The Note

Photo by Vlada Karpovich on
The Note

Son, I am sorry.
I had always hoped
that your mum would go first.
Finding her like this,
cold and lifeless,
has broken my heart,
torn me apart,

I love you
and your sisters,
and the grandchildren, of course I do,
mum was my rock,
my strength, my support,
my raison d.etre.
Life without her
would be unimaginably bleak,
an existence, not a life.

So, I am sorry, but it's my choice
and there are worse ways
to end everything
than a bottle of best malt
and some happy pills.
When you find us,
take comfort in our togetherness
and tell the others
that we love you all,


Photo by Belle Co on

She swallowed her pride
Took it all in her stride,
Went with the flow
And learned to let go.

In praise of masks

Photo by Anthony Shkraba on
In praise of masks

We no longer need a mask!
So, "How do you feel?" did you ask?
Well, I'm gutted, it covered my nose,
Which sits rather large in repose.

Not to mention, my mostly black teeth
And the ones that are missing beneath,
Then, there's my acne and zits,
So, losing a mask is the pits.

Without a face mask, I am ugly,
But, one put on right, fitting snugly,
Hides all my small imperfections,
And reduces my chance of rejection.


Photo by cottonbro on

When death
is a looked forward to
release from pain,
then mortality
almost humane.


Photo by Pixabay on

Spiders, snakes, irrational fear,
Can hold us back, and be severe.
Fear of public speaking, talking
To a crowd, or fear of walking
Open spaces, confined spaces.
Fear of people, fear of faces.
Fear of losing someone dear,
Scared of what our loved ones hear.

Scared to venture, scared to try,
Scared of water, scared to fly.
Deep, dark places, dizzy heights,
Anything can give us frights.
Ridicule, fear of rejection,
Anything, upon reflection.
Fear is human, that's no lie,
Can cripple us, can make us cry.
We need to conquer it, aim high,
Pocket fear, reach for the sky.

Black Dogs

Dauphy: I’m a bit upset this morning.

Hobbo: Why, what’s up?

Dauphy: That Winston Churchill bloke who you like so much.

Hobbo: What about him?

Dauphy: He used to get depressed.

Hobbo: So he did, yes.

Dauphy: Well, I’ve found out that he called his depression ‘The Black Dog’. That’s not very nice is it?

Hobbo: He didn’t mean anything by it. He loved dogs. It was just a metaphor?

Dauphy: He met a what?

Hobbo: It was his way of externalising it. Making it less scary.

Dauphy: Do you do the same when you get depressed.

Hobbo: I do, yes, but you are the black dog who lifts my mood and gets me out of that depression. Listen at this poem.

Black Dogs

This black dog inside my head,
Makes me sad, depressed.
My black dog, who's just been fed,
Is my best pal. I'm blessed

Dauphy: Aw, that’s nice.

Hobbo: Feeling better now?…

With a little beer in the fridge

Photo by Wendy Wei on
A little beer in the fridge (A little help from my friends Lennon/McCartney) 

A little beer in the fridge. 
My wife has left me, for a man on the sea, 
And left me alone with the kids. 
I tried to sell,May for a snip on eBay, 
But I just couldn't get any bids. 
I get by with a little beer in the fridge, 
I get high with a little beer in the fridge. 

What can I do now my wife is away, 
Can I play out all night, not go home?
 How will it look if she's gone off for good,
 Could I cope all the time on my own? 
I'll get by with a little beer in the fridge. 
I get high with a little beer in my fridge.

 Should I feed anybody? 
I need some food for the sprogs. 
Should I please anybody? 
I've plenty in for the dogs. 
Why she left me, when she looks such a fright 
That sailor must be out of his mind. 
Wait till he sees what she's like in daylight, 
She'll be back here in double quick time. 
Should I feed anybody?
 I need some food for the sprogs. 
Should I please anybody? 
I've plenty in for the dogs.
 I'll get by with a little beer in my fridge. 
I'll get by with a little beer in my fridge. 
A little beer in my fridge.

The Yorksher Blues

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
The Yorksher Blues 

My rhubarb won't grow, it's the wrong kind of soil. 
My moped is slow, and my car's leaking oil. 
My snake ate my cake, so that now she can't coil. 
My new metal kettle, has melted, won't boil. 
I'm bluer than my tattoos, 
I've got me those Yorksher blues. 

My dog's chewed my clogs, and he's spewed on the floor. 
My cat's run away with the tomcat next door. 
My sister's a mister, whose wife is a whore. 
I'm a medical miracle close to death's door. 
I'm bluer than my tattoos, 
I've got me those Yorksher blues. 

My missus insists, she won't leave, don't ask why?
 I know that her beau is a really nice guy. 
I have seen, she is keen, and I can't tell a lie, 
Just leave me alone, in my home, and I'll die. 
I'm bluer than my tattoos,
 I've got me those Yorksher blues.

Canine Therapy

Canine Therapy 

If your work's in a mess 
And your mind's in a fog, 
If you're feeling depressed, 
Grab a leash, walk the dog. 

If your love life is crap  
And you need a good snog, 
If your boyfriend's got clap, 
Grab a leash, walk the dog. 

If you can't find your prince, 
And you're stuck with a frog, 
If you've lost your blue rinse, 
Grab a leash, walk the dog. 

If you're fed up at home, 
Sick of cleaning the bog, 
You've no teeth in your comb, 
Grab a leash, walk the dog. 

If you want high heeled shoes, 
And you've only one clog, 
When you've got Monday blues, 
Grab a leash, walk the dog. 

You are driving the motor, 
But you're just a small cog, 
Then, stuff that new rota, 
Grab a leash, walk the dog. 

If you married a hunk, 
And he turned out, a hog 
There's no need to get drunk, 
Grab a leash, walk the dog. 

If your drink is cocktail, 
And you're given egg nog, 
Put some wind in your sail, 
Grab a leash, walk the dog. 

So, when nothing seems right 
In your back catalogue, 
Make the world look more bright, 
Grab a leash, walk the dog.

The Medical

Photo by Pixabay on
The Medical

There's snow on the hills
And I've taken my pills.
The psychiatrist thinks me quite sane.
The pigs in the sky,
Yes I know they can't fly,
But they're taking a test just the same.

The voice in my head
That is never quite dead,
Is singing a sad kind of ditty.
I try to write songs
Yet they come out all wrong,
All clangers and smash, more's the pity.

I've got an IQ
Of a hundred and two,
Which puts me, ahead of a half-wit.
I'm friends with the Queen
And my washing machine,
But give me a dollar, I'd halve it.

I live on the moon
With an ageing baboon
Who is wanted in five different countries.
My favourite meal
Is strawberry peel
Which I harvest each autumn from plum trees.

The doc's here again.
She insists, I am sane.
She has the last laugh, no disputing.
The stupid old lush,
I'm as daft as a brush.
Speak to my grandma, Rasputin.

Tick-Tock, round the clock,
I need a new frock.
Tear drop, splobalop, I am barmy.
Boogaloo bongos,
Dingos and drongos,
I don't want to play in your army.
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