PrettyBoy and the Promotion and Stuff......

Not much has been happening on the home front. I'm still waiting for those hooks to be fitted at the end of the hall but the weekend coat pile panic is turning into a rather amusing sport. The one who finds their jacket first or really crushed, wins. Well, apart from me as I have to iron the bloody things but hey.........
    PrettyBoy has been put forward for a promotion at work. His portering post at the new local hospital has found him being rather nifty with the new robots there. Not only did he work out himself how to overide complications on it, but he programmes it to speak before it takes off. Profanities, of course have been kept strictly for basement duties - where all his mates work. Serco now don't need to call and wait for a geezer for hours to 'fix' these bloody monstrosities as he does that all by his 'ikkle self. Of course, the lack of placentas to waste disposal of a weekend gives him the time to muck about and fiddle with technology costing millions (I kid you not!) so he has the pregnant ladies of Central Scotland to thank for keeping their legs crossed till the Monday, too! Anyhow, Ross's bosses have recommended him for a Band 2 position - properly - which gives him the pay rise he deserves if the Serco 'main man' agrees. My chances of getting any dig money are on the up.......!
      NorseGod goes back to school tomorrow. Not 'cause he's fick, but to receive an award for St.Mungo's School's trophy cabinet. His band No Need For Idols (feel free to google them) won the regional Battle Of The Bands. All band members have left school now officially, but are to return for the ceremony.  Adam has a face like fizz (with fuzz) on him as he is a bit older than his band mates - by a WHOLE year ffs - and hasn't stepped on a school stage for two years, apart to perform, for this sort of thing. What he really means is, there's no bar there and soda just doesn't hit the thrapple any more! As his Grampa would have put it.....'a dry bar's a right scunner!'  Buuuuuut......his band have a new EP and gig to promote next month so the sky's the limit. Well, maybe he'll bash his head a bit. Exciting. Of course, I'll be there, elbowing all the teenagers in the mush to get to the front. I know all the bloody words to the new songs. Band member mum privileges, you see.
      I'm not doing much apart from a bit decorating and shouting and hiding and stuff. Nothing new there. So, I'll pop off for now and hit my bloglist a bit more. Laters.........

                                     
                      AND THOSE JOB-SWIPING ROBOTS
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I'm Still Here You Lovely Gits!!!!

Since joining a few poetry and short story groups here on Blogger, my passion has led to me being a little lax on the general things I used to blog about. I was fairly regular in letting the world know about me and me family and we mad goings on and others had a reasonable amount of interest in this and, of course, I in their lives, too. Since regaining my passion for mucking about creatively with words, a few have since absconded and not returned, although I still make regular visits to them. We're only talking about a handful here, nothing vast, but I do miss their input. I regained an old pleasure, upped in confidence, but on my 'old' posts they'd comment but never on my poetry stuff, but that eventually trickled to nil. Not that I wanted anyone to read what they maybe didn't like, but just at least say hi. Ah, well. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I always leave a tip, even if the tea stinks and I only had a sip. Of course, some would demand another cup, so maybe they've just buying a better brand elsewhere.
   Anyhow - I will try to fit in in future, a quick run down of what's happening in the real world of Lena henceforth - even if it is just once a fortnight. Not really to try lure them back but simply keep a diary of 'wots'appenings' at home. Comments or not! Starting from tomorrow. For tonight, there's a Chelsea footie match on downstairs but upstairs I've a hot date with Simon Baker! Trouble is he's got 101 and other girls to sleep with tonight, too......ah, Simon....c'mere lover and let me kiss that busted lip better........

Helena is actually 83rd on the list!! Some fantasies are too good to be true...? Don't I know it..........!












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Sweet Inversion

Magpie 84

How I love it when it lashes
smearing make up, clinging clothes
Then the thunder when it bashes,
stirs the sins I then impose
And when she throws her meanest flashes,
collects the screams among the woes
I pray it never ever passes,
and the venom in her grows
Carried winds make many crashes,
cars colliding, over-flows
Suburbia's pristine it trashes
no time first to presuppose.
For daylight's darkest caches,
released in violent blows
Never, ever please the masses,
but they're my sweetest repose

The aftermath, the swirling ashes,
kicks around in sunlight's glows
Only now there's tiny splashes
and the sweetest smell of rose
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Get To 'F' (21)

NorseGod and the cheaper half 'chose' this week's pics. Getting to 'F' was quick, easy and surprisingly fun.  All rise for the Praying Mantis......

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S'nakedly Yours

( Found it a bit tricky to come up with something this week, but look forward to entries just the same. If I may add that the poem is reading from two perspectives, and the last piece I formatted in this way confused some, but I'm sure you'd have worked it out anyhow....doh!....XxX....)

Camouflaged by all of nature,
blending in where there's a patch.
Calling allays, freak behaviour,
never knowing when I'll latch.

The forest calls, I am pursuing,
his very heart I need to tread.
Such creatures in divine dominion,
lull welcomed rituals overhead. 


Winding all roads, creeping, smelling,
exotic blooms that germinate.
Spied you praying by river,
so effortless to terminate.

A pool delays me, vast and stunning,
crystal with a sparkling fall.
I thirst inside and she shall quench me,
in her aqua beauty that enthralls.


I'll wrap you in divine curvation,
bit by bit your breath will cease.
I'll nose about the whole length of you,
I've complacency yet to appease.

I feel there's eyes somewhere upon me,
pulses quicken, forest looms.
The water therefore might forsake me,
tempting me with sweet perfumes.


They say you can be quite enchanting,
hold the power to hypnotise.
Rapid response, muscles moving,
you're the perfect partner to chastise.

Cautiously, I try to listen,
worthy is your want to stun, but
but from the hemline of my silk robe,
a silver flute reflects the sun. 

Close to death, I'll hear you whisper,
pleading for just one more sigh.
The jungle echoes, wings a batting,
shrieks erase your pitied cry.

Motionless, your body stiffens,
gentle quavers signal through.
My serpent, in this turned cognition....
May I ask who's leading who?


Coiled around you, passion growing
Hear my notes till death curtails.
Obeying what's become my captor 
To reach our own chromatic scales.

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Get To 'F' (20)

'F' took a journey down the food-literalism road this week. It's amazing how much foodstuff there is to mention and this little mixture should be easily identified. Pass the sauce, then!! Have a little game of this further down the line, shall we.....?
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For a similar post, have a quick visit to my other ' F-ing' blog HERE

How (spooky's) Zat...!!

             (This one's for fun, as the instant I saw him, I thought he was a cricketer....!)

Oi! You who haunts my house and garden
Believe me, I never give pardon
I admire attempts used to displace
Clad all in white with fearsome face

But, my home's now built on your old ground!
There's nothing here you need redound
Why not linger long at Lords
And spook out souls with joint accords

Those sticks and wecks...? That, thing that smashes!
Just to take home some weird 'ashes'
Can't find the fun in this here game
Too namby-pamby,  far too lame


STILL, I'd guess at what bust your eye socket ?
A cricket ball rubbed down a pocket.
And slung at you but ha! You missed!
Not quite as clever with that wrist

You maybe once played near these grounds
Though I'M here now, I won't denounce
How such a man could not demean
A girl from an ex-rugby team

I'll let you leave with half a face
And pink streaks down your stroking place
You'll never scare me, no, you'll not
Even with your best attacking shot

So take ye off to pastures fresh,
And away from we, who in the flesh
Would take defeat but never haunt
Those in life, we used to taunt

My first and more serious effort lies directly below or via HERE

Blind Men

Blind man falls without his view
Who dares to take what he accrued?

Tapered curtains, dimming light
Brings him to the rooms by night

Lost in righteousness and doom
How spotless lies his vacant tomb

His wife now with another beds
Forgetting vows she gently said

Tries to lift his son for hugs
Budged not an inch, he never does

His vision fades, but then restores
To view all which he now deplores

Walking nights and sometimes days
In build up to his charged way-lays

His anger soars, his dire might
Sends winds and chaos through the night

Crashing photographs unnamed
From which his face had once been framed

Footsteps clump for all to hear
Appearance makes them disappear

Lights take on a fervent glow
Bursting glass he then bestows

Where cries take over, echoes sob
As she ties her apron by the hob

She screams and shouts and begs for him
To leave these loving walls within

But love escaped the second when
The poor dear fell in love again

No man shall take what he provided
Although his heart still beats unguided

So sickened fear drives them away
Another brood decides to stay

Their happiness so short and sweet
The master of the house they meet

Their party-lifestyle soon deceased
When they meet the specter at the feast.......

Get To 'F' (19)

This Friday's choice is sticking with the animal world and very much promoting  'You Are What You Eat!'  I'd still love him!  Then again, I'd be a walking chocolate bar..!

Shot To Pieces

 This prompt (taken from a farm)  shot my memory back to our local farmer having to give up his family business over 30 years ago. A popular  walkway passing the farm, it is now sad to see the few remains. His shotgun was heard nearly every day!!  Farmer Brown's  (yes, that WAS his real name!)  wife was the primary school nurse, an old battleaxe in short, but we were sorry to see her go............!  I'm on her side in this one!!

Bated, corrugated, barn barren with no hay
The hen hut shut, farm in a rut, unable to defray

Scattered feathers, no goats to tether, chains attached to walls
Nothing there, no eggs to spare, abandonment befalls

Fields of rye, left to die, from gold to marshy mud
Pestilence, shot eminence, in answer to the crud

The tractor rusted, the truck they trusted, to haul things here and there
Simply stayed, their long pervade, no need now to prepare

Mechanisms, no farming schisms, left to back him up
Slowly dying, forever trying, to pass him the grace cup.

The house is left, a love bereft, more silent than before
Memories, gone yesterdays, so happy theretofore

A lifetimes worth, met dire dearth, worked hard to localize
Help is needed, his cries unheeded, to profits that paralyze

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Get To 'F' (18)

A little late Getting To Friday's pic this week (seeing as it's Saturday) but I decided on this little Bovine beauty. Hasn't she a gorgeous (double) set of knockers.......! Have fun, Daisy.........
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