SLIMEBALL FOLLIES

 

The Major Players.

In the Slime ball Follies

Held in Washington DC

The Team

McConnell (Honorary Captain)

Cotton

Graham

Blunt

Cornyn

The All Stars

Cruz

Gaetz

Greene

Johnson

Jordan

Paul

McCarthy (Pitching Coach)

BAT BOY

Donald Trump

DELIA 45

 

A FAVOURATE POEM

Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,

Brother to Death, in silent darkness born:

Relieve my languish, and restore the light,

With dark forgetting of my cares, return;

And let the day be time enough to mourn

The shipwreck of my ill-adventur'd youth:

Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,

Without the torment of the night's untruth.

Cease dreams, th' imagery of our day-desires,

To model forth the passions of the morrow;

Never let rising sun approve you liars,

To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow.

Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain;

And never wake to feel the day's disdain.

Samuel Daniel - Delia 

FROM THE PAST

 

 

 

 

 

LOVE  & LOSS

A SEQUENCE

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

New Poem J

Like stillness she swept over me

- enveloped in her care and love

- Before consciousness apprehended it.

 

She is my reminder

Who woke me from "the buried life".

 

Intense – sudden

 – the swift cheetah overtook me

 

Mea Puella – Cor Cordium…..

 

 

Thoughts on Love

 

Come tell me of your love

Does he fulfill your need

Does he satisfy your inmost desire

- for sweet content and sharp pleasure.

 

Is he all to you - all that you desire

Does he inflame your heart with strong passion

Is he all to you so that you will be all to him?

 

Oh tell me of your love.

 

DO YOU FEEL

 ‎​Do you feel my love -

it is as warm as the sun on your face and back.

Do you feel my care -

it is as fresh and strong as the breeze that cools you.

Do you feel my desire -

it is as sharp and salty as the taste of the sea on your lips.

 

 

Gain and Loss

 

Who but you could capture me so

And in what rapture then enthrall me

So that I count all my gain but loss

And see my life as so much dross

Unless I yield to your fair prison.

 

A year beyond I

 

So now we may count in years not days or weeks or months

the measure of our love

 

Yet still each moment encloses an eternity of

care, tears, laughter, hope and love –

 

So years then count little as the measure of our love

 

For this union is bounded by eternity

and years are but moments in the measure of our love

On Being 24

 

 

Years pass on

Time flows by

 

But you still - like a phoenix

Rise ever new

 

Neither time nor years diminish your

Beauty

 

Your softness

Your love

Your compassion

Your care

Your joy

 

Are ever new

 

At twenty four – It is you I adore

 

 

 

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


 LOSS

A year beyond - II

 

So now we may count in years not days or weeks or months

the measure of your hate

 

Yet still each moment encloses an eternity of

lies, tears, betrayal, despair and loss –

 

So years then count as little as a measure of our former lives

 

For this union is bounded by your faithless betrayal

and years are but moments in the measures of your hate

   Loneliness of Love

 

 My Love is fulfilling it makes me complete

 Without it I am empty and only half a me.                                 

 When my Love is with me I am alive and replete

 When my Love is not by me I sense a defeat.

 

  She is often too distant and I sense a loss

  My heart is adrift in the loneliness of love.   

 

 

 

Space Between

 

   There is a space between us filled by a shadow

    His name is unspoken but his presence is felt

    I fear for his presence - it threatens my love

    I wonder just when that presence will part us

    So then we'll be two and no longer a one.

 

 

Delusion or Love

                   
Was it really all delusion when it felt like love?
Did I deceive myself for these three years - a greater fool each year?

Or was it hidden love not meant to be

 - so that at hint of revelation she choose to flee?

Such ashes now of that conceived, deluded, passion cover my soul.
or is this delusion still?

Would Pilate know the truth - or only jest at my confusion?

Yet the empty heart might tell me truth –

of love once born - now lost in the confusion of fear.

 

 

                                       End of the Affair

 

Her words sounded the truth of all creation - all life

It is conceived, flourishes then withers and dies.

Nothing escapes this rigor.

 

And so for love - born of a season - in hope of everlasting time.

Fanned by passion and desire the flame grows ever more intense

 

But like the tide it ebbs

Flows out from the shore of fondness

Till one time it does not return. 

LOST INNOCENCE

 

IN YOUTH IS PLEASURE

 I was reflecting today about the pleasures one had as a youth in those distant pre-adolescent days about ages 10-12.

When one was ill then it was exquisite pleasure not to have to go to school but be enforced to spend the day in bed. One could read comic books, other books and eat bisquets etc. whilst in bed and not be chided by one’s nanny for getting crumbs in the bed.

How different being ill as an adult is. There is simply not the same innocent pleasure. We are loath to be absent from work, being idle in bed or idle at all has lost it attractions – bisquets or not. We are wont to read not frivolous things but serious work papers. As an adult the illnesses we experience are other more serious and distressful compared to those of childhood – measles and chicken pox notwithstanding.

So I mused about a lost age – a lost innocence. 

 

DRINKS

 

                                                  LIBATIONS

LADY OF SHALLOT

 

FLOATING DOWN TO CAMELOT

HELD TO ACCOUNT

 

WITHOUT ACCOUNTABILITY IT WILL HAPPEN AGAIN AND AGAIN