naughty poem 2
|
Posted:Aug 28, 2005 7:58 am
Last Updated:Mar 5, 2006 9:28 pm 6372 Views
|
-----RUDE POEM.-----
Move closer and grab a cuddle.
Squeeze my bum and squeal.
Get confused, get in a muddle.
Choose another part of me to feel.
Let all your inhibitions melt.
Remove all your matrons’ attire.
Put on your tiniest skirt (or just a belt)
And tell me your rudest desires.
Purr for me pussycat,
Hiss and scratch and bite.
Squeak and say you are my lap-rat.
Do what you know is wrong (‘cause it feels so right!)
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
naughty poem1
|
Posted:Aug 28, 2005 7:56 am
Last Updated:Mar 11, 2009 4:58 pm 5804 Views
|
-----AFTERGLOW-----
Friction burned
and achey-backed
Yawning-tired
and empty sacked.
Dissipated
Sated
Used and abused.
You had your way with me.
Sleepy-eyed
and tousled hair
Unclad, naked
and utterly bare.
Unsuitable
but beautiful.
Sweet treat.
You found me full
and left me empty.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
opinion (fer me Open Uni course)
|
Posted:Aug 27, 2005 2:28 pm
Last Updated:Jun 30, 2007 12:15 pm 6478 Views
|
-----ARE THE SCOTS A UNIQUE BREED?-----
It is generally accepted that the Scottish nation have provided a disproportionate amount to the world. From inventions and discoveries to literature and poetry the Scots voice is loudly heard.
Were I to list the notable achievements of the Scottish race I would need considerably more paper and while it would no doubt impress the reader, it would not necessarily make my point. Yes the Scots are extraordinary, but why?
Things uniquely Scottish (or almost unique) for example, are, the kilt, bagpipes, regularly drinking to excess, haggis, deep-fried chocolate bars and “Ir’n Bru (a noxious fizzy concoction used as a hangover cure)
Not really a lot of clues there though.
Education perhaps is a more pertinent line of enquiry. Very often combined with poverty this would lead to a great desire to better oneself, with the knowledge and learning to achieve that aspiration, Necessity being very much the mother of invention.
Poverty took many of the brightest and best abroad, hence we can claim the first Prime Ministers of Canada and Australia were Scots, there are Scottish signatories to the American declaration of independence, much of the “British Empire” was won and run by Scotsmen.
Still no particular uniqueness there though.
Perhaps in our philosophers we can find a more helpful insight into the character of the Scots.
It appears that what the Scots philosophers have in common is a strong grasp on reality and common sense, dismissing airy-fairy theories and holding to the ordinary and simply provable. Probably the best known of our philosophers, James Frederick Ferrier, (1808-1864) argues that “we have a direct knowledge of reality, both spiritual and material”.
This does appear to be a familiar attitude of well-known Scots, a strong current of logic and reason, dismissing superstition as unhelpful nonsense (many of the “de-bunkers” of spiritualism, clairvoyance and magic have been and are Scots) Though perversely the Scots are a notably superstitious nation we have produced many scientists, engineers and academics, displaying a somewhat contradictory national characteristic.
In truth it is more reasonable to suggest that if the Scots are truly unique it is as a result of many sometimes contradictory factors, from the changeability of the weather, financial poverty, educational wealth, superstitious religiosity and down to earth reasoned logic. History shows that Scots are often at the forefront of human endeavour. First to accept new concepts and first to find applications for those new ideas.
Perhaps it is that. Our willingness to go on journeys, both literal and imaginative, that makes the Scottish nation unique. There is very little timidity in the Scottish nature. One of the very few nations on the globe who have never been occupied by a foreign power, the bravery of the Scots is legendary (as is our willingness to join in a fight at the drop of a hat) and few but the least charitable would gainsay the statement that “the Scots are unfamiliar with cowardice and are brave, often beyond reason”.
What makes the Scots unique?
The courage to be unique!
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
poem 6574
|
Posted:Aug 27, 2005 2:12 pm
Last Updated:Feb 16, 2009 3:33 pm 6817 Views
|
-----UN-ANCHORED LOVE-----
Love is not fixed,
anchored like a tall ship in a bay.
It infinitely changes day to day
And is as varied in flavour as ice-cream.
Sometimes it's bitter-lime and green
Sometimes sugary-lemon sweet
Others, a passionate strawberry treat.
Even vanilla-plain has its day.
Every conceivable confectionary
will fill your heart some day.
But no matter how you might pray
For unchanged diet and constancy,
Love is never, ever "the same".
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
guess what
|
Posted:Aug 27, 2005 2:06 pm
Last Updated:Jun 23, 2006 10:00 am 6764 Views
|
-----MATHEMATICAL LOVE-----
I have proven
by algebraic calculation.
Should you and I,
simply disregard pi
X and Y
Equals elation
I'll disprove
E=MC squared
if the result is you and me paired.
I'll turn the world of math's
right on its over-sized head
If it means I and you
end up in my bed.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
even more poetry
|
Posted:Aug 27, 2005 2:04 pm
Last Updated:Dec 28, 2006 10:07 am 6955 Views
|
-----HAVING HAVE HAD-----
Having chosen the path of least resistance.
Having taken the road most traveled.
Having only heard the voice of most insistence.
Having seen all my mysteries unraveled.
I have lived a life of predictability.
I have lacked in talent and ability.
I have rested on what laurels I had.
Always last to follow the latest fad.
Had I chosen differently.
Had I chosen recklessly.
Had I only been able to see.
Safe, isn't how life is meant to be.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
'nother poem
|
Posted:Aug 27, 2005 2:02 pm
Last Updated:Feb 16, 2009 3:34 pm 6867 Views
|
-----EAT, SLEEP, DREAM POETRY-----
She takes a rhyme
and tosses it ear to ear,
Juggling the words till the meaning comes clear.
She eats alphabetti spaghetti before she goes to bed
So when she wakes in the night,
there's poetry running through her head.
She lives her life in rhythm and rhyme,
Tries to make her whole life scan,
And it rankles her endlessly,
the asymmetrical nature of man.
She wants the world to be a poem
Not some vulgar piece of prose
And the fact that it isn't,
really gets up her nose.
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
poem2 (sort of)
|
Posted:Aug 25, 2005 5:30 am
Last Updated:May 10, 2015 3:13 pm 7198 Views
|
-----Better to give-----
I gave you a promise and a ring.
You gave me an itchy rash.
I gave you a big chocolate "thing".
You gave me the lash.
I gave you a nice new home.
You hoiked me out before the paint had dried.
I gave you a silver brush and a silver comb.
You gave me back my fish-fried.
I gave you encouragement and optimism.
You gave me mockery and derision.
I gave you the future in a pretty vision.
You gave me a bloody big heart-shaped incision.
I gave you a car and a
You gave me a thank you note
I gave you a lucrative divorce
You laughed at the poetry I wrote.
I gave you diamonds and gold.
You gave me second-hand cake.
I gave you the profit from the soul that I sold.
You called me Jack but my name is Jake.
I gave you laughter and smiles.
You gave me grimaces and gurns.
I gave you forbearance measured in miles.
You gave me a winkler that burns.
I gave you unconditional love.
You gave me the instructions for the washing machine.
I gave you all I could reach, below and above.
You gave me a todger that's slowly turning green.
I gave you wisdom and sagacity.
You gave me the horoscope from the "Sun".
I gave you innocence and simplicity.
You gave me little joy and even less fun.
I gave you romance and passion.
You gave me boredom and tedium.
I gave you the latest fashion.
You gave me perfumed odium.
I gave you chips and crispy duck.
You gave me an opener and a tin of cat food.
I gave you bracelets and charms for good luck.
You gave me a coat with a ginormous hood.
I gave you lessons in English and Maths.
You gave me a course of Penicillin.
I helped you comprehend algebra and graphs.
You gave me a pie without the filling.
I gave you the beautiful words in my head.
You gave me the voice of the gutter.
I gave you the Sunday papers and brekkie in bed.
You gave me a twitch and a st-st-stutter.
I gave you all my attention
You gave me a nod and half a smile.
I gave you things I barely dare to mention.
You said my suggestions were vile.
I gave you my place in the sun,
You gave me extremely subdued lighting.
I filled your oven with a beautiful bun.
You said, you wished I’d stop writing!
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
poem (sort of)
|
Posted:Aug 24, 2005 1:02 pm
Last Updated:Mar 8, 2009 8:12 am 6936 Views
|
-Arboreal emotions-
I am a tree, and when you touch me,
my human ,
it does horrible things to me.
Infects my bark, pollutes my sap
and for a decade I’m dizzy.
I am a tree, and you my human ,
are the wrong species for me.
Perhaps a lovely shrub or even a little Anemone,
Would be a passing comfort to me.
A little bird to roost snugly in my arms,
Has its undoubted charms.
But you my human ,
you are the wrong species for me.
Yet I yearn, over the century, so much for your company.
Though you, my human ,
are the wrong species for me.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
as below
|
Posted:Aug 23, 2005 3:13 am
Last Updated:Apr 12, 2014 3:40 am 7922 Views
|
Woodland story 1
(a StevenTsquirrel adventure)
“A work of comic genius says the Beano”
“Gaun hae a drink yah bam” says some drunk bloke up the town”
StevenTsquirrel flicked his roll-up into a puddle of pee next to the clowns trailer. It had been a long wait but there she was next to the conjuring bears’ cage. Enormous and gloriously grey. Steven trembled with squirrely desire. He didn’t much care that the object of his desire was in fact a male called EnglebertTelephant (very showbiz but male nevertheless)
Steven used his stealth squirrel powers and sidled up to him/her.
“Hay hen fancy gaun fer a bevvy wi us?” said Steven in what he considered his most sexually alluring Scottish burr.
Englebert eventually located him and said, ”Ehh?”
“Fancy gaun doon the disco wi us? It’s big grey things fer free night” burred Steven.
“ehh okay” said Englebert, trying to keep the campness out of his voice .”But I’m not really big on dancing, just big. I tend to give my bum a good shake at the start and by the time the song’s finished I’m pretty much done wobbling”.
“Aye very funny hen. Yer gorgeous. Maun then” said Steven.
“Keep a hold of your nuts. Just let me put on my Kylie shorts and straighten my trunk and I’ll be right with you”
“It’s a braw nicht fer the jigging. Whit’s yer name and ehh if yea don’t mind me askin’ what fersackily are you hen”?
“Yeah it is quiet here. This time of evening the bear usually goes for a shit in the woods”Englebert hesitating tried to think of a really butch name .”My friends call me Endevour and I’m an elephant”.
Steven didn’t have a Scooby what an elephant was but didn’t care as he was already imagining telling his mates about his night of squirrely lurve with the huge grey thing.
“Endeavour? Does that mean ure up for it hen, haha? So ure no a chicken then?”
Steven had a thing about chickens. He didn’t believe they exist. He thinks they were made up to scare small animals, like mortgage advisors or Vet’s, kind of mythological maybe like dinosaurs and God or honest politicians, but people kept telling him , much to his chagrin (and you don’t want to see a squirrels chagrin) they were real. So he’d made it his lifes’ mission to trap one and copulate all over it. (That’ll teach them)
All this despite the fact that mrs HenriettaThen delivered his eggs every morning and that several of his friends had names that ended in Tchicken. But whenever anyone mentioned this Stevens eyes would glaze over and he’d smile as though humouring a mad person.
Englebert emerged from behind the conjuring bears cage wearing sunglasses and a pair of gold lame~ hotpants.
“It does smell a bit like bear pooh round here. Shall we go?”
“You look fandabby-dozey hen. Aye I’m sorry aboot that, I wondered what I stood in earlier. It’s okay though I wiped me hands on me tail.”
“Charmed I’m sure” said Englebert.
There was a pop, a puff of smoke and suddenly a bear appeared in the cage.
“I wish you’d stop doing that Boris. You’ll give some -one diaohhrea”.
Steven quickly leapt to his feet from lying spread-eagled on his back (He’d been told if you pretend to be dead chickens don’t eat you).
“Aye mate if it werny fer the big feller being here I might have used my ninja squirrel powers on yea” Steven said trying to appear cool and cat-like.
Boris chuckled to himself and held out a pack of playing cards to Steven. “Pick a card, go on pick one. I dares you.”
“No leave it Steven or we’ll be here all night. We’re off to the disco” said Englebert.
As they walked off Steven discovered a playing card stuck to his tail.
“How did yer ken ma name hen? am I that famous?” asked Steven.
“It’s written on the playing card stuck to your head” said Englebert.
“Cheesy peeps that bear is good. So whit d’yer do fer a livin’ yea big gorgeous thing you?” said Steven as he tugged at another playing card that had suddenly appeared on his tail.
“I do an act in the circus don’t you know. I lift my leg and I sit on my bum while some bird in a sparkly leotard waves her arms around. Sometimes I kick an inflatable sheep into the crowd. The audience love it.”
“Aye sounds awesome hen” Steven tried his best to sound impressed.
At the door to the disco WilberforceTwolf greeted Steven.
“You behave yourself tonight and no stealing the nuts. In you go. If you’ll just go round the turnstile, ehh, ehh,” He couldn’t think what to call Englebert. “Or you could just step over it, ehh, mate.”
Steven nudged Wilberforce as Englebert went ahead trying not to step on anyone .”I’ve hit the jackpot Berf, shall I ask if she’s got a sister? Her name is Endeavour and tonight Matthew I’m getting my End’ away, haha.
“You be careful she doesn’t just squish you” laughed Wilberforce.
“Ooo I hope she does” leered Steven and swaggered after Englebert, chest out, tail erect (playing card removed).
“You take a seat, well several seats hen and I’ll get you a bevvy. Whit d’yer fancy, apart from me?”
“Surprise me, just not cough mixture , I hate the stuff, it makes me sneeze”.
“Oh aye hen, I wouldny want you to sneeze in an enclosed space. Be right back”.
At the bar, FlirtyTfox served Steven.
“Awright Flir hen how they hangin’? Gonna gee us a Babysham and rotgut, on second thoughts better make that a double and my usual cherry and pineapple surprise” (the surprise being that it was pure rocket-fuel strength whisky known locally as “nippy-sweeties” as many noisy babies were dosed with the stuff to quieten them down.
“So who’s the big grey hunk?” asked Flirty.
“That flirty hen is a bloody big notch on me bedpost”
“You’re a dirty wee feller Steven. Have you no moral compass?”
“I do hen but it always points north”.
As he turned from the bar Steven first removed another playing card from his tail then slipped a big white pill into the baby sham, thought about it and emptied the whole bottle in there.
“There yea go hen, it’s got loads o sweeties in the bottom you’ll maybes need to stir it a bit. Let‘s hit the dance floor darlin’”.
Englebert slowly and carefully made his way to the centre of the clearing, moved all his weight onto his back right leg and with a tremor inducing heave threw it to his left back leg, then stood as still as he could while his body and anyone within 20 foot, shook
At the end of the music ConfusciousTcat announced.
“Confuscious say, we will now begin annual dance competition, competitors please line up in front of judges, I thank you many times“.
The dance floor cleared.
First up were BeauregardTbadger and FingersTfox dancing the woodland waltz (Later Beauregard discovered his wallet, pocket watch, signed photo of BritneyTbadger and several of his fillings were missing. Luckily he was able to replace his Britney pic as Fingers just happened to have one for sale)
There followed a procession of vaguely entertaining dancers and the audience were beginning to lose interest until MarvinTmillipede did his river dance interpretation. He was head, shoulders and torso above the competition and did a hugely impressive Jette (.a whole squadron of jettes actually) when he was announced the winner. He puffed out his chest and strutted the clearing shouting “Hung like a beetle, me”.
“Why’s he shouting that” Englebert asked Steven.
“Oh when he was young, people were forever doing the “99, clunk, 99 clunk joke and asking him if his leg was alright and one day he said “That clunk you hear isn’t my leg sweetheart I’m hung like a beetle, me! and now it’s his catch phrase. He shouts it whenever he gets excited. You can hear him all over the forest when he has sex.”
The night ended with the “woodland woohoo”, a complicated dance involving choreographed feet, hand and tail movements, considered quite dangerous as the previous summer several cows practicing in a field had been ritually burned to death.
“Mon hen finish yer drink and we’ll go fer a wander in the moonlight. I’ve got a stash o stale buns no far from here”
“Buns? Did you say buns?” Englebert said excitedly,” Lead on my furry friend”.
Englebert hoovered up the last of his drink.
“A , a ,my kingdom for a ” declaimed Englebert loudly and slurrily. “I could have played Hamlet you know but no-one took me seriously, no one saw past the trunk. Alas poor Yor,hic, I feel lighter than air hic”.
With one last heave on the block and tackle Steven hoisted Englebert into the oak tree (Known locally as the humping tree).
“Aye pet I’ll get yer a later” panted Steven, ”Just gie us a mo’ to catch me breath”.
“Out, out damn hic, See I could have done Lady McWhatsherface” mumbled Englebert.
Steven scurried up the tree, positioned himself behind Engleberts’ suspended bum, took a deep breath, yelled “remember Culloden” and leapt spread-eagled onto the mass of grey.
At 4 o clock in the morning Steven lay atop the comatose Englebert smoking a roll up and smiling smugly to himself. This was going to be a great story to tell his grandchildren.
He wrote a note and with a dod of chewing gum he found stuck in his tail (along with several playing cards that just kept appearing out of nowhere), he stuck the note between Engleberts eyes. It read, You were enormous babe.
Steven, using his Ninja stealth squirrel powers disappeared into the dawn. (actually he went looking for someone to tell his latest conquest to)
And they all lived happily ever after, sort of.
The END.
|
|
|
2
Comments
|
|
