November Word for what it’s worth.

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Weekly come Monthly word will divide I’m sure.
What makes me sad is billions spent on the pursuit of finding out where we came from.
When watching people die of disease will tell us where we’re going much cheaper.
Just what is it as a race we want?
As we ruin any hope of a peaceful harmonious life, and finally die of disease or fall by the sword for not worshipping our neighbours God.
I hope that the probe finds a final power source to switch it from standby and finally tell us where we’re from.
So it all becomes clear.
After we’re gone.

pauliepaul

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Fox in the sun

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This is written for the Man who has an article in The Sun.

Because he shoots Foxes for fun.

Just as they try and find food for their young.

As they carefully creep to find food to survive.

He shoots them with a gun from the safety of a window.

The fat man if he is a man, from the article in the Sun.

Is lucky, that the Fox hasn’t got a gun.

And unlike the Fox who has a life and a purpose.

This pointless fatman with a gun has an article in the sun.

About killing Fox’s for fear? I suspect not.

Do I laugh?

Or Cry?

Well I laugh when I read “Fox world” by Tim Sim Seed as the Fox gets the gun and shoots fat boy up the bum just for fun and the sun want’s to tell the Fox tale.

Fox being Fox, hearing the tabloid interest with a groan gets the gun and shoots the men from the sun in good conscience and with a journalistic cause.

Again up the bum.

They cry like babies and plead “we”re sorry!”

They plead, shout, cry and yell, but the Fox’s still wee on them on their way home as well.
😍

pauliepaul

Suicide in the trenches by Siegfried Sassoon

Brilliant writer
Brilliant writer

I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you’ll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.

Siegfried Sassoon

To any Dead officer by Siegfried Sassoon x

Brilliant writer
Brilliant writer

Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish you’d say,
Because I’d like to know that you’re alright.
Tell me, have you found everlasting day,
Or been sucked in by everlasting night?
For when I shut my eyes your face shows plain;
I hear you make some cheery old remark—
I can rebuild you in my brain,
Though you’ve gone out patrolling in the dark.

You hated tours of trenches; you were proud
Of nothing more than having good years to spend;
Longed to get home and join the careless crowd
Of chaps who work in peace with Time for friend.
That’s all washed out now. You’re beyond the wire:
No earthly chance can send you crawling back;
You’ve finished with machine-gun fire—
Knocked over in a hopeless dud-attack.

Somehow I always thought you’d get done in,
Because you were so desperate keen to live:
You were all out to try and save your skin,
Well knowing how much the world had got to give.
You joked at shells and talked the usual ‘shop,’
Stuck to your dirty job and did it fine:
With ‘Jesus Christ! when will it stop?
Three years … It’s hell unless we break their line.’

So when they told me you’d been left for dead
I wouldn’t believe them, feeling it must be true.
Next week the bloody Roll of Honour said
‘Wounded and missing’—(That’s the thing to do
When lads are left in shell-holes dying slow,
With nothing but blank sky and wounds that ache,
Moaning for water till they know
It’s night, and then it’s not worth while to wake!)

Good-bye, old lad! Remember me to God,
And tell Him that our Politicians swear
They won’t give in till Prussian Rule’s been trod
Under the Heel of England … Are you there?…
Yes … and the War won’t end for at least two years;
But we’ve got stacks of men … I’m blind with tears,
Staring into the dark. Cheerio!
I wish they’d killed you in a decent show.

Siegfried Sassoon

To Any Dead officer by Siegfried Sassoon

Brilliant!
Brilliant!

Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish you’d say,
Because I’d like to know that you’re all right.
Tell me, have you found everlasting day,
Or been sucked in by everlasting night?
For when I shut my eyes your face shows plain;
I hear you make some cheery old remark—
I can rebuild you in my brain,
Though you’ve gone out patrolling in the dark.

You hated tours of trenches; you were proud
Of nothing more than having good years to spend;
Longed to get home and join the careless crowd
Of chaps who work in peace with Time for friend.
That’s all washed out now. You’re beyond the wire:
No earthly chance can send you crawling back;
You’ve finished with machine-gun fire—
Knocked over in a hopeless dud-attack.

Somehow I always thought you’d get done in,
Because you were so desperate keen to live:
You were all out to try and save your skin,
Well knowing how much the world had got to give.
You joked at shells and talked the usual ‘shop,’
Stuck to your dirty job and did it fine:
With ‘Jesus Christ! when will it stop?
Three years … It’s hell unless we break their line.’

So when they told me you’d been left for dead
I wouldn’t believe them, feeling it must be true.
Next week the bloody Roll of Honour said
‘Wounded and missing’—(That’s the thing to do
When lads are left in shell-holes dying slow,
With nothing but blank sky and wounds that ache,
Moaning for water till they know
It’s night, and then it’s not worth while to wake!)

. . . .
Good-bye, old lad! Remember me to God,
And tell Him that our Politicians swear
They won’t give in till Prussian Rule’s been trod
Under the Heel of England … Are you there?…
Yes … and the War won’t end for at least two years;
But we’ve got stacks of men … I’m blind with tears,
Staring into the dark. Cheerio!
I wish they’d killed you in a decent show.

Siegfried Sassoon

Heartfelt is sometimes hurting x by paul roberts

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Where are the words mr roberts
Where are those words
The heartfelt sentiment
and the minor thirds
You got to know about one thing
The barking, the whining did not sing
10 days the neighbours bitch on heat
10 days no sleeping or eating
And then the staffy’s nuts were gone
And infection he is now beating
After the stitches he was eating
Sometimes life is one big open sore.

Paul Roberts

See you bright and early.

Hope I'm on time I overslept...
Hope I’m on time I overslept…

The worst not being able to get to sleep night you could ever have, would I think but I could be wrong.
Be caused by having to get up at 6am to get to the hospital to have your leg off.
True you have to get up early, but getting an early night on the eve of losing your second favourite leg, seems a pointless exercise and the last exercise one of your legs will likely to be involved in pointless or not.
Having a limb removed would I think be easier to cope with if you relaxed the eve before and fell asleep knowing you were assured a lie in. Your leg for sure should go to sleep safely knowing it should and it could sleep in.
Getting up early is nice when you don’t have to. When you have to get up early to have a leg off? Well, if you can’t have a last lie in with a leg you’ve graduly grown attached to?

I’d be asking questions.

pauliepaul

Change is good as a vest

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Changing gender is the last thing on my list of things to do.
Each to his own I’m just happy with my gender, so much so I wouldn’t change it for the world.
If I’m honest I’d like to be a woman for a while, true say. A week maybe with option to be a woman for a fortnight.
How free I’d feel as I swished across the dance floor feeling feminine for a fortnight.
After the two weeks I might just keep one dress. It was so me.
Being back with my gender would be welcome after two weeks, it just suits me.
Changing gender is the last thing on my list of permanent things to do.
But for a fortnight….. X

pauliepaul

Hair Bear Bunch’s Motorbike

In The Wonderland Zoo
In The Wonderland Zoo

When I was young all I wanted and I swear down.
Was the Hair Bear Bunch’s Motorbike.
I never saw it, but I would have bought it sight unseen with my paper round money.
I liked that it carried three, even though I couldn’t see how big the seat was.
Having the Hair Bear Bunch’s motorbike would make me smile a lot, because,
It still means so much to me and it’s still so important. Some people just don’t see it.
But I do, and I hope you do too x

pauliepaul

Being Poked in the Eye

You can never be too careful, prevention is...
You can never be too careful, prevention is…

Getting poked in the eye comes keen.

If you get poked in the eye once, you won’t ever want to get poked in the eye again.

That’s how much it comes keen.

Hope I don’t get poked in the eye although I came close once.

Getting an accidental poke in the eye does not come as keen as a purposeful poke.

Although it will hurt and make you blink and make you think how keen it came, and also how keen it could have come.

If the poke had indeed been properly done.

On purpose!

Makes you blink, i mean think?

pauliepaul