Halloween HORROR!

Happy Halloween everyone! The poem below carries a huge health warning…once read, it cannot be unread. The images it will leave you with cannot be wiped (a score of witnesses will testify to this)… If you are easily offended, or have any ounce of self-respect, taste or decency, DO NOT READ ON! You have been warned!

It started as a joke
Then grew into a dare
It *may* have been the alcohol
When I agreed to wear
the mankini

Now, for those who do not know,
A mankini’s quite the thing
(Picture me in a posing pouch
Pulled up tight with bright green string)

My abs are long since absent
The six pack’s more a barrel
And without getting into fat shaming
There’s too much padding in this saddle

the mankini
…It barely hides my wedding tackle
But bares the rest for all
All this hairy flesh, all this…
And an unmanly spread of balls

You see, I’ll never be a swordsman
No Don Juan legendary lover.
If your body’s a lethal weapon,
I’m more like Danny Glover.

But a dare’s a dare and that’s that
You’ve got to live by a code.
Well, you’ve got to tell yourself something
When your ass cheeks are on show…

So, a distinctive Halloween outfit…
But it’s not easy trick or treating
On a cold, dark night in autumn
With cock and balls retreating!

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I Met Her In A Graveyard

This is the second in what will inevitably form a Halloween trilogy, concluding tomorrow… I am going to perform these poems, with others, at my first ever poetry performance (excluding open mics) this weekend. Wish me luck!

I met her in a graveyard
On a dark and stormy night.
Wrapped in blackest midnight
She was something of a sight.

Her skin was pale as moonlight.
She’d dark circles round her eyes.
Her countenance was serious :
Quite incapable of surprise.

Her long black skirt hid her feet,
She seemed to glide across the ground.
Made no mark upon the floor,
Moved without a sound.

She made a beeline for me,
As I was drawn to her.
Mesmerised by each other,
Quite forgetting who we were.

Neither dared to touch the other,
To break this moonlit spell.
This eeriest enchantment
That makes two hearts compel.

Standing, still not touching,
We danced upon the mist,
The tangled trail of eddies,
The only evidence of our tryst.

Our bodies now moved closer,
I moved in for a kiss…

But I fell and passed right through her
Denied that mortal bliss.

For though I was but the ghost
In a delicious irony
I fell so hard in love with her
It’s her that haunted
Me

So if you’re sat there lonely now
Sad, and praying for a date
Remember well this poem’s words:
It’s never too late
It’s never too late

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ZombieLife

I was born a bonny zombie baby
It’s the only life I’ve known
But years and moons have passed since then
How I’ve zombie-grown!

Growing up sure ain’t easy
Juicy brains don’t come for free
And there’s no chance those screaming humans
Will ever let me be!

See, I’ve never craved attention
I just want an axe-free life
Somewhere peaceful in the country
Where I can find a loving, kind, decaying wife

I never knew my zombie father
Spent no childhood catching ball
No mother there to catch me
When rotting limbs would fall

And I don’t know if you’ve noticed
But zombie role models are lacking
We’re just used in films to show off
The hero’s muscles as they’re hacking

And don’t you see the irony
In claiming we love brains
Then trying to bash our heads in.
It’s prejudice ingrained!

I don’t wanna fight you.
Set aside your sword.
Quit swinging that bloody baseball bat.
Let’s sit, and have a word.

I know my tongue’s necrotic
But there’s a message ‘neath my growling
If only you would listen, really listen,
We could end this midnight prowling

Our demands are very few:
Just leave us all alone,
In basements, malls or graveyards,
Where we can rot and roam.

We’re the next step in evolution:
These are Darwinian growing pains.
We don’t want to harm you

We just want to eat your brains!

 

Z

 

The Wheel Moves On…

Hi, it’s been a while… everyone good? … The last time I was on here, I was encouraging you to submit poems for a charity anthology, Diverse Verse, organised by Richard aka https://skaggythepoet.wordpress.com/ . Well, I took my own advice, and am now officially a published poet!

Richard invited me along to the launch on Saturday, so I caught the train over to Walsall to join him and a number of friendly, local poets for only my third ever open mic poetry reading… you wouldn’t believe how much preparation I put into a six-minute open mic slot! I’m planning a post on this in the near future. For now, check out Richard’s report on the launch here, and please support the book if you are able: diverse-verse-2-is-launched It was wonderful to finally meet Richard in person – he was exactly as I expected, although taller! He is the first blogger I’ve had the pleasure of meeting offline. Hopefully not the last 🙂

For those kind enough to have asked, I haven’t gone away completely, although it’s fair to say I’ve lost my love for blogging for a host of reasons, not all of which I want to share. I’m still writing, now performing too (!), and intend to be back here with the odd tidbit now and again. Who knows, maybe I’ll even find the “moderation in all things” approach that everyone keeps talking about!

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The poet in full-on “action mode”

A gratuitous bribe

One way to win people over is with the power of your words… another way is bribery… another bit of January fun to #banishtheblues !

Oopsy me, how careless
I don’t know what to say
You said there was no charge…
But I thought I had to pay

So here’s some rhyming chocolate
A piece of poem pie
Left down on a table
With a winking of my eye

And just in case you do not love
Those words what I have wrote
You’ll find beneath this poem
A crisp new ten pound note

 

🙂

 

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Picture credit: flickr.com/photos/dysanovic/197527093

 

 

alistairlanewrites

Sleep In Beauty

One way to #banishtheblues is through humour. There are other ways…

My beauty, my love, my heart’s desire,
Curls up beside me, in front of the fire
Sleeping so soundly, peaceful, serene,
Enjoying the deepest and softest of dreams.

I snuggle in behind her, cuddle her tight,
Whisper so gently, what I’d do tonight,
If only she’d wake and kiss me right here
Imagine the sounds those ears would hear…

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Picture credit: flickr.com/photos/cuppini/622856689

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Then There Was One

To help us all get through the dismal dirtsack we lovingly call January, I’ve started a #banishtheblues hashtag. I’d love it if you joined me! Just write, or draw, or photograph, something light, or fun, or happy, or even joyous… anything to #banishtheblues !

This is another that was written as part of an (unsuccessful) application to join the funeverse, a children’s poetry collective. It was inspired by Jion Sheibani’s sharktastic image of a shark looking hungrily at eight teeny tiny fish…

There’s eight of us, and one of him
No need to feel afraid
If we just stick together,
He’ll need First AND Second Aid!

Oh, we’re down to seven,
Mikey’s wandered off…
He had been feeling peaky,
With that ticklish, wheezy cough

But still, we’re strong at seven!
Err… has anyone seen Jill?
Six is plenty to beat that shark
We’ll not end up like those krill!

There’s six, sorry five, of us
He’ll be quaking in his boots
There’s plenty here to scare him.
No need for new recruits.

Us five will hold the line…
Oops, we’re down to four.
I hope that shark can’t count,
That he isn’t keeping score!

Still, four’s a goodly number…
Now where has Betty gone?
We only need to stick together,
Stay with me, come on!

Three will see us right…
Err… guess it’s just us two
I reckon we’ve got his number,
We’ll take him, me and you!

Simon? Simon? Where’ve you gone?
No time for playing games!
Well, if you want me Sharkey,
You’re going down in flames

What d’you mean you’re full?
I think you’re full of it.
If you won’t face me, coward,
You’d better run off quick!

 

alistairlanewrites-1

The Monster of the Swamp

Happy New Year everyone! I say “happy”, but it’s January…
…it’s cold
…it’s wet
…it’s dark most of the time
…we’ve all put on weight over Christmas and are feeling it
…not to mention feeling super-broke…

Time to #banishtheblues !

Don’t torture yourself with resolutions. You’re not going to keep them anyway!

So join me this month with anything light, or funny, or happy, or joyous… anything to #banishtheblues !

To get this started, this bit of fun was written as part of an (unsuccessful) application to join the funeverse, a children’s poetry collective. Inspired by Kate Pankhurst’s wonderful picture

The Monster of the Swamp
Was preparing for her date
She’d spent hours in the mud-bath
And now was running late!

She combed her thick hair gently
So as not to wake her nits
Shaking off the clumps of mud
Which fell away in bits

She put on her monster make-up,
Made from bugs and flies,
Crushing up a beetle
As mascara for her eyes

She picked her favourite perfume
It had a pungent scent.
No matter where she wandered,
You knew just where she went

A heady mix of armpits,
Mixed with cheesy feet
It smelt of rotten swamp slime
And twelve-day rancid meat

To finalise her outfit
She picked a pretty bow
Tied it neatly to her fur
Now it’s time to go!

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Picture credit: flickr.com/photos/16643636 (this isn’t the one that inspired this piece, but it’s in similar vein 🙂 )

 

 

alistairlanewrites

The Night Before Christmas, 2016

I wrote this as my entry for the Amazon competition, for a modern take on The Night Before Christmas. I’m guessing I didn’t win, so here it is for your seasonal entertainment, from this Grinchiest of writers 🙂 Merry Christmas everyone!

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all over town
A sprinkling of snow began to come down.
Few could remember the last time it snowed
But on this night of enchantment, soft magic flowed.

A gentle white blanket, a snuggly sheet
Covered each house, every flat, every street.
Inside each bed, wrapped-up children slept well
As their hopes and their dreams started to swell.

They’d been good this year. Perhaps an X-Box
Would be under their tree, and not silly socks!
Maybe an i-Pad, or mobile phone,
Some books or some films, maybe even a drone!

Anything but socks would bring them a smile,
…Or Gran’s knitted jumpers, in her own special style!
So the children slept on, and their parents did too
(Mum dreamt a long list of jobs she must do…)

Then out in the garden, a hullabaloo,
Awoke one small child, who took in the view:
Santa and crew had been riding too fast
Racing the Space Station as it flew past!

They’d landed too hard; a crash and a bump:
Santa collided with reindeer rump!
His big belly wobbled. He laughed and he said,
“Time for mince pies. Time we were fed!”

Santa – with help – filled a sack up with toys
Whispering softly to keep down the noise.
The boy in his bedroom was straining to hear,
But didn’t want Santa to know he was near.

He peeked around curtains, moved barely a muscle
As Santa continued his sack-filling bustle.
Then stroking and feeding each one of the team
Using the light from Rudolph’s nose-beam!

Santa greeted each reindeer, from Dancer
To daredevil Dasher, and Cupid, and Prancer.
To red-nosed Rudolph, Donner and Blitzen
To cranky old Comet, and tricksy young Vixen.

The boy held his breath. He dared be no louder!
As Santa got out the pink magic powder,
Sprinkled a little to enter the house…
The dust made him shrink to size of a mouse.

(Santa liked chimneys, despite soot and ash,
But moved with the times as quick as a flash.)
He popped up in the house, next to the tree,
With his sack on his shoulder to spread Christmas glee.

He placed the presents for every good child
By the sparkly tree; carefully piled.
Helped himself to a mince pie or two,
And picked up some carrots for his reindeer crew.

He drank up the milk, and licking his lips,
Took a quick look around, his hands on his hips.
With a stroke of his beard, he spied by itself,
A cheeky but lonely, elf on the shelf.

He greeted the elf like a long-lost old friend,
And made sure to move him along to the end.
Between Advent chocolate, baubles and lights
Wrapping blue tinsel all ‘round his red tights.

With a rub of his tummy, his work here complete
Santa sprinkled some dust to make his retreat.
Back to the reindeer, waiting outside,
And hopped in his sled to continue this ride!

Santa took the reins, but before taking flight
He turned to the boy, winked in the moonlight,
Beamed him a smile, so happy and bright:
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

 

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Picture credit: flickr.com/photos/pagedooley/3124443099