here’s a little ditty I once said,
that scared bullies whilst in bed,
the devil in the corner,
felt sad at not being hornier,
as the hat stand was taking a rest.
Bethal Celle’Peeparoch, 1923

is this nonsense of course,

but should I travel down that hole,

find a place where no poet will go?

“..I’m crap, so crap, so funny, cuz it’s crap!.”

surrealism I do like, my life looks like my dreams,

is that sad?

have I accepted all I can be is an untidy lounge and a 7 year old controlling the TV?

must be mad, but it’s part of my reality.

I like a good quick rhyme, if there’s time,

to sit and write poems that mean nothing but fun.

but to make it smaller could make it a cream bun?

scampering on the floor,
the butterfly is no more,
sad now.
Jimmi Wee, 1943

why so light-hearted, is love fair?

I hope not, I’d prefer sandalwood and a quiet air,

I’m too old, too sold, too mould, too many folds,

you hear me right?

in trying to break free, the system broke me, now I choose stupidity.

if I’m stupid that’s fine, I don’t fear death as much as many find.

that makes me, what, not care, not wish to be there?

death is just going to happen, possibly without warning,

one moment I’m here, then I’m looking down at my head there.

“..died writing a poem blog on a mobile, the imbecile..”, why so self defeating?

easy, to me, you see, the “me” that you call me, means nothing to me.

so you tell me I’m my body and brain, without allowing me what’s mine?

I know I’m not just these, so much more, sometimes trees,

in the paper they give us written something about mes.

somewhere in a far field lays my metal tooth,

the only thing left from millions of years of death.

that’s all we are in the far future, a collection of dust in the stars,

just another chance at freedom from suffering with an unimaginable amount of scars.