Let Me Taste Your Smile

You’re looking appetizing
Can I take a bite
Your tongue, your heart
Your hips and lips
They’re gonna taste alright.

Let me taste your smile

You’re looking delicious
I’d like a little taste
Your arms, your legs
Your chest and breasts
I won’t let it go to waste

Let me taste your smile

Let me try your skin
Let me have those rosy red cute looking cheeks
Let me taste your smile

You’re looking delightful
I’d like to try
Your eyes and ears
Your feet, your teeth
Kiss your ass goodbye

Let me taste your smile

Let me try your skin
Let me have those rosy red cute looking cheeks
Let me taste your smile

Dr Freeman


Got the ice pick in his hand, in his hand
In his van, you will be screaming out his name
Screaming out his name, out his name, just as loud as you can
Cure me doctor Freeman

There’s a slight little chance, little chance
You will die instead of leaving here alive
Leaving here alive. There are hundreds outside, they’re outside
To be cured by doctor Freeman
Cure me doctor Freeman

Doctor Freeman! Doctor Freeman!

There’s a slight little chance, little chance
That lobotomy will cause physical pain
It’s insane, it’s insane in his lobotomobile
He will teach you to be cured by doctor Freeman
Cure me doctor Freeman

Doctor Freeman! Doctor Freeman!

Microwaved Food Will Be The Death Of Me

Once Upon A Ledge

It’s nice up here today. The weather’s quite all right for this time of the year. And for this time of the year it’s quite nice to have this kind of weather. The sun is hanging low trying its utmost best not to let this day be gone just yet, there’s a slight summer breeze and the air is thick with laughter. I can hear some music in the distance as if somebody’s throwing a party and for a minute it seems I am almost but not entirely content with life, the universe and everything. Almost, but not quite. If I were actually happy, I’d be out there having a great time with friends instead of being up here with my notebook, some pigeons and my own thoughts.

It’s past dinnertime. I still don’t feel like having yet another dull, greyish lump of anything for now. One of these days…

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It’s Not Too Late

It’s not too late for love, my love
Take my hand and we’ll be leaving
I don’t look much of a man
But you know looks can be deceiving
You said you’ve lost in love but
It’s not too late to give up believing

It’s not too soon for love, my love
Though the week is nearly done
Next to you I might look dull
Next to me you look like fun
If you knew me like I do
You’d know you’re not the only one

It’s not too quick for love, my love
Except I wonder if you’d want to
There’s a world I’d like to know
I’d like to get to know the real you
Take my hand don’t let it go
Share with me all that you’ve been through

The time is right for love, my love
The time is right so start believing
Though you wonder if I’m true
You bet your life I’m not deceiving
I’d like to linger round your finger
And not be thinking about leaving


It’s been some time since I last posted something, because I have been quite caught up in a new project. Here’s a song on love at elementary level.

Do you want to play with me
Sing with me
Come take me hand
You can hold my crayons
And play with me
Draw with me
That would be grand

Please, be my friend

Playing house and hide-and-seek
Draw with me
I’ll call you ‘sir’
Playing tags and fox and geese
We’ll eat sweets
Draw with me
Don’t look at her

Please, be my friend

We will have the best of times
Worst of times
Time will fly by
I will share my fizzy drink
But I think
Staring at her
Will make me cry

Please, be my friend
Please, be my friend till the end

A Mackerel Sky

The second poem (first was The Orchestra Of Love) in a series of poems on different views on Love. This one is on Postpartum Depression

She loved him
The baby
With all of her heart
Her love was
As big as a whale
She tried to kill him
The mother she was
For she thought
As a mother she’d fail

Keep holding on to that love

She held him
The baby
So tight to her chest
She cried tears
The size of her heart
Then took a pillow
To bereave him of life
She’d take it
Before it could start

Keep holding on to that love

She cried for the baby
She cried for herself
She cried, oh boy did she cry
She hated the baby
She hated herself
Her life was a mackerel sky

She dumped it
The baby
She threw it away
I don’t want it
Rid me of my pain
It was found in a dumpster
More dead than alive
Out there
In the pouring rain

Keep holding on to that love

Heaven’s Gonna Look Brand New

20150322_173113A Little Lick Of Paint

Two old priests, some spirits and a saint
Out there in the morning sun
Two clean brushes and a little lick of paint
This will be a job well done

A finer shade of blue with a little tint of white
Heaven’s gonna look brand new
A little lick of paint is gonna make it look all right
Nails, tape, paint and glue will do

Heaven’s gonna look brand new
Dirty ol’ nails and some rusty ol’ frames
Heaven’s in a bit of decay
Two old priests some spirits and a saint
Are gonna make it go away

A little bit of love and a little bit of light
A little bit of morning dew
He will come and see and think it all right
It will be as good as new

Heaven’s gonna look brand new

Two old priests, some spirits and a saint
Out there in the evening sun
Two dirty brushes and a little lick of paint
They say it’s a job well done

Just So You’d Know

I have heard them tell
Of other false prophets
I have heard them ask
If I feared other false prophets

You should go and ask
The other false prophets
Have they ever heard of me
They are not true false prophets

They use but the name
Of the bible’s false prophet
To make some sort of claim
Or a statement on false prophets

They are not the one
The one true False Prophet
For there can be only one
And it is I who am

– The False Prophet

Gay Marriage and 900,000 Abortions

I like the way my fellow blogger thinks. Numbers work in mysterious ways to me.


© Deafilosophy / Chris Hanna

There has been a story of unadulterated, bigoted, piffle circulating the interwebs this week discussing the supposed massive influx of abortions that would result from the legalization of gay marriage.  While laughable and astoundingly picturesque of the state of confirmation bias within many conservative religious sects, this sparked an age old comment in my mind, one that I thought would be an enlightening statistical analysis to the perfection of a perfect God’s perfect creation.

While the logical paradox that is a “gay marriage abortion” may make you cringe with astonishment I feel it should be plainly elaborated here.  There is absolutely no way that two gay people can reproduce using any natural or state of the art scientific methods without the introduction of the biological material from an outside third party.  With this stated, there is simply no possible way for gay marriage legalization to…

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Where Have You Been?

The Blog Tour Award

Martha Frant over at https://martafrant.wordpress.com/ nominated me, The False Prophet, for this highly intriguing award. I will have to pass this on to four others, because that are the rules. Rules are rules, be they in a holy book or law book, they are rules. Some I follow, some I don’t. I’ll follow these to set a good example for my successors. Luckily I do not have to die first to be able to pass it on.

My nominees are:

1. Lauren over at https://cremedelauren.wordpress.com/ because I hold her dear.
2. Al over at https://altheauthor.wordpress.com/ because his poetry is inspiring for kids and grown-ups.
3. Miss Kick-Ass over at https://princesskickass.wordpress.com/ because she hates Mondays and wants to tell them to F off.
4. Nu Tenshi over at https://thegirlinaconverse.wordpress.com/ because I think she should write more and more often.

Please post your story on Monday 1 June. What a way to start a month!? The rules for this award can be found below.

  1. How does my work differ from others in my genre?

I am a genre onto itself
Therefore there are no others
I don’t differ either
I like being the same
Therefore there are no others

I say that what has been written before
Maybe I use different words
Nonetheless, it’s not new
But it might be new to you
Just as all the same

  1. How does my writing/creative process work?

It doesn’t
It has been broken for many a year now.
I’m still waiting for a deity
To come and fix my creativity.

  1. Why do I write or create what I do?

That is a good question
To which I hold no answer
It might be there
But I can’t see where
All I know is that

We are the music makers
We are the dreamers of dreams

Let me muse upon it further

  1. What am I working on at the moment?

There’s stuff to write
Stuff to read
There’s stuff to do
Stuff to hear
There’s just so much stuff
That I had to take a break
But I’m back and worse than ever
I’m back
But I’ve never left
Being who I am
The False Prophet

Here’s my post for this Monday. As I was on holiday, let me start by asking myself and the reader: Where Have You Been?

Have you had your meals today
Have you heard your favourite song
Have you asked your local newsstand what has been going on
Where have you been

Have you tried the new cafe
Have you heard about the trout
Have you seen the local newsstand that you knew nothing about
Where have you been

Does your father make your meals
Does your mother wash your skin
Does life make you feel lonely and wonder where you have been
Where have you been

Does it seem worthwhile to you
Does it look like a cosy spot
Does it conjure up curtain thoughts of what is hot and what is not
Where have you been

When have you last seen the sun
When have you last seen the moon
Will you ever walk the earth, but is today just too soon
Where have you been

Thanks to Martha!

And the rules are:

  1. Pass the tour on up to four other bloggers.
  2. Give your nominees the rules and a specific Monday to post (please, post your story on Monday May 11, 2015 or let your followers know when you post).
  3. Answer four questions about your creative process which lets other bloggers and visitors know what inspires you to do what you do.
    • How does my work differ from others in my genre?
    • How does my writing/creative process work?
    • Why do I write or create what I do?
    • What I’m working on at the moment?
  4. Compose a one-time post on a specific Monday (date given from your nominator) — my post is scheduled for April 27, 2015.

Have a prophet-able Day
The False Prophet