a poem and a short story

Good God!
What's the matter,
for heaven's sake?



~

Child crying,
woman weeping.

they've started calling it bipolar disorder but, trust me, it's manic depression

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Grand_Old_Duke_of_York

and all the tear drops just keep falling out

one fighting another on the snout

and the water runs back up the spout

what the hell is that about

I've got a theory, it's this, I think that when Macbeth can't seem to wash the blood off of his bloodied hands after killing king Duncan it is not a trick of mind due to guilt/anxiety/whatever but actually the beetroot he had for supper. Mind you, that's just, like, a guesstimation.

'But the colour's named after me' says the orange

'Well, I've got the hair named after me' says the carrot

'Not really' says the ginger

'And he doesn't even look like the hair' adds the sour grapes

And the blueberry despairs at the harshness of the world

and the salad makes like a tree and leaves

And the beatroot writes a poem about it

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so, I've started this new website. it's a sort of gallery. I've decided to keep it wordless. don't tell anyone but I consider it to be art on the sly. to get to it just click on Jesus in the depiction of the crucifixion of Jesus, Titus and Gestas below;

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