In the chaos
Of our dreams
We experience a loss
Of the control
That we, in waking hours maintain
And the oh so fragile pane,
Shatters, revealing our soul.
‘Tis good that none but we
Can see
How our consciousness streams,
Out of control, in dreams.
The tombstones look back at me
And will continue to be,
When I can no longer see.
A young lady who comes from Ealing
Is fond of trampolining.
At dead of night
I received a fright,
When she jumped right through my ceiling!
As I strolled home late last night
A young lady under a red light
Said, whilst smiling provocatively at me,
“Are you looking for some company?”,
And the stars they shone very bright!
When a young lady dressed as a smarty
Said, “I’ve come about the party”,
And I replied, “Conservative or Labour?”,
She said, “I am your neighbour,
And I’m inviting you to our swingers party!”.
I recently went to a party
Attended by the great literati,
Where a poetess named Bess
Took off her new dress,
Don’t worry, it was really quite arty
50. Soon to be 51.
The year
Is here
And soon gone.
I cough in the early morning.
A warning?
Probably not,
But soon the year will be gone
And I shall reach the age of 51,
How many more have I got?
Young women
Will still
Laugh at my humour,
But grinning
Is not sinning
And ’tis no rumour
That I grow old.
Gold
May, they say
Buy
Much more than a smile
From a pretty maid
But the eye
Of lust
Must turn to dust
Once our part is played.
When I found a young lady named Mabel
Dancing upon my fine old dining table,
And I said, “do you know that’s an antique!”,
She replied, “good sir, late next week
I shall meet you in your father’s old stable”
The dust
Is certain
For every person
Whether he
Or she
Be good or bad.
Is it wrong
To long
For pleasure?
For the sweet heather
Will not last forever
And the summer sun
Is soon done.
A young man named Snell
Owns an extremely dirty hotel.
When I said “you must clean!”,
He replied, “have you not seen,
The low prices in this hotel!”.
