I'll write you all a recipe,
For peace and harmony,
Be content in your own company,
Worse things than single, you see,
Smile at happy memories,
We'll bake peace cakes for thee,
Take some kindness and unity.
Stir with love and amity,
Sprinkle with divine grace,
Cook, serve to each human face,
With a trillion trees to hug,
Less of this smoggy fug,
Folks, do not give up the ghost,
Universe sends blessings the most,
Enjoy your prime today,
Peace fill find its way!
Smiles for all of you,
That's my recipe, over to you!
Categories:
fug, appreciation, blessing, friendship, peace,
Form: Rhyme
[Pictured above… My actual coffee mug]
Well, I poured myself a gin
And I sploshed some tonic in
And some lemon and some ice
So it slipped down really nice
If it gave my brain a squiggle
Made it fizzle just a little
Then the blackness and the shrouds
May find glimmers through the clouds
So I sat there contemplating
As my screen just sat there waiting
While the ideas that I had
Made me seem a little mad
Seems the gin just wasn’t coping
As, for ideas, I was groping
So I threw it down the sink
And I had a little think
Eureka! I decreed
It’s a coffee that I need
So I made it in a mug
In the hope it cleared the fug
Suddenly, an idea: new
What a tale I’ve got for you
My muse awakened right on queue
Inspired by? I have no clue
The starting line formed in my head
Was is something I had read
I’m starting now; pull up a pew
Baa… oink… moo… quack… cockadoodledoo
Categories:
fug, humorous, inspiration, muse,
Form: Rhyme
It's the resolution graveyard
for those good intentions, cursed,
opening hours from New year's day
to February first.
Here's a pile of treadmills,
dumbbells stacked up near the gate,
abandoned by the desperate
who promised to lose weight.
The hungover who'd had enough,
repenting for their sins
have left wine bottles by the ton
in bright blue wheelie bins.
The smell of chocolate, biscuits, cake
they permeate the air,
left by those stood on bathroom scales
who said life wasn't fair.
Invisible unless up close,
hidden by a yellow fug,
the cigarettes thrown in the bin
from smokers, feeling smug.
The gravedigger, like Santa,
only toils here once a year,
and tirelessly he works his spade
until all have disappeared.
His shovel cleaned, oiled, put away
and ready for next time
when the graveyard gates squeak open wide
upon the New year chimes.
No mourners toss handfuls of dirt,
no eyes are wiped in sorrow,
since all of us are well aware
the diet starts tomorrow.
Categories:
fug, new year,
Form: Rhyme
Haunted and motionless sounds.
Creaking sounds of the wooden door,
Howling of the wolf's
Haunted sounds of mysterious creatures
Dry and thirsty for human blood and life
Sudden fug and cool breeze brought terror
Fleakring of light bulbs
Sudden empty black terror
The resurrection of the dead
Blood bath everywhere
The cries of haunted children
Creature attack
The nightmare that lies in the dark
HALLOWEEN SCARES
10/31/2017
Categories:
fug, dark, fear, halloween, mystery,
Form: Imagism
I stand with my back pressed to the wall
Arms out preventing that fall
Whilst pale fingers spider towards the corner
As inner thoughts crash tackle my hold on the brittle mortar
Winds rush by to coax me closer
To a world that is loved, yet I’m only lonelier
Confined to that ledge, is it safe to say - What’s around the corner?
Head spinning I lean against my pharma fug
Knowing salvation is around the corner?
I press on through inky blackness, never looking back
Palms smearing a sweating drunkenness
Where fingers slide to a free-wheeling halt
The wind betraying the corner is here
She whispers “come fly with me”…
My moment of truth, blurred by tears
As I melancholy through the air
Free as a bird
That never had wings
It was always there
Just around that corner
Freedom
13 Oct. 2014
Categories:
fug, depression, freedom, stress, suicide,
Form: Free verse
Patiently waiting in a line
eyeballed an wary
harsh barking of subterranean cultures
standing weary and inured
to the rotten
fug
the rotten
oxygen
inside the high walls and wire, the weighted stone of
the convicted
existing like convicts
Categories:
fug, absence, age, angel, anti
Form: Free verse
.
The emperor rises in murk and fug like a foul mood,
glares and gazes at the bloodied arena below.
The savage screams and blood-curdling shrieks of the
blood-thirsty mob rise to a pitch.
There stands swaying solitary, a wounded gladiator
in a frozen poise of striking with his broken sword
the vanquished at his feet as the crowd roars louder,
more hysterical, more maniacal,
yelling for that sign from the bejeweled hand: thumb up
means spare the maimed; thumb down means kill him.
Although he always can, he won't let them down
for he, too, shares their lust for blood.
Drunk with power and grandeur, he dispenses life or death,
decides who lives or dies, who should be in or out,
who should be up or down - - ah, prepositional aesthetics,
infantile sense of vain omnipotence!
.
Categories:
fug, sympathy
Form: Narrative
Amid the savage screams
and blood-curdling shrieks
of the blood-thirsty mob,
the emperor rises in murk
and fug like a foul mood,
glares and gazes down
the bloodied arena below;
there stands swaying, solitary,
a weary, wounded gladiator
in a frozen poise of striking
with his bloody, broken sword
the vanquished at his feet
as the crowd roars louder,
more hysterical and maniacal,
clamoring for that sign
from the bejeweled hand:
thumb up means spare him,
thumb down means kill;
although he always can,
he won't let them down
for he, too, shares their joy;
drunk with grandeur,
he dispenses life or death,
decides who lives or dies,
who should be in or out,
who should be up or down,
ah, prepositional aesthetics,
infantile sense of omnipotence!
Categories:
fug, death, introspection, life,
Form: Free verse
The Id
went walking,
The Ego
was talking,
The Super-Ego
cried, "Stop!"
The Libado said,
"Ah, come on
when its done
scream halt."
The Id
went searching,
The Ego
was smiling,
the Super-Ego
cried "Halt!"
The Libado said,
"Ah, fug it!"
So
The Id
did.
Categories:
fug, allegory, funny, introspection,
Form: I do not know?