Random, Imaginary Thoughts
Wrapped up in a suit of mandarins
playing hop-scotch with
a hillbilly from Enniskillen
whose left leg is filled with
soot and yellow dust
all wrapped up in a festering,
three week old banana crust.
A Marilyn Monroe figure
enters the fray
as a dinosaur named Ray
plays Russian Roulette
with a self-righteous pacifist
the day after he marries
his suicidal wife
whose mother was married
to the London gangster, Reggie Kray .
A libertine who fell in love
with a parody of nihilism
comforts a gay priest
whose real name is Marion Morrison
but you can call him ‘Big Leggy’
if it is your soul desire to molest
his world weary inner sanctum.
A carrot without a head for heights
falls headfirst into a bowl of
freshly ground coriander
on a wet afternoon in June,
the chef steps back, trips and
ends up with his fingers in
his Kenwood food blender,
‘oh you fluckin' 'anchor' screams
his dyslexic mum
as she kneels down beside her
now only six fingered son.
If only mummy hadn’t left me
alone in a dark cupboard
full of ghostly faces
with only an unhinged spider
named Mr Woof for company,
who frequently crawled up my nose
and inside my ears
on a far too regular basis!
Notes: Not to be taken seriously. I simply love words and what my imagination
allows me to do with them. Pete
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