Yellow Pearl

I was the grain of sand that got stuck,
you had no choice but to wrap me.
You coated me in enamel,
made me big and round.
You couldn’t make me into a necklace,
I stuck out.
“Off-Colour!”
You rolled me in white talcum powder,
it came off.
I’m a sunshine pearl,
an I roll my way.

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Car Trip

Moet’s Poppy field to Munch’s Scream,
Beethoven’s Symphony to Drowning Pool
Let the Body’s Hit the Floor,
but to the ceiling you fly.
I can’t jump that high.
Slap or stroke?
I can’t tell.

The sandwich you made me,
is filled with salad.
You say I’m fat,
you say I’m pretty, but
you were slimmer.
There’s salad dressing on my cheek.
You laugh
an wipe a tissue across my face
It oozes with guilt.
‘Watch the Road!!!’ I yell.
You say I’m selfish.
I say,
I can’t take anymore.
You cry,
you can’t live without me.

‘Pull over!” you do.
I turn to talk,
Your eyes  wide and manic.
It’s a bumpy road,
but now we’re driving on ice now.
I get out.
Stomach lurching,
I slam the door.
You drive off.
Fast.

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The Hands of Time are Cruel

I am an old man of ninety five.
I am battered and bruised but still alive.

I served in the war
For my king for my country
Yet now I am poor!

I survived! An for what?
By pensions been robbed,
and I’m left to rot!

I’m beaten and worn,
my heart’s still pumping
but torn.

My friends are declining,
my wife, she is dead,
and I am left pining.

Arthritis, dementia  and cancer
My new friends. What now?
That I can’t answer.

Good memories? They fade.
I sit still in a home,
anything for youth I would trade.

I am an old man of ninety five,
I’m battered and bruised an no-longer alive.

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“To Her Good Master”

To count your virtues there’s many,
To counter, faults you have few;
It seems a good match, me and you.

Clean Smart, well-dressed and behaved,
better or nicer I could not pick,
you’d think we’d be able to click.
Pasta in water softens with time,
Give us a while and we’ll be fine

No fancy- inked scrolls lie here.
We are simple and spaced and clear,
not spicy is all that I fear.

The Spark? Who cares for ideal love!
What we have now needs no white dove,
no cupid to strike,  no harp to play.
With you, I’m content.  So I’ll stay.

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Don’t Tell Me the Rules of Love  

It’s my heart, my mind, and my body.
And I offer no apology,
that you can’t cut a key.

Flowers, chocolates, wedding rings,
They’re from romance past,
And won’t help my love last.

I know this isn’t what’s taught,
But for me, loves not a promise of devotion
It’s an ever changing emotion.

If I told you that I loved you,
I mean today, but not tomorrow.
But flexibility’s not a reason for sorrow!

It’s my heart.
A book or poem or play,
I don’t relate to what they say.

Romance? It’s been made up!
Romeo and Juliet, people adore,
But they’re an imaginary metaphor.

We’ve got two shovels
let love dig its own tracks,
and don’t tell me the facts.

I’ll tell you something true!
Alexander left his wife for dead,
but found the lovely Cleopatra instead.

As I said it’s my mind.
I can only say how I feel.
And for me, polygamy is real.

Don’t pout!
Jealousy’s not attractive my dear,
you’re minds not open is what I fear.

You can’t own a person,
buy the rights to a heart,
It’s my life and I’ll play my own part!

As I said, it’s my body.
Honesty! I’ve heard people like that too,
I’ve been entirely honest with you!

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Parable; Babies in the River

Original Story

There are babies floating down a river. There is a bridge going over it. A few people who have seen are jumping off the bridge trying to save them. For everyone baby they saved, three or four more come floating by! Now hundreds of people have crowded on the bridge, they stare in horror. One man pushes past them to the other side of the bridge. He then starts strolling upstream along the river.

‘What do you think you’re doing!!! You’re just walking away!!!’ says a dripping man with a baby in his arms.

‘You are mistaken sir. I’m going up the river to stop whoever is throwing the babies in the water.’

Moral:

Don’t just try and stop the symptoms, find the cause of the problem.

Don’t forget to look at the bigger picture and work the dilemma out yourself.

My Version:

Martin was on his way to work. He was running late as he’d been out on a boozer the previous night. He’d had a luke-warm shower to wake him up, he hadn’t quite been able to face a cold one.  He hurried along the path next to the river. His office was on the other side. To his horror he saw that the bride was packed with people.

‘I’m never going to get to work on time!’ was his first thought. Then he looked down at the river to see what they were all staring at. Hundreds of babies were bobbing up and down like little pink grapes in the river!

He saw that a few people were jumping from the bridge and pulling them out. Martin rushed to the bridge. Elbows in, he pushed his way through them to the other side, and began to walk upstream in the direction the babies were coming from.  Was this going to be his day to be a hero?

‘What do you think you’re doing!!! You’re just walking away!!!’ said a dripping man who had just emerged from the river with two babies in his arms.

‘You are mistaken sir. I’m going up the river to stop whoever is throwing the babies in the water.’

That was a mighty good idea. What a brave man! The bedraggled man looked at him with respect.

But Martin wasn’t doing that at all. He was going to work. And now he was going to be even later. He didn’t care who was throwing the babies in the river. It wasn’t his problem. He didn’t see why so many people thought it was an issue, the world is over-populated anyway! Besides, if left alone things often sort themselves out.

Moral:

If you want to do something, but you’re worried about what people might think… LIE!

If you don’t put yourself first, you might end up doing something for someone else!

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When You Gotta Go

DOCTORS SURGERY; INT; DAY

It’s a rather dingy looking walk-in clinic, the chairs are worn, and there is a grimy tiled floor. Its afternoon, it’s not crammed but still busy. People are sitting in seats nursing there various illnesses.  There is a queue of seven to the main reception. The person at the front steps forward another person leaves.

The head of a receptionist can be seen behind a desk. She’s in her 50′s, quite large and wears a sour expression.  She does not look up from her computer when talking to patients.  The man in-front of her is wearing a knitted three colour hat on one side of his head, he has a green tie-die t-shirt and under his arm he carries a small bongo. The receptionist looks him up and down.

Receptionist: Name

Garry; Garry Yakvell

Receptionist; Spelt?

Garry; Y-a-k-v-e-l-l

Receptionist; Where are you registered?

Garry looks nervous.

Garry; just one sec it’s….

Receptionist audibly sighs.

Garry; it’s, back in Chester. Urm, Oak… Surgery. That’s it! Oakfield surgery.

Receptionist; Well done.  And why are you here?

Garry pauses for a moment. The receptionist looks at him, strumming her nails on the keyboard loudly.

Garry; I think, I think I may have … (he leans in and whispers something)

Receptionist; (spoken) Herpes. (She types it into the keyboard)

Garry has gone red, he’s distributing his weight from foot to foot.

Receptionist; Sit down, a doctor will see you shortly.

Garry looks down to the ground and scampers to a seat.

The Receptionist nods angrily at the next person; They’re in there early 20′s, quite smartly dressed. They don’t move.

Receptionist; (almost yelled) Next!!

Stanley walks to the desk as if in a trance.

Receptionist; (snappy) Yes.

He looks at her, eyes wide. Then closes them before speaking.

Stanley; I’d like to see a doctor, please.

Receptionist; Name?

Stanley; (confident) Stanley.

Receptionist; Second name

Stanley; B-Bates.

Receptionist: And where are you registered, Mr Bates.

Receptionist; Windytops Clinic

Receptionist ;( quizzically) That’s less than ten minutes away. Why don’t you go away and make an appointment at your registered practitioner.

Stanley; (pause/uneasy) I need… I would like to see someone today, they had no appointments.

Receptionist; (snippy) you’ll be waiting for hours, not to mention wasting valuable time at this walk-in considering you have your own doctors!

Stanley remains silent, he doesn’t move.

Receptionist; (curt) Very well, if you insist.  What needs to be seen to so urgently?

Stanley; I’d, rather not say

Receptionist; I’m afraid unless you give me a reason I will not be able to book an appointment.

Stanley; Can I just see a doctor

Receptionist; Certainly not. You’re keeping everyone waiting.

Stanley remains silent;

Receptionist: (snooty) if you’re not going to give me a reason, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.

Stanley; (murmured) It’s, It’s…

Receptionist: Speak up!

Stanley; I, It’s, well I…

Receptionist: Really now!

Stanley’s fiddling, he’s shooting nervous glances at the floor. He looks back at the Receptionist.

Receptionist; Are you going to say or not?

Stanley;(quietly) I want to end my life. (Louder) I think I’m going to top myself and I thought that just before I did I could see a doctor.(frantic) An maybe just maybe there would be a way out, one that I can’t see (quieter, to himself) I don’t think there is anything …

Receptionist;(unfazed) I don’t believe any of our doctors will be of use. We only deal in physical ailments Mr Bates.

Stanley’s hands fumble, he breaths quickly in through his mouth. He does this again and again.  He’s hyperventilating. He looks back at the queue behind him, realising they’ve heard, he looks down to the ground.

Stanley looks at the door then down to the floor. He can hardly breathe. Without making eye contact he heads to the door, hand outstretched for the handle a few seconds early.

Garry the colourful guy who had been in-front of him in the queue is sitting near the exit.

Garry; You alright dude?

Stanley just shakes his head, grabs the door handle and exits. The door is left open, three seconds go by. It closes.

BEDROOM;INT;DAY

He’s at home. His room is small, there are few decorations; a digital clock, a guitar in its case can be seen under the bed. The bed doesn’t have a sheet and the pillows aren’t in covers. On the pillow is a tiny soft toy octopus.  Other than a bit of clutter the room is relatively tidy. One poster of Red hot Chilli Peppers is on the wall askew. On the other side of the room there is a desk. Above the desk is a window letting in light.  Open on the desk is a letter.

Notification of none-attendance, we have sent you this letter to warn you that if you do not contact us with in the week we will discontinue your….. ‘

He pushes the letter out of the way and into a heap of other letters. He picks up a large thick book on ‘Advanced Syntax’, rips out a page as close to the spine as he can and opens a draw. He clumsily takes out a pen, his hands are shaking. He starts to write.

‘Dear Friends, family’

The pen doesn’t show up well on paper. He stands to reach a shelf on his left and takes down an art sketch pad, it’s thick with dust. He goes to write again.

‘Friends family, I unfortunately wish to inform you. ‘

He scribbles it out, rips it up and tears out another page. His hands are shaking less.

‘Friends family, I know these are only words, they are now all that I can… 

He crosses it out and scruples it in a ball.

BEDROOM;INT;NIGHT

His room is darker. The curtains have been closed. You hear what sounds like a front door close softly. The door to his room is shut. His phone is on his bed. It’s an old phone with a dim screen that can be seen even when not in use. He has one message, and it’s been left open.

Sorry, I’m really tired, had a long day at work. How about you call me tomorrow? P.S I don’t think that…’ no more of the text can be seen without scrolling.

The little octopus that was on the pillow has gone. On the desk the ‘Art Pad’ is open but it has only a handful of sheets in it. Heaped up on the desk in scrunched balls are the rest of its pages. Allot have fallen to the floor. Right in the centre of the desk is one flat page, it’s been written on in smooth neat handwriting.

Friends, family. Not that you necessarily do, but if for any reason you should think yourself responsible for what I’ve done, then I want to make sure you know that you’re not.

I’m not sorry. The choice was mine to make. I know it will undoubtedly hurt you but living because a few people would be sad I died wasn’t enough.  

I won’t go into the details; they don’t really matter, besides there isn’t really a set reason. I know I don’t show it, but I get unhappy allot.  And when I do, it’s not just a case of the mild blues, It feels as if all the air in the world is filled with dread, and each time I take a breath I’m inviting more and more of it in.

 I started feeling better for a bit, but now it’s back. It’s been like this ,on and off for years. I used to be more rubbery though, so when I felt rock bottom I’d bounce back. But lately I’ve stopped bouncing, and though I’ve given climbing a fair try, I’m exhausted.

It’s not that I believe I’d never feel happy ever again, it’s that I know that even if  I did, I’d end up feeling empty eventually. And I can’t bear the thought of spending one more day this wretched. I just need to make it stop.

I’m sorry that I’ve written you all one message, but the thought of writing everyone a personal letter is really more than I’m capable of.

Best wishes. I don’t mean that frivolously. Know you were all very dear to me. The good memories I have, of which there are many, I owe mostly to the time I’ve spent with you.

I really do hope you get more out of life than I have.

All My Love

                           Stanley

Fade out

To die would be a marvellous adventure, don’t you think?

No, I don’t.

Why?

I think it would be the end of a marvellous adventure.

Ah, but what if you weren’t having a marvellous time?

Then it would be the end of a terrible adventure.

Exactly!

But it would also be the end of all adventures.

You don’t know that!

Your right I don’t

So you admit I’m right!

No. I just admit to not knowing or not if I’m right.

You’re making no sense!

Maybe that’s better than making sense but being wrong.

Actually you may have a point, Though I don’t understand it.

That’s ok.

What do you mean, that’s ok?

You don’t need to understand to know what I mean.

That’s true.  You’ve got me.

So let the adventure begin?

What adventure?

The one you were talking about!

He’d have to die though!

Yes, but you said he’d have a marvellous time!

I don’t know that!

Then why did you say it?

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