Month: May 2022

Perfectionism,
is the voice of oppression,
and the enemy.

Time away from work,
and just a couple of days,
but it feels so good.

Cleaning my office,
two amps, two chairs and two stools,
left in the hallway.

Ice cream in the park,
a warm day and a cool breeze,
and a sharing time.

I’m frozen in space,
my fingers numb with the cold,
as I write this note.

Do you yam your food,
yaffling delighted through it,
to be gutfoundered.

If you want to write,
for a story of some sort,
it’s because you’re called.

The cold night grasps me,
and I look in it’s darkness,
and feel a raindrop.

Hangers on my head.
and I don’t know where to go,
but I can’t hang here.

Perfectionism,
is the voice of oppression,
and the enemy.

It’s the known unknowns,
and more the unknown unknowns;
that’s the geist of it.

The humour here was,
like the ghost in the machine;
what you don’t expect.

I won’t flatter you,
nor give way to flummery,
or such palaver.

I was in London,
the tube trains were packed today,
sitting space only.

Soothing monotones,
lull me to a dreamy place,
but tea pulls me back.

Some strange things today,
I found myself with a few,
standard newspapers.

I push back my sleep,
and tell I will come at twelve,
but it will try it.

I was in London,
the tube trains were packed today,
sitting space only.

I’m getting things done,
bit by bit I take them down,
each little job tab.

I have done too much,
running about and the like,
and now just flat out.

I struggle to start,
and finishing is harder,
so I don’t bother.

I need my coffee,
to got grow cold waiting there,
and keep me awake.

A busy Monday,
meetings on meetings all day,
and some more later.

I missed the red moon,
and the eclipse of the moon,
that was Sunday night.

I am training now,
sit ups and exercises,
a plenty of rest.

Thinking on my feet,
and with a lot on my mind,
though my hands are free.

If you give freely,
there will always be much more,
so write your best stuff.

I was a bad boy,
at the island of pleasures,
that grew donkey ears.

I am fighting sleep,
and it likes to hijack me,
closing down my eyes.

I’ve begun afresh,
got a new notebook to write,
and have started that.

It’s staying quiet,
and curled up in the corner.
I will plug it in.

I’ve found a spider,
climbing up the water spout,
but it didn’t rain.

I’m entertaining,
many demons in my head,
time for a spring clean.

My eyes do not see,
and my ears, they cannot hear,
when I don’t speak up.

Don’t be seeking praise,
seek criticism, and not,
what we want to hear.

As long as the goal,
is there, there is no limit,
to your achievement.

Sleep is chasing me,
I feel it tugging at me,
and covering me.

I found an old song,
but I’ve forgotten the tune,
so it is just words.

Friday the 13th,
lucky for some, I’m sure,
to me it’s Friday.

The sun shone brightly,
so lovely to see and feel,
as it settled down,.

All the fleeting years,
are nothing but memories,
and I am still here.