This is just laziness on my part. At This, that and the other reference was made to ‘killing two birds with one stone’ so I followed suit, although no actual birds were slaughtered in the making of this post. Cyranny introduced the word ‘scoundrelism’ and whilst I remain unconvinced that such a word even exists – I think, if it did, I would probably find examples of it in the morning news (the evening news is even worse, by the way). And having got away with just 44 words yesterday (quadrille?? I think someone else is inventing words …) I thought that I do so again. Or try to.

So it’s actually three birds with one post. Laziness, as I say.

***

Newspapers and television

Information’s supervision

Politicians’ indecision

Shaky stories

Imprecision

Pretty pictures

Blurring vision

Truth has had

A circumcision

Tales of rampant

Narcissism

Rape and murder

Scoundrelism

Buddy, this ain’t

Journalism

Fodder for my

Scepticism

It’s either that

Or hypnotism

Please accept

My criticism

Because that’s the rule, apparently. And it has to be about the sky. That’s another rule. But there was no rule suggesting it could not be silly, or possibly meaningless. You can check the rules here, if you don’t believe me.

And here’s a thought. Right at this moment we all have sky above us. There’s only one sky. It’s the same sky for all of us, yet it is impossible for any two of us to look up and see exactly the same thing. Everything is about perspective.

Anyway ….

***

Look above

Pray for love

In this world or another

Bathe your head

In tears you’ve shed

For memories of your mother

Beg the sky

Tell me why?

Life has come to this

The sky shall open up for you

Carry you to Bliss.

Don’t panic. I won’t actually be doing this on a daily basis. I am sliding slowly into senility and by tomorrow I won’t even remember contemplating such an ambitious notion.

And by tomorrow I will have forgotten much of anything that I might have said today and virtually everything that I might have written. So I store some of the sillier stuff on this page for safe keeping. I don’t know why.

Cheryl had a few thoughts here about expressing one’s emotions with paint. And I did too. So this is what I said.

A picture paints a thousand words
But I can’t hold a brush
I try to capture thoughts of you
But it all turns to mush
Paint like tears keeps running down
The canvas of my cheek
And no amount of artistry
Will say just what I seek
To say to you, relay to you
The love I feel. So when
The brush keeps shaking in my hand
Instead I use a pen

And then I discovered that Cyranny had transferred her regular Skype meeting here (which I regularly miss) from Sunday to Friday (Monday to Saturday from my perspective – you can understand an old man’s confusion) and I wondered if she was bringing it forwards or backwards. Here in the Southern Hemisphere the water rotates around the drain in the opposite direction to what it does for you guys in the Northern Hemisphere. That’s called Coriolis force. Aren’t I the smart one? Or am I just raving?

Anyway, I sought clarification from Cyranny, thus ….

I’ve skipped a Skypey Sunday
I’m always running late
But here, of course, it’s Monday
A completely different date
I hope you had a Funday
With every other friend
I’ll try to get there Oneday
But for now it’s love I send

But wait! Not late? You changed the date?
To several days before?
I can’t pretend to comprehend
My diary any more
Or is this straight. You’ve made us wait
Till Friday afternoon?
So I wasn’t absent after all
I was several days too soon

And that’s enough silliness for one day.

Because, let’s face it, Sunday is a day for grieving – even if it’s only over your football team’s failure on Saturday.

Zeina introduced the idea of ‘grief knocking on the door’ and it occurred to me that most of us are actually quite welcoming hosts, when it comes to grief, as long as the welcome is not overstayed.

Here’s my reply, anyway …

***

Grief knocked on the door

I beckoned grief in

Grief’s never alone

It will find grief within

Grief casts the first stone

I am not without sin

In a battle of conscience

‘Tis grief that will win

But grief is my confidant

Grief knows its place

If I cannot hold you

Then it’s grief I’ll embrace

Grief stares from below

God cares from above

I would never know grief

Had I never known love

***