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Comet Alert: Quatrain


His mind and body were discovered
During her ongoing extensive search
For objects that might at some point
Disastrously impact with her planet

Sexism V. Feminism: Four By Six


There are those who get it
And then those who fail to
Who inflicts? Who suffers?
Balls or tits? Beside the point


Yekaterina Alexeyevna a.k.a. Catherine the Great
Had her work cut out for her, she being female and all.
We’re talking 18th century here; Europe one big boy’s club
Till she strides in; no need man up, already here and at home.

Such effrontery seemed to bigoted sexist rulers beyond reason.
Rattled their cages but they’re scared of openly rattling sabres.
Still their sick lies and innuendoes remain today chapter and verse.
To coin a phrase they said, “She’d happily look a gift horse in the cock.”


This was written as a contribution to The Secret Keeper’s Weekly Writing Prompt No. 12.


Flow Full Flower Flowering


Behold the beyond, the power of sweet flowering
Blooming softly, daintily, soft petal on soft petal
Quietly adorning the barren watches of the night

Wherein there wafts whispering of brotherhood
Also deeper yet beneath the hood a sisterhood
Purrs contentedly, dreamdrifts all full blissfully

And we members of the Anima Liberation Front
Yet bide our time since so many find the truth
Too much of a mouthful to swallow all at once

A Well Known Story


It is a well known story,
And I’m sure you’ve heard it said,
That of all the animal kingdom
The Lion is the head.

He sits assured upon his throne
And knows he can’t be moved,
But still the King Of The Jungle
Must sometimes have it proved.

So he went to see the Tiger,
Who was sitting having tea
“Who’s the King Of The Jungle?”
The Tiger said, “Why, me.”

This made the Monarch angry
And made the Tiger regret it;
As he landed in a pile of plates
The Lion roared, “Don’t forget it!”

He next sought out the Zebra,
A milder sort of beast.
“And do you mind telling me, peasant … ?”
“Oh no, sir, not in the least.”

But once the question was finished
The Zebra changed his song,
Saying “I’m the King of the Jungle,
And if you think different you’re wrong.”

The Lion flew into a rage
And beat him with a broom
And tore the stripes from off his back
And stormed out of the room.

He rudely hailed the Elephant.
The placid beast never stirred.
She answered not a word,

Just picked the Lion up in her trunk
And gave him such a shake,
Then wrapped him round some nearby trees
And threw him in the lake.

The Lion lay there an instant,
Till he knew who he was again,
Then stepped from the water gracefully
And proudly shook his mane.

Calmly he approached the Elephant
With all the style of a dancer
And said, “Well, there’s no need to get annoyed
Just because you don’t know the answer.”


The ego has access to a seemingly bottomless font of self-deception.



I spotted her lurking in the shadows,
doing her best, sneakily, to blend in.
Not an adder, a grass snake; not a threat.
Like hell! A snake in the grass – dangerous

– slithering in close when your guard is down.
Uninvited, unwanted, not by me.
Faceless, limbless, beady eyes, pointed fangs.
“Abnormal, unnatural,” I murmured.

Too much like something met in a nightmare.
Temptation? An exquisite punishment?
I remembered Eden. “Can’t be trusted.
Eden, a plot, a trick. Caught! Shamed! Cast out!”

I looked again. I shuddered in disgust.
I felt the taste of vomit in my throat,
picked up a stick and began to beat it.
Started snarling in time as each blow fell.

“Abnormal!” (WHACK!) “Unnatural!” (WHACK!)
“Snake!” (WHACK!) “Viper!” (WHACK!)
“Bitch!” (WHACK!) “Whore!” (WHACK)
“Slut!” (WHACK!) “Tramp!” (WHACK!)

It wasn’t much now, just an ugly smear.
I realised I was quite out of breath.
“But not as out of breath as you,” I sneered.
Hit it once more for luck, smirked and walked on.

I realised I must have drifted off.
Shook my head. “Daydream. Too many whiskies.”
I looked around the room. She was still there.
“Nice tits. I wonder whether she’d like a drink.”


The secret gender war.

The Rent


Observe her face at the moment of climax
See how her eyes, her whole expression, is vacant
She always contrives to make sure she is out
Whenever the landlord comes round for the rent

An Alternative Career Path


She was, he could see
The sort of woman
Clearly determined
To fall
As quickly as possible

In the knowledge
That some man
Would then
Be only too happy
To help her up again



She swam determinedly
In the now
Against the current
She swam determinedly

Gritted her teeth
She heard the cheering from the banks

She swam determinedly
In the now
Against the current
She swam determinedly

Gritted her teeth
Swam on

The P’d-off Princess


I am the object of their love
Oh yes, they “love” me

With a price they dictate
And in which I had no say

So fuck ’em all
Because real love is tough

So here comes tough love
Fuck ’em all

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