A poem called...Flibberdy Flobb

Flibberdy flobberdy flabberdy flobb
Is the sound my head makes when I'm stressed at my job
Flakkerty flikkerty flokkerty flikk
Is the sound my head makes when I'm especially thick

Blaherdy blooferdy blifferdy blaire
Is the sound of my head when I'm 'devil-may-care'
Hockerdy hickerpy hackery heck
That's the sound I make when something's tight round my neck

Plopperty plipp furry pleppery plapp
Is the sound of my flip-flops when the wet makes them slap
Humberdy hooperdy himberdy humm
Is the sound I made when I used to suck my thumb

So when you think 'Josh is especially stressed',
Just try and remember what sound really captures it best...

A poem called...Midway

My attention retained by the views outside,
There is no flame that burns for The Monster -
Yet my eyes are drawn back to it
Time after time.

Midway between
Longing for outside
and Belonging to The Thing...

My gaze and my wondering
Sit.

Midway between
Foresight
and Hindsight

My brain cells too hurriedly
Flit.

Midway between
The horizon
and The Derision

Stands a hedge,
Which I look at to steady myself...

Not extraordinary,
Rather ordinary;
Airy...

{My head turns and turns
At increasing speed -
Longing to rest
But is taken no heed.}

And so eye no longer see
The sky nor the tea...

Just the hedge -
Midway.

A poem called...Multi-Coloured Shirt

By a multi-coloured shirt I mean this multi-coloured world.
I mean all the browns and greys you wear are average and old.
It's 30s, 40s, 50s, man. No technicolour. Ug.
So why does multi-colouredness get brushed under the rug?
It's baffling, yes truly so - when we can do whatever;
Why do we just opt for grey, the colour of bad weather?
Why not this well magnificent, multi-coloured shirt
I found today in Oxfam, next to the pleated skirt?
We need to let our hair down, go wild - give it a try.
I don't wanna be boring all my life -
I just want to dye!

A poem called... A Brief Summary

Boy sees girl.
Girl sees boy.
Boy likes girl.
Girl likes boy
Behind.

Boy approaches,
Puts on the charm.
Girl reproaches,
Expresses alarm.
Boy is drunk,
Deluded confidence.
Girl meets trunk
With handy potence...

Just another case of boy meets girl.

And comes off the worse for wear.

A poem called... Flew

The feeling that I had was quite
Resemblant of what could be flight -
Up above the world so high,
Like a human in the sky
With no wings, and a silly smile.

But all that I could feel was I
Was not on earth, but in the sky -
Moving not especially, but hovering
Expectantly.

I flew.

This was not a usual thing;
In fact it made my small mind spin -
How am I up here with me,
And not down there with them that I see?
Quite peculiar, and most irregular.

But I flew.

So what happened? Well -
There's not really much to tell.
I floated back to terra firma,
Checked myself (just like a learner),
And then looked up as if to see
If the sky was real; as real as me.

And there it was, all big and blue,
And here I was. Back here.

(But I flew...)

A poem called... The Music That I Like

The music that I like is nice:
Jazz, soul, drum & bass,
Dance, rock, in-your-face...

The music that I love is this:
James Brown, Muse, Faithless.

The music that is my passion,
That isn't just a simple fashion:
4Hero, Buckley, Jackson.

The music that is my music,
That blends with me and starts to be me:
Note by note, rhythm by rhythm,
Beat by beat, key by key...

Music that transcends me is:
Love, life, nature, bliss.

Music that made music be:
Father - The Composer,
Son - The Performer,
Spirit - The Page Turner;

Holy Trinity.

The music that I like is all
That comes from Him - The Masterful.

A poem called... Chagrin Cheer

OH YEAH!
I got a Chagrin Cheer!
Just the other night,
When I dropped my beer.

OH YEAH!
I got a Chagrin Cheer!
No-one coulda helped it:
I dropped my beer!

OH YEAH!
I got a Chagrin Cheer!
It's a dead cert when you do it
Right in front of your peers.

OH YEAH!
I got a Chagrin Cheer!
It's something to be proud of,
Not regret or even fear.

It's when you drop your pint: OOOO-WEY!
It's when you stack it on the street: OOOO-WEY!
It's when you smash a plate: OOOO-WEY!
It's when you're with your mates: OOOO-OOOO-OOOO-WEY!

So when your friend trips on a paving stone,
Or when you see a poser drop his brand new phone,
Remember to tell me all about it the next day,
And include the words 'a chagrin cheer' in what you have to say.

A poem called... Shall I?

Shall I compare thee to a winter's night?
Thou art more bright.
And generally less chilly...

{Composed by Dave Neal}

A poem called... Smash & Grab

Steal into the kitchen; quietly; at night...
Make no sound on the lino; at all; just creep...
Appear then disappear; in the shadows; slink back...
Straight to the fridge then pause; for a moment; then open...
Heave the thick door back; and admire; in the light...

All at once hear a noise:
Nothing here? Is that a voice?
Don't move - poise...

Go go go! Get as much as you can!
Run fast! They can't see you!
Appear then disappear...no! The lights are on!
Busted.

To bed without any gherkins...