Delaney

Some man sittin’ in his own piss blind
His mild exhalations…
A greaser from the coast, y’know?
Made his bones in seventy somethin’

Gnarled, his knuckles force a fist
And pissed in bliss he nods and fits
A wispin-stubb ‘tween leather lips
An’ shuffles the heft about his hips

Later he learned of an offshore cult
Whose only law he came to love
And disobey from time to time
Though the skin he was in did fit thon clime

And so the twilight years were passed
In sombre sunlight, blinked and basked
And asked more often than he answered
Seemed keen for the shabeen…

Ah, but sure he’s off again.


Pictures of Jesus

In the Rosey hours you’ll come to know
Of glimpsing ghouls who’ll glimmer glow
And titter wit from corners sparse
Then force the ignorance out your arse

In the Rosey hours there will be time
To speculate, vocate, and chime
To chitter with the one you hold
A fire lit to make you bold

In the Rosey hours you can do allsorts
Carouse, cartwheel with known cohorts
Gambol, pinata, pinochle, please
Kindly jibe, politely tease.

Say Cheese 😊


Hallions

One more for tha rhode. Hears wan fore da functionul. Figgity fourfinchmunch. Blasterpustpinchinwit. Five drip dives and a stink’s pontoon. Wash up at noontide, and give your mother’s blest.

Ciao.