I’m not a raving nationalist,
Not into jingoistic rah-rah-rah,
Am I “proud” of my country…?
Not sure I’d even go that far…

Don’t like Labour or the Tories,
Not mad into the monarchy,
But let’s see the bigger picture,
And not just think politically.

The UK is like a family,
And yes we often disagree,
But we’re still better off together,
Than going off each separately.

Mean no offense, but I for one,
Am glad the Scots have chose to stay,
So for once I’ll fly the flag,
On this ‘No to Independence’ Day!


My mum-in-law needs an exorcist!!!
For yesterday, her screams and moans,
Were truly those of evil demons!!
That voice surely can’t have been her own…?!?

She was truly incomprehensible,
Only made out “ignorant child!!”,
Rest may’ve been Latin for all I know,
Sounded possessed, demonic, wild…

Her face turned completely purple,
There was true venom in her eyes,
If she’d turned her head 360°,
I would not have been surprised…

She couldn’t find her pill box,
That is what summoned up the beast,
Who then unleashed pure hell on us,
Someone get me a Catholic priest!!

It was not dementia – it was demons!
The whole cause just seems lost,
Next she’ll be projectile vomiting,
And fucking herself with a cross…

Okay, I’m just being flippant,
But such rage was hard to see,
Feels like we’re in hell already,
Please don’t let the demon into me!!!

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Today I (to my dismay) turned thirty-three,
By now thought would have things all figured out,
I’m long since an “adult” by any definition,
Yet still don’t know what “life” is all about…

Mortgage-holder, manageress, married,
Tax-payer, home-owner, voter – carer too,
But not idea as to what I’m really doing,
I’m just muddling my way through…

I’m doing all that I “should” be doing,
Save my pennies and set up a pension,
Manage all our administrative affairs,
And those of mum-in-law – did I mention…?

While I may not have any children yet,
I hold mother-in-law’s life in my hands,
And yet I still don’t really feel “grown-up”,
The ship sails on quite utterly unmanned…

When do you start feeling like an “adult”…?
And not yourself a little child in need…?
For at the rate I’m going at the moment,
I’ll still feel a kid at ninety-three!!

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Mother-in-Law Night Survival Guide

Tonight I’ll see my mother-in-law,
And just in case you should ever do,
I’ve compiled my tips and tricks,
And made a guide to get you through…

First off, don’t drive her more than a mile,
But only eat at the same two nearby places,
For though she went there just last week,
She’ll still think she’s not been in ages…

Have husband drop you off on the way,
Before he then picks up mother-in-law,
So you can shorten up the evening,
By getting in the drinks well before…

And while we’re talking about drinking,
Make sure you get started on it quick!
With nice, numbing alcohol inside you,
She won’t get so much on your wick…

Ask the waitstaff for the menus,
So they’re there when she arrives,
As mum-in-law will throw a tantrum,
If not brought instantly to her side…

Prepare to explain all the menu options,
So she knows on what she’d like to dine,
Try not to question why you bother,
She’ll have the same thing every time…

Make some small talk for three minutes,
For that is all it will take before,
She’ll start questioning where her food is,
Just smile, divert and more wine pour…

And now here an important warning:
For she’ll harangue him or her for ages,
The shame to you could not be greater…

Prepare to repeat yourself 100 times,
Before the food finally gets there,
She’ll shut up once she’s tucking in,
So just swallow down your quiet despair…

Then soon as the waiter clears the plates,
Put in your request for the bill!
No need to drag out the evening,
That would be dementia overkill…

Say that you’ll get the meal next time,
Then with her card proceed to pay,
Gives her joy to be taken out so often,
But you’ll soon go bankrupt that way…*

And then with your duty all but done,
Make she she’s delivered safe to her door,
Or you’ll soon be called back for more…

And then finally it’s home to bed,
Don’t forget that last “unwind” drink,
Give your other half a “recovery” hug,
And together into bed both sink…


* In fact we typically go half and half, though strictly speaking she should pay just a third. Done “lovingly” though, as we know it gives her such pleasure to be taken out to eat, but husband and I frankly can’t afford it so often, particularly when not done for pleasure ourselves! Don’t worry – she has a giant pension she barely makes a chink in, so can afford it… ;)

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Existential Angst

Existential angst is so cliché,
It’s all been thought and done before,
I turned thirty-three today,
Should not be doing this anymore…

Shouldn’t wallow in these thoughts,
Know mustn’t on such things dwell,
But who am I? What am I doing here?
Am I set for heaven or for hell??

This is sheer and utter self-indulgence,
Must get these thoughts out of my head!
Don’t suit being an existentialist,
I’d best just get drunk instead…

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Emotional Cripple

I can feel happiness but not elation,
Feel affection but never adoration,
Can’t feel real love – but do feel hate,
Seems indifference is my natural state.

Feel sympathy but no real compassion,
No real feelings behind all my actions,
Sometimes remorse, but never guilt,
No emotional foundations built.

Feel sadness at times, but cannot cry,
My heart is cold, my eyes are dry,
And would you ever the sad fact believe,
When loved ones die, I don’t even grieve…?

Worry, fear, despair – those I can do,
Stress, depression and anxiety too,
The negatives linger – how they fester!
Yet positives don’t even seem to register.

Even major events don’t leave a scratch,
Emotions just don’t seem to make a splash,
But barely just a minor ripple,
Fear I’m an “emotional cripple”…

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Do you ever feel your life’s a window,
And that you’re merely looking in?
Watching whatever’s happening,
As if to an identical twin…?

Or that your life isn’t really yours,
Not really happening to you?
Feel a strange sense of detachment,
In all you feel, or say, or do…?

Or that you’re just on auto-pilot,
Throughout the lifelong day?
And however you might spend it,
It doesn’t really matter anyway…?

Or that your supposed emotions,
Are just reactions and not “real”?
That they don’t go beneath the surface,
And that you cannot really “feel”…?

Or that you’re merely observing,
In your own life no participation?
Just wondering if I’m alone out there,
In this mental disassociation…?

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I want to be standing amid flowering fields,
The sun on my face and the wind in my hair,
Feel working upon me nature’s soft, soothing balm,
Breathe in the scent of the sweetest fresh air.

I want to be standing upon a tropical beach,
See gentle waves lap against crystal white sand,
Taste the salt of the sea on the breeze of the wind,
Feel my heart from pure joy and freedom expand…

I want to be standing atop an alpine mountain,
Breathing in air that’s so crisp and so clean,
Uplifting views of the valleys before me,
Feel my soul just like the landscape – pristine…

I want to be exploring unvisited countries,
Landmarks and markets and temples and such,
Don my backpack – set off into the sunset,
I miss those carefree travelling days so much…

I want out of London, out of this big city life,
This soulless, constant, concrete, crowded burlesque,
Free from commuting, corporate and caring strife,
How I wish I weren’t writing this ode at my desk…

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One spring day a rosebud newly blooms,
Turns its young face towards the morning sun,
The earth is sweet, the world brand-new,
The scent is strong, fresh is the dew,
A bright new life has only just begun.
But a fleeting moment – lost all too soon,
The dusk sets in, the petals fall,
So brief to blight from morning bloom,
We roses all must answer to this call…

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What are you if not the thoughts in your head…?
Actions are visible, thoughts may go unsaid,
But which of the real “self” is the truer reflection…?
The “outer” caring or the “inner” rejection…?

The Bible is clear on this right from the start,
The Good Lord judges on the content of one’s heart,
The Dalai Lama’s stresses actions – the good and the bad,
The consequences in “real life” each version might have.

Gandhi’s approach is rather more holistic,
The harmony of the two the main characteristic,
Immanual Kant is of the moral-ethical school,
Any thoughts go, if you follow the ‘Golden Rule’.

I think therefore I am – cogito ergo sum,
Of all the philosophers, Descartes is the one,
With whom, on reflection, I am greatest aligned,
Your “self” is your thoughts – what does that say of mine???

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