerns, but were somewhat vague about the problems. She called round anyway. Annabel was like that. She was old school, didn’t work to rule. The artist’s house was large and a bit crumbly, dirty and decrepit, rather like the artist herself, Annabel thought and she didn’t chance the cup of tea, when offered. There were paintings stacked up everywhere and, in the corner of one room, a large whitish sculpture. It towered upwards almost up to the ceiling. Annabel walked round it pondering it’s strange shape and texture. The artist laughed, saying, “That’s not a sculpture! Years ago I had a dog and never got round to house-training it. That’s dog shit! I piled it up. It went dry, then solid, then whitish over the years! And here it still is.” Back at the office Annabel reported, there was no cause for concern. Tim...
Image
  Even Babies Are Burning We have to save the planet so we can’t burn coal. But in Gaza babies are burning. We have to save the planet so we can’t burn oil. But in Gaza babies are burning. We have to save the planet so we can’t burn gas. But in Gaza babies are burning. We have to save the planet so we can’t burn plastic. But in Gaza babies are burning. The forests are burning  but in Gaza even babies are burning. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2025/01/as-they-crackle-and-scream.html
Image
  Burning Up The sun has risen and it’s burning, burning up  everything. And I’m raising my arms to worship or plead. Not sure which. Praise or prayer, perhaps they’re the same. That’s my thought for the day. Quite profound, I think, for the day when I’m sure I’ll be going home. What do you think? Are we of the same mind? Great minds thinking alike again. Come, it’s time to go. Hold my hand. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2025/01/as-they-crackle-and-scream.html
Image
 Melting The rock looms large above me, the petrified remains of the last time the sun burned in the time of giants. Giant rocks and giant creatures fused together in the fire. Look! There's one with a long nose! Or maybe it's a beak. And there's a human molar, surely. And here I stand now, on my tiny rock. Now I'm lit by moonlight, but soon the sun will rise and consume us, fuse us together and we are both so small, I am not sure anything will remain after. https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2025/01/as-they-crackle-and-scream.html