I am building a castle brick by brick
The walls are stone and three feet thick
I seal it up with mortar and pebble
To keep in the light and to keep out the devil

Inside of my castle; my favourite things
His love and his laughter, the joy that he brings
To my life are all hidden away safe and sound
Sealed up in the castle, nevermore to be found

I've built secret rooms in this fortress of mine
With heavy locked doors made of iron and pine
Behind them I've cached what I cannot replace:
The blue of his eyes and the smile on his face

I've hidden away his soft sideways glance,
His poems, his music; his strong, gentle hands
That streak of good humour, so fine and so rare
The curve of his shoulder, the gold of his hair

And here in the dungeon, a deep oubliette
Where I put all my sorrow, my pain and regret
They howl and they clamour, their cries fill the air
Reminding me that they will always be there

At the heart of the castle, in the great granite hall
Lies a chest that contains the greatest treasure of all
It is a gift from which I could never part
In this chest made of gold lies his beautiful heart

It is a prize that I cherish, its value and measure
Are greater than that of a pirate king's treasure
It is pure and beloved, both kind and sincere
A heart that has known neither malice nor fear

But I am the court jester, unworthy and base
I do not deserve his wild heart full of grace
Each time I approach it, I note with alarm
I manage to do it some terrible harm

I drop it and kick it, it skitters away
I chase it, retrieve it, and tuck it away
I bruise it and cut it and cause it such pain
Yet it lets me return, lets me hold it again

I am told I am clumsy, and told I am cruel
But what more is there can be asked of a fool?
And I know that one day (there's no need to explain it)
The owner of that heart will come back to reclaim it.

But this treasure is one I can never surrender
It so perfect, so loving, so warm and so tender
So I am building a castle, walls, ceiling and floor
And he can just bloody well kick down the door

The Sweaty Hippopotamus

The scientist have told us all
To keep out of the sun
They wag their fingers sternly
And they rob us of our fun

“You must be worried, UVB
radiation gives you cancer!!”
But when they’re pressed, and must relent
The say there is an answer

They grudgingly give permission
And with the grimmest sighs
Admit that we can frolic under summer’s
Azure skies

As long as we keep covered
Every pallid inch of skin
Wear wide brimmed hats! And long sleeve shirts!
Keep tender parts tucked in

But sadly I am one of those
That worships summer sun
I surf, I bike, I hike, I swim,
Play tennis, and I run

So I’ve been searching avidly
For something more effective
Than sunscreens that might just be proved
To sadly be defective

Now scientist in Fresno have
Found something for the lot of us
Who love the sun – and get this:
It’s the sweat of the hippopotamus!

I’m thrilled, I must admit to the
Potential of this find
And for the sweaty hippo,
I can’t imagine that he’d mind

Perspiring for our safety
I’d even like to be
The person that they test it on
Hey scientist! Try me!!

My life was once a spate of
Recreational insanity
But now I dedicate myself
To the betterment of humanity

I’d gladly dedicate myself to
Science’s edification
And allow myself to be slathered in
Hippopotamus perspiration

An Ode To My Dryer Penned One Warm Summer's Night

I have softener sheets gripped in one hand
As in front of the dyer I stand
And on closer inspection
I see the collection
Of options I don’t understand

The machine is just trying to confuse me
There are settings and knobs that bemuse me
There’s “more” and “less” dry
And I cannot think why
The designer would be so dammed choosy

I think “isn’t ‘less dry’ just wet”?
And the thought of “more dry” I don’t get
But in my head there’s a voice
That says “why give a choice
If there isn’t a difference, and yet……..

If my clothes are too dry they’ll be rough
But then they might not come out dry enough
If I choose the wrong setting
Who knows what I’ll be getting?
When did doing the wash get so tough???”

Now, never before did I dread
Doing laundry, but now in my head
I’m so bloody confused
By the settings to choose
That I hang it dry outside instead

The Donna Challenge

Donna supplied the first line, the rest was up to me.......

There once was a girl from North York
Whose friends all thought she was a dork
When she cut up a spoon
Used it like a harpoon
And proudly invented the "spork"!

There once was a man from Brisbane
I cannot remember his name
He talked kinda funny
But he made jeans look yummy
And I can't wait to see him again

Quit Toying With My Heart, Coca Cola

I wish that Coca Cola
Wouldn’t toy with my affection
As guzzling their product by the jug’s
My daily predilection

I start my day off eagerly
And as I reach lunchtime
I’ve polished off an icy Sprite
And a diet coke with lime

I like a daily cherry coke
And an occasional “Hi-C”
But I will admit I do not get
The point of “caffeine free”

They have some drinks we do not get
That I would like to try
Like “Kuat” and “Kapo Super Power”
“Magnolia Funch” and “Tai”

I think I’d like “Koumisoukai”
And also, I assume
That “Slap” and “Smart” and “Safety First”
Are things that I’d consume

“Schichifukuzen” “Earth and Sky”
Are drinks I’d like to know
And if you gave me “Izvorul Alb”
I think I’d have a go

But my complaint is not with all
Their yummy, bubbly drink
It’s the head-games that they play during their
Giveaways, I think

Each day as I buy diet coke
(I know, it’s dull as flies)
I grab the one that tells me, girlfriend:
“You could win a prize!”

Each morning I hope “This is it!”
The prize don’t really matter
Unless it’s the de-luxe, all expense paid
Trip to Porta Plata

Or maybe the Plasma TV’s mine!
Or the five hundred CD’s!
Or the Ford Explorer! Or the concert
For a hundred friends and me!

So every day I sit and twist the cap
From off the neck
And pry the plastic liner up……
Oh yeah? Well what the heck.

And there, atop my fingers
(every day it is the same)
Is a chintzy piece of plastic saying
“Thank you, play again”

I sigh and mash my face up
Disappointed in my dealings
And what is worse, those rats at Coke
Are playing with my feelings

I think the least that they could do
To add some truth to it
Is instead of saying “Play Again”
They said “Piss Off, You Tit”


(all products listed here are actual Coke products)

The Big Bad Biker and the Teeny Tattoo Fairy

I stopped into the tattoo place
I had a bill to pay
For touch-up work I’d had them do
A week ago today

I stood beside the counter
Took my wallet from my sack
And as they took my payment I gazed
Out into the back

A biker sat upon a stool:
a rickety old crate
It quivered there, and I do not know
How it took his weight

He was the biggest bastard
Ever sat upon that chair
He’d stripped down to the waist and
Barely covered up down there

His biceps bulged with vigor
And glossed with a sweaty sheen
Was the biggest pair of man-breasts
Humankind has ever seen

His belly overhung his belt
He had a chin or three
And that wooly coat of hair he sported
Really frightened me

The tiny tattoo artist
Five foot one and cruelly thin
Sat hunched against his bulk
Whilst carving “art” into his skin

I watched her etch the letters
H, A, R and L, E,Y
Into this goober’s sweaty arm;
All I could do was sigh

“Hold still you great galumph” she hissed
And viewed him with disdain
And biker boy just grit his teeth
To grimly hide his pain

I wondered where his buddies were
And even if he had
Some peeps that also thought they were
The baddest of the bad.

“All right, you tough-guy biker boy”
I thought, and took my change
But he looked up and caught my eye
I suddenly felt strange

As our eyes met, my heart went out to this
Poor schlub who’d had enough
Of sitting through the “DAVIDSON”
And trying to look tough

And as I gazed into his eyes
I thought “This isn’t funny”
For in his tortured gaze I saw
His soul whispering...

...“Mummy!”

Sex

His kisses are so wild and sweet
His mouth is hot and strong
I stroke the muscles down his back
So lean and firm and long

His body is on fire
And my own responds in kind
Entwined beneath the tangled sheets
We’re united, soul and mind

The sheets are perfumed with the scent of
Earth and rain and musk
As outside in the real world
The day turns into dusk

The taste of sweat, so hot and salty
Lingers on my lips
And his skin is hot as molten lead
Against my fingertips

As we surrender to the love and
Passion that we share
I slide my tongue along his skin
My fingers in his hair

Our breathing slows, our kisses soften
Our loving whispers dim
As sleep steals over both of us
And I curl up beside him

I hold him in the dark of night
My heart filled with adoring
And I plant my knee in the small of his back and murmur
“Babe, you’re snoring”