Burning Tar

© Lachertenok | Dreamstime.com

JPS Lotus. I liked the car,
Gold on black, medium tar.
So at 19, I had a drag on it,
But frankly, it tasted like shit.
If I had a million to give,
I’d remind that many how to live.
Cash and tobacco for influence,
Health lobbyists bullied into defence.
A formula for our lives or those jobs?
Coffins carried out amidst tear-felt sobs.
Marlboro Man looking cool on his steed,
But from his wheelchair, his aching heart bleeds.
Your Majesty’s government, I owe you a new spin,
Your addiction to money has my filthy old habit packed in!

JP Morris
No.1 Embassy Estates
Lambert City
United Tastes

31st December 1997

Irish road signs explained!

The road sign below is a pleasant reminder that the best way to find your way around Ireland is to…..well…err….ignore the road signs! Reminded me of something me mum once said which was based on her experience of growing up in rural north Donegal. And when I say rural, I mean rural. When a stranger asks you how to get from here to there, the response always being the same, wherever you are, whoever you are:

“Well sir/madam…you go straight down that road and that will take you wherever you want to get to.” Now this may sound funny, unhelpful or even spiritual depending on where you are coming from, or in this case, going to. But I can assure you dear reader; the directions were uttered with 100 per cent sincerity!

Anyone who can guess correctly where this particular signpost is situated wins a FREE compass and a 12 month subscription to ‘Unhelpful Irish erections daily’. Closing date to be announced so watch this space folks.

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WTF?! Is this a WiFi wet spot???

I have a confession; it’s about a dog!

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Online Confession #1

Confessor

“Bless me Father for I have sinned. It’s a long time since my last confession and the first one on this here web site. I hope you don’t mind but I just couldn’t be arsed to go down to church.”

Father Ted

“Why haven’t you accepted my Friend request? Anyway, please carry on…”

Confessor

“Oh yes; my confession. It’s a very grave matter altogether Father and one I fear may be beyond divine redemption. “

Father Ted

“I’m all ears.”

Confessor

“Well Father, I have indulged gratuitously on a certain cartoon character since, well, when I was a mere whippersnapper.  I’m sorry I haven’t mentioned this before but I’ve only just started to come to terms with this canine obsession, thanks to some therapy.”

Father Ted

“How was that?”

Confessor

“What, the exorbitant cost of therapy, or the matter of my obsession?”

Pregnant pause in the confessional proceedings.

“Are you there Father?    Father?”

Father Ted

“Did you get my friend request?” asks the slightly disgruntled confidant.

Confessor

“I did Father.”

Father Ted

“Continue my son.”

Confessor

“I love Scooby Doo. Actually.”

Father Ted

“Did you say Scooby Doo? That dopey but lovable sleuth from the 1970’s?”

Confessor

“Yes I did sir. From back in the day.”

Father Ted

Sharp intake of breath.

“That’s going to cost you at least one Our Father and two Hail Mary’s”.

Confessor

“Shite.”

Father Ted

“Make that three Hail Mary’s. ”

Confessor

“Where was I?”

Father Ted

“In the 1970’s.”

Confessor

“Oh yes. Scooby. Well Father, it’s like this. It’s not like I love Scooby the way I love my children, or my family, or my beloved Luton Town Football Club, or X Factor, blogging, stuff like that..”

Father Ted

“…and the Church.”

Confessor

“Of course Father. And the Holy Apostolic Church.”

Father Ted

“Ok, I’ve just downgraded your penance to One Our Father and two Hail Mary’s. Continue my son.”

Confessor

“It’s nothing weird Father. I mean it’s not like this other blogger I met recently. She confessed to meeting a man on a blind date who enjoyed sleeping with his dog in the buff. Because that is just wrong Father, on so many levels.”

Father Ted

“Have you met my dog, Francisco?”

Confessor

“Is that the Jack Russell Terrier Father? The one that once peed on Mrs Brady’s handbag.”

Father Ted

“We don’t talk about Mrs Brady. I’ll hear no mention of that woman’s name here. Not in this virtual confessional. Not in my parish!”

The atmosphere clears.

“Anyway, Francisco has now got his own Facebook page. He’s got more friends than me! Loads of muts from across the parish and some much further afield. Even His Holiness the Pope!”

Confessor

“Jeyz!! Christ on a bike!!!”

Father Ted

“Blasphemy boy! You’re up to one Our Father and five Hail Mary’s. Careful now.”

Confessor

“Where was I?”

Father Ted

“The serious matter of sleeping naked with dogs. Down with that sort of thing now.”

Confessor

“Oh yes Father. But that was just to show how innocent my love was for Scooby.”

Father Ted

“Go on boy.” In a lightly patronising sort of way.

Confessor

“No Father, it’s more than that. One of the great things about being a dad is you get to relive some of your childhood. And for me, one of the highlights of my school day was not just eating my friends unfinished lunches on the bus home, not just flirting with Tara (because I would be arrested if I tried to do that now) …but it was arriving home in time for the next episode. And you know what Father, I love seeing my children now huddled together on the sofa and gleefully watching Scooby Doo in the same way I used to. There’s something comforting about that. It’s like the meeting of generations sharing a common interest. Do you know what I mean Father.”

Father Ted

“Yes my son. That’s a surprisingly deep level of insight given the subject matter.  G’wan now.”

Confessor

“Sure, I know Scooby is not everyone’s mug of cappuccino with sprinkles on the top.”

Father Ted

“Mine’s a mug of PG tea. Which reminds me…..”

“Mrs Brady!!!!!! Can you put the fecking kettle on now.”

Confessor

“Like I was saying Father. There were the ridiculously predictable plots, Fred’s infatuation for Daphne…not to mention Velma’s shocking lack of dress sense.”

Father Ted

“Don’t get me started.” Nodding in sympathy.

Confessor

“And I guess if it were real life, there would be concerns about Shaggy’s unkempt appearance, his strange swagger. And some might say that Scooby sets a bad example to kids what with his overeating and all. I mean, Scooby snacks aren’t exactly very healthy. Some parents today might say that leads to obesity.”

Father Ted

“I think you might be taking it too seriously son. It’s a cartoon.”

Confessor

“But you know Father. That’s exactly why I do love Scooby and his friends. It’s the knowledge and comfort of a happy ending at a time when the media pursue the unhappy endings with their half empty glasses in tow. And the whole paranoia around stranger danger. When you were growing up, a stranger was a friend you had not yet met. Things have changed Father.”

Father Ted

“You may be onto something there. I’m thinking one Our Father will do you.”

Confessor

“But I’ll tell you something Father. I think it has helped me come to terms with those classic lines, like when the bad guy would say ‘And I would have done it too if it weren’t for those meddling kids.’ Or when Shaggy says ‘Yikes!’ when he spots a very strangely attired monster. Or when Daphne shrieks ‘Jeepies!’.  And do you know what else gets inside you and kind of stays with you Father? It’s that light jolly music that accompanies the whole piece. I wish my life was as jolly and frivolous as that!”

Father Ted

“For sure.”

Confessor

“Every child needs a super hero. A super Scooby and a super mama and dadda. But who says that should end when you ‘grow up’? Who says, Father?”

Father Ted

“That’s surprisingly profound my son. But you now have kids of your own and I have my parish and my loyal friend, Francisco”.

“Mrs Brady!!!!! Is that tea ready yet?! I’m dying of thirst so I am!”

Confessor

“Well I didn’t have that many super heroes as a kid. I didn’t really like to idolise anything or anyone too much. But as a parent, it’s good to have these positive references to your childhood. Especially when you look back and see how hard life may have been for those who loved you.”

Father Ted

“Have you been on match.com son?”

Confessor

“Can’t say I have. Is that online dating Father?!”

Father Ted

“Well I recommend you get on there my son, a handsome fella like yourself with your beautiful daughters. What are you waiting for? Get out there and enjoy yourself!”

Confessor

“Maybe you’re right Father. But where does that leave me with my penance?”

Father Ted

“I’ve been giving that some thought. After some careful consideration…and seeing how much you love children and animals, real and imaginary; I’m going to waive that Our Father. You know, I sometimes wonder if any of the original voice actors are still with us son. Or whether they passed away into obscurity, or perhaps, eventually, into paradise…into Scooby heaven. You know something? Even if there is no God, or no heaven, just those simple jolly thoughts put a smile on an old man’s face and a Shaggy style swagger in my step. God bless you my son. Go in Scooby peace.”

Father Ted and the Confessor

“In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen”

Confessor

He shuts down the Parish portal.

And he logs on to Facebook.

Friend Request from Fr Ted – ACCEPTED.

6th October, 2013

Tart Area Rapid Transport (TART)

Saw an Irish tart,
Located at a Dublin DART station.
Shouted abuse,
And a curse of damnation.
Penance for cheap titillation.

If her arse stuck out anymore,
A daytime eclipse would surely obscure!
Even Molly Mallone would have blushed.
But alas, this ego had all but been crushed.

10th October 2000

DART train.
DART train

Funky Chicken

Introduction

‘Everyone clap their hands. This song, goes out to our good friend, the amazing and marvellous chicken. Now I know that many of you, like me, have become acquainted with him over the past fortnight. But right now, I need some vocal support, so when I hold up the mike, I want you to make like a funky chicken whilst we sing the chorus.’

Verse 1
Whilst writing my journal
‘Chicky’ gets close and personal
A poultry meditation
But a new life situation

Chorus
Hey little chicken
Get out of my place
Right now I just need my own space!!

Verse 2
Whilst searching for meaning
My chicken is preening
Faced with life choices
All I hear is clucking voices

Chorus

Verse 3
In the corner of my vision
This bird’s on a mission
In search of some calling
Two spindly legs go walking

Chorus

Verse 4
Crazy thoughts start in my head
What would be good on sliced bread
An omelette would be egg-citing
But a chicken sandwich, appetizing

Chorus

Verse 5
My temperature is rising
This bird thing, surprising
My hut aint bijou
But this aint no children’s zoo!

Chorus

Verse 6
Disturbed in good karma
I make for the farmer
With not much vocabulary
I’ve a burden to carry
In no way of a word
He gave me the bird!!

Ending (thank goodness!)
‘One last time, people in the house,
Let’s hear it for Chicky’

Chorus
Hey little chicken
Get out of my place
Right now I just need my own space!!!

Performed in front of a startled looking audience
Written and Performed
By Rap Star J McK all the way from smoky London Town, England
Backed by DJ Ko, on Synth, hailing from the windy city, ChicaGo, US of A
Venue – Atsitsa,
Skyros Island,
Greece
September, 1999
http://www.skyros.com/skyros_island.htm

Please note: Evidence may yet soon come to light that will bring the one-hit wonder back down to earth…
for this was considered to be a grievous crime against the performing arts.

If you see this man, please feed him a chicken sandwich and
under no circumstances, let him go anywhere near a microphone.

Thank you 🙂

Cute but Astute

One eve as I sat and watched TV,
As night had all but fallen on me.
Was reduced to a state of semi-comatose,
Something only TV programmes can impose.

But in the corner of my right eye,
I sensed something waddle right by.
Now this feeling I have sensed before,
But have always chosen to merely ignore.

Through the patio window,
A sniffing hedgehog loitered; real slow.
Now these creatures may seem really cute,
But a prickly defence makes them astute.

For if you approach them in any way,
They will make like a ball,
But with one you can’t play!
So if TV makes you dull and downtrodden,
Remember the garden you had long forgotten.

24th July 1998

Sky Fire

Part I

Sheets of fire
Rolled red across the sky.
Shrouding a sparkled ceiling; blue.
Nautical landscape; inverted.
The winter moon is hers,
Not the Zodiac’s; terse.
Red ribbons of moistened light,
Streak across the cold horizon.
A bitter light, bold and brazen.

Part II

Stars to throw
Up into the sky,
Falling around me.
Making me dizzy,
And the night mist; sparkly.
Colour festival,
Exploding light, into the night.
My face beams a smile,
Brimming with delight.
Like party glitter,
Against a chill; bitter.
I spend and fritter.
Angel of the dark,
She ignites a dormant spark.

Part III

Stars in my hand,
As I glide on gold sand.
Those stars, like gel.
Keep me from hell.
Because you’re up there,
I know I’m here.
Wide horizons beckon,
They birth dreams
I have slept on.
Heaven sheds a tear
Into my mortal sphere.

Dublin, December 1998

Winter Bay

Gallery

This gallery contains 1 photo.

Shadows streak across rippled sand, Etching patterns on the land. Palm trees dance as silhouettes, Led by a mild winter breeze Carved by what the journeyman sees. In a storm, he lets out a howl And the bayside dogs Can … Continue reading

Garden Spirit

The garden lawn, clean shaven and freshly mown.
Reflects the shadows of birds,
From where they’ve skimmed and fancifully flown.
An audacious pair of Robins red,
Dance before me, by their nesting bed.

Under dead grass, the top now revealed,
The moist green grass it once concealed.
Is that what lies under my skin?
Burgeoning youth trapped within.

I rest my head amongst evergreen,
To taste a life not yet forseen.
The trees and bushes we must control,
Else darkness clouds the lawn’s green soul.

For sun and shadow creep from one end t’other,
Shifting light across Earth, our Mother.
Through the course of just one summer’s day,
We see past, present, and then,
Come what may.

9th June 1998

Cry of the Ocean

Do you remember the beach?
Exploring the shoreline for treasure.
You picked up a seashell
And through its cavernous opening
You were invited to explore the ocean’s mystery.

Its dreams unravel a mythical journey
Exciting the infant’s imagination.
This magical story unfolds in your palm
As you gazed out at its vastness.
At that precise moment;
There you are.

Have you ever listened to the voice of the ocean?
Today, her cries grow louder.
Tormented echoes are being sent
Through rising currents
And her aquatic kin;
The dolphin and the whale.
Their ancient and peaceful rhythms disturbed.

From the depths of the ocean
Comes a message
Vociferous in emotion.
On those gallant white horses
Rides a pseudo exclamation.

Toxicity slithers in the ether
Poisoning the soul within her.
Carried by her majestic waves
Sent to overpower prosperity’s slaves.

Trading madness for stillness
We add to her illness.
In man’s haste to consume
Our homelands,
She will slowly subsume.

Humanity and insanity
An approach we must trade
Else the portent of Armageddon
Will be horrifically played.

Deafened by greed,
Man is hurtling
Toward death and destruction.
Do not be deceived.
‘Prosperity’ is a seductive dark cloak
Worn by the devil.

Rising tide of danger.

Swollen by melting ice.
Extinction will be the price.

The planet is in pain
Through drought and rain,
Let us pray
For her watery spirit.
And that those cries
Don’t grow too faint.

Should icy blood drip from her poles
The ocean’s new chorus to the cosmos
Will resonate
Please God
Save all Our Souls.

When you cannot listen to the ocean
You are not.

7th December 2000