Sunday Can Be Like That

Sunday morning wish list

Lay in ‘til half past nine

Drink three coffees in a row

The fourth I may decline

Sunday is a waiting day

Whenever weather wins

Reflecting on the ‘how it is’

When the in between begins

Sundays are for visiting

And momentary swerves

Especially when I find myself

Really getting on my nerves

Carry The Candid Can

On a quest towards reality

When in bed one shouldn’t lie

Or be a leader up the garden path

Speak indignantly or sigh

Avoid all complicated maps

Don’t bank on hope or presuppose

The most acknowledged trickster

Will cross your lines by just a nose

On all things nice one must think twice

They are temptation’s shining light

You’ll know if you’ve arrived or not

For truth is there in black and white

Expedient Order

Sitting spinning heads or tails

Seeing two sides in mid air

Certain my predictions will

Confirm my insight flair

Well aware of fifty-fifty odds

Something else at stake I see

My coin is forced to fold its wings

When compressed by gravity

With confidence I check my score

A which-way state of undecided

Not content with one result

Best of three my rules presided

A Part Apart

 

Corner to corner

They stood in the square

Both of them leaving

But neither knew where

To the centre they moved

By the clown with a fiddle

Dodging the crowd

Who surrounded the middle

Clockwise to avoid them

They stepped up their gait

Unaware each existed

For neither would wait

Departing the square

Without waving goodbye

Yet missing each other
But not knowing why

Mostly Thursday

I’ve dragged my way

Through work this week

Pulled out all the stops

Scraped my target barrel

Sucked up all the slops

But Hey! Tomorrows Friday

Gala evening glad rag day

Off up-town in a pulling gown
Friday night Weekend away

Shudder Judder Nights

As I enter dreamers doorway

Tired out and drained beyond

Confusing my subconscious

Like maybe drowning in a pond

My rescue systems cry alarm

Stimulating nerves and muscles

Sending system drenching chemicals

Through my networking corpuscles

At pace akin to slapping face

I surface sleep like chain reaction

With “what on earth is going on”

Rapid thumps of heart contraction

It may be caffeine taken late at night

Or mounting pressures on at work

Which drive me to that startling state
A bedtime dancing Hypnic Jerk

Twitter inspired: Art Of Living‏ @HealthyLife2017 

If Your Body Suddenly Jerks While Falling Asleep, THIS Is What It Means… http://ow.ly/qZO730b9tgh 

Chocolate Mindset

Art Of Living

@HealthyLife2017 - http://ow.ly/Ad0i30b9rWM 

I’m excited nay ecstatic

On the latest chocolate news

That sensual slab of mouth delight

Will dissipate my love lorn blues

By lighting up my neurons

Explodes my brain capacity

My constructive and my cognitive

Improves my love voracity

A tablet taken twice each day

Is good measure for my pleasure

Much more spark is gained from dark

Intensely beneficial treasure

So there you go and now you know

Your guilty secret does you good

That chocolatier that you revere

Is advantageous to your hood

According to the Maine-Syracuse Longitudinal Study or MSLS, participants residing in Syracuse, New York who were regular chocolate eaters had better cognitive functioning compared to those who did not regularly consume the goodie. What’s more surprising is this: regardless of any other dietary habit, chocoholics participating in the said study fared better in tests designed to measure the overall performance of the brain.

Diamond Days

He saw his life inside a cube

Between the lines refrained

Although the lines extended

He felt comfortably contained

He walked about unhindered

Reading maps kept in his head

So many ways to trace his steps

Where all to often he would tread

He fretted how the changes came

In patterns dancing in the night

Crudely sketching storyboards

On silver screens of tired light

He read the letters sent to him

To all and sundry he replied

Sending comfort to the anxious

Who suspected he had died

He revelled in the silent beat

Connecting curls in tuneful air

Felt the gentleness of atmosphere

Each tranquil pulse of solitaire

Town Cryer

You can watch it coming but never see it go

A village clock free standing

Where people meet or wait

Challenging slow motion moves

At solitary moment rate

Slanted glancing at the clock face

A far too treasured minute stare

Those costly spears drift quietly by

Steal motive forces haunting there

Smiles arrive on time or late

Isolation stands in sorrow

Time glides on its silent wings
Another game in space tomorrow

Late Britain

Fool Britainia

Once again the politics flame

Blurry spears suggesting hope

Hardly radiating heat

Thin veneer of smoky scope

So many feeling mislead duped

A puppet nation on a string

Mutinous and cast adrift

On jam tomorrow’s future spring

A once proud kingdom’s broken heart

See heavy weather beckoning

Rudderless approaching storms

Toward a rocky beach head reckoning

No charismatic lighting beacons

Stirring speeches that inspire

A bunch of hopeful speculations

Cannot invigorate desire

A nightmare gallop to oblivion

Whilst feeble platitudes proclaim

Looking back in years from now
Before ‘Late Britain’ staggered lame

The Grill

The airflow like a two way street

Hit the bars where tunes where played

A stale array of fresh exchange

Amid a burst of brilliance flayed

Careless messages they left behind

Remind the sceptical and guarded

Of what we heard from what they said

Played out stories long discarded

Alleyways of manufactured shapes

Where the foolish volunteered

With prospects of escape in mind

Dead-end doorways commandeered

The roads now dressed in uniforms

Build barricades with hard-pressed eyes

Looking out for lame excuses made
Concealed in thinly veiled disguise

Based on 'Desolation Row' by Bob Dylan

Steaming

Relaxing in a British Pub

Not any old one will do

Picture-perfect quaintness

Slowly sup a perfect brew

People-person peopled

By a super serving crew

I do declare a pleasant fare

If it’s all the same to you

The Head of Steam in King Street

Hull’s City culture Rendezvous

To be among the old and young

Where easy atmospheres imbue

This Way To Friday

Time to wet your whistle

Another week has bit the dust

Last ditch work hours passing by

As Friday feelings you adjust

Step out on the weekend slope

Among the vibes of Friday tribes

Swap the yolk for a casual cloak

Where the laidback guys subscribe

Get the upturn tone in a shindig zone

Strutting easy streets of beams

Where jaunty is your world tonight

Friday evening’s land of dreams

Who Knows

You need to choose
Which side are you on?

As this nation slowly slides away
Living barely on leftovers
Treading trails of cattle dung
No longer sailors or wild rovers

Our ways and means are taken down
A rattle  box of little parts
Missing pieces left not making sense
Piggy banks of stops and starts

We've sucked our riches out of futures
Ragged cloths now cut to shreds
Muddied continental waters
Now we lay on home made beds

Inspiration

Picture by 
Janine & jo robinson‏ @Janine331607041 

Easy flowing brush caress

Portray a flawless covered shell

A perfect touch of not too much

Suggesting tints of light gazelle

Movement whispers in the air

Where touch turned into glaze

As though a wispy dancing veil
Left brushstrokes in the haze

Tiwesdæg

I’ll call today
my take on day

Prepared to get
the week in gear

Gusto shoves
take off the gloves

I’m of the mind
to persevere

Today is feeling
spanking new

A grandstand view
a good news day

I’ll go to war
with any chore

Even though
it’s only Tuesday