My LoveYour skin glows like the banana, blossoms brown as the daisy in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your violin voice and leaps like a warthog at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great crane wing.
I am comforted by your knickers that I carry into the twilight of titbeams and hold next to my inner elbow.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of slime.
As my outer knee falls from my string vest, it reminds me of your pencil.
In the quiet, I listen for the last bang of the day.My heated pubic hair leaps to my gator.
I wait in the moonlight for your secret stick so that we may insert as one, pubic hair to pubic hair, in search of the magnificient green and mystical mud of love.
make your own wonderful poem at The Love Poem Generator
Wednesday, 20 August 2008
Thursday, 31 July 2008
Horoscopes by Robert Wilton
Taurus
A tall dark stranger will come into your life this week, offering the promise of stability tinged with a welcome dash of romance and adventure. Grab the chance, for God's sake. It's hardly likely to come again, is it? But don't blame us if it all goes wrong.
Lucky number: 214
Gemini
A friend will turn out this week to be an android working as the advance party for an imminent alien invasion of the planet earth and the subjugation of the human species in an eternal nightmare of soulless humiliation and servitude. Keep on her good side.
Lucky week: 43rd
Cancer
Relationship uncertainty this week is likely to become irretrievable separation before the weekend. Don't expect to survive in your current job beyond Thursday. That irritating sniffle is actually the precursor for something worse than you can possibly imagine. Feeling a bit down? It's hardly started, believe me.
Lucky day: Tuesday (except afternoons)
Leo
Why are you taking everything so seriously? Just snap out of it! Put down the knife. Put dow – no, this isn't about Terry. Seriously, put – ow, that hurt.
Lucky number: none
Virgo
Nothing to report.
Lucky pudding: fig roll
Libra
At 6.45 on Wednesday a man called Dennis will ask you the way to the Odeon. Feign ignorance. On Saturday evening you will forget to brush your teeth.
Lucky philosopher: John Stuart Mill
Scorpio
Job getting you down, money slipping through your fingers, can't make a relationship last, people seem to be avoiding you? Perhaps it's you. Seriously.
Lucky tube line: Hammersmith & City
The goat man thing
Complications arise when an old flame is released from prison early and begins a savage campaign of violence against you, your family and everyone you have ever met. Take things slowly for a bit; better times are around the corner.
Lucky Spice Girl: Mel C
Capricorn
On the zodiacal cusp, with traffic backing up on the M40 and light showers over East Anglia, it's not the time for dramatic new spending plans. To conserve money, eat cushions, fare-dodge on the bus, and spend less. A Korean will bring you spoons.
Lucky driving infringement: failing to come to a complete stop at the lights
Aquarius
Expect big wins on the financial and romantic fronts this week! Sounds implausible? You're taking advice from a newspaper column analysing a spurious and misunderstood set of ancient superstitions. What would you know?
Lucky form of government: theocracy
Pisces
The alignment of the planets makes this just the week to conduct a lightning invasion of Poland. Stall and placate rivals with empty diplomatic gestures and illusory shows of force, while concentrating the main force of your armoured troops in one massive blow on the Vistula before driving rapidly for Warsaw. Avoid new financial commitments on Monday and Tuesday.
Lucky UN Secretary-General: Dag Hammerskjöld
The other one
Venus is moving into Saturn this week. Not sure what that means. Best keep an eye out.
Lucky Cluedo piece: Mrs White
***
(Horoscopes by Robert Wilton was the runner-up in the first Mostly Life Humour Competition.)
A tall dark stranger will come into your life this week, offering the promise of stability tinged with a welcome dash of romance and adventure. Grab the chance, for God's sake. It's hardly likely to come again, is it? But don't blame us if it all goes wrong.
Lucky number: 214
Gemini
A friend will turn out this week to be an android working as the advance party for an imminent alien invasion of the planet earth and the subjugation of the human species in an eternal nightmare of soulless humiliation and servitude. Keep on her good side.
Lucky week: 43rd
Cancer
Relationship uncertainty this week is likely to become irretrievable separation before the weekend. Don't expect to survive in your current job beyond Thursday. That irritating sniffle is actually the precursor for something worse than you can possibly imagine. Feeling a bit down? It's hardly started, believe me.
Lucky day: Tuesday (except afternoons)
Leo
Why are you taking everything so seriously? Just snap out of it! Put down the knife. Put dow – no, this isn't about Terry. Seriously, put – ow, that hurt.
Lucky number: none
Virgo
Nothing to report.
Lucky pudding: fig roll
Libra
At 6.45 on Wednesday a man called Dennis will ask you the way to the Odeon. Feign ignorance. On Saturday evening you will forget to brush your teeth.
Lucky philosopher: John Stuart Mill
Scorpio
Job getting you down, money slipping through your fingers, can't make a relationship last, people seem to be avoiding you? Perhaps it's you. Seriously.
Lucky tube line: Hammersmith & City
The goat man thing
Complications arise when an old flame is released from prison early and begins a savage campaign of violence against you, your family and everyone you have ever met. Take things slowly for a bit; better times are around the corner.
Lucky Spice Girl: Mel C
Capricorn
On the zodiacal cusp, with traffic backing up on the M40 and light showers over East Anglia, it's not the time for dramatic new spending plans. To conserve money, eat cushions, fare-dodge on the bus, and spend less. A Korean will bring you spoons.
Lucky driving infringement: failing to come to a complete stop at the lights
Aquarius
Expect big wins on the financial and romantic fronts this week! Sounds implausible? You're taking advice from a newspaper column analysing a spurious and misunderstood set of ancient superstitions. What would you know?
Lucky form of government: theocracy
Pisces
The alignment of the planets makes this just the week to conduct a lightning invasion of Poland. Stall and placate rivals with empty diplomatic gestures and illusory shows of force, while concentrating the main force of your armoured troops in one massive blow on the Vistula before driving rapidly for Warsaw. Avoid new financial commitments on Monday and Tuesday.
Lucky UN Secretary-General: Dag Hammerskjöld
The other one
Venus is moving into Saturn this week. Not sure what that means. Best keep an eye out.
Lucky Cluedo piece: Mrs White
***
(Horoscopes by Robert Wilton was the runner-up in the first Mostly Life Humour Competition.)
Nota Bene by Gearalt MacAodha
A new edition of the works of John Keats gives one critic pause for thought about the role of the annotator.
There is furore in the realms of academe over a recently republished edition of Keats: the annotated poems. Scholars have taken issue with the idiosyncratic nature of editor B.B. Henbatter’s annotations, claiming that they are highly subjective and add little to our appreciation of the poems.
Anyone familiar with Henbatter’s seminal work, Oh, what can ail thee…? a medical critique of Romantic Poetry, published in 1969, will be aware that he is a man with a mission. In his own words from the preface to that volume, he intends: ‘to address the multifarious medical inaccuracies in Keats' poems, by researching the damage his work has done thus far and seeking first or second hand accounts from persons who have suffered injury or illness as a result of his irresponsible suggestions’. This fixation can clearly be seen in footnote 4, reproduced below.
'Ode to Melancholy'
Go not to Lethe(1), neither sip
Wolfsbane(2), tight rooted, for its hemlock(3) drops.
……………………………………
……………………………………….
………………………………………
………………………………………..
………………………………………….
And when the melancholy fit(4) shall fall
His particular form of pedantry was at odds with the spirit of the 60s and the companion volumes, Every which way but Hell: the geography of the inferno, in which he highlighted inconsistencies between Dante’s and Milton’s descriptions of Hell, and Slimy Things: a literary history of pest control from John Donne to William Burroughs, found little favour with publishers. But a half-century later, the octogenarian critic may be at one with the zeitgeist. In these litigious days, publishers and educators may find that they would do well to heed Henblatter’s admonitions. His approach may well come to be seen as a template for responsible editors in the noughties.
Notes
1 Lethe: an unattractive village on the outskirts of Barnsley. Best avoided.
2 Wolfsbane: either a particularly vile but potent real ale found at beer festivals or a long forgotten member of the BBC’s Gladiators.
3 Hemlock: as above: but may also be a reference to a mediaeval device clamped to a virgin’s nightdress with a similar purpose to the more cumbersome chastity belt.
4 Now more correctly expressed as an ‘episode of bi-polar disorder’. Here Keats is at odds with current medical practice, having used the politically incorrect term ‘fit’ instead of the preferred and less potentially offensive ‘seizure’. He then goes on to recommend a course of action that psychiatric practitioners would now find self-indulgent and counter-productive. As a result, this writer wishes to distance himself from any of the medical advice given in this, or others of Keats’ Odes and suggests that his publishers should attach a disclaimer to cover any untoward outcomes experienced by the end user of any guidance, intentional or otherwise, which may be inferred from the text within.
***
(Nota Bene by Gearalt MacAodha was the winning entry in the first Mostly Life Humour Competition.)
There is furore in the realms of academe over a recently republished edition of Keats: the annotated poems. Scholars have taken issue with the idiosyncratic nature of editor B.B. Henbatter’s annotations, claiming that they are highly subjective and add little to our appreciation of the poems.
Anyone familiar with Henbatter’s seminal work, Oh, what can ail thee…? a medical critique of Romantic Poetry, published in 1969, will be aware that he is a man with a mission. In his own words from the preface to that volume, he intends: ‘to address the multifarious medical inaccuracies in Keats' poems, by researching the damage his work has done thus far and seeking first or second hand accounts from persons who have suffered injury or illness as a result of his irresponsible suggestions’. This fixation can clearly be seen in footnote 4, reproduced below.
'Ode to Melancholy'
Go not to Lethe(1), neither sip
Wolfsbane(2), tight rooted, for its hemlock(3) drops.
……………………………………
……………………………………….
………………………………………
………………………………………..
………………………………………….
And when the melancholy fit(4) shall fall
His particular form of pedantry was at odds with the spirit of the 60s and the companion volumes, Every which way but Hell: the geography of the inferno, in which he highlighted inconsistencies between Dante’s and Milton’s descriptions of Hell, and Slimy Things: a literary history of pest control from John Donne to William Burroughs, found little favour with publishers. But a half-century later, the octogenarian critic may be at one with the zeitgeist. In these litigious days, publishers and educators may find that they would do well to heed Henblatter’s admonitions. His approach may well come to be seen as a template for responsible editors in the noughties.
Notes
1 Lethe: an unattractive village on the outskirts of Barnsley. Best avoided.
2 Wolfsbane: either a particularly vile but potent real ale found at beer festivals or a long forgotten member of the BBC’s Gladiators.
3 Hemlock: as above: but may also be a reference to a mediaeval device clamped to a virgin’s nightdress with a similar purpose to the more cumbersome chastity belt.
4 Now more correctly expressed as an ‘episode of bi-polar disorder’. Here Keats is at odds with current medical practice, having used the politically incorrect term ‘fit’ instead of the preferred and less potentially offensive ‘seizure’. He then goes on to recommend a course of action that psychiatric practitioners would now find self-indulgent and counter-productive. As a result, this writer wishes to distance himself from any of the medical advice given in this, or others of Keats’ Odes and suggests that his publishers should attach a disclaimer to cover any untoward outcomes experienced by the end user of any guidance, intentional or otherwise, which may be inferred from the text within.
***
(Nota Bene by Gearalt MacAodha was the winning entry in the first Mostly Life Humour Competition.)
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