I’m being a bit distant socially and media-wise lately. Soreeee.

Focus Issues.

Excuse my poor response to all who've posted,
Don't feel lost, abandoned or- God forbid- ghosted,
These last few days I find all my good humor's gone,
I guess I'm just not happy to be entertaining Omicron.

Between my tiresome bellyaches and pains
Short sharp temperament and long migraines,
Red snotty nose, sore ribs through coughing fits
I'm sick as a kicked dog- ain't that the puppyshits?

How hard we'd tried to keep ours a non-toxic household,
So I'll admit then testing positively made my blood run cold-
Masked up religiously, prayed God keep Covid from our door,
A positive outlook? well, no worries about catching it anymore.

Now I'd (better) thank my sweet spouse- best wife ever!
She soothes my fev'red brow, so I hold no ill will whatsoever-
Tho' viral transmissibility from her Nursing Facility brung it home;
(I'm such a shit patient she sez I'm her 'lil' Irritable Bowel Syndrome.')

She scoffs 'basic man flu,'
So I snap 'Sexist and untrue!'
Does it simply never occur?
Obviously I'm sicker than her!

I wake brimful of mucous, with a fuzzy unfocused brain,
My mind tracks back on the same track again and again,
Foggy thoughts goin' round 'n' round on an endless loop...
I'm of half a mind I'm repeatedly stuck on an endless loop...
Was that just deja vu or did I mention a flippin' endless loop?

Moaning in my sick bed, phone slipping 'twixt slick hands,
Cain't comment on fresh posts like a good host demands,
So 'scuse me while I sourly swab away the night's sweat,
Till I'm upright my tired 'Like' is 'bout the best you'll get.

                                 'There's 'under the weather' and then there's 'pretty snotty''             


The Palace let their guard down again. (Crystal Palace 1, Burnley 1.)

Home Truths, Selhurst Style.

Back home happily to Burnley the Clarets* run-
Came up to Selhurst Park** pointless, leaving with one,
For this Palace fan another frustrating Saturday
Watching another two f- flipping points slipping away.

*Nickname for Burnley Hoof-ball Club.
**Selhurst Park- Home ground of Crystal Palace Charitable Football Club. (Own goals given freely away almost every Saturday.)

'If Burnley can't stuff the ball in the net, trust the home team to stuff it up and in.'


The woes of this crazy ol’ world are becoming more irritatingly personal by the minute.

Far And Away.

As two good parents we believe
It's ones duty to care and prepare
Your child for the day they leave
To explore that big wide world out there.

And so she ventured Forth,
Far and away she did roam,
From Southern Seas to frozen North
There to make her own family and home.

So we became the distant in-laws;
Then one day she called, unexpected,
Then, after a pregnant pause...
Suddenly all the dots connected.

Once, nothing could stop us going,
Once, we'd happily hop on an Airbus
Or aboard some Dreamliner Boeing-
Once, before this globe-trotting virus.

So, we awaited his birth,
All we could do was wait
Here on the far side of the earth;
Boy, he arrived wayyy past his due date!

Oh, though how we yearn
To hold close our grandchild
We stay put, with due concern;
That crazy Omicron's still running wild.

Oh, to be there by their side,
To gently tuck in the over-tired,
Sooth and comfort the red-eyed,
Even- ugh- change brown nappies as required.

To simply have, to hold,
To rock away his lusty wails,
To try out those good old
Mid-wive's and nurses tales.

To sing our old familial lullaby,
Lull your weary child to sleep,
Be on baby watch as the hours slip by
While letting his mother snore loud and deep.

Yes, we get to see him grow,
Already he's grown so much,
Yes, we can Zoom in on video,
Yet that still lacks the human touch.

So we remain half a world away
Waiting for the miasma to clear,
But we will get there, one fine day,
Meanwhile, they're there and we're here.

                            ‘One day we’ll just have to wing it.’


Another sad tale from a long-faced long time Crystal Palace follower.

Time Bomb. 
(Chelsea steal the win, last minute, 19/2/22.)

Once again this long-suffering Crystal Palace fan
Marvels at how well his players play to Pat's* plan,
Fully focused on keeping the opposition scoreless,
So many times Palace's defence is so close to flawless.

The times I've watched as injury time runs deep-
Then's when our blinking back line goes to sleep,
And in one single moment of slack-jawed yawning
We're back rueing their mistake on Sunday morning.

The way Palace let themselves get robbed is a crime!
Must we relearn our lesson, time after time after time?
Wouldn't it be wonderful, just once, for us to scare late?
Wouldn't it be great to see Patrick Vieira finally celebrate?

Wouldn't it be some turn up if Palace scored last at last?
Wouldn't it be terrific to not leave Selhurst** downcast?
One day the scoreboard will say (I pray with heart and soul)
A Palace player scored the late winner- and not an own goal.

*Patrick Vieira- Managing brilliantly for eighty-nine minutes every game.
**Selhurst Park- Palace's home ground and field of broken last minute dreams.

‘Last minute panic at the dismal Palace again!’


Let’s celebrate 100 years since the end of a Great War. Happy anniversary?

One Great War After Another.

That first Great War lasted four long years
But twenty years on and we were back for more,
After six endless years and countless tears
We found, again, no-one wins any bloody war.

Can we, at long last
Learn from the mistakes of the past?
Will our idiotic leaders call to arms
Lose its patriotic charms?

Will we ever see our way
To not see our soldiers fade away?
Can we have a lasting peace?
Will wonders never cease?

Will Einstein be proved right?* 
Will we turn toward the so-bright light?
Will we be bathed in momentary glory
Before the world becomes our Purgatory?

The Third Great War should be brutally short-
Then eons of peace on earth, awash with flash-fried bones,
Till when we evolve enough for war to be fought
The inhumanity can continue with sticks and stones.

* Albie said (sic) 'Dunno what weapons World War Three will use, but for World War Four, they'll have to turn their hands to sticks and stones.' Cheery thought, is it not?

‘Not a grey cloud in the sky here at Camp Combustable, Nevada.’


Why complain about your weird and crazy weather; Imagine how it feels out Greenville, California way?

Scary Tales Around The Campfire.

As the summer temperatures relentlessly climbs
We look nostalgically back on cooler happier climes,
Way back when 110 degrees didn't elicit a tear
And it didn't shade 100 for the best part of the year.

Now it's a hard to dry-swallow bitter pill,
To look out at razed and ruined Greenville,
There's not much trace of Greenville anywhere;
Is there smoke and a change of name in the air?

Greenville now looks less green than grey,
Perhaps rename this sad site New Pompeii?
Still, down on us the sun incessantly beams
On this, our ashen pile of broken dreams.

Who here dares deny Climate Change is here to stay?
See the proof before your eyes, before it blows away!
Sobbingly I see these fine old family homes smolder-
A look to the future only makes my blood run colder.

‘The sad truth to this scary story is- the future is all yours now, kids!’


A man once said ‘Football is not a matter of life and death- it’s much more than that.’ In these Covid spreading times, all too true.

Cruel Britannia.

The Home fans had flocked here from miles around,
To Englands green and present Premier football ground,
All set to see England play winningly at Wembley,
All so happy together, in a gloriously riotous assembly.

All through the first half the crowd stood, up and singing,
By late on in the second half, down and hand-wringing,
Still hopefully singing- this time the lads would be victorious,
Ringing proud round the ground, loud if ultimately vainglorious.

Once more, as oft before, England failed the test,
Again, fair England, penalised into being second best,
As per tradition, opportunity and spot kicks missed,
But this national tragedy came with an extra kick twist.

The stunned crowd streamed from Wembley, sad, deflated,
Not singing 'Land Of Hope And Glory' as much anticipated,
Herded into their British Rail carriages, to sit in silent ponder;
Emptiness carried up to Goole, Hull, Halfwhistle and yonder.

Or to East or West,
But, everywhere, depressed,
Even in the Beautiful South-
Deeply down in the mouth.

Later, be it in the Albion, the Crown, Anchor or the Rising Sun,
Fans shared rounds with old mates, gathered in commiseration,
Next morning, wondering upon waking, shaking, with sore head
How much viral disappointment could they possibly have spread? 


‘Want a beer when you’ve got nowt to cheer about- fancy a Corona?’


The studio is setting up ‘Scream 5’ for release soon, so I thought I’d review the first ‘Scream.’ Oh, dear Drew, the horror.

Lessons From Watching 'Scream' Again.

For the fans of the gory horror flick
Sick of the perennial hoary old tropes
'Scream' played out a slick new trick
To raise any Millennial's bloody hopes.

'Scream' kicks off with a sick new twist-
But first I ought to offer a 'Spoiler Alert!' 
If you loved Drew in 'Never Been Kissed'
Her getting the kiss-off here is gonna hurt.

See, the pretty blonde nubile teen-
Her part's played by Drew Barrymore,
She's scarcely finished the first scene
When- so suddenly! Drew is no more.

What, the Star gets cut in the first act?
Drew winds up axed before Act Two?
Spoke a few lines, then gets whacked?
So, what advice might've saved Drew?

Don't mention you'll be at home alone
With no one close to share the popcorn,
Drew, definitely do not answer the phone 
Drew, if you want to live to see the dawn.

Don't let anyone outside in if they ask,
Or scream when a ghastly face appears,
Who knows who is behind that mask?
Face it Drew, this will all end in tears.

Sad to report, you ain't safe with old friends,
Two once-best buds now ain't right in the head,
Sad, by the time this twisted tale grislily ends
Our cut-in-the-first-act heroine is long dead.

‘Soon, Blondie, just hangin’ on the telephone.’

(Ok, slightly sick humour in the captions but what the hell…)

Learning to live with your eccentricities without getting weirded out.

( Inspired by Chel Owens A Mused poetry competition on 'Eccentrics' and the movie 'Shock Corridor.')

An Eccentrics Guide To Lightening Up.

A rare precious few view me as being one of a kind,
Far more as possessed of a most peculiar singular mind,
One gloomy psychiatrist classified me as slightly neurotic,
A better one called me, far more politely, simply quixotic.

Some call me eccentric, but that ain't fair,
I prefer to think I think outside the square,
Others say my view on reality is a tad murky,
They say I'm 'way out there,' I'd say 'quirky.'

The true eccentric is hard to define,
The clued-up eccentric rides a fine line,
You best keep your eccentricities on the down low,
So I tone it down- Bellvue's nowhere I wanna go.

Some admit they think outside the box,
I don't... wish to submit to electric shocks,
So, Doctor, if eccentricity is in the eye of the beholder
Call me quietly eccentric- I don't want to smoulder.


The climate of late in the States is hitting a new low. No, we’re not talking politics, we’re talking polar.

Today's Weather Wrap Up.

All over the Continental United States
An ill wind brings in snow drifts and dire straits,
Louisiana has plunged towards an all-time low,
Even Surfside Beach is dusted with snow.

Be you from down South or ways up North,
Intrepid driver, don't set forth,
From the East coast to the West
Staying safe at home will serve us all best.

Yet some brave Souls put their trust in the Lord,
Venture out with sat-nav and faith on board,
Jeez, don't go out and rubberneck, please?
Must snow down South bring on a brain freeze?

Typically, dumb some people can't let it slide,
They just wanna go out on a fun joyride,
To make snow angels out by the seashore,
With God as your co-pilot, who needs a 4 X 4?

Stay wrapped up at home, crank up the heat,
What's the point of a quick spin down the street? 
Don't wrap those threadbare tyres in snow chains,
Leave the Kia in the carport, use your brains.

   'That staycation is lookin' good'