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