OK, now, I’m off to bed.
My clock says 3 and a bit.
I know, by now, that you must think
That, at this time, all I say is shit.
I’m tired, yup, that’s understood
But reason is not lost,
Verity is paramount.
But sometimes at a cost.
So let me here reiterate,
Hear me now and don’t berate
The words of one who seeks to speak
Always truth
Except for when
Your arse is massive in that frock,
And, Jesus wept, you think you rock
At singing,
Well, that’s not for me
To disillusion fantasy.
And though I do not seek to hurt
It does not here extend
To invites to my little clan
Oh, God, for fear offend.
You’re welcome for a cup of tea
A biscuit and a cake,
Of course, I bought them
Do you really think that
I have time to make
Empire biscuits,
Cookie dough?
Absolutely not.
Claiming such accomplishments
A crock, a pile of rot.
So, what is good?
What’s understood?
If name is on my list,
I cordially invite you here,
We’ll natter,
(May get pissed).
One thing’s for sure,
In case you doubt it,
I do not invite lightly,
I am just short of anti-social,
Well, maybe more than slightly.
These virtual parties are some fun
But person hugs are better
My loud and quiet self agree
That we all need a natter,
A smile to see, a hand to hold,
A hug, a pat on back.
Ether world, therefore,
Has something that it lacks.
Well, God almighty,
Why would anyone
Invite unto their table?
Well, here’s a difference.
Let me speak,
While I am still able
(Fuck’s sake it’s 4.05 GMT),
In my life
There’s only few, who me
Have so impressed
Consider them, if you wish,
So blessed?
To catch the eye of
One so cynical,
And at times, depressed.
OK, so, you’re thinking now,
This woman is a nutter,
She speaks and rattles on without
A pause or even stutter.
I know, I know,
It’s always so.
My quiet shouts to loud,
Get to bed,
Stop talking…….
Oh my God!
I slept on couch!
I’ve wakened now at seven,
The dog is barking,
Hubby’s up
And I am upright sleeping.
Oh well, bugger it,
I started so I’ll end,
Welcome to my little world
My blogospheric friend.
And just to prove that
God has hand in what I say and think,
Feckin internet has gone again,
I’ve exhausted to the brink
Its capabilities to transmit
But worry not,
This piece of shit
Of router will be soon replaced.
Monday sees a different face.
A promise from R. Branson’s team
To salvage or perhaps redeem
With shiny, new and dust free router,
Jeez, I hope it’s not my ‘puter
Playing up with such abandon,
So like me, in thoughts quite random
At times.
And sometimes not.
Feckin’ router and feckin’ Virgin media.
I’m fed up talking to them.
Ahh, I think I might go to bed.
At 8.30 in the morning!
Or 10!
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