Saturday, 20 August 2016

Hello . . . . . . Sorry I'm Busy. . . Back soooooon

There are Bugs out there
That are going to scare
So just make sure
That you beware.

I know it is short but I am still really really busy
hope to be back soon

Saturday, 23 July 2016

Unpopular Art and Poetry for the Masses

I have been very very busy lately producing artwork for my exhibition, only today when I asked Mrs Ghostwriter her opinion of my latest picture she said. . . . . . . OOOOOOoooooooo I dont like that much . . . . . . . Mrs Ghostwriter is a tough critic to please. So I am letting you see what she does not like, something us artists would not normally do. I mean if someone goes OOOOOOOoooo then putting the art in cyberspace will allow everyone else to say. . . . OOOooooooo she is right you know that is rubbish. . . . .  I have also added some repeated poetry that was also not very popular at the time in order to give this post a theme. And besides I am busy doing my best to make sure the next picture gets past Mrs Ghostwriter or as she is technically known Quality Control.

Are we nearly there yet . . . . . . . DAD
No No there is a long way to go
Are we nearly there yet . . . . . . . DAD
I just said we are not, and the traffic is quite slow
Are we nearly there yet . . . . . . . DAD
No I have just said, why don’t you play I Spy
Are we nearly there yet . . . . . . . DAD
No, will you stop asking or I will hit you with the cat and that will make you Cry
Are we nearly there yet . . . . . . . DAD
Look up there in the sky it’s a large Vampire Zombie Rook.
That eats small children that ask stupid questions
Are we nearly there yet . . . . . . . DAD
Just keep quiet and read a book
Are we nearly there yet . . . . . . . DAD
OK that’s it I have had enough

DAD. . . .Why have you locked me in the Boot I cant see.
Are we nearly there yet . . . . . . . DAD


DAD. . . . . . . . . The Cats Dead.

 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I do love some of that Franciscan Funk

And a bit of Hip Hop from Thelonious Monk

Plus a bit of Opera from those chaps at Motown

Or the famous Water Music by that chap Arthur Brown.

Or even that song Nineteen Ninety Nine by Arthur C Clark

And the Star spangled Banner as played at Woodstock by Johann Sebastian Bach

Who as we all know played saxophone with the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band . . . . just for a lark.

Although these days

I do have a problem remembering who plays and sings what

And folk say I am loony and have completely lost the plot.

Mind You

I once played the Bermuda triangle in the band at School

But I was told using a violin bow

Made me look like a fool.

Monday, 18 July 2016

Poetry for a Hot Day

Ah yes sorry I drew the wrong thing DAMN

Today Britain has been very very hot
And oozy and sweaty we have all got
And not in a nice oozy and sweaty way
Because us brits can’t cope
With this sort of day
And we all complain and loudly say
We prefer it cold with some nice cool rain
But when that happens we then complain
Because when it comes to weather
Us brits are quite insane
And never ever happy
And tell all
That British weather
Is indeed a pain
I mean no one likes
Rain Heat Mist and Snow
And on that point
It is time to go

It is getting late
And there is a bit
Of a chill in the air
Not that folk
Really care

And I have now got moths in the Kitchen


Thursday, 14 July 2016

Poetry for the Perfect Crime

I have trimmed the lawn
And cut the hedge
Watered the plants
And buried Reg
Underneath the patio
AH no sorry
No he has run away
To a foreign land
Or so I have been led to understand
And all his dogs have run away
And will not be back
So the neighbours say
And it was a shock to see
His house burn down
The fire brigade stuck
Just out of town
By a fallen tree on the track
Plus several boulders in a sack
And a huge hole
Dug in the dead of night
Something the fire brigade said
Was a bit suspicious and not quite right
Meaning Reg’s house has completely gone
Destroying the scene of the crime
Sorry I mean
Reg must be having a terrible time
Wherever he is
Although none of us know
But he is definitely not
Under my patio


Maybe I should not have said that

Wednesday, 13 July 2016

The Life of a Struggling Artist

I am a rather busy bee at present in the real world, you know the one where folk actually run about in the flesh talking to each other, eating food and, doing things of a physical nature. So far I have four almost finished pictures towards my future exhibition that my new manager Mr Charlie is planning. Many folk have been saying I need to do more art and so it is now happening, what I suspect might happen is folk will now go . . . . AH DAMN yes when we said art we meant something entirely different not those weird little pics. . . . . . Have you considered some performance art out in the desolate waste lands of Shropshire . . . .

You see this is why I have not really worked hard over the years being an artist, because I’m a bit of a traditionalist in a rebel sort of way. I don’t believe art should cost a fortune and all this trend for modern installations or performance art annoys me. Not because of what it is, but the truth is really good modern art is hardly new and so many of the present lot are redoing stuff that has been done to death already. Anyway I will just do what I do which is the sort of chap I am.

So there you have it a quick post to bring folk up to date. One minor drawback of all this art, gardening and sorting out the office is the poor old blog is losing page views like a stone falling through a vacuum. No wonder that Picasso chopped his ear off and the like, art is a bit all-consuming if you want to put a decent exhibition together. Never mind I will battle away both in the black voids of cyberspace and the black voids of art now. It is not easy scratching out a little place in the universe when you are just a chap among chaps in a world that is generally a bit chaotic.  The life of a struggling artist can be a funny old place to be, and yes sorry I have not written a poem in over a week. . . . .terrible


Saturday, 9 July 2016

The Start of Master Plan Number 42

Today it has started and we all know what that is going to mean . . . . .  Well it will mean with some degree of certainty that I will be posting stuff slightly less than normal. OK yes that bit has already started, but that is because I have been busy trying to stay on top of the garden and also slowly but surely working towards moving the office. The first step of which was running a network cable to the new room, which I have now done I just need to sort the room out a bit, it is rather full of stuff. (a chaps work is never done).

Right back to the main point, as you all know I tend to post a picture of some sort with most of my blog posts, things I have drawn most of the time in the days or day previously. Well I have been requested by a friend to turn them into solid pictures that can hang on the wall and be poked at by folks fingers as they ponder and say things like . . . . Well what is that meant to be its Rubbish . . . .  The public are a fickle and unforgiving bunch who do have a habit of saying. . . . I could do that. . . . 

So today or strictly speaking last night I started to turn the first of these images into a tangible solid thing. They will be smallish, I don’t have the resources to create huge pictures, and will actually be slightly sort of three dimensional. A bit like the cardboard sculpture I have created on and off for years only flatter, anyway I have a plan and know exactly what I want these to look like. All I need to do is see if the plan works with the first picture.

So what this means is time is a bit limited I will find it impossible to post something on the blog every day as well as move the office and stay on top of the garden, it is well over half an acre and write poetry and get an exhibition together for hopefully the end of this year.  So if I do vanish for a few days then all is well; if I vanish for say three weeks then all is not well and I will need to be rescued from mad Zombies or something of a similar nature.

You can all blame my good friend Mr Charlie but I have told him he has to be my manager now and do all the organising as I am a temperamental and grumpy artist.  I still am not sure if this exhibition will happen, but I will give it my best and we will see how it all pans out, you know what life is like sometimes stuff works and sometimes stuff does not.      

Thursday, 7 July 2016

Poetry for a Ticking Clock

The ticking clock
Goes tick tock
Tick tock
Even when placed
Behind a rock
And placed inside
A smelly sock
You can be sure
That it still goes
Tick tock
Tick tock
Because it is
The great eternal  
Ticking clock
Even Einstein
Tried and tried
To stop the tick tock
So he could slide
Through the fabric
Of time and space
But in the end
He had to face
The great eternal
Ticking clock
Of the


Wednesday, 6 July 2016

Poetry for a Beast that Flies

The perforated Pelican
Likes to eat cottage cheese and cake
And in Evolutionary terms
Is a bit of a mistake
Flying round in circles
From reasons that are just not known
And when I show folk pictures
They look at me, in a certain tone
Implying I am totally mad
From the outside of my skin
Right to the bone
But I tell them the beast is invisible
And that’s why they do not see
And I have a tame one in my garden
That likes to come and visit
For a nice cup of
Afternoon tea
Where we chat and pass the time of day
And laugh and point and joke
And the perforated Pelican
Tells me
I am a nice chap
And an unusual sort of bloke
Surely you don’t mean me
But if you do then you will see
When I set the perforated Pelican
Upon you
Or alternatively my huge
Mutant Android Bumble Bee

And yes it is invisible also


Tuesday, 5 July 2016

Poetry about Witches and a Gnome

There are witches
In the woods they say
That run about Naked
Both night and day
But I'm not convinced
This is entirely true
As there are insects
That bite
And in the cold of winter
The witches would
Turn blue
Although in the summer
It might make more sense
But even then
The undergrowth can be Spiky
And very dense
But being witches I guess
They can always cast a spell
So even dancing naked
Can end sort of well
With just a few scratches
From their faithful cats
But I bet even then
On their heads
They keep their hats . . . (The Witches not the Cats)
But one thing I know
Is you would never catch me
Running naked in a wood
As folk would snigger
If they could
I am sensible and confine
Such activity
To the privacy of
My stately home
Where I can
Run about naked
With my mate

The Garden Gnome

Sunday, 3 July 2016

Poetry for Science Sort of Stuff . .

Science it seems can be quite important
Particularly if you are an alien with a laser beam
Or Professor Bernard Quatermass
And his top notch scientific team  
But slightly less so if you have a van
On Clacton beach and like to sell ice cream
(Like granddad)  
All I know, which is not a lot
Is science can be jolly complex
And will mess with the thoughts
Inside your head
As someone explains time is just a paradox
And black is really red.
And electrons are all just empty space
And the human mind
Will turn everything into a smiley face
And Polypropylene is a linear hydrocarbon polymer
Which once warmed up can change its shape
A bit like my
Auntie Grace
Who seldom has

Smiley face.

Even when she has been heated up

Friday, 1 July 2016

The Kiple and the Grustle . . . A poem

The Kiple once called the Grustle a fool
When it hissed at man in a large swimming pool
Who distracted fell off the high diving board
And got left suspended by
His swimming trucks cord
The Grustle amused laughed and it laughed
The Kiple accusing it of creating a draft
The lifeguard saving the man
With his trusty pen knife
Cutting the cord the man then fell on his wife
Who below was filming on her mobile phone
The video ending abruptly
With a scream and a groan
And although slightly scratched and battered
They are now both stars

On YouTube so they say
Although it’s a YouTube video
The Grustle refuses to play

Thursday, 30 June 2016

The Strange fable of the Beast and the Mirror

For many years mankind had worried that the world was doomed and that it would come to an end. There had been many predictions of its demise from meteors from space to the Environment. But no one actually knew what would finally bring the End of the World and so no one knew what they should do to stop it, because by the time they knew it would be too late. 

However in a dark cave deep in a forest in a wild and seldom visited land lived a beast, a very old and very wise beast who it was said knew of all things. So a party of great leaders and scholars from all around the world ventured into the forest of the seldom visited land to find the mythical beast of legend.  And after many many weeks of hunting they finally saw the strange beast watching them from the entrance of an unassuming cave.

The beast looked and said to the party of great leaders and scholars you have come to ask me a question about how the World will end and what you can do to stop it. The great leaders and scholars from around the world were very impressed and said we have indeed.  The beast thought and pondered for a long time and then said.  Only one thing will destroy the world but to find out what it is will involve a task, a task where you will all have to work together in order to complete it. You will need to make a mirror, but not just any mirror but a huge mirror so large that all of mankind can look into it. It will take many years and require many skills, but once complete it will reveal the terrible truth.

Well the great leaders and scholars from around the world returned home and for many years worked together to make the huge mirror, and because they were all working together there were no wars and much prosperity until one day it was finally finished.  The world’s population admired their work and then slowly and apprehensively moved forward to look into the mirror to see what terrible thing was going to end the world, but when they all looked all they could see was themselves looking back.   

Wednesday, 29 June 2016

Poetry for Ned the Sub-Aqua Beast

Ned was a Sub-Aqua Beast
With lots of legs
And a crusty Head
Who scurried about
In the semi dark
With his all-seeing eyes
To avoid
The Tiger Shark
And he once tap danced . . . (so he said)
With Fred Astaire
Who got very wet
But did not seem
To care
And while nibbling Seaweed
And a cuttlefish bone
Will talk to the fish
In a superior tone
About Science and Maths
And Shakespearean plays
Which he will do
Not for hours
But for days and for days
But fish are easily distracted
By stuff in the sea
Which is very annoying
Both for Ned

And for me

Yes Ned I quite agree now why dont you go and talk to the fish. No honest they are not bored. 

Tuesday, 28 June 2016

The Strange World of Professor Vatis Brexit . . . A Poem

The strange world of Professor Vatis Brexit
Is full of in’s and outs
Where people Stay 
And people Leave
And some just sort of sway 
It’s a land were leaders shout I’m in charge
But are chased by lots of other folk
Who reply very loudly No you’re not
And then throw them off Big Ben just for a joke
And others shout I am right
And you are quite plainly wrong
Where Icelandic folk
For reasons not known
Sing a happy happy song
Of course Professor Vatis Brexit watches bemused
As turmoil continues day after day.
Looking up from his desk
Winking at his colleague Professor Britstay
And saying
These British are as mad as a box of Frogs
In an Eccentric British
Sort of


Monday, 27 June 2016

The Frustrations of a Leave Voter

Here in Britain there is still a certain amount of bitterness in the air as folk get to grips with the implications of the Leave vote. It is now plainly clear that the leave vote was not meant to win and the public (some) have done what the public have a habit of doing from time to time and that is screwing the entire thing up big time. Some are looking at ways of saying . . . HANG ON that vote was not valid due to the wrong sort of voter voting, As a slightly middle-class chap who owns his home and is a bit leftie in a quiet middle class way I can sort of sympathise to some degree with that thought.  After all what seems to have pushed us over the edge so to speak, is the fact that the poorest and most isolated who tend to be less well educated and dare I say it racist along with the elderly who are often more racist than they will admit all voted leave for the wrong reasons.

Now despite the present state of chaos in the government I still think that Britain in the long run will be better out as I firmly believe the EU is not economically or politically stable and has many problems. However I was not expecting the government to fall apart at the seams as politician stabs politician in the back, and it is deeply regrettable that some have seen this vote as an excuse to be openly racist in public.  These are very sad events indeed.  I can’t help but think the level of racism we are seeing has been lurking under the surface of society for a long time, but the manor of the campaigning and the result has brought it to the surface for all to see.

As a leave voter I would be happy to see an agreement with the EU where the free movement of people is part of any trade deal, similar to those countries within Europe who are not part of the EU accepted as part of any deals they have; to me it makes sense to pursue something similar. The problem with this is that I may be part of a very tiny minority who would be happy with this as an outcome.  But I would rather stay in the EU than be part of a country that has oppressive immigration controls with racist undertones. There are some things in society that are just not acceptable

I guess the one thing all this has shown us is, Britain is a fragmented society where there are poor, badly educated and inward looking communities, all the way through to the super rich.  Each different group isolated from the others. I suspect the problem is not that fact we voted leave, but that we have created a society where suspicion,  racism and poverty  has been allowed to flourish and now all leave voters seem to be tarred with the same brush.

If you voted Stay and you think I'm a fool well I cant change that, but at least we live in a country where we are allowed to vote (OK we did)

I really need to get back to writing some poetry and a doing a bit of art; this EU thing has messed with my mind. What ever happened to a bit of simple humour, and I cannot even smile at folk on the bus any longer.       

Saturday, 25 June 2016

Poetry for the Leave Vote

It appears voting out was a terrible sin
And we should have all voted in
Because voting leave means
You are just not nice
And the sort of person who will
Bite the heads of mice
Whereas voting stay means you
Are wise and knowing
And smile, and are good
With a Halo glowing
But I have to wonder
As turmoil reigns
And we try to sort the
Divisive pains
If we were meant to all sing
The same chromatic note
Why on earth did the Government
Allow us all to vote.

I mean surely the Boaty McBoatface vote should have warned the Government that letting the public vote is a risk and a half if you really only want one outcome.

Friday, 24 June 2016

OMG . . . . We Voted to DO WHAT . . . . .

OMG. . . . WHAT?

AH yes it appears that my assessment of the situation yesterday was entirely wrong, well not entirely as it was a very close vote. So us Brits, well about a half of 70% of those who can vote voted to leave the EU. What this means is that somehow last night I became the me in the alterative parallel Universe . . . . I hate it when that happens. . . . .  I have to say there was much shouting on the internet this morning and the News channels are having a great time, with more news than they can shake a stick at.

Many are saying terrible gloom and doom things, but I feel that is wrong it is not gloom and doom it is a new start and something to be embraced. Leaving the EU will only work if we meet our fellow Europeans half way and smile and hug each other, what we don’t need is the inward little Englanders getting their way and turning their back on the rest of Europe. To me there is nothing wrong with hugging a few Europeans but then saying . . .  we like you, but that bureaucratic Economic machine of yours is rubbish. . . .  Ok there will be a bit of a bumpy start to this great new adventure, but I do believe that in the long term it will be for the good.

 Of course I could be entirely wrong, but one thing for sure is we cannot undo what is done, well not in this Universe so whether or not you agree with the leave vote it is important to do our best to make it work as well as possible.  I am starting by drawing more pictures of a friendly nature. My granddaughter did her bit the other day by defending two Spanish students on a train who were being given a hard time by a passenger. She is a feisty young thing and will take no messing and will defend the rights of others. She voted to stay and has been on social media rather a lot today moaning at folk. . . I think she needs to go into politics before she gets all cynical like me.  She would probably shout at me too, but I play gaga these days. . . . and do it rather well.    

Thursday, 23 June 2016

The predictability of the predictable and parallel universes

I know it has nothing to do with the subject

As the British all head off to vote or have voted or are not voting, I was just thinking this is one of those points in the history of a nation where a parallel universe would be damn useful. You see one of the great dilemmas of the stay/leave EU referendum is that no one for sure will ever know exactly what the outcome would have been if instead of stay the leave vote won (or visa-versa although I suspect stay will win by a whisker). You see which ever option wins folk will say in a few months or years . . . . There you go I told you so. . . .  But you can only do that if you know for certain what would have happened if the opposite thing had happened, only it didn’t. . . I hope that makes sense, sort of.

History is scattered with events where a small decision here or there changes the course of world history.  Sometimes it can be something where the consequences of a simple choice cannot be predicted either way. To me the EU referendum is such a choice. We can say many things and make many assessments but if ever there was a good example of Chaos theory in practice it has to be the workings of the European Union. It looks like it is an organised structure but under the surface are a million individuals all doing there bit to make a decent living, pay all the bills, look after their families while trying to hold the whole EU thing together while the politicians and the public complain. Some are honest some have their fingers in the EU till some are efficient and some are completely incompetent, that is the way life works when lots of folk all work together in one organisation. Just look at the National Health Service. I have had more than my fair share of being poked about by the NHS in the past stitching me back together and I can say with some certainty the staff are an eclectic bunch of mixed abilities from the brilliant to the terrible.

Anyway back to the point tomorrow as we wake up and think. . .  OMG we voted to do WHAT?. . . .  don’t worry because in a parallel universe somewhere there is a you that voted the opposite way and has woken up and is thinking. . .  OMG we voted to do WHAT?. . . .  An for a brief moment in time the two universes will converge before heading off in opposite directions never to be the same again.

I would love to see the outcome of both in and out in ten years time so that I could go . . . . well I did not expect that to happen but I don’t think I will. . . Well not the same me anyway and the other me will not tell me a thing (he is as grumpy as I am)   

Ooooooooo sorry damn I got slightly distracted by things so my post is a bit late and it appears the voting is done and the win for stay now predicted . . . . . don’t you just hate the predictability of the predictable. Still in the end a bit of chaos theory will have us saying . . .   OMG WHAT?. . . . but maybe not tomorrow.        

Wednesday, 22 June 2016

Poetry for the EU Referendum Vote

We have reached that day
Which seemed so very far away
The dreaded EU referendum vote
Which if we leave
Will cause some to cheer and some to grieve
And some to dress up as Horatio Nelson
While others will pretend to be pirates
Or spacemen or a pantomime horse
Which the rest of Europe
Will look upon baffled and confused
And tell each other . . . .
Well they are British of course
And we have never understood them
With their terrible Eurovison songs
And their silly cricket balls
And what kind of nation
Would throw wet sponges at vicars
Or play splat the rat
Amongst the village fete festive stalls
And why do they tolerate all that rain
Then complain about all of us
I mean have you ever been on their trains
Or their inter-city bus
But if they do vote to leave
Well it will be a rather sad sort of day
But it could be so much worse

They might decide to stay. 

Well who can tell
Not Me