It's Nowt To Do With Me!

Mother and father know best, they always have don’t you know,

feathering their nests with unneeded appliances

they only use once or never take out of the box, so what,

at least they have the power of ‘have’ and keep up with the Jones’s,

although ideally they would be winning that race.

Wealth is relative to your wants and your needs,

but if you have it why not flaunt it, buy this and buy that

whether you need it or not, for when you tire of it,

you can find it a new home at any old landfill. 

(Give it away to those less fortunate than you –

are you kidding - I will not furnish the needs of those

who don’t even bother to try. 

(I’d rather die first, don't you know - freebies won't come easy from me))

My brats are the same with their Game Boy’s and smart phones

which of course need to be replaced at the very least yearly,

and then there’s their clothes that must be designer, must be designer

for the kudos and the power's in the brand don’t you know,

and when they tire of a thing, off to the jolly old landfill it goes.

Today is so wonderfully pleasant for a stressed mum like me

what with disposable nappies that I dress junior in, for I must confess

I feel a little bit queasy at the thought of dropping his shit down the *netty

from one of those awful terry towelling squares.    

And those disposable ones,

I don’t have to wash them when their purpose is done, just drop them in

the unrecyclable bin and off to the landfill they go. 

Isn’t life so wonderfully easy?

You ask if I’m worried that our planet is in meltdown,

well of course I am for whom in their right mind wouldn’t be?

But I can state categorically indeed quite emphatically

that this pollution is not down to me.  I do as I’m asked

when meeting the task of sorting my rubbish into this or that bin,

tossing whatever in into its designated (right colour) receptacle – 

so see I follow all of the rules.

What happens to them when I’ve done what is asked is beyond my control

for, for my part I’ve just followed them damned written rules

And that plastic polluting the seas, well again it’s not just down to me,

for I rarely visit the coast don’t you know. 

So get off your high horse you who think you’re so so earth friendly,

for of course you haven’t seen me watching you arrive home

in your posh four wheel drive with particulates puffing outa its exhaust. 

Ha!

Anna :o]

*Netty – a toilet, Northumberland dialect., also ‘nowt’ a Northern English word for nothing.

Sherry at Real Toads has us writing of Earth’s grief as we watch it empty down the plughole, we pulling out the plug ourselves and above is my take on it.

Of disposable nappies/diapers, do you know that apart from the few biodegradable nappies in the marketplace, the following happens?

"Decomposing disposable nappies emit noxious methane gas. It will take 200 to 500 years for a disposable nappy to decompose, leaving a legacy to your children's grandchildren.

"The production of disposables uses 3.5 times more energy, 8.3 times more non-renewable resources, and 90 times more renewable resources than real nappies.

"They produce 2.3 times more waste water and 60 times more solid waste than real nappies."

WEN goes on to say: "Tributyl tin (TBT), a chemical compound which is known to disrupt sex hormones, has been found in disposable nappies on sale in the UK.

Please see source of this information here.

Image:  Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Author:  Thue

Life Hurries On

Life hurries on and at this moment,

at this very moment

she is touched by the touch of his hands,

one slipped twixt her breasts,

the other feeling its way to her pants

Old she may be, all wrinkles and rickety limbs,

but she is grateful to him for the attention he gives,

for she lives and she breathes and she wants and she needs

and she is beautiful both inside and out.

He is as ancient as she is, memory fading and pissing of pants,

fears of tomorrows’ and the forbidding ‘no dad, you can’t(s).’  

It’s not right dad.  You’re too old dad.  Seriously,

I think it’s a teeny bit grubby.  No dad, forget it, you just can’t. 

You can’t fall in love again – you just can’t.

But he loves her and the drive is still there,

keeps him alive and in this moment of passion he lives how he loves,

gives all that he is to this woman he holds in his hands. 

He is beautiful.

He is all over her and she loves it,

loves the love of it, the intimacy of it,

maybe   even the lust of it, but it’s a want and a need,

and she loves the feelings that come with it,

that powerful needing and wanting, the soon to be ecstasy

as he fumbles his way  to her heart.

Anna :o]

As an ancient one, this article  'How to have great sex in later life' in Patient interested me greatly as it touches on the sexuality of the more mature individual, the older and wiser person, as I am.  :o]

There is a certain societal taboo with regards to us older folk having sex as it somehow feels ‘dirty’ to those younger than us, for as we all know sex is that wonderful drug that is only the property of the young…  I do remember as a spotty teenager hoping beyond hope that my parents had only had sex three times resulting in me and my brother and sis, for it didn’t bear thinking about that they actually would do that for the sheer enjoyment of it, as they were far far to old, and it just wouldn’t be right.  I also remember my eldest son (teenage then) asking if his dad and I still had sex for he never heard us…  None of your business son!

Shared with the good folk at Poets United, hosted by the lovely Mary.  Cheers Mary!

Image:  Courtesy of Pexels.

Mox Nix

Mox nix my friend, it matters not a jot

that now there is to be three of us,

you need to leave to find your stupid sorry self.

Oh there you are, you pathetic little stupid scrote,

crawling back beneath that rock from whence you came.  

Shame on you for running scared, but what the heck,

at least I really know you now.  So sod off, go forth and multiply,

spread you wimpish genes make other little baby boys who cry like you,

little wimps like you who run scared when the going gets a little tough.

I shall bear the child the boy and call him George

and raise him good and kind and strong,

he will become a man finessed with fairplay & fortitude,

something your parents never did with you.

So mox nix my friend, sod off and ne’er come back

for I’ll be glad to see the back of you.

Anna :o] 

Shay at Real Toads asks us to write using (one of five) foreign words/phrases that have become an accepted part of the English language.  One of these is Mox Nix which is a bastardiasation of the German “Es macht nichts” used by American GI’s in WWII Europe to mean “It doesn’t matter” or “It makes no difference” and some of them brought the phrase home with them.

Cheers Shay.

Video courtesy of YouTube 

Sun

Sun hums (I’ve always heard her,

oh so long before the sages found her,

heard her self-soothing stimming

sounding in their waiting ears).

Oh how she’s told me of her chaos,

how her mere existence pains her,

how her torrid temper maims her,

how she’s waiting just to die.

Oh how she’s sung her song to me,

sung to me beneath the heavens,

bid me please release her from her anger,

quell fires forever raging in her bosom;

pains me with her plaintive pleas.

Out of body I soar towards her,

soar along this astral plane,

time altered into now or never,

and oh how I long to be beside her

and how she gently guides me to her

as I longingly call out her lovely name.

We are one now forever melded into fire

and I bear her wrath and feel her pain,

yet I can do naught to soothe her

yet she moves me soothes me

with her soulful longing mournful wantings

as consumed I am with love of her.

Anna :o]

For Toni’s prompt at Real Toads where she asks us to Step Into the Void – cheers for the inspiration Toni!

Also shared with the good folk at dVerse, hosted by Grace – cheers Grace.

Video courtesy of YouTube and with thanks to NASA Goddard