My Smiling Angel

Her eyes so friendly
And infectious smile,
Her honesty so pure
Is her natural style;

Her skin so soft
Her heart so warm,
From an angel within
Glows her radiant form;

She whispers my name
I feel so alive,
I am given strength
With energy to strive;

Her compassion for others
For injustice she cries,
Her light never dimmed
By cruelty and its lies;

She is never beaten
She will never break,
Living in her truth
A priceless gift is never fake;

As a mother she nurtures
Her love has no bounds,
For her cherished daughter
A connection which astounds;

Her family so special
Their hearts beat as one,
With feelings inter-woven
They will never be undone;

Her actions speak loudly
For how we should live,
Through times feeling empty
She still finds more to give;

With my smiling Angel
I am never without,
The moments so special
They will always stand out;

Fortune is not money
Nor the items put on show,
It is love from an angel
Whose beauty will always glow.

Two Metres Apart

Two metres apart,

Is where to stand,

No time for hugs,

Or a shake of the hand;

Stay at home,

Unless needing food,

Not seeing friends

Is not being rude;

A time to be still,

To be calm and strong,

It’s still good to smile,

That’s not so wrong;

Watch some movies,

There’s time for a few,

Read some books,

Learn something new;

Don’t become bitter,

Angry or sad,

That achieves nothing,

It prolongs feeling bad;

Stay in the moment,

Don’t race ahead,

Close your mind to worry,

Stop fear and dread;

Like all other things,

This time will pass,

As the passage of sand,

Through an hourglass;

Show love not hate,

Keep yourself kind,

This is your test,

For peace of mind.

Are These Memories Fading

Remember when …

You had hopes and dreams

You had happy thoughts

Thoughts of the future held excitement.

Remember when …

Your laughter was natural

Your talents were noticed

Adventurous spirit was unquestioned.

Remember when …

People saw your goodness

People enjoyed your company

Social engagements were fun.

Remember when …

Loneliness was reserved for the unfortunate

Loneliness was not your concern

Heartache was inflicted on only those who chose badly.

Remember when …

Sleep would help to rejuvenate

Sleep preceded a day of new possibilities

Creativity gave birth to many new ideas.

Remember when …

Faith in your abilities was strong

Faith in your purpose was undoubted

Plans for future prosperity were clear.

 

Are These Memories Fading?

 

 

 

The stuttering man

There was an old man who stuttered, lots of spittle he would lose,

The stuttering drove him near madness, no wonder he hit the booze;

Longing to speak with fluency, but stuck before words end,
That opened him up to ridicule, for others to take a lend;

Albeit a very bright chap, well read and educated views,
He scoffed at those less worldly, those easy to confuse;

Espousing his love of poetry, reciting to impress,
Romanticising its meaning, the  message the would stress;

‘One must feel its mmmmagic, its essence at the ccccore,
‘It’s not about the rrrrhyming, it’s so much bbbbloody more’;

And after he’d had a few to drink, he’d express to those less smart,
Letting them know succinctly, ‘It’s our mmmminds that set us appppart’;

Not one for heirs and graces, his language most impolite,
He’d blurt to all and sundry, ‘No I won’t be ffffarkin quiet’;

Obnoxious and insecure, feigning remorse and regret,
Apologising for his crassness, ‘Sometimes I ffffarkin forget’;

Downing another glass of red, with his cheeks a colour to match,
‘Ffffark that was rough as guts’ he’d shout, then another he would snatch;

Of those who still remained seated, their faces were agog,
As the stuttering man departed, with his belly full of grog;

Having snatched a few too many, he’d stumble before he stood,
Then direct some more profanities, towards anyone he could;

Blowing kisses to the offended, including all those he knew,
He’d sign off with a drunken wave, and his customary ‘ffffark you’.

I Dare to Dream

He Dares … to smile on trains – but not too broad a grin

He Dares … to speak to strangers – but not too often

She Dares … to laugh – when others do not

She Dares … to use manners – when others will not

They Dare … to dare – those who stay indoors

They Dare … to glare – those who stay put

I Dare … to try – when there’s little support

I Dare … to dream – when there’s little hope.

Warning: This post may contain some nudity

WARNING: This blog post post may contain some nudity.

Perhaps you thought you’d take a closer look at this blog because of the title. Or perhaps you would’ve looked anyway. Regardless, I am increasingly mystified as to why we are warned that something MAY CONTAIN SOME NUDITY – as if the mere sight of something natural will give us nightmares or make us break into a cold (or hot) sweat … well, I suppose it might, but probably not in a psychologically damaging manner.

And yet I can watch the never-ending, forever-cycling news programs – which are on at all times of the day at night – that never provide similar warnings such as:

• THE FOLLOWING REPORT SHOWS REAL PEOPLE IN REAL DISTRESS
• THE FOLLOWING NEWS ITEM MAY CREATE FEAR OF GOING OUT AT DAY OR NIGHT
• THE FOLLOWING STORY MAY START YOU WORRYING ABOUT THINGS YOU HAD NEVER CONSIDERED WORRYING ABOUT BEFORE

No, it seems that the ongoing barrage of bad and distressful news feeds on television, on radio, over the internet, over social media, etc. is quite acceptable. It apparently does nothing harmful to those who are vulnerable to mental health issues!!!

News (bad news) is seemingly real world stuff that we MUST all be aware of … for our own sake. Without being kept up-to-date with all the bad news stories happening globally (each and every minute of the day) we will somehow become ignorant. We will become ill-informed and STUPID. Oh, how horrendous.

Concerned that our sense of intelligence may suffer – and that without news updates we may have nothing to speak about at work (or with our family and friends) – we continue to tune in. We continue to shake our heads in disbelief each time another sad story hits the airwaves. We continue to hope that nothing that bad will ever happen to us … to make us newsworthy too.

But never a warning, never a caution, never a slight remark that the news (real or fake) might be just bloody upsetting and possibly may be best avoided by those of us who find the images too disturbing.

So for those of you who are not offended by some nudity …

Tomorrow he will die

Yes it’s true. Tomorrow he will die. It will be his last day as a living being. After tomorrow he won’t lose sleep over his daily struggles, wake up and curse another day of work, or worry about the future.

There will be no future for him. So today he is excited. Today he can, and will, do whatever he wants to do. He will have FUN.

He will be honest with himself and others. He will ask for the things he wants and there will be no holding back. He will eat and drink whatever he wants. And he won’t give a damn about over-population, homelessness, unemployment, water shortage, world unrest … and he certainly won’t give any thought to the potential diseases that could kill him.

No, he doesn’t have to think, hear or care about anything ever again. He will no longer be brainwashed by the never-ending, mind-numbing recycling news feeds of doom and gloom.

He only wished that he had known about his expiry date a little earlier in his life. How differently he would have lived!

She Loves to Fart in Public

She loves to fart in public, as she shuffles through the crowd,

Releasing silent killers, not obvious ones so loud;

Keeping her face a blank one, she plays it really cool,

A modern-day vigilante, as sexy as she is cruel;

With a red skirt moulding her backside, it acts as her alibi,

“It could never be that nasty, it’s too beautiful to ever try“;

What genius in her cover-up, that one could never suspect,

An elegance to be admired, a beauty that is so perfect;

She enjoys to watch the aftermath, her victims’ faces scrunch,

Their eyes continue to water, their stomachs bring up their lunch;

With a sense of satisfaction, she leaves the gasping scene,

And heads back to her office, with a radiance so serene;

She’s sent a simple reminder, life’s mixed with good and bad,

She’s proud of her contribution … she feels so jolly glad.

Stock Market Blues

Resting, eating and sipping chardonnay,
At my charming, country get-away;

Two hours from Melbourne, that’s all it takes,
I dread the thought without it, it’s essential for goodness sakes;

Difficult to resist the caviar, it’s too much of a tease,
But I keep my eye on the calories, with the crackers and the cheese;

How I love my dinner parties, with my family and my friends,
Who, while I taste the canapés, arrive in their Mercedes Benz;

Kisses from my daughter-in-law, oh how I feel for my son,
And dear oh dear, her hair-do, for God’s sake what has she done;

But I’m not one to pass a comment, to do so would be wrong,
It must be hard for the simple girl, to know she doesn’t belong;

Her working for the homeless, hardly an aspiring plight,
So I daren’t ask her questions, to hear what’s wrong or right;

And what would Prue and Patrick think, our friends of 30 years,
If we focus on the under-class, those with payments in arrears;

Unlike our ladies’ luncheons, with chatter over scones and tea,
Where we show each other our caring side, one the poor don’t see;

We can’t be expected to give from ourselves, the wealth that sets us apart,
From the type, shall we say, like my daughter-in-law, the good-for-nothing tart;

‘Oh yes my dear your hair-do, I adore how it looks on you’,
‘And I’m not one to pass a comment, unless I think it’s true’;

With the pleasantries done and dusted, it’s time for me to relax,
And mingle with those who matter, the ones who minimise their tax;

‘So come in all, and have a drink, enjoy the wondrous views’,
‘Relax and put your feet up, and no mention of stock-market blues!’

Mental State?

Academic reports, stating facts and figures

With colourful graphs, surmising some of the triggers;

But what is truly changing, for those on the slide

For those who suffer, who yearn for darkness to hide;

Behind the facade, of their lives going well

Is the tremor of fear, they’re unable to tell;

Keeping it within, they battle the pain

As the slaughter continues, their minds being slain;

Though dead on the inside, their skin not yet grey

They command themselves fiercely, ‘Survive another day’;

Off to work they trudge, seeking reasons to exist

Rather than taking tablets, or alcohol to get them pissed;

Will the research ever help, will it ever bring change

Or will more reports be written, to forecast help long-range;

Are solutions far more simple,  than what academics debate

Isn’t real and honest kindness, the foundation to our mental state?;

Showing interest in those around us, a smile can go a long way,

We can instigate need for tomorrow, for a life that’s gone astray.