Random play

ON THE GO

***

Our gauges and dimensions,
Capacity and size –
Uneasy to remember,
So hard to memorize.

A truant he’s forgetful,
Unchained by what is true,
Out on a quiet evening,
After a pint or two.

How sternly we’re directed
Right from the very start…   
Oh dear  -  it’s a pity
To learn so much by heart.


The Hater

I hate my nose
I hate my chin
I hate the colour of my skin

I hate my body and my brain
And every throb of every vein

Imagine how I hate my breath
This wayward heart I hate to death

And so awkward is the feeling
For my old flat – from hearth to ceiling

But don’t scorn the one who hates
The window-sill and china plates
And every cup on every shelf

The funniest thing:
I LOVE MYSELF.


The Author’s Fee

Stories will turn to lies:
They’re looking from dusty shelves
Into the hopeless skies –
Goblins, and Men, and Elves.

Privacy: all alone,
Fair as the morning star,
Sleeps on the silver throne
Tolkien, J.R.R.


***

There are times in the year
                when you feel so nasty and vile
and the men,
                they call it depression
and the women,
                they call it lifestyle

You stumble around
                trying to merge with the crowd
you’re burning with swearing words
                but dare not say them aloud

Yet this is exciting -
                still more you’re annoyed by the fact
                that you must
decide
                which direction to go
                and endlessly choose who you trust.

And it don’t matter
                how much you have
                and how much you hold –
A nice little maniac
                for ever and ever
                will pull at the end of the world.



A Brief Instruction on Keeping a Man

If you cling to the fancy of keeping a man,
You must follow these tactics as close as you can:

Every day you should wash and brush up your hair
And treat Him with Love and Ultimate Care.

Never forget to kiss him and touch,
Feed him
            till he’s full up,
but not overmuch.

And don’t you scold you
            or call him so wicked
For childish addiction to hockey or cricket.

And don’t you dare to mention the names
Of his former wives or his old flames.

So let him discover,
            and let him explore,
Praise his smallest achievements
            and don’t call him a bore.

And, bearing in mind the things that I’ve said,
NEVER wash off your makeup when going to bed.

Keep often repeating he’s handsome and bright
And never forget to kiss him good-night.


***

What is schizophrenia?       
One can never know.
How does it look like?
How does it grow?

I’ve known so many people,
But how can you explain
The fact that only one-tenth
Are completely sane?

You see a business-lady
Who’s popular and nice,
But what if she – in private –
Eats roasted bats and mice?

And wouldn’t you be shocked if
A bosom friend of yours
Slept only in the bathroom,
All over wrapped in furs?

There is the only creature
Whose sense I can’t deny,
Her name is Mrs.Parker,
But she’s a butterfly.


***

I love you, but if there’s no hope
I think I’ll buy a super-microscope
To watch bacteria play with one another
And - if it’s love or not – they don’t bother.

They eat, and live, and short is their life
Where there’s no pain and no strife.

I often think how happy must they be –
These little insects in the oak tree.

And thinking of this crazy, crazy topic
I have become so deeply philosophic:

I’m not a bird, nor beast, nor just a thing –
But is it good to be a human being?


***

You’re amazingly good fella,
I am hardly half so good:
Boy, I’m no Cinderella,
Nor am I Red Riding Hood.

I’ve got words to mock and snigger,
I’ve no words of sweeter tone,
You will really cut a figure
If you keep on hanging on.

People thinks that I am cheeky,
Folks are grumbling in dismay,
“There’s no sense in being freaky”,
Does it matter what they say?

Each of us his own mender,
Give up cleaning up this mess,
Time is soft and time is tender,
Time is eager to caress.


***

He doesn’t care for carnal love
‘Cause carnal love is mean;
He’d rather feed the Swanky Bird
That safely lives within.

He doesn’t know the simplest words:
To live, to strive, to die.
His schemes are always crystal clear:
He loves to typify.

He doesn’t care for common sense
That everyone does need -
It’s all too plain:
            he would prefer
Delusions of the weed.

You madly try to wake him up –
But all – alas – in vain.
He’s never been beside himself –
His very own domain.

The words that burn,
The words that thrill,
The words that sound uncouth –
The pretty vice of pretty age,
The blindness of the youth.

And so he strives,
And so he craves,
He dares and he dashes –
But life will coyly sneak inside
And blow it all to ashes.


***

Cursed are the good – their time has passed;
Cursed are the beautiful – they are harassed;
But the bad and ugly
Are sitting pretty snugly.


***

Kiss, kiss, kiss
It is usually like this:
First you kiss
       and then you neck
               and then there’s no coming back.


Limericks

1

There were two gentlemen from Whatever
Who couldn’t be seen but together.
When asked, “Are you friends?”
They replied, “It depends”,
Those mysterious chaps from Whatever.

2

There was an incredible lad
Who couldn’t lie still in his bed.
When getting asleep
He started to weep,
Repeating, “I feel I am dead”.

3

There was a young gentleman of Fife
Who eagerly danced with his wife.
When he stamped on her foot,
She exclaimed, “What a brute!
Oh! Your toe nails are sharper than knife!”


***

I’m definitely strange
And will not ever change.


***

It’s such a pity that the times have gone
When anyone could touch the Blarney Stone
And anyone could verily behold
The Holy Grail Wine in the cup of gold
And no one could think a barmy tale
King Arthur’s story and the Round Table

These times are gone – so beautiful – so sweet –
Just press the button Ctrl+Alt+Delete...


Fantasy

I travelled through plains and marshes,
Clouds high and the sea below,
And days were like passing starships,
And evenings like flakes of snow.

“She’ll show you the land of mirrors”,
He told me with wicked glee,
“And in her hands of lilies
She’s holding the Cup and the Key.

She is a heavenly lady,
She is too strange and too strong,
She is the best of the living,
She is too much for a song.

Your eyes will be softly clear -
You’ll know where you will fall,
And neither regret nor fear,
And no complications at all”.

I travelled through glens and mountains,
Still penniless, half astray,
And shared my bread with hunters,
And slept in a stock of hay.

She stood on the shore of twilight,
So strikingly fair was she,
And, breathless with awe and excitement,
I reached for the Cup and the Key.

And everything was so clear –
I know where I shall fall –
And neither regret nor fear,
And no complications at all.


New Year, 2001

New Year is coming, and all we can do is
to wait for th’approaching sledge,
to think of the days that you thoughtlessly slew,
to muse on the verge and the edge.

New Year I like more than summer or spring:
you needn’t be gay or content,
for Christmas, you know, is a family thing;
New Year for the lonely is meant.

For all your regrets, and pennyworth fights,
for all your breakdowns and scars –
New Year’s the time when you kindle the lights
and talk to incredible stars.

St.Nicholas will pick up his brand new PC,
sit down and open the file,
and clicking the mouse will look back at me
and wink with a rueful smile.


New Year, 2002

The stars are twinkling
                and the skies are clear,
and lights - to celebrate the Holy Birth…
Best wishes for this Christmas and New Year
for all the people
                on this tiny Earth.

When courage fails
                and tenderness is scanty,
be calm
                and do not care for worldly fuss,
so let it be the year of peace and plenty,
prosperity for each and all of us.

Who can predict the way
                we shall be living,
who knows
                what the future has in store?
Eternal pulse of giving and receiving,
we live, we breathe,
                we love –
                and hope for more.


New Year, 2003

Today is the last day,
tomorrow's the first,
and nothing's gone better,
and nothing's gone worse.

My wishes are common,
my wishes are plain:
no fear, no passion,
no anger, no pain.

We look for the solid,
we look for the stable:
fresh biscuits, red curtains
and cups on the table.

And isn't it tricky -
it's Nature's revenge -
that changes are coming,
but never to change?

But does it all count?
Come cheer up and grin:
let weariness out,
let happiness in.