* What Lena Leaves.*

Greta's Garnet

2012-02-05T17:07:00.005Z

They parted from circumstance, danced on the line
A beauty in red, fooled by travel and time
A promise to her in her winter visage
A figure that showed in his future mirage

Seas flowed with crimson, shores tinged with pink
Time trading years in no more than a blink
Each with a garnet, stamped with return
As long as the heart beat, then so would the yearn

Old age took hold, at the table she'd sit
Cutting the seeds from a pomegranate
And her stone still continued with crisp, vibrant spark
As guided out Noah, when it became dark

Death took her hostage, and his she became
As she sang on her deathbed her lost lover's name
Of course he'd still find her, her garnet displayed
From the hands of her youth, and their stone from the grave.

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Getting To 'F' (this side!)

2012-02-03T23:04:00.001Z

A little cutesy pic of what happens when we combine fur with flowers.....altogether now.....ahhhh!

Dunno about you but judging by those massive eyes, I'd say he's snorted all the pollen off!

Kadinsky's Artyfarty................

2012-01-30T23:26:00.008Z

Colours collide and they then make a slide
Angles of sharp and of length
Busy and bold, from a heart uncontrolled
Shouting out with a palate of strength

Such visions from him on his creative whim
Unique for the time of his era
Threw these shapes in your face, would you tamper or taste?
Lines obey and the loud hang together

For years I've been staring, my eyes yet declaring
Some new nook or cranny in frame
As my backside goes numb, either side of my bum
Glow with indents and partly from shame

Now I'm hot and I'm sweating, and holey regretting
Hanging Wassily on my bog door
Was just here to sit, while attempting to sh*t
But the print you just cannot ignore...!!

Is it weird then to have, a masterpiece in your lav
That gets more views than would in the hall?
In the great name of art, when you let off a fart
Try Kandinsky hung on your loo wall!
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Happy Birthday To Me.........!!

2012-01-27T04:49:00.005Z

Today is my birthday and tonight PrettyBoy's band is playing a gig and shall be performing my favourite song of theirs (A Little Bit Longer) as my birthday gift. It's a bit of a bastard to wrap is a song - almost as challenging as them trying to get me pissed, but they will all fail miserably. Only Liz, my best friend and NDN is capable of that........

I have a twin sister to celebrate / commiserate another year older with, mind you. Albeit over the phone as she lives in London. I've revealed my age on the balloon. It's the next b'day with an 0 in it, I'm really dreading. Until then I'll try to keep my chin up! I suppose I'm not too bad for an old bird, isn't me..??!!

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(Tea)Pot Head

2012-01-24T22:59:00.004Z

After a right old rake-and-bung in our attic, we came across an old full tea set, straight from the 80's. My hubby ran a pottery back then and made the set personally. In finding quite a large teapot, we decided to use the traditional method of making a pot full for top ups ect.
My younger son, Adam, (Norsey) volunteered to make the tea for us, quite taken with the ghastly, clay retro, oh, no! He came through with a tray with mugs and handed us an empty one each. Quite nonchalantly, he started to pour the tea into our mugs - fully sugared and milked - in his own calculations. I was 'first' because I took just one sugar normally. He then poured the other mugs. It wasn't until he got to his father, who took no milk nor sugar in his, that he realized his blunder. I fear for that child, I really do! Stick with the music mate...........

Firstborn

2012-01-24T20:39:00.001Z

Baby pure, you were secure
Wrapped up in terry towelling
Knees to your chest, I tried my best
To minimise the howling

My little girl, in mummy's world
And so, a babe myself
Nervously discovering
What lay upon the shelf

Both educated, and berated
Tried and tested, too
No other baby taught me
All the things I learned with you

Now scarce the hugs and hearty tugs
Regress to being young
Wrapped up in terry towelling
Soaking up the tears that stung
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Strike Me Blue

2012-01-16T17:02:00.004Z

Join the ones in wonderment
Saviours of the sea
Where women steer a waterwheel
And bring a hush to thee

Aquarians with tidal rings
A surface to evade
A feat Houdini faltered with
In stony masquerade

No mermaid nor Neptunian
Could ride the waves of time
A calling for eternity
To challenge the sublime

Gathered in the sparkle
In femmes of old and new
Awaiting for the wonderment
To come and strike me blue.

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Visit My Other Blog HERE
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Unlucky For Some

2012-01-13T21:54:00.002Z

Nothing exciting or unlucky happened. A glorious day with plenty sunshine and still, frosty greenery. Peaceful indeed. For one to be raised by a highly superstitious mother, no salt, ladders, counting, saluting, chanting, praying, crack-skipping, colour sorting, cat cursing, slow breathing, recitals, odd sock missions, feather bunging, garlic or priests were needed. Friday the 13th...? BRING IT ON..........! It's the other 365 days I need worry about.....................

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In With The New Spew

2012-01-13T00:01:00.004Z

This year is to be my positive year. I'm not your typical resolution sort but I am determined to stick to the plans as much as possible. Granted, I'm not one for planning way in advance as Lady Luck usually pays an unexpected visit and scuppers things for me by the designated date. If only I kept a diary or journal of my life's complications but the entries may not convince some. Bridget Jones hasn't the slightest look in. But (in no particular order) I'm focusing on:

1. Losing a bit more weight.
2. Decorating the bog.
3. Working on a manuscript
4. Buying a mobile.
5. Organizing the biggest charity gig Central Scotland has ever seen.

Number 1 : I have lost around a stone (through illness) and am now using this as an incentive to diet and kick up a healthier lifestyle. Walking miles is probably the burner I enjoy most but toning up via an ancient leisure book with Mad Lizzy Web (if you remember her) from 1989 does the trick just as well as a local Bannatynes, We-Rob-You-Blind, Gym. Getting down to 10 stone by spring would be dandy!

Number 2: For almost a year now, I've had to pee in the water boudoir with cement walls staring back at me. This is a symbolic nightmare if you're a little egg bound. At least with the old wallpaper you could make faces out of if you forgot reading material. I don't care how big the little room is, he's in for a sizing real soon.

Number 3: As you (mostly) know, I adore my Magpie Tales and Short Story Slams. Sadly, not as many old regulars (before joining these popular groups) seem interested in the creative side now posted in my blogs, although I do still get passing comments on everyday/general stuff published from them. Poetry may just remind them of school days and after a hard day's work who wants reminded of English in Room 35 where old leather-patched arse-bore, Mr. McFeely shoved rhyme and Dickens down your throat till dry-boak bell went! Even so, I'm liking the thought of putting on paper the mad ideas, storylines and dialogue that flit through my head in perpetual paths at quiet times. My confidence would never seek publication for this but I'd be interested to see how far and where the pen would take me.

Number 4: You should see the funny looks I get when I reveal that I don't own a mobile phone. Relatives, customer services, application forms ect, presume everyone has one. Four years ago my even-then-hand-me-down number dropped and broke. I have not replaced it since. It hasn't made my world any less complicated, it's always going to be shit. But the only thing I can positively commend these things for is emergencies. They're handy for a number of other things too, like turning you into a gofer, getting tutted at on public transport, losing on public transport, falling into lager glasses, being mugged over, ghastly ringtones, cheating and infidelity. I'll leave it another year, (despite the kids offering to buy me one) and see if communicating by other means fails in comparison. If it does, I've matches, sticks and a blanket .

Number 5: I'm 'thinking' (don't want to use the word PLANNING for now) of holding a massive charity gig. This time for two causes - Canine Partners and a Pink Ribbon Breast Cancer charity (after my recent scare). Both my sons' bands would be playing, as well as a few others. Ideally, I would like an older band to perform, to cater for the age-rangers, but unless an ex-blogger returns and writes here again (and comments!) I may have to personally rip the spot from them and perform myself!

The difference this time would be a more prestigious venue. Canine Partners recently played a charity gig at Gleneagles Hotel (all hired and paid for by some rich car supporter) but a closer to home venue (Central Scotland) is a must! Perhaps the university hall would do for one of 'these' gigs. I'd have the help of the other charity organiser this time, so that takes the pressure off a little. I'll mull things over with my best mate, Liz, (gonna try convince her to go!) at my birthday bash' in Behind The Wall later on this month. My sons' bands Hotel India and No Need For Idols (see sidebar for entertainment value) but for now you may want to click on this link for the star of the show who'd be there on the said night too.

http://helenshere.blogspot.com/2011/11/pup-popstar-and-press.html

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HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY, KERRI........!

2011-12-29T15:14:00.005Z

On Saturday( Hogmanay/New Year's Eve), my baby girl, Kerri, turns 30. OMG? Did I just say 30? Weird thing is, I can recall her birth as clear as a bell. Even now! I'm not too great at buying presents or indeed babbling on the phone, but one thing I do my damndest at is poetry and rhyme. That is the one sure thing that comes from my heart. So below is a dedication to the day my angel (eventually!) popped into the world. Alli Bally Bee.......

My Girl

Reflecting on your birth day, how you popped into the world.
My one and only daughter, firstborn, little baby girl.
I recall that very morning, as the niggles started up
Held my breath, bit my lip, stared into my coffee cup

Uh-oh! The planned arrival's curiously making waves.
It only cramps a little bit, I must try to be brave.
Your dad met me at Maternity, a smile upon his face
A floppy rose in one hand, and a watch to set the pace.

Feeling quite uncomfortable, from sit, to stand, to sit
I didn't like the set up, not one single bloody bit!
He asked how I was doing and I lashed out with my tongue
For it felt I had an open brolly sticking up my bum!

You weren't too concerned about making your appearance
And all I wanted here and now was full-blown baby clearance!
Deliver us from pain and things, it was beyond a joke
Not even sweat stained lullaby's were able to evoke!

I huffed and puffed and panted, swore and knocked some flowers down
Prayed to God: '...just kill me now...', while in my labour gown.
You still maintained a lie-in, in no hurry to appear
While I told your dad he's 'in for it, when we get out of here!'

They offered pain relief for me, I took it and was grateful
But that just slowed the process down, how could they be so hateful!
Then 'crack ' you burst your bubble, water gushing all about
I felt worse than central reservoir, depleted and washed-out!

Now, I felt you coming, waves of chronic, gripping stuff!
Dilating me to number 10 - when 4 was bad enough!
But, yes, indeed, still here was I , the mid-wife quite confounded
I'd said good-night-and-morning twice, akimbo and abounded....

This baby was the champion, a sac of pure control
There would be no Miss-taking, Little Miss's future role!
So, where that strength was mustered, Heaven knows from where it came
I purged so hard, I soon saw stars and lighter I became.

You were swabbed and robed and measured, checked out quickly by the nurse
Who handed me sweet little 'you' and forgave my need to curse!
Twenty-seven long hard hours, it took you to comply
I kissed your bloodied forehead and the pain just waved goodbye.

But from the moment I first saw you - what a rush of pinking air.
A girl when they all said 'a boy', you made your mark from there!
A chubby little face you had and fingers long and thin
A heart that beat so very fast, a precious stone within.

The beginning of a story, chapters that just captivate
I don't believe in magic, just the power to create.
My perfect little baba, my funny, funny girl
An addition and a honour to this huge revolving world!

I'm PROUD My Kid's Going To Jail!

2011-12-19T20:08:00.005Z

The Inhaler That Shadows Cast

I love you in front of
and sometimes behind
Shadow's and inklings
your two of a kind

Ideas all cluttery
churned in your sleep
As gracious a subject
as mind's eyes compete

Inhaling my soul
as the image suggests
What mighty idea's
to mixed and digest

An ending as fiery as the
red room is bold
Nice that YOU'RE the main focus,
as deep as it's cold.

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Tonight and tomorrow night and for the second year running, my son's band No Need For Idols is playing a gig in Scotland's only woman's prison. The guys rocked it out last Christmas at Cornton Vale in Stirling and hailed it as one of the best venue's to have ever played. Mind you, at regular gigs the fans pan out 50-50 girls and boys, so a female-only filled pheromone hall is gonna make them that little bit more appreciative, work a sweat up even quicker! Last year's performance was a huge success but with the band being another year older, the gals are in for an even better jingle-jail rock!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ADAM

2011-11-29T22:08:00.001Z

My baby boy turns 18 tomorrow. I can't believe it. Already. The nurses in maternity dubbed him The Golden Child as he had the most beautiful sheen to his hair. His birthday is also St. Andrews Day. Not only that but he'd have shared the same birthday as his Grandpa Frank had he lived.

Anyway - as you can imagine, most teens hitting the milestone age wants to get out there with their mates and get wasted and be rowdy. Loud music and vomit filled celebrations. Right? Not him.

He wants a quiet drink in the house with his dad and brother, as he has saved hard and is off to Oban with his girlfriend and her family staying in her uncle's holiday mansion just by the sea, to mark the occasion. So I've compiled him a little slideshow to see him off and honour his age at the same time. My little boy, all grown up and in love. Adamski.

A Hint If There Was Ever One..........

2011-11-27T21:05:00.006Z

You know I like my comforts and my cosy little traits
But I can't believe the lengths you've gone to, just to actuate
I told you but a million times I'd get her out of there
How's she gonna feel now that you've kept the matching chair?

That was her little brother, he'll look so lost on his own
Can't you ever leave the tatty things to which I've fondly grown?
She may not be in vogue right now or even haute couture
But you can't deny she made you feel all sleepy and secure!

That wall will never be the same, I'll never ever find
A sofa that will let you stuff so many things behind!
I know down in her innards lay the odd wee crumb or two
Maybe some lost magazine (and hankies from the flu!)

The last thing I expected, when driving home today
Was to see my faithful friend abandoned, tossed in to the day
The council won't be happy when I lift the phone on you
Fly-tipping leaves a hefty fine - I've pride to live up to!

Guess I'd better get the guys together, part with 'Sofie' right
I'll take her to the local tip - lest I'm miserable, contrite
But not before the lads and I say farewell with some beers
Sitting in the street remembering long and happy years.......

Missing Link

2011-11-21T19:39:00.004Z

In a pocket was a piece of paper, writing looked like yours
Remorse it gushed right at me, through it's hard and fearsome shores
I loved as much as hating you, disastrous to the last
It takes more than blocked out visions to immobilise the past

Who could bind the mindless notions that were floating in my head?
Neon lights and sundry rays, all challenged to embed.
I caught the vision, gave it thought, sparked the naked flame
Would resting on my laurels not just aggravate the game?

I found you as I left you, on that night of dying shades
Not a single drop of hatred dripping downwards from the blades
Forgiveness chases chances in a circular cease-fire
Can I really hang the painting as our colours now transpire?

Drawing ever nearer, a fear that fears comply
But you smile and laugh and reach out, trap my hand between your thighs
Sweeping hair from porcelain, I lean in for a kiss
Could a man be such a doubter of his solid parti pris..?

You move in closer to me, in scents of evergreen
With the power to crush an angel and render it obscene
Caught us in a low sensation, a soulful, still degree
Sweetest moments as we have it and unjust, cold symmetry

I loved you and I hated you, but cannot do without
The feeling left within me when your aura's not about
You're tender yet you're trouble, very rarely catch a wink
Click into our prime position, my forever missing link

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The Pup, The Popstar and The Press

2011-11-18T21:11:00.004Z

Meet Alexandra Goldendoodle. Or Alex for short. She's my friend Linda's 9-month old labradoodle. Linda works tirelessly for the charity Canine Partners UK, which train dogs to help benefit the lives of the disabled both indoors and outdoors. To widen charity interest they came up with the idea of getting Alex snapped with as many willing celebrities of soap, cinema, sport and comedy as possible at hotels, shows, back stage passes and such like venues. Linda's sister resides in London and does her part in celeb-chinning!

The story was covered by the Daily Record in September, but now Linda's focusing on the music scene. To boot things into gear, my son's band NO NEED FOR IDOLS has offered to perform a charity gig for Canine Partners in the near future where Alex will be the star of the gig/show. Oooooh! I've never tried Agadoo with anybody with more than two legs before! Here's a snap of Adam with Alex the wonder-dog. She is so full of shaggy love and affection!

I've popped up a slideshow ( including some with simple Alex poses!) of other 'celebs' including James Corden, Gerard Butler and Scottish artist Jack Vettriano. British readers will be (obviously) in with a shout of recognising the faces - even the ones we've not seen in years.......soz!

Fidelity Knell

2011-11-14T22:25:00.002Z

They fed themselves a pellet each,
washed down with syrup wine.
Huddled close into the duvet,
feeling ever so inclined...

To call their spouses, say goodbye,
it really was the end.
Of life in utter misery,
no need to condescend.

One tender kiss, then closing eyes
just waiting for the lure.
To tempt them into paradise's
grandest ever tour.

A garden filled with safety nets,
where waters never drown.
Vernal twists with violets,
binding your acceptance crown.

A sky where rainbows' arched and domed.
Contentment, worry free.
Taking love's ultimate step,
a harp to render thee.

Soon his body bended over,
stomach retched in twisted pain.
Floods of pandemonium went,
coursing through his veins.

He grabbed her hand against the pull
crepuscle calling near.
Ensuring their allegiance
in the terror of her tears.

All at once the toll of bells
drowned out the calming strings.
Him returning while she
hadn't earned the right to wings.

He vaporised before her eyes,
thick mist hung in the air.
And all around her as she turned -
and endless feild of chairs.

Where were the steps to Heaven,
stairs forgiving with each climb.
Guess she'll sit there being capsuled
into limbo's telling time.......

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Eleven O'Clock Hush

2011-11-11T20:55:00.003Z

If anything left an impact on me throughout my life, it was my father's stories of his time during WW2 that affected me the most. Stories of the sad, happy and horrific. Pictures that my mind struggled to compile or complied readily to conjure up.

Over the years he made sure that his family and friends sported a Poppy on their jackets when mixing with the public on the lead up to remembrance day on November 11th. He also reminded us that the Poppy was in recognition and respect for the younger soldiers of closer era's - especially those in active duty. The experience that distressed him the most was that, after the war, out of the 5 friends that left their little village, he was the only one to return home. He felt so guilty facing the families of his deceased friends but they were determined he was getting a hero's welcome, which he and the neighbourhood honoured and dedicated to those lost.

The picture below is of him with other musical comrades entertaining the troops and companies. Typically, he's the one on guitar!

Miss you so much, auld yin. Your music and talent still oozes down through the family bloodline. And so it will continue.....it's just a shame peace isn't hereditary

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The Death Of Casino............

2011-11-07T20:51:00.004Z

*Magpie's (kinda) on my other blog for now.......*

The Death Of Casino........

Before the odd one or two get up off their swivel chair in sheer elation, it's not really the end of the band. Just the name. The guys have had to come up with another title. Search engines and general enquiries for the band have often been bypassed as today's gambling mad society automatically presumes that you're some sort of bookie fodder looking to waste away another week's wages in no time at all. Try googling Casino for yourself. It's mince.

The guys just played a recent wonder-gig at Leith Theatre to around 400 top nobs who are quite happy to see them back. Their Saturday gig in 20 Rocks was bloody ~~phemi~~ ~~famonima~~ ~~phemomi~~ magic! Black Eye played stompingly good and 'new tune' has a fabulous little keys-up accompaniment to it. Gets to your heart, that does.

So what's the new name of the band.......? The guys have decided on *Hotel India*. Obviously, it'll take time to get used to and a lot of editing on their videos and things but I hope it catches on. Only problem is googling that name. Until the guys are recognised with it, it's gonna give you hotels all over blummin' India. But their boss has a passion/obsession for India and he wants to give it a go but.........well, it's like calling that cuddly teddy you've loved and cherished for years by another name at night. Wrong 'til it feels right, I suppose! But before I go.....here's what happened on Saturday night - I'll change fonts.....*ahem*
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Hotel India's sound checking was running a good bit late and the doorman/promo git said to me when I got my ticket out:

"Would you mind going back downstairs 'til the bands are ready, please?"

Ross (PrettyBoy) comes over and says:

"She's ma maw"

Git replied:

"Oh? Just through there then, madam....."

Sweet as! Ah, the perks of the getting-there famous!

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I'm leaving a rather crappy (recording) of the guys' new song (that I've dubbed 'Inbetween' for now) on my other ABDTS blog. I will add lyrics. Catchy little bugger........!

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ps......if anyone is wondering about the new profile pic it's to support the charity Movember........!
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Their Song, His Romance

2011-11-04T20:53:00.002Z

My youngest son is a strapping lad. Not yet 18 but sporting a beard that is now long enough to plait. He takes lids off jars as he spins them, blows up and bursts hot-water bottles as his party piece, and lifts the back end of cars up if need be! You'd never think to look at him he'd be capable of something like this:

As his girlfriend attended an awards ceremony for work she'd done in Lourdes, he spent hours making this for her return. In all it's sweet, dodgy-grammar glory, it brought tears to my eyes. But no-one knows better than me just how big that heart is. And to think the most romantic thing I ever got from his dad was a bloke in a gorilla suit bursting into my work with a bunch of flowers for me............!

Volumes Away

2011-10-30T18:23:00.007Z

She hated it, his love for letters, presented there in keys
Scrunched up sheets, rejected reams, ink defied and squeezed
Telling tales on one another, in whose version could she trust?
Tapping rhythms, shout out louder, in the silence, readjust

Fallen graces, murder, intrigue, part of elementary hype
Letting fingers do the walking, inky bloodline as you type.
Sets and rises, days a muddled, corner sighs in high defence
Particles of skin in chinked light, resting on it's own pretence.

Journey down a road in solace, accompanied by mind's own eye
Words that read the same to others, but pictures always will defy.
Time is held in low abandon, a dungeon that his will adores
Remind him of her own existence, in bold barbaric underscores.........

She left a note in crimson, pleading, on the last page of his book
Volumes on but not exceeding, some day he may take a look
Reminding him that life is something else, to which he should assign
Will he begin another chapter as she signs along the dotted line.

Get To ''Halloween'' (23) Here Too....!

2011-10-29T22:53:00.001+01:00

I've heard of being pea-brained but this is ridic......!

This week's F-ing entry is to archive Halloween also. I've added a nice little song (audio) by the much loved and missed Kirsty McColl. It is played every Halloween in our house as a tribute. It's a beautiful little number and goes perfect with my 'Bits Down The Side' blog entry too.....................

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Versus You

2011-10-23T22:18:00.007+01:00

The city sighs and cars collide and
I take it in all in manic stride.
Pent up hating, gross debating
run or spend a minute waiting.

Traffic lures me, lights assure me,
time for madness to endure me
Gridlock, trying, by and bying
someone's crying loud but surely

Put the foot down, sidles around,
can't the motion hurry on town
I'll twist the tries, nurse my black eyes
green says go but red defies......

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No Need To Pay Up

2011-10-22T20:28:00.006+01:00

My younger son's band No Need For Idols launched their new EP on iTunes yesterday and received this fabulous review:

It goes without saying that the cities of Glasgow and Edinburgh have both contributed largely to the canon of great Scottish music, both having produced several bands over the years who achieved worldwide success. Even smaller areas have had bands who have had a significant impact in recent years with long haired Kilmarnock rockers, Biffy Clyro enjoying mainstream success with their last two albums reaching the Top 10. Falkirk has yet to produce a band that can measure up to Dunfermline's Big Country; Dundee's The View or East Kilbride's Jesus and Mary Chain. The last blip on the radar here was Arab Strap's 1996 single The First Big Weekend which was lauded by Radio 1's Steve Lamacq.

Nevertheless it looks like times are set to change with the emergence of No Need For Idols, a band formed out of 5 school friends.They've worked solidly for the last few years building up a fanbase and recording original material, culminating in the release of their eponymous debut EP released today on iTunes (Fri, Oct 21).

Opening track What's Become Of Me? opens with a bassline similar to a distant stampede of elephants and what follows is the aural equivalent of being trampled by said elephants. The chorus is written specifically for the volume level to be abused on whatever device you listen to it on.

These boys are not your average indie rockers - because they aren't an indie band. They go for the jugular with massive riffs, howling vocals and drumming not unlike the sounds of war. Walk Away, a staple of NNFI's live shows also appears here and the tempo does not relent for a second. Held together with an almost tribal drumbeat, the song is catchy, muscular and performed with a great collaborative flair.

For All I've Done is the point where the tempo drops slightly but the intensity is not compromised. The refrain is anthemic and the verses are dripping with ghostly harmonies. This is all composed around a cinematic guitar solo that kicks in at the halfway mark.

It's easy to spot the influence of Foo Fighters on the closing track, Truth, which is delivered with a post-punk edge. The circling riff-age on this track will certainly have listeners holding an air guitar of their own and banging their heads. It sounds as if it should be played alongside footage of a riot, or an epic battle in a film. And with the clever title of Idle To Idol, topping the planned album, it gives us a taster of future good things to come.

In an era where insipid and vacuous pop seems to be dominating the charts, it's heartening to hear rock music being played, and being played right. Expect big things from this group in the future who look certain to help put Falkirk firmly on the musical map.

By Owen O'Donnell

Just google the band name for options of purchase.

You can visit iTunes directly if your computer has it available (this old wreck don't and I ain't downloading it!) where the tasters are longer. The EP is also cut into 4 single tracks if you prefer just to buy one!

Of course I'm happy enough with anyone having a simple listen at the tasters, (No Need To Purchase!) as my fanciful notions of what fame and fortune may bring my son to luxuriate me with haven't quite left the box of chocolates mark. Oh, and what with a sought after recent local rag interview released next week, and the lads having to turn gigs down, methinks NorseGod's band has the upper edge of getting in the limer-light (spelling intentional) before his older brother's does. God, that'd be a bugger and a beauty at the same time!

Many Hammy Whammies....

2011-10-19T21:19:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow (20th), The Cheaper Half and I will be *celebrating* 22 years of wedded bliss. Ahh! And they said it wouldn't last.....well, the ex-fiancee I nicked him from did anyhow........Happy Anniversary, darling. Mine's a large one!
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* passing the day in the usual manner, just a bit pissed up, that's all*

Chinatown DaddyDown

2011-10-18T22:17:00.004+01:00

A cultural weekend, in song and in flavour
Delibes for the ears, and the taste buds to savour:
Food from far off Asia, prepared in the way
We multi-task time-savers never obey

Orient calling in one stretch of town
Under the smoke clouds of caramel brown
Lights, shouts and beckoning, should I bring myself near?
Not speaking the language yet the message quite clear

The smoke and the powders both making me sneezy
Old men playing Pipas, girls on the Dizi
The lanterns and lights, and dragons displayed
Music delightful as the colours cascade

The sound of crackling and sizzling took over
Fattened up carcass well fed from the stover
Nostrils a-flaring, at every new smell
A Heaven to Daddy, for me it was Hell

The Opera's heroine's fate in my head
So quickly displaced in this market of dread
The ugliest fish, catching you in a stare
With red blood eyes bulging and warning 'Beware'

Yuk! I saw them all hanging, head and feet clipped
Some bird or other, with plumage all stripped
Doused in some seeded oil, crispy of skin
And bunged in a basket of horrors within

At the next stall there stood a man, toothless and grinning
Skewering bugs down a pole that was spinning
Glazed them in sticky stuff, poked through a wire
Yup, my dad brought a stalk from the nodding old fryer

Dogs zigged-zagged in and out everyone's legs
Getting thrown little tit-bits, if valently begged
Then my father said ' dogs made a nice evening meal.
In a burger it's similar to eating veal!'

Further up there were tanks filled with variant fish
You could CHOOSE ones you wanted to eat in your dish!
Before he had the chance to - I pulled him away!
I'd had enough roastings of creatures that day!

We left but my dad felt, to make up to me
He'd buy a nice Orient ice-cream for tea
The wafer was normal, the cream tasted sweet
The best thing that Chinatown had here to eat!

Till I got to the bottom, curled up in a ball
In the wafer - the creepiest slug of them all
I screamed and I dropped it and stomped on it's head
Asked no forgiveness for the sweary-word said!

So, the next time Dad takes me to Opera's or shows
I'll not sit there next to him, with huffs and with ho's.
I'll take my bit sanity once curtains fall down
To that nice fish and chip shop on the Upside of town!
___________________________________________
*************************************************************

Get To 'F' (22)

2011-10-14T14:39:00.002+01:00

Still coming down from Wednesday's Mannor Ball, so I'm rounding this week's 'Get To F(riday)' pic off in style. I want one:

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Willow Mannor Ball 2011

2011-10-12T06:44:00.009+01:00

The prestigious ball is upon us once again, and with great delight (it's the only night of the year I'm out in style) and huge bucket loads of champagne, I'll dance the night away.

I attend this year again, with gorgeous Australian, Simon Baker, star of the big screen and my naughty dreams. My husband may have thought that I was listening intently to his recent fishing tales, but my mind was focused solely on the ball. It is the only night of the year where Simon and I say 'stuff the spouses', give them some fib about the car breaking down or a kitten drowning or something and meet up for our October tryst.

Anyhow, this year I chose a black, daring dress - to match my soul - while Simon chose to go a bit more casual.....well, it's a nightmare trying to rip that dickie and sash off him after midnight. I'm looking forward to a couple of classical dances. I'll request the orchestra play 'The Blue Danube' for our first dance as he's likely to neck more champagne after a long twirl and the more sozzled the better! Anyhow - I'll no doubt bump into (literally!) you at the ball, so Simon and I look forward to meeting you and your partners and of course, to exchange compliments of the ball gowns (if anyone wears the same outfit as me there'll be fireworks!) See you there.....don't be late!

My date:

My shoes:

My earrings:

My evening purse:

Our entrance:

And to end the ball, my son's band CASINO, will play their classic finishing song.....# won't close my eyes Until Sunrise # . If only the ball could last forever......!

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Right Royal Reduction

2011-10-10T20:57:00.003+01:00

The King was a smarty, who threw a big party,
to show off his riches and stuff.
A conceited old guy, with a twitch in one eye,
as the other one pictured you buff!

His aunt twice removed, brought guests unapproved,
one a beauty with long golden hair.
The King downing rums, kept patting her bum 'twas
enough from this fat debonair!

You just couldn't tell, from her sight and her smell,
that she practiced the way's of the witch.
While he guzzled his wine, giving tales quite sublime,
she had popped in a potion to which:

For each boast that he made, or fib that he said,
he'd lose inches the very next day.
To shrink in his sleep, this royal bopeep,
would party his good self away.

So the beauty just smiled, as the fat king beguiled,
reminding the guests of his riches
This silly old fool, with his useless crown jewels,
was no match for beautiful witches.

So she danced when he asked, this Dead Hand of the Past,
was groping the flesh of his fate.
His big sweaty hands, and his roaring commands,
wouldn't strike up the strength to berate!

So the morning broke in, with a sunnier grin,
his majesty rubbing his face.
Sat up with sheer dread on this huge, endless bed,
as he struggled in brocade and lace!

No holler, no shouting, brought one in or outing,
the place was as quiet as church.
What a whole-hearted nightmare, he slid down his side chair,
- abandonned and left in the lurch.

In his tiny white nightie, he took off fair and flighty,
crawling himself under doors.
Ran into the kitchen, with hardly a stitch on,
where the maids started cleaning the floors!

'Eeeh! Where'll the King be, kidnapped in his nightie,
...how much will the robbers demand?"
They say grace alone, won't get him back his throne,
could cost us well over a grand!"

Though he screamed at them loud, jumped and made a dust cloud,
at over an inch just, he reigned.
He was too small a guy, to hear or espy,
would he ever feel wholesome again?

The maid left her mop, near the marble work top,
took a break from her hard morning toil.
So up the King climbed, in an act so well timed,
for back came the servants and royals.

But the silly old flip, took a turning and slipped,
fell off into water below.
In the bowls of the hounds, who thirst showed no bounds,
for their searching of Master McLow.

His favourite mutt, with the low-hanging gut,
swallowed him down with one slurp.
Seems the King of all grace, disappeared without trace
(and was not even pardoned by burp!).

***********************************************************************

McVicar

2011-10-07T00:06:00.006+01:00

Prettyboy attended a recent wedding. His gorgeous girlfriend Stacey's brother was getting married. Apparently, the Vicar was a funny old guy. The bride was a little late and to fill the awkwardness he started to sing the notes from the Wedding March, 'Da-da-da-da'....(everyone stood up) which he then backed up with 'da-da-da-da-da-da-da' (notes 4-10)...from the Funeral March. Bridey turned up and during the course of the ceremony he kept pausing to feel the groom's head and going, 'he's okay, he's okay'. Later on Bridey nervously got the ring hand wrong, to which he remarked 'pillock' to her. Then he was first up to the bar after the 'I Do's'. With these being just a few of his hilarious antics, I want to book him in now for my funeral.

The Pretty One With The Even Prettier One
****************************************************

Mistress Of The Mind

2011-10-03T00:48:00.008+01:00

In the corners of the city
through the rages, over fences
You can catch the smirk of Keres
pulverising precious senses

Breathing in diseases
that we live under and loathe
Gathers fruit for us to tempt with,
if you're the bearer of a troth

Perfect symmetry will scare her
as will the beauty of the piece
A flawless soul, a neat provider
never match her soul caprice

Is it in the way we panic
making fuss as schedules juggle?
Sitting back's her one requirement
getting off on how we struggle

Is it not the path of duty
that she boldly tampers with?
Not determining the balance
but backing up the myth

She's devises little snippets
of the weirdest, weirdest kind
Holes them up for later usage
in the back streets of your mind

Watch elephants soar skywards
with a graceful tilt of wings
And water rising gradually
from colour tainted springs

Softening the winter layer
with an over-zealous sun
Nightmares stacked in single file
less able now to shun

Hallucination is her forte,
seize your mind before your pride
Nothing make sense any more
convincing visions - bona fide

Can't the sun just simply melt her,
or the route lose her her way?
Let her taste self satisfaction
with a different sauce today

The carnage of your thoughts
lost among the strange debris
Won't return to render mind games
but to pass you on to me.

***********************************

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

2011-09-29T05:11:00.006+01:00

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!!!!

2011-09-28T20:14:00.004+01:00

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

2011-09-26T17:31:00.004+01:00

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
****************************************************

Get To 'F' (21)

2011-09-23T16:57:00.001+01:00

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

2011-09-20T22:16:00.001+01:00

( 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.

***********************************************************

Get To 'F' (20)

2011-09-17T22:33:00.002+01:00

'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...!!

2011-09-12T21:12:00.005+01:00

(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

2011-09-12T13:34:00.002+01:00

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)

2011-09-09T22:19:00.001+01:00

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

2011-09-06T18:46:00.004+01:00

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

****************************************************

Get To 'F' (18)

2011-09-03T17:23:00.001+01:00

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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I Interrupt This Magpie To Announce.......

2011-08-30T17:14:00.005+01:00

Today, Pretty Boy's last module result arrived. This was the crucial one to secure him his second year at university, sitting this degree with Honours. He passed and starts back in September. I'm so proud. Now he has a degree in Music and Audio Technology to add to his other achievements.

If all goes well for the year ahead, I will potentially have a second kid with letters after their name. For me, this is gobsmacking. Weather permitting (as we're almost into winter here in Scotland) we plan to have another garden celebration soon. And the smile will hopefully be bigger than the one's here, at last year's college graduation diploma celebration......

Andrew, Ross and Scott celebrating last year's diplomas

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Who Needs A Mac?

2011-08-29T21:03:00.005+01:00

Come out tonight and jump the puddles
Splash some love across the street
Feel the trickles down your collar
With each forecaster's fine deceit

Clouds of anger, keep collecting
Changing white to midnight grey
Lash reserves on cobbles, gratings
So many signs to disobey

Coloured lights pierce through the torrents
Tempting us to go inside
Nab a drink and sit there tingling
Clean the corners of our minds

Clothes cling tight, twist and gather
Shoes they squelch with every stride
Hair is pasted, make up wasted
Worries for a short time slide.

November rain persists to call us
Out into the back street lights
Run with laughter, failed umbrella
Catch the essence of the night

Make wishes as the ripples join up
Waterfalls down window panes
Rain ever cursed from sheltered beings
Whose appeal continues to arcane

***************************************************

Get To 'F' (17)

2011-08-26T13:52:00.003+01:00

I have gotten myself to 'F' a bit earlier this week. My presence over the week-end will be little, if at all, as my darling daughter and her hubby (see sidebars for details) are visiting from London. Time is precious.

In honour of her, I leave a snap of her beloved penguins. Wonder how many cold or icy associated song titles we can come up with to accompanying it. Mull that over with some wine later on methinks............

Next Friday then.............................
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Riding To Boogie-Woogie

2011-08-22T19:26:00.002+01:00

This week's entry was a bit of a struggle for me, I never got that instant direction to where my poems usually take me. However, a few family members seem to think that the anonymous lad in the car resembles my son's friend, Blair. I'm not so sure. What do you think?

Mirror, I like what I see
I'm off to Rigsby Hall
Footloose and excited
Jitterbug's and swinging dolls

Hitch a ride with Faith and Jenny
Like the ruby of their lips
Walk into the venue
With a girl for either hip

Looking round at all the sweethearts
Through the thickening smoke cloud
While the music and the mirror ball
Cast temptation to the crowd

Not war-torn nor depleted
Floor as scuffed as soldiers' hearts
This dance hall's masterful with moves
To ensure fear's kept apart

Dance away, you little devils
Of the brass and of the bone
Deliberate your curfew
We will always hold one's own

Be a sweet little wallflower
Or the jiver of romance
Not even Father's rage will
Kill the music or the dance

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Get To 'F'

2011-08-19T21:45:00.001+01:00

On a Friday I enjoy a bit of image fun. Trawling the 'net I look for funny, cute, artsy, clever and the downright bizarre pictures, to share with the blogger community. This week focuses on artsy and fun:

Here's a few remakes of the (al)most famous model in sitting still-land. Now those, I'd be happy to hang in front of......!

See you next time where we can all meet up and 'Get To F' (Friday)

Colour Me Kindly

2011-08-15T17:44:00.010+01:00

Oh, heck, I'm being stripped again
This new lot seem quite deranged!
Why can't they move in quietly
Without the need to change?

They'll size me, analyse me,
Slide a sliver of cement
Pop a lid and grab some brushes
Charge with purposeful intent

What ruddy colour will they choose?
Shall I end a sorry sight ?
Princess pink or football blue?
A silent wall hermaphrodite!

Or will they go the whole hog
And repaper me again?
I'd quite like giant flowers
In that look of misty rain.

Or will they cheapen me with basic?
Anaglypta? Wooden chips?
I demand a roll that bounces back
When you lift your fingertips!!

Yet, for decorative fulfillment
Frames refreshed in all the rooms
I'll inhale, seep up, in every pore
Till I'm high on glossy fumes

Once I'm dry, they'll likely hang me
With the tackiest of stuff
Or trust to me, a huge TV
Till the rawlplugs' had enough

Gee, I feel so awfully helpless
The 3 piece suite is facing me
I'll be gawped at for the next ,blah, years
So I pray - be kind to me!

Retroland

2011-08-10T00:37:00.002+01:00

Bobbie-Jo, run away with me
Take us off into the night
Find a room with Magic Fingers
And a calming amber light

Bobbie-Jo, pack up your swimsuit
And we'll go live by the sea
Ocean sprays against your shoulders
As your shoulders rest on me.

Bobbie-Jo, let's find a preacher
Who'll bless us before shame
Be the husband that your father loathes
When you eradicate his name.

Bobbie-Jo, I'll find a ladder
And within an hour or two
I'll tap your bedroom window
And we'll head for Xanadu.

*****************************
Joseph-Bob, what are you doing?
Squashing my hibiscus bush!
Where did that ladder come from....
I expect to hear the truth....!!

Mrs Jones, I climbed the ladder
To alert my Bobbie-Jo
We were thinking of eloping
Now we'll never, ever know

Mr.Jones came to the window
I'd misjudged the actual room
Shoved me back into the night air
Onto your beloved bloom

Mrs Jones was struck, dumbfounded
Father loved his baby girl
But the story had to be told
How BJ came into the world:

I was slung over his shoulder
Down a ladder, in a car
Drove us off into the night
South to West Virginia

Bobbie-Jo, she was born out there
Reached four before we wed
You'll both be tinged with temple grey
Before HE'LL give the go ahead

Joe, buy a sparkly little gem
To place upon her hand
And if her father starts, I'll take him
Back to Retroland

I Proms-ise To Love You Forever.......

2011-08-06T22:23:00.003+01:00

Ashley playing to the masses on holiday......!

Today my daughter and son-in-law celebrate their 7th wedding anniversary. It will be a day to remember for always. Lunch at the Ivy in London and off to South Kensington with my twin sis to watch the Proms at the Royal Albert Hall. Something probably done a million times before but there's an added bonus.

My twin's son, Ashley, has been chosen to play in the wind section for tonight's performance, starring Nigel Kennedy. His instruments of interest are the baritone horn and trombone. The timing for the double celebration was magical. I'm thrilled for all four of them.

Ashley's greater talent came shining through after landing a place at Chetham's School of Music in Manchester. Unlike his cousin's (PrettyBoy and NorseGod) for one so young he decided to take the classical route instead of the manic minions of rock and pop. And I couldn't be more proud. I have just watched (again) his soloists' video performance of Sång till Lotta and it gets more hauntingly beautiful with each listen. Sadly, I cannot access a link to share it here meantime as you have to be a Facepuke friend of mine to view it...!

The performance is being recorded and broadcast on telly next Saturday (13th Aug). My eyes will be straining to catch a fleeting glimpse or more of this little genius. His grampa would've been ever so proud and loud about it, too. Fill up 'em lungs young man and blow away any doubts you ever had. It's in the blood! For now, here's a sneaky snap that 'escaped' from the performance last night. The young blonde guy sat in the back row, resting his trombone is our little genius!

Old Blades Of Glory

2011-08-01T20:27:00.003+01:00

Rotating, gyrating, this denature fan
Drawing in, motioning, as hard as he can
Just a glimmer of yesteryear, a whisper away
Blown gently from dry palms and into the day

Seeds of new promise, landing where 'er
Bursting out blooms near an infinite lair
Close by there's a grinding, where once there was ire
Giving strength to the snowstorm and fumes of the fire

Invisible to the eye, but ever so clear
Presence attending, by touch and by ear
Windmills continue, performing their duty
With the dance in the leaves and trees ravaged from beauty

Elements, Heaven sent, scents in the air
Whip up a wonder with everyone there
Grinding blades, renegades, direction unclear
Disregarded mechanically over the years

Blades robbed of oiling, heart festered away
No regard for the function performed in its day
Rusted, adjusted, replaced and then tossed
Never then realising it's really their loss

NorseGod and the Higher Podium

2011-07-28T23:22:00.003+01:00

No Need For Idols

As the title may suggest, one is not trying to rip off (badly) what the recently redundant Ms.Rowling was good at but big up the venue that raises drummers' kit on a raised podium. Stuck at the back will always be a downside for drummers but seeing my son in full view of everyone, giving it wellie, helped the crowd reach manic proportions earlier than usual. What a gig!! I'm proud of all you guys but don't say it out loud, I'd be mortified if anyone 'clicked' on! And remember to click for that bigger pic........

Fame- Spiked And Biked

2011-07-25T22:12:00.003+01:00

It was only ever a notion
To perform in a tea-cup of stars
A balancing act, with a beauty impact
Ogling men smoking Cuban cigars

Nodding the wink to each other
Choosing the maiden with care
Courtesans, sporting fans, come along now
Entrancing each young debonair

Devilish stunts on a cycle
The captor of rubber and steel
Bows flapping, men clapping lightly
No faults and no head over heels.

She may wish for a star to come crashing
To capture this young debutant
Give peace and release from the metal
Till she finds her Guy de Maupassant

But it's round in a circle of tyre tracks
And accurate judgement of scope
Bracing yourself for the day when
An equivalent hands you the rope

Up Your Placentas.......!

2011-07-24T22:06:00.004+01:00

Today PrettyBoy flopped on to the settee after work (at the new hospital) and let out a huge sigh.

"You'll never believe what I had to take to Waste Management today?"

Going over the most obvious of innards, we were still none the wiser, so I asked for a clue.

"Maternity"
"A bucket of babies?" I quipped, as I now knew the answer. Placentas.
"Mum - it was disgusting. I had a peek and the smell was gross. I'll never huff at a mortuary delivery ever again!"

I did try to convince him that there are woman, husbands even, that bring it home with the baby and cook and eat it. A symbol of good health and fortune type thingy. However, this picture and blog I come across had slightly different plans for it.

They took the placenta home, froze it until the better weather appeared and used it to fertilise the ground for their new frangipani tree. With all the richness and nutrition that accompanies these vital-for-baby organs, I'm quite touched at this picture. This is life being aided for the second time now.

****************************************************

My Begone(r) Gook

2011-07-18T16:31:00.008+01:00

I slapped some clay on a spinner one day
Was supposed to resemble a vase
But it splatted and flatted and ended up bumpy
Not quite the preferred touch of class.

But I shaped it and draped it with stringy-like pieces
Made a V-sign and poked in two eyes
Chucked it into a kiln, went home, watched a film
Returned and there to my surprise

My Gook came out fine, face all feathery lined
His chin a bit on the long side
The class gave a gasp, I returned a sharp rasp
I was proud and had nothing to hide

I painted, acquainted him, jewelled him all up
A brown face with golden delights
Took him home, found a spot where it wasn't too hot
He'd watch over me during the night.

I gave up the classes, the teacher, the masses
Were glad I was not in attendance
For I had no control, of wheel, pedal or soul
A girl with no hope of transcendence

But Gook won my heart, from his clayey-like start
I kiss him each-every morn
And in certain lights or just during the night
His face can take on a strange scorn

I have noted now, it's just funny somehow
When a date spends the night in low glow
His expression will change, looking sorta deranged
And by morning - I get the heave-ho........
*****************************************************
Don't forget, you can meet me on the other side!

Qauintly Able

2011-07-15T22:59:00.002+01:00

When did it derive, this muscular mission
Pure female-versus competition
In open space or confined tracks
No sweat or blood to hold us back

Hurl a discus, then abuse
As elastic pings the garments loose
With arms as thick as her opponent's thigh
Null mercy deemed in this tiring vie

No making of man, without woman to guide
Predispositions for now, set aside
Pheromones, left alone's, that female fix
Comes charging the veins as the battle conflicts

Still adore sweet aromas, and weep from the heart
Have mood swings, enchantment, down to a fine art
We trust soul survival, and mother-of-pearl
And watch as the coral flag starts to unfurl

More weight on our shoulders yet able to toss
No hesitant thinking, just cutting across.
Take bumpy when smooth roads are closely adjacent
Be half-an-hour late but still feel complacent!

Kids relied on our body clock, and on our breast
These budding athletics all put to the test
Till the world took acceptance and opened it arms
And rebalanced the conquer - less womanly charms

Anything they can do, we can do better....?
Man the supporter and woman the debtor....?
Of course not, we're fish that swim in the same sea.
And tackle the challenge at equal degree.

Goodnight Gentleman George

2011-07-06T18:06:00.002+01:00

While in my Adult Basic Education training days, I had a number of one-to-one students that I was paired up with. My key worker, Mary, gave me 3 totally different characters with equally different backgrounds to work with. The main objective was to give the students, who were all cared for by the local government and lived in the same building, a bit more freedom and independence. So learning times, bus routes, monitery values, and how to use sign and symbols were all part of the learning scheme. More than anything, the classes were a befriending system. Just being surrounded by people and made to feel valued and similar was probably more helpful than any educating that went on. And in this world, it is sad to know that adults with learning difficulties, some coming with conditions they were born to, still get a hard time from society.

The classes ended quite a few years ago to allow the new community and health centres to be built. They have now reopened but despite getting my Community Education certificate, it is something I'm not sure if I want to consider working at again. My own life's circumstances had to be addressed and for now, I guess I'm enjoying what time I have with my older son's while I can . University and colleges have them full time for now, but even with that and part time jobs, I'm seeing more of them since their school days and want to pack in as much music and laughter as I can with them. My husband shares no common interests with me now, so I want to feel a bit love-cocooned before empty-nest syndrome takes over completely. My daughter was only 16 when a London career snatched her away!

Anyhow, rambling on.....today I was returning from a bit local shopping, when I bumped into my old key-worker's daughter, Shirley. She passed on the news that Gentleman George had died last year. George had Down's Syndrome, born to fairly old parents to start with, and was the oldest student of the group. Not a day went by where he never wore a tie, his father dressed accordingly no matter the weather or occasion. In summer, he would wear a short-sleeved shirt, with shorts, sock, sandals and a tie. No encouragement to leave the tie off ever worked, and it gained him his gentlemanly title. He was 68, which is fairly rare for a person with Down's to reach.

George didn't always like new tutors or indeed care assistants, for he did have certain values. He hated being treated with kid gloves, or overly-fussed about. Mary just chucked me in at the deep end with George, and whatever it was, we seemed to click. My methods of common teaching were accepted - not all without little struggles - by George. I remember at the end of my first class with him, Mary asked what he thought of me and he answered :

"She'll do. She's nice. She straightened my tie and said pardon when she burped!"

You'd have thought I'd won a massive victory with the relief and love I felt at that moment. Thing was, although George was attending these classes, there was no way he'd ever be able to travel or shop on his own. But the confidence, happiness and politeness that came with George was more a lesson to me than the world will ever know. Funny how life pans out, sometimes.

Goodnight George. I'll keep using those 'morning and night' mug colours you were so fond of when we were drinking our tea.

As Lovers Often Do

2011-07-04T17:25:00.002+01:00

They were bright fields, the ripe fields, where sinning was for fun.
Making love, clouds of dust above, under suburban sun.
As we stood the concrete jungle rose, to greet our tired eyes
And crushed the hope the wheat provided, stripped and fratenised

A shape of every morning captured in the swaying sheaths
Opened the blinds of my mind's new dawning, temporal relief
I try to feel the openess, the hardship of the sow
How a single field can captivate more than they'll ever know.

We make a road each summer, leading to the ordinary
And promise not to burden us with more than we can carry.
Then the harvester, a mean machine, with spikes that rip the heart.
Flattens out the golden hideaway, securing quick depart.

# You took your life as lovers often do
but I could have told you, Vincent.
This world was never meant for one
as beautiful as you........#

All The Same To Us

2011-06-27T19:30:00.002+01:00

Hold out your hand, catch the falling
The same as the woman who tries
There's a world where its loved hues are spoiling
To severed heads and lullabies.

Stick out your tongue and catch colours
Tasting of relish and shame
Where the lonely and lost duly mothers
Black and white souls drawn into the game

Tilt up your chin and catch heat rays
Eyes closing to block out the fear
Colours afraid to take presence
Returning to you every year

Open your arms and catch rainbows
Controlling the elements so
Sparks snagging the clothing of Venus
A paler shade from which you know

Hold out you hand, catch the catcher
For she's fallen from one mighty rush
Slipped through the fingers you held out
In a paintbox so near to that brush

Granny Mackie

2011-06-20T22:05:00.007+01:00

(based on a true person, but it actually was her grandkids that left a note with some marbles and a copy of a 1985 magazine!)

I loved my house when I first saw it
The merriest one since my youth
An old council relic with ceilings much too high
And walls that encaptured the truth

An aura of colour zoomed quickly
I remember my son saying so
That he saw yellow ribbons being chased by some blue ones
And land where the lush lawn did grow.

My door never stopped being opened
More children than I'd cared to count
My back garden filled with a choir of young manics
Whose actions were hard to surmount

As we grew, we all took on new features.
Me with an expanding waist.
My two boys grew stubble, my daughter more beauty
And their father more lines on his face.

But the laughter continued to echo
Through the troubles and turmoils ahead.
More music a blasting and lasting a lifetime
Healing our hearts if they bled.

Over time I heard that Mrs.Mackie
Predecessor to our little place
Was the neighbourhood Florence, a helper relentless
An angel in tartan and lace

So when fixing some floorboards in our room
We were stunned to find what was beneath.
A beautiful face in a picture frame, beaded
To we strangers, a trusted bequeath

A discoloured note, tinged with sepia
From old 'Grannie Mackie' as signed
Asking us to take good care of her old house
For she left love and contentment behind

We've done that, in the simplest of manners
(Though there's some things she 'don't wanna' know!)
In our cluttersome dwelling, with more laughter than teardrops
It's more cherished than she'll ever know.
***********************************************
So, what's Here then...?

Safely Home

2011-06-13T22:59:00.018+01:00

To be wrapped in love was all I ever wanted,
a place where I'd fit and belong
Cosied up safe and warm from those that once taunted,
where I'd be the soul of the song

No-one else, yes, just I with echoing vibrance,
within walls that can't penetrate sound
Needn't worry about the first or the last dance,
for only I am all around.

I just enter and exit from the spot where it's creaking,
no finery hung on the walls
An oubliette, (though quite gracious) in a manner of speaking,
straight home with no carpeting halls.

Oh, I'd so love to live in a place or a bubble,
the resident being only I
Where I don't have to simulate happy, contentment,
where I'm able to cry and to cry

All I wanted was some-one confirming that I,
with no delusions of grandeur intent.....
Was worth the air that I breathe, the space when I sigh,
a chance to make her suppliment

But I'm safe on my own, make no judgements, no mistakes,
while I'm tucked away neat in a shell
At least then I know - when it's time for life's hard aches,
it's just me that the boot of life quells

**********************************************************************
Signature plea below. Please click the link's 'like' button - there's a kick up the arse for each new ''thumbs up' they receive...........many thanks!

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Casino/124252040948745?sk=app_178091127385

Quick Birthdays and Long Goodbyes.......

2011-06-10T20:54:00.004+01:00

My brother Rab's 60th birthday bash arrangements for tomorrow are well under way. It is to be a themed do covering 60's, 70's, 80's eras but with music from Casino and No Need For Idols as well. So be there, hippies, punks, metal, new romantics, glitter rock, Beatle fringes, skin 'eads, mohawk, mullet, feather cuts, afro joe types in abundance. No one has told Rab (nee Robert Snr) what their get-up will be, hence some maniac surprise outfits. My personal favourite is my younger son, Adam, who will be going as a 70's pimp, bringing along some of his ho's - his friends in drag. We intend to start out from the hotel and walk the long stretch main road done up like eedjits, hitting a couple of pubs before the party venue itself. Pics will ensue!

The party is tinged with sadness for my daughter, however. Her gran, my ex mum-in-law, Irene, has lost her battle with cancer. Her life support was switched off a week ago and medics thought she would pass fairly quickly, and all said goodbye then but still she's hanging on. A tough old cookie indeed. But the show must go on for Kerri's sake. Her gran would do her nut if she didn't. Kerri was her only granddaughter and needs to keep that party light lit for her.

Album - Just For The Record.

2011-05-31T23:28:00.013+01:00

Casino shot their album cover today. PrettyBoy's new love, Stacey, and his old band mate Brow (Craig from The Valentines) were the interests of the cover. It was shot in a park in Johnstone, Glasgow, with a gritty, dilapidated background. Brow dressed as a French mime artist, sad face with teardrops, black all-in-one, white gloves, and Stacey wore chav/ned gear that she still looked fabulous in!

A strange picture to visualise, but there will be a message in there somewhere that their minions will connect with. They had to throw some toddlers off swings (and onto grass),and ask some older kids who were on school dinner break, if they minded vacating the area for a bit. The kids were in awe at the whole process and took an interest in who they were. PrettyBoy also handed a demo to each kid (always keep spare ones in cars!) as a kind of 'thanks for not throwing yer chips with broon sauce at us!' gesture.

As usual Mumma Mayhem gets to see and hear all the workings before the fans do. And as much of an old fart as I am, they look after their relative elders! If I had a pound for every time I've posted or mentioned/labelled them here, I would be a rich bitch! But hey - that's unashamed pride just fighting to get out.

It's strange how motherly one feels when they see young lads up on stage who grew up with your own kids. But sweat, bruises, and near crushed to death I will certainly tolerate. But I'm too old to get all steamed up over the developing music scene. I'll leave all that passion and hormonal adulation to the younger generation. Music is ageless, especially when it's quality gear, but mine's two sugars and a CD thank you very much! I'll leave you with the new 20 Rocks venue's live music promo picture(above) of some of the guys of Casino...and this particularly 'cool' snap of PrettyBoy for the CD booklet! Whirly gig fans at the ready girls - that boy burns.......!!

The Young And In Lovers......

2011-05-29T18:30:00.005+01:00

Yesterday my lads came in - both on different occasions - brandishing guitars and smiling awry smiles, both wanting to run a song that they had written, by me. So I downed tools (magazine and pack of Jelly Babies) and gave them my full attention. Ballady and in warm tones. Love songs with strange lyrics but I knew who they were written for. Their girlfriends, Stacey and Tierney.

It's a weird feeling as a parent to accept that little bundle of joy you were not so long ago breastfeeding, is now a bundle of raging hormones himself and has expressed their young love (the same new love you had back then for their father) into a song. Big soft shites that they are. Oh, well, it's special and forever and saves on roses, I suppose.

left: Adam with Tierney.
right: Ross with Stacey.

ps......the BloggerRipper strikes again. He's changed the font sizes in this post a little but I suppose it's better than some-one else getting all the credit for a poem I penned!

National KASSIDY Day

2011-05-24T21:17:00.012+01:00

No, ladies of over-functioned ovaries, I have not misspelt and mean David CASSIDY of yore - but Scotland's own, well, latest big sound. Kassidy are amazing and today gave Casino a nice little lift. Telfer (frontman) and Wee Mick (bassist) recorded an acoustic cover of two of their songs on Facebook and within minutes they got a few really spirit-boosting comments back from them.

Yes - they do have this respect for other bands that cover them, but Casino have one little edge over some. They actually gigged together in Stirling in Tolbooth, mingled in the bogs, smoked outdoor ciggies and all that! A couple of months later - Kassidy got their big break. But despite fame, so far they have kept in touch with each other. I'm so proud of the music that is continually spewing out of Scotland, when you think how totesy we are!

These nice comments were left (not forcing anyone on a Facebook link here, coz most don't like it) so click on the pic to read the messages. The silly shits haven't left the video in mode for downloading or else I'd have added the covers here. But if you DO want to have a listen, I mean, if you're brave enough....here it is! You've got to fly the flag when you can.....!!

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=10150302078009992&oid=94028225352&comments

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=10150301987879992&oid=94028225352&comments

Song Of The Courtesan

2011-05-23T19:04:00.017+01:00

(looks like the monocle man has just spotted the flag in my above post!)

What helps wash down a banquet but a host of pretty notes.
Little quavers, there to savour, on a cloud of wine she floats.

Merry as the day is long, darker than the mood
Men that mock, silly talk, drink that loosens, makes them lewd.

A far cry from their daylight stance, letting down their hair.
Coins enough, to see her buff, and grab a room, perhaps, upstairs?

Despite these shameful actions, the lute still sings along
Her lovely strings, with heavenly wings, knows neither right from wrong.

Again they'll grace the table, gather in their chosen seats
Our courtesan, the friend of man, a lullaby elite.

* * *
I know little of Sir Tournier, but to me this piece depicts
The said above, I state thereof, it had me most transfixed.

To view more masterpieces, though I'll find some 'tres' abstruse
I'll take the chance, and visit France. What will I have? Toulouse!

Tick Off!

2011-05-17T17:03:00.009+01:00

                             * input from bookworms themselves

Oi! You pesky little mite, how dare you contemplate...!
Chomping through my case and books, as tasty as it maybe looks.
Prepare ye for insecticidey fate!
   * ('you've no chance, mate!')

You see, my vast collection, is treasured by my mob.
Alphabetically tended, leather jackets stitched and mended.
Ready there to do their leafy job.
   * ('our taste buds throb!')

Books older than my grampa, smell a little of him, too.
Tobacco prints on certain pages, lingers on war pics for ages.
Knows the glory, story through and through.
                                                       * ('we still must slew..')

Hardbacks full of nonsense, for my mum - the bored housewife.
Jackie Collins, effing , blinding, toyboys, tans and bareback riding.
So Mrs.Mop can lead a double life.
                                                        * ('how ghastly rife..')

My worshiped read - Vlad Nabokov, so intricate, offending.
Turns the subjects of taboo, so you accept, not misconstrue.
And come to yearn his sad, unhappy endings.
                                       * (' ah, Russian rending..?')

Huge knowledge books on bottom shelves - for weight, than read at will.
They've never heard of 'world wide web', or know that Princess Di is dead.
But act as a support to keep things still.
                                                         * ('oh, what a thrill..')

Grandma loves her cook books, and reads hymns that turn to song.
Revelations in the Bible, Old Nick 'v' his biggest rival
Though she'll curse him when the dish she made goes wrong!
                                                          *('we'll sing along..')

There's even ones with pictures, bordering on pornographic.
Hoofs and wings on manic creatures, bodies wrangled, viscious features.
Told in words, so rich and calligraphic.
                                                          * ('man - that's tragic!')

One sits so high and mighty, bearer of the golden hue.
There is no match, no competition, for this rare, unique edition.
Welcomes each of us to Xanadu.
                                                         * ('we'll chew and chew..')

Every home should have one, bookcase filled with word cuisine.
Fiction, facts in combination, liter-a-lise the whole damn nation.
While inner monologue's setting the scene.
   * ('we'll wipe it clean..!)

So, hop it, death watch beetle, never, ever lose the plot.
Grandeur is a cheap illusion, your own death a forgone conclusion.
The taste of printed paper's for MY lot!!
                                                          * (gulp!...that's what you got.......!)

Get To 'F'

2011-05-13T22:55:00.000+01:00

This weeks' F-ing find....Feigning Flowers:

Dove Above Assisi

2011-05-09T19:18:00.015+01:00

I never prayed, well, not unless
it was a selfish, vain request.
Strayed from God, strayed from hope,
a welcomed ride down that slippery slope.

A shunned self-harmer I've become,
though took no blade to anyone.
Confused and guilty, unrepentant,
no convincing though incessant.

Dreams were never this revealing,
cuts so deep yet with no feeling.
The sweetest smell adorns the room
as I dress my deep, symmetric wounds.

Why me, this messenger of doubt?
Borne from parents so devout.
We parted ways, this party-bride,
no longer needs a parental guide.

I'll still be around, they'll find dove feathers
crying out for our 'togethers'.
So lift a stone, I shall be there,
I'm the breeze you feel in the evening air.

Who'll sit with me on the ragged rock,
as I bathe the blood that values shock?
Sweet St.Francis promise me,
that no more holes will ever be...

Driven hard into my wrists,
by this I know that God exists.
Crucified, stigmatic hands
is not what body weight commands

No prayer, no sunshine, fountain wishes,
makes them accept 'whatever this is'.
St.Francis, hold my hand at night,
once the night nurse switches off the light.

Oh, Yes I Will - Oh, No You'll Not....!!

2011-05-06T23:34:00.002+01:00

Tomorrow:

I WILL, make a start to adding my labels.
I WILL look into arranging 'the link within' thingy.
I WILL split my visited webs fairly and respond to 3 blogs/emails from each at a time.
I WILL complete the new header I have designed and put it up!
I WILL leave a link for my Facebook mob to visit here if they fancy.
I WILL award the best Saturday Sidebar from my blogroll with the coveted badge.
I WILL try and find out how to put music (with an optional easy-to-find mute button) to my blog.
I WILL upload new sidebar pictures, other favourite song videos and funny short (some homemade) videos.
I WILL upload the remaining 'new' family pictures to my side bars.
I WILL learn how to make a blog button.
I WILL organise my photo albums.
I WILL damn myself in the morning for having the instiest of a conscience.

Mite To Mound

2011-05-04T15:38:00.002+01:00

(I've veered from the sad truth to an unrelated positive of this prompt)

Gathered steps from grand to mite
becomes your future overnight.
Borne to have, to cultivate,
sweet plantations there await.

We wave to father's trail that weaves,
among the pungent, drying leaves
Skin relations, tying links,
respect for what a woman thinks.

A whole with no hypocrisy,
a blip, a blood democracy
As evident as blazing star,
we track our loved ones from afar.

The smokey trails, the hissing streams,
the catcher feathering our dreams
Grandma's trembling hands may stealth,
to sell our goods and keep our health

Wonder Star, Returning Moon,
your day is over, none too soon.
Babes back in arms of their creator,
stars will call a little later.

Gathered round until again,
they venture on their many plains.
Alas we'll waive and watch the skies,
fill from which our lives derive.

To say goodbye in sacred mounds
Sweet Plantations, sacred grounds.

Kal-Eye-Doth-Scope

2011-04-28T23:03:00.006+01:00

Many times they told me
you were just a cheap illusion
I, absorbed in full blown colour
Interprismatic seclusion

Just mirrors giving precedence to
sequins, beads and shines
Amass, a mixture calling,
silent crystalized designs

Such a simple little cannister
bejewelled and constrained.
In just one twist, you'll never see
such symmetry again

Continually changing
in this world where all reflects.
Kaleidescope take me away
from all at which I'm vexed

My simple little charmer,
hoarder of hypnotic lure.
Master of the elongated wink,
optic guider of the tour

I've Not 'Pied For Maggie For Migi......

2011-04-24T17:41:00.001+01:00

I haven't had much time this past week or so, to deposit an entry in to Magpie Tales. My twin sister, Margaret, (Migi) is visiting with her daughter, Layla, tying up loose ends and securing plans for their permanent move back to Scotland in around 6 weeks. The time in between has been spent on yapping, drinking, tea, takeaway, yapping, drinking tea, and yapping, drinking and a catchup via facebook ect, to see how old work, school and neighbouring friends are faring.

For 26 years she has lived in London but recently divorced. Her older son, Ashley, 18, is touring with his classical music post. Layla wants to finish her schooling in Scotland, as the education system up here caters for her future plans better than her current London ones do. And me....? I'll get my twin (and a whole new wardrobe to borrow from) back. Fair do's........

Get To 'F'

2011-04-15T21:51:00.001+01:00

Every Friday I search for a picture subject focusing on the letter 'F'. This week's F-ing find.....Food (literalisms). Anyone wanting the recipes just give me a shout!

........a bit on the nippy side..!

Turban optional...............!

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

So You Bloody Said

2011-04-11T17:39:00.004+01:00

What was the point? Going over old rope, over the same critique's from him and expectations from her? Over a nice bottle of red, he said. When they both knew they were done.

She never liked red, anyhow. Gave her heartburn and not the crisp, flutter of intoxicating white. Her likeable friend who got her giddy without side effects. Thank goodness she had a friend waiting for her with it's chilled coat on. So there they sat across the table - white versus red. His next move now scuppered.

A nippy little line cracked the edge of her glass, making her lip bleed. A droplet of blood tainted the white and with narrowed eyes he smirked at her. Perhaps she'd not made herself clear. His glass of red went over him, in a beauty of a splat as well, and the white followed seconds after. Well, they do say that white wine helps to rid a red wine stain, don't they...? It did the trick. Nicely. And the troublesome blot cleared off his Mercedes Benz.

Next day, she ordered a whole rack of the white, amiable stuff and sipped a glass as she surfed. Dating agencies were so vast these days. But she was picky. Profile's had to meet her distinct approval. She stopped on Doug. Seemed a nice fellow and he had the perfect likings. A red wine lover most of all. Click!

The Mona & Groaner

2011-03-30T23:14:00.004+01:00

He had to go and done it - mix our home and 'new' antiques
He's what you call a bit 'très graves', while I'm more tongue-in-cheek

Disorganisation is my throttle to his cool
Hearty, smarty, artifacts V everybody's fool

Then through the door he battled with a print of ten by ten
I feared I'd never see that sticky fingered wall again!

Ms. Mona ruddy Lisa, with her beady little stare
All that secrecy and numbers...who gives a hoot if they are there?

She stalls our guests for ages, champagne warming in the glass
(Just pop a straw into that flute for an extra bit of class!).

Gee, she isn't pretty (if she's a she at all)
Who'd give her a second glance - umbrella of the ball.

Yet, still they flock to see her - these madmen of the Louvre
And all she does is sit there (La un-sequential oeuvre)

I hear her sigh most twilights, keeping me from slumber
Biddy eyes that steal your gaze - a masterpiece encumber

She's hung out in the guest room, the basement and the hall
Getting goggled at by everyone with 'oohs' and 'aaahs' and alls.

She's clashed with all my glitters, this pinnacle of pain
I've prayed to God I'd never see that 'maybe' smile again!

What hold does one so haughty, have over Banksy's best?
Davinci felt like he's da-man, in silent-strokes behest?

I've often thought about it - her demise - quite unrefined
(A dart board and some arrows were the first to come to mind.)

Seems I'm stuck with her for ever - oily, spoily lady muck
Had her mouth been grinning ear-to-ear, who'd give a flying .................

Battle Of The Exes

2011-03-21T20:29:00.008Z

"Come..." enticed the meager, with a sarky little smile.
'Trust me not' she said inside, with accurate beguile.
Spider's web in corners, heart laden with a stomp
A face that would have fitted better, rising from a swamp

Cackling without the need to part her cracking lips
Fighting heart-to-mother's-soul, this pretty girl eclipse
Visualising bloodshed, never lest forget
Preparations now in lieu against this bannerette!

Her pride, her joy , her soldier, fairer than the day itself
Begot and could preserve him, stored upon forever's shelf
A battle for supremacy, a message not on cloth
While her cornered lips contentiously build up a daring froth

Outside the battle rages on, in fiery resolution
While a battle's reign begins inside, culled rapid dissolution
She shall not rest until his shield, swings her hair as its tassel
No nymph will ever lure her prince, his duty from this castle

Begone young love, no happy ending leads to battles blown
Swords that lance, more bubbles burst than bloodshed for the throne
Delivering full frontal moves, a man for lesser hung
For what good would a shiltron be, when mother has a tongue?

Get To 'F'

2011-03-18T22:48:00.004Z

Fridgey Friday.....This week's F-ing find!

Now, that is one very cool little guy!

Hoots! To The Irish In Me!

2011-03-14T16:00:00.009Z

(When I saw the shamrock it took me straight back to my old dad and his tales! Always the joker. He always said that I had Irish blood somewhere in there due to my thick, golden-red hair and pale, pale skin. This one's for you, dad!)

My father sat combing my long golden hair
Fresh from the bathroom was I
"I've a secret to tell you", he said with a frown
I let out a worrying sigh

'What is it, dad?" I asked at his side
I gulped and my heart raced in horror.
"I'm not who you think I am, dear, sweet, Ellie."
"I'm greener than tartan,... begorrah."

"I was born in the woodlands in Ireland, my dear
"Though I sound very Scottish indeed..."
"I'm a leprechaun - magical - turned into man
...but I'm from the same enchanted breed!"

"Why do you think that I do disappear?"
"For a week, from the 17th March?
I have to go home and meet all me mates!"
"Have a drink, for all Ireland's then parched!"

I tutted and picked up the comb from the floor
And handed it to him again
"Just get out the tangles and stop all this stuff!"
He went in to his giggling feign.

"I'll tell you why, you manic old man....
We all have some Irish love in us..!!
"But you're back from the pub with Paddy O'Nair
"And you're both tanked up well on the Guiness!"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
And to further blend the Celtic in us....an Irish tribute from my favourite Scottish duo: Sean by The Proclaimers (listening optional)

Get To 'F'

2011-03-11T22:12:00.000Z

Furry Friday.....This week's F-ing find! How a banana left on my son's window's sill would eventually look....

(Don't) Roll Me Over, In The (Garlic) Clover

2011-03-09T21:38:00.008Z

(This entry is dedicated to my hubby. A garlic fiend but he now only goes nuts with it a few times a year - or else!)

You know that I love you - well - most of the time
Though our interests differ from the weak to sublime
You put up with my shit, I put up with yours
Defended each other, slammed many a door

Both tried and both tested, a team set on high
Till the nightmare begins with one sniff and a sigh
You sneaked in the garlic - fume of a phantom
Twelve cloves up the arse of a poor little bantam!

The pull of the garlic, satisfyingly strong
Teasing you men with a passion forlorn
But who gives a hoot to the women immersed
Subjected to breathing in all that she cursed!

Over-dozed dinners that brought me to tears
Offensively falling out over the years
If I asked you to sleep in a room gunged with vomit
You'd be out of there, gone - shoot off like a comet!

The garlic, enticer, a cheap little whore
Her perfume soon raging from every pore
No cologne, scented candle, eau de from above
Takes away the full might of one single clove

It plummets my heart, puts my nostrils through sorrow
You swallowing roast cloves like there's no tomorrow
Hark! To the 'lic with it's Biblical mention
Can't believe this small culprit gets all that attention

Oh and, yes, I do know what 'medicinal' plus is
Quite frankly, I'm lost as to what all the fuss is!
I'll never consider it over it's station
I'll continue to manage (sniff) in moderation.

Look - it can fend off fierce vampires, banish bad luck
Be the best of the bestest, I don't give a puck
You're not sharing my bed, nor breathe in my room
For 48hrs - not a moment too soon......!!

Get To 'F'

2011-03-04T18:53:00.004Z

Each week I go on a cyber hunt to find a picture starting with/or under the category of the letter 'F' so today is Fishbowl Friday and this rather old pic popped up again. Still makes me smile, though!

Shrove Blooded Tuesday

2011-03-02T18:18:00.006Z

This week's prompt conjured up pancakes via the fork and lemon and as Pancake Day is not long away either I felt it apt. The 'blood' inspired me to take this historic little trip................

Say nae to manners, a kingdom inquiet
Where the crux of the day seeks the thrill of the riot
Custom be tying a cock to the stake
Where they'd throw coksteles, hear their little bones break

Gave up on decent, to give up for Lent
Masses outwith Him, scathed and Hell-bent
Shriller than birdsong, a whisper aloud
Whose piety slinks through the gaps in the crowd.

Loose tongues a lollop their sins from the pit
11a.m. sparked the start of the flit
A passionate penance, of shame and of brawn
24 hours later, vestige has all gone

Shroving on Tuesday till Ash taketh over
And sees home morality from the marauder
Keeping them fuelled on this moronic day
Was the golden supply to this hungry soiree

Tossing them, flipping, the sizzle of butter
A mangle of taut tongues, so anxious to utter
No mercy given, no truth untold
What a tasty transgression for one to uphold

Parting Pieces / Jiggered Out

2011-02-24T21:33:00.104Z

Choose and lift your sections
And keep them all in mind
Breath in the scene, serenity
Took care to leave behind

If partially they're missing
Slowly aiming to deplete
We'll take them with us everywhere
Secure while incomplete

Eventually we'll find us
Fitting in the scenery
For I cannot lay the biggest piece
Until you lay with me

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Jigpaws

They rattled and fell, in a shower of curves
Little hands spread the pieces in vivacious verve
Helping my niece ('til her parents were back)
Build a huge cardboard jigsaw, of mare pulling cart.

First, found the edges (and corners of course)
To encircle the beautiful, white shire horse
Gathering colours that probably matched
Pray with a thump that the piece would attach!

Building and building, not getting too far
Come out, you white beauty, where ever you are!!
'Won't let this beat us, we'll get there perforce!!
Despite just connecting the ass of the horse!

Pulling my hair out, quite near to crying
Why were the bloody blue bits not complying..?!
How hard was it really, to join up a colour
Exactly the same as they are to each other..!!

Slowly - then quickly the image appeared
Relief, pride, exhaustion, a victory cheer!
The picture was ten times the size of the lid
Could not wait to show off the jiggy we did!

Then in trots big Bud, comes a-crossing the floor
Old paws dislodging the bits from the core
Sits on it, drools, a huge swish of the tail
Bits flying all roads - there goes our travail!

I'll never do jigsaws again in a hurry
Bring me out in rash, get me all hot and surly
And I'm just watching Bud as he playfully frolics
I was so close to hanging that dog by the bollocks!

Drip, Drip, Drop / Much Too Tasty

2011-02-15T14:57:00.007Z

(based on a true pair of eyes)

You wiped them away many times
Those little diamonds
You said they were sweet
Though they tasted of salt

Drops ran and moved you
Diamonds of water
Salty and flowing unashamed
You'd kiss them away

One day you caused them
Not through joy
You threw me a tissue
Where the salt crystals dried

I looked at you
Hands remaining in pockets
Now the feeling was sour
Salt was sweet no more

Hurt is a mighty force
She's always there to create a sparkle
Water and salt with no grains
Yet still stings the eye.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Much Too Tasty!

Too much salt is on those chips
Will give you cracked and dried up lips!
Make you drink a ton of water
In moderation is how you oughta

Shake that cellar in you hand
How can I make you understand...?
It's not too healthy but tastes nice
Oh, won't you take my rude advice!!

You need your kidneys working fine
On dialysis you'll spend your time!
Just cut down, gradual, bit by bit
It's best to calm this salty hit!

Too much salt is on those chips
Will give you dry and scraggy lips
So if it shows upon your face
Why let your insides go to waste...?!

Fabulous prompt! Last piece in memory of my bossy old gran to my oldest brother.......

* What Lena Leaves.*

Greta's Garnet

Getting To 'F' (this side!)

Kadinsky's Artyfarty................

Happy Birthday To Me.........!!

(Tea)Pot Head

Firstborn

Strike Me Blue

Unlucky For Some

In With The New Spew

HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY, KERRI........!

I'm PROUD My Kid's Going To Jail!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ADAM

A Hint If There Was Ever One..........

Missing Link

The Pup, The Popstar and The Press

Fidelity Knell

Eleven O'Clock Hush

The Death Of Casino............

Hotel India's sound checking was running a good bit late and the doorman/promo git said to me when I got my ticket out:

"Would you mind going back downstairs 'til the bands are ready, please?"

Ross (PrettyBoy) comes over and says:

"She's ma maw"

Git replied:

"Oh? Just through there then, madam....."

Sweet as! Ah, the perks of the getting-there famous! *********************************************************************************************************

I'm leaving a rather crappy (recording) of the guys' new song (that I've dubbed 'Inbetween' for now) on my other ABDTS blog. I will add lyrics. Catchy little bugger........!

Their Song, His Romance

Volumes Away

Get To ''Halloween'' (23) Here Too....!

Versus You

No Need To Pay Up

By Owen O'Donnell

Many Hammy Whammies....

Chinatown DaddyDown

Get To 'F' (22)

Willow Mannor Ball 2011

Right Royal Reduction

McVicar

Mistress Of The Mind

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

I'm Still Here You Lovely Gits!!!!

Sweet Inversion

Get To 'F' (21)

S'nakedly Yours

Get To 'F' (20)

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

Blind Men

Get To 'F' (19)

Shot To Pieces

Get To 'F' (18)

I Interrupt This Magpie To Announce.......

Who Needs A Mac?

Get To 'F' (17)

Riding To Boogie-Woogie

Get To 'F'

Colour Me Kindly

Retroland

I Proms-ise To Love You Forever.......

Old Blades Of Glory

NorseGod and the Higher Podium

Fame- Spiked And Biked

Up Your Placentas.......!

My Begone(r) Gook

Qauintly Able

Goodnight Gentleman George

As Lovers Often Do

All The Same To Us

Granny Mackie

Safely Home

Quick Birthdays and Long Goodbyes.......

Album - Just For The Record.

The Young And In Lovers......

National KASSIDY Day

Song Of The Courtesan

Tick Off!

Get To 'F'

Dove Above Assisi

Oh, Yes I Will - Oh, No You'll Not....!!

Mite To Mound

Sweet as! Ah, the perks of the getting-there famous!

*********************************************************************************************************