Stairway To Heaven

Poetic Asides Prompt 29 ' Steps '


The stairway to heaven
is not what it seems
It is climbed by dullards
taking measured steps
tripping over themselves

Pathetic,self delusional and mediocre
these unfortunate clods
are only able to present a poor pastiche
of their aspirations built on
A flimsy house of cards

Unable to unlock stick insect limbs
to leap bound or frolic in joy
They conspire to cripple those who can
plotting from their joyless lairs
breathing depressing drivel
on to the page with tedious regularity

In Cold Blood

I listened
The stories were mesmerising
of the survivors in Mumbai

Vicariously I experienced
the suspense, the terror

But, most terrifying was the response
from the middle class Anglosaxon wife
who watched her husband's murder
her demeanour au naturelle medicated calm

her countenance understanding and kindness
who held no animosity for the terrorists
poor sad and ignorant people

My eyes widen and emerge like stalks
Aghast
I look at him
He looks at me slightly bemused
and takes my hand tenderly
Eyes filled with gratitude

A Bad Paint Job

What is the antidote
to painting a study
Green?
The wrong green
Bilious green
Colour of the poison poet
manic depressive malcontent
a half price special
in a third world hardware store
Antidote
obliterate the bad paint job
defiling the walls
with fine art and fine books
Small mosaics of hideousness
still peep through
but go almost unnoticed
Or
you could always repaint it
I don't think so

La Nina

Saturday
Lying on a banana lounge
in the late afternoon
after hours of macheting and mulching
looking up at a blue blue sky
fringed by purple jacaranda
and large red chinese umbrellas
offset with green foliage
sipping a shandy
flopped in a sarong
listening to the feint hum of cicadas
watching a spider spin its web
in the stillness of the heat
I was happier than I have been for a long time
How could I be this lucky

Sunday
Rain storm and wind
A tree crashes on to the fence
the goats have got into the garden
I left the washing out overnight
The overflow pipe fell off the tank
A bright green frog sits in the toilet
pretending to be invisible
La nina
La nina
La nina
Nasty bitch
You've followed me here
How could I be this unlucky

For The Weekend

" I Do "

Wordle by BTP
" I Do "

She had resurfaced triumphantly
after an unceremonious and very public
Dumping
If she had been passed over
again this time
she may as well have hit
the bottle
turned into an old boiler lush
cupped her nibclunks in her hands
and hung herself from a forklift
over an ash-pit
But, this persistently patient lass
stayed awake and alert
Her procrastinating Prince finally proposed
and the world awaits the April wedding

For The Weekend

Congratulations to Matthew McDonald on being
the first Australian to become a principal
of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra.

Berlin Philharmonic and Simon Rattle

It is not often that I witness perfection at a musical performance but last night's concert at the Sydney Opera House was one of those occasions. We had the best seats in the house and I don't mind that we will be living on half rations (including the animals) for the next few months. It was worth every cent and an experience that will stay with me forever.

CLOUD 9

Sitting on cloud 9
watching a maestro
performing miracles
I want this to go on
Forever

Double bassists
standing tall
bowing beautifully
passionately
slow dancing
moving like exotic birds
I am
sitting on cloud 9

Simon Rattle
a cotton wool white hair'd
sweet smiling Harry Potter character
turns into a monolith
before my eyes
I am
watching a maestro

Like a bee drawing pollen
from flowers
making measured magic
carefully waving his wand
he sprinkles star dust on
musicians
performing miracles

Primavera is also thrilled
putting on her best display
I know I'm never going to see this again
in a setting of lights twinkling mirror'd
on the gleaming waters of Sydney Harbour
I want this to go on

Bravo,another encore
The normally staid audience
is going beserk
foot stamping,whistling and whooping
Beaming smiles shine from the stage
I will remember this
Forever

For The Weekend...For The Old Boppers

This reminds me of Cross St Double Bay in the last century and all who partied there.
The champagne consumption in this country rose significantly during those years and the French wine industry owes us a lot.

The Adventures of OOK and GLUK

Ook and Gluk
set off to solve the mystery
of the ' buuk '
They scratched their little jelly heads
and wondered why Poms said
'buuk' instead of 'book'?

They searched high and low
across land and sea
to find the origin
of this affectation
that is used quaintly
by the entire Queen's nation

It wasn't their station
to question these things
but they didn't care and
went for the fling

The clue was traced to Captain Cuuk
a sailor charged with finding a place
to dump old England's unwanted cruuks

They were an irreverent wild lot
Their descendants far worse
Though now they read buuks
and are amongst the world's great cuuks
They still retain that endearing habit
and certainly not from reading
Beatrix Potter's 'Peter Rabbit'
of telling their betters
to go and get fooked

Catfight

This is an interesting read and reminds me of why I am so drawn to men. It is a book that is an eye opener especially for younger women and possibly a good one for men to read as well ; although maybe not. After reading this, men may decide to bat for the other side.

"There is a pernicious consequence to the 'kinder gentler' myth. Girls and women
internalize the idea that being aggressive is only acceptable for men..we express our aggression indirectly through social sabotage,gossip,or vague double entendres.Indirect aggression is slippery..it is disguised beneath a veneer of politeness or gentleness. If confronted the aggressor has an accessible backdoor
' I didn't mean it the way it sounded'."

" Niceness of course can serve a person well..you don't alienate people, since being nice is really about seeking the approval of others."

"The healthier one is,psychologically speaking,the less one needs to compete."

Women and Resentment
According to Nietzsch,resentment occurs when one lacks some value, yearns to be the person who possesses it and then seeks to undermine that person.It is part of a 'slave morality' of the weak, who don't like themselves and attempt to bring down the strong.

In the marshy soil of self contempt
Every poisonous plant will grow
Yet all of it so paltry
so stealthy, so dishonest, so sickly-sweet
-GO Nietzsch!

PS
I trust this post will not adversely affect my already diminished blog popularity (she added breathlessly,wiping a Brenda Starr tear from her eye, tossing her peroxided locks nonchalantly over her shoulder, with a smile as wide as the Nile.)

Power of One

A sea of grey helmets
stamping in jack boot precision
came marching up the strasse

Clinging to the shadows
blinded by trickles of sweat
she headed in the opposite direction

This was a lifetime ago

Mind you
she is still heading in the opposite direction
ducking and weaving
avoiding the jack boots

For The Weekend

Ah,this song was everywhere during summer in the 80s

Miss Pommeroy Breaks Out

I'd been thinking old loves
It was hot and humid weather
The hook sunk deep into my delicate bone
A perennial problem with ill fitting under garments
I want to burn my bra
Time to trade my straight jacket for a backbone
and let it all hang out
I want my bones to shake and dance loose like opals' milky fire
on the dance floor at one of those clubs
where happy hour spills over some nights
where nirvana happens to someone puffing a cigarette
of the exotic middle eastern variety
This evening is for leaving all tension behind
And then he walks in
It wasn't a sight anyone expected to see
my wild dirty dancing girations
His eyes were riveted on
my mounds of golden rod studded with ironweed
quivering like a couple of circus wheels in motion
He said" your eyes are sanctuary for my heart "
Uh oh, this has happened before- I know the signs
He is not looking at my eyes
At this rate we could end up
our bicycles leaning into the rain

I'd been thinking old loves
on this hot humid day
encased in my armory
The hook sunk deep in the delicate bone
that's a perennial problem with ill fitting undergarments
I want to burn that bra
Time to trade my straight jacket for a backbone
and finally let it all hang out
I want my bones to shake and dance loose like opals' milky fire
on the dance floor at one of those clubs
where happy hour spills over some nights
where Nirvana happens to someone puffing a cigarette
you know, one of the exotic middle eastern variety
This evening is for leaving all tension behind
I am dancing in wild abandonment doing an Isadora Duncan impersonation
And then he walks in, his intense gaze glued to my
mounds of golden rod studded with ironweed shaking like
a couple of circus wheels in motion
He says " Your eyes are a sanctuary for my heart"
He is not looking at my eyes
Uh oh, This has happened before- I know the signs
If I'm not careful this could lead to
two bicycles leaning in the rain