Rain is drizzling in slanting form
And pelting my roof gently.
Outside, it’s cold and dark, the stars hiding
Behind blindfolded, piddling clouds.
Music flows through my brain.
My ears are full.
Every breath I take resides on pluvial melody,
Charging my pulses towards the mirth of
Eloquent stanzas.
God, how on earth can I thank you enough
For music?
A piddling, trifling cha cha cha
Danced her petootsie off, rah rah rah
Wiggling, jiggling and a ha ha ha
We wanted to join them lah dee dah
"If only..."
How often I've whispered those two piddling words.
Quietly, like the fluttering wings of hummingbirds,
wishing I could rewind the clock to the time when
we were together, more then just your best friend.
Do you remember us, or did you choose to forget?
Do you think of us with only remorse and regret?
If I could rekindle our love like dew revives the flower,
I'd be the loveliest bloom in the porticoed bower.
If only I didn't feel the stinging misery of sorrow,
I think we might find ourselves together tomorrow.
Thrilled, I would be, being loved by you once more,
with your ring on my finger, like I once proudly wore.
If I could, I'd keep sullen nights from descending.
Without you, they're overwhelming; never-ending.
I refuse to look to the sky or the glowing moon.
I'm not sure I ever will, but now it's much too soon.
Could be it's better if we both try to forget, yet...
"if only..."
I/you
is/am/was
a soldier of
fortuitous (mis)fortune
a quiet
puddle
piddling in
southerly sloth
a gnarly ghost
galloping in
whirling ~ twirling ~ swirling
electronic sandstorms
!---)))>>>--->>>)))---!
adrift in tortured time
submerged in
the timeless slime of
gaslit dumpster fires
a hypersonic tsunami
of repetitive rage
revolting within & against
a cadaverous cage
light is muted
visions are mooted
delusions get uprooted?
an unfortunate creature soldiers on
!---)))hTySpUeNrAsMoInic>>>)!
A buzz-saw wind
peppers a far horizon.
We hear the nails falling
from an impossible distance.
Damage will be done elsewhere;
instinct squeezes a grey glue
out of blind brains.
A razor-teethed storm
is coming.
We share this piddling dread
with puddle dancing sparrows,
they suspect,
we suspect,
a suspicion clouds all eyes.
Many are all thinking too much
making the sky edgy with thought.
Bundles of nerves
have brought us here
to listen to the engendered,
the endangered,
the ponderous tread of the
shuddersome.
It is then we know
that we are all Acts of God
in a ravening, infidel world.
Inner Peace
Miracle Man
February 3, 2022
A soft breeze
rustles through dry grass,
and we observe time
being whispered from life.
Breeze and time
both leave imprints of having been,
whether time was piddling, or rife.
Some days,
are like gate hinges in constant squeak
from a deficiency of grease,
and found destined to live life in anguish,
are those living in search of inner peace.
“Until you make peace with who you are,
you’ll never be content with what you have.”
Doris Mortman
(Sing along to tune, "Simply the Best!")
Dan, i'm saying, my laugh's afire,
Dan, I voted for you, on the wires,
Dan, golfers are piddling in the rain!
They'll get Corona on their dicks again,
Dan, that's indecent exposure, the best,
Is our Premier the dippiest?
Now there's nowhere to wash their hands,
Dan, that's health and safety, my man,
What about number twos?
Is there enough Sorbent for you?
There's raw sewage on the golf course,
That's a Worksafe issue for the workforce,
Dan, you are the best,
This plan is your dippiest,
Dan, I voted for you, in your Parliament House,
Next time, I am voting for Micky Mouse!
They're going to migrate to Victoria, my man,
Bet NSW are Glad they haven't got our Dan,
Yes, Dan, you are the best,
You are deffo the dippiest,
Simply the best!
We may think we are piddling poets
But some of our words are knit through eternity
When they hearten, give that single smile, you know it
May be the only smile all day, all week, for you and me
For those who ponder my words about their chosen words
Thank you for not rushing to judge me, but seek to hear
What breaks my heart, what heals my soul, what Bluebirds
May keep me on this bruised planet one more happy hour
Thought for Today
5-27-2016
While in this life we may never achieve greatness,
But we were each born to be counted,
To make a difference in the life of another;
Don’t fritter away opportunities which present themselves,
But lay aside the piddling things,
While focusing on the greater things of God;
We are each on a path going somewhere,
And while we may not know where the end will be, God does.
Enjoy the journey for it will culminate
Sooner than you think;
Tom
Pinocchio politicians
got long nose ambitions
Pirate patch parrot thoughts
in the bosom
keel dereliction decisions
Gender gypsy tramps bought,
paid horizontal submission
Whore whispers being said
Global security is premature burial
on a bald eagle spread bed ...
squirting liquid lies: moo white noise emission
Face paste looks like a Cyrano rinse condition
Gator tears shaking
from a dirty tongue megaphone
Broken spit vows
gutter belly creeping back home
One less bell to answer:
no hearing mo’ tales of wives wronged
Lewd lute lips playing lover musical chairs,
one less sitter —
drunk odious woman fallen down the stairs
Fake profit fiddlers
are mannequin pocket piddling
and double-talk diddling ,
Nero nay palms are starting grease fires
in the negotiating kitchen
Nuclear smoke alarm
on a chirping tweet oral fixation
Fat kick-back Russian roulette fumes ...
it smells like a Cyrano situation
Where’s the ladder and the fire hose,
why ain’t the rubber moving on the road?
Guess you gotta trust the crafty Fahrenheit ones,
with the shortest mercury brown nose
Trivial Pursuit
Chasing
Piddling
Hunting
Trifling
I lost myself chasing piddling facts
No piece of pie; hunting, trifling traps
Contest: Write me a Tyburn
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
1/22/18
I was defeated in a battle
fought in a place
Distant from where I was raised.
Defeat was certain
yet hope had the piddling of existence.
Had raised my canons, draped in metal.
Yet the army was nowhere to be seen
Cause this battle was between
a man who had to win what had fallen between crack
and the fate that had the knack
of snatching everything from him.
Still I clamored the war cry.
And went hand to hand with my nemesis.
I trembled when I saw his visage
Visage of nightmare that you see in your dreadful dreams.
Didn’t disclose his gimmick
Irrupted upon me.
Parried his attacks, his every move.
Yet his fist struck my head
and knocked me bleeding on the ground.
Mind was in the battle
but body was defeated and covered with wound.
Gave a glance, a glance that to him it seemed victory
And I would become history.
Covered in gore and with defeat on the verge.
Still there was a surge
of blood and thoughts.
But when I regained faith
Found that he had departed
to consume someone of my sort.
Jimmie Jim my piddling crony was a little toady
Happened to meet a gaudy king who loved a hot toddy
Jimmie’s ass an ace in the hole
Dipped in snail’s pace in the king’s bowl
Said Jim Sire, my daddy, King of Ire, I am your bawdy
Tara, Ben and Blackie,
Sam, Lucy and Jamie.
Our dogs down the years,
All gone now, shed many tears.
No more, no more we cried, in despair,
A hole In the garden, our friends laid there.
A hole in our hearts we could not repair.
A hole in our home for they were not there.
The years passed by 'til our Lexi appeared
Our Dachshund lady from Larnaca came.
She filled the hole the others had made,
A wonderful lady, she made the grade.
Three years later at the animal shelter,
Along came Levi, helter skelter.
Found in a skip with the rest of the litter.
A new son for Lexi, a sure fire hitter.
Another three years, they're inseparable pals,
We were a family of four, so I said " no more.
Then seeing a photo, I gave out with a groan,
Along came our Eli who needed a home.
So now we are five in our house by the Sea.
Old age , not a problem, looking after these three.
No time to sit twiddling, our new pup is piddling.
We both are now happy to be, with our four legged family.
© Dave Timperley July 2014.
Dreams of tomorrow I must steel myself myself to a lonely sleep
Waking
I find my pillow wet with tears and discover that I have been biting my lips
our piddling worn-out planes did we think we could win with these toys
how stupid and there the high school girls waving our farewell
with cherry blossom branches
My imagination a Hayabusa III taking off towards Okinawa on a suicide mission April 12, 1945.
please no offence meant to either side (or middle).
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