The Pass – By Paul Holland (Again)

 

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Moving Stones (By Paul Holland – Again)

Five hares on a morning field

Five ways to wake early

To glorious sunshine.

Spring’s clocks springing forward

Bringing me stumbling out early across the yard

My myopic squintings

Saluting the sun.

To be

Startled at the springing forward of the hares,

At their desperate hurtling away

And them disappearing into the back bog.

From where I was never to see them again.

Binoculars squinting serving only to point out

‘..the difference between a Hare

And a rock in a field?

If you see it move it’s a rock’.

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How Do Drunk People Get Home? – By Paul Holland

Oh, but how do drunk people get home?
I wonder
But…
How do drunk people get home?
My careening well…
Scars and scurf
And a long whole ago
….that pill in the morning in the clinic
that pill…
Hmm…
But how do drunk people get home?
I met the man with the box of frogs and had occasion to ask him
Feeling that the rain would stay off a while
as I sheltered under his hanging umbrella
He was too busy to answer
Much too busy,
The boxing of frogs and the herding of cats
Taking up
Way way too much of his time!
But it’d come to a pretty pass
If the only weavers of dreams left to us
Were to be the joke of the bank
(Their jokes are cruel)
And the many sellers of smoke
They there
Still there
There in the glam of the threadbare glade.

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How Do You Write The Sound Of A Bell? – By Paul Holland (Again)

There are deep words that sound
Sound throughout the doings of a day
Working, Running, Cooking
Hillwalking
Can cover them for a spell.
But as a bell  clanging
The tension of the sound carries.
So there are words  there
From behind trees
Around buildings
Along byways
And main  roads.
In places where people gather
And are alone
There
On waking

And at the pause before sleep
For me now the deep sound
And the words
Merge into
The sound of your name
And the answering echo

Calling in my heart’s space
Your name before me.

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Stan the Man – By Paul Holland

You hear me

Then heed me!

And other nights of his dinner

Hitting the wall.

To be picked up and eaten with fingers

Namm namm….

 

Two brothers would be wise enough to be offside

My sister and I instead too damn like him to cower

A younger one, God love her

Never concerned him enough to talk to

Nor to pick on

Just the odd stray snarl

Of the beast caged in dark bars

Our Mum always a target

 

Try not to antagonise him as he’d maybe pick on someone else

Seeing your family suffer being much worse than

Being under the Dull Stupid Bloody lash

Of his forked tongue

 

You damn fool

We were your kin

While you were digging out

All we wanted was that you dug in

When they dug the hole for your ashes

Who of us there could pray

‘Our Father who art in heaven…..’

That first line had us all stumped

 

But I know it’s either

‘Love or destruction’

In this life we do get to struggle and to choose

 

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Morning – By Paul Holland (Again)

Bluebell frillary

Shoots of Barley on the hillcrest field

Wet dripping barbed wire

Silver slivers of cold Spring light

Through a disorder of branches

A palette  of greens

Smatterings of shade

Brown muddy boots

And from everywhere

Birdsong

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Picasso “Smoking A Fishfinger (Again)”

The great man enjoying a drag on his breadcrumbed fish fag!

No wonder all his faces were a bit wonky.

During His Fish Period

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Clint Eastwood – Spaghetti Western Shocker!

Gingerfightback can reveal that Sergio Leone originally called “The Man With No Name”  – “The Man With A Sausage On His Hat”.

We are glad that Sergio changed his mind…..

The Sausage Spaghetti Western Trilogy;

A Fistful Of Sausages

For A Few Sausages More

The Good The Bad And The Sausage

And here is the original poster for A Fistful of Chickens.

The Chick With No Name

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Brontes Country – By Paul Holland

I’m Squinting

With my glasses lost again

But I know enough to be struggling to see

God,but will I ever stop the drink

Once and for all?

 

Today I saw a Belfast man

Marching the road

Collarete on in the sun

The traditional

Tribal triumph

Seen in his swagger and away of shoulders.

 

But this is Spain

And the collarete was Instead ONCE

(Organización National de Ciegos España)

Tickets

Orange and yellow tickets to be sold

Their luck tacked to his waistcoat.

His swagger and away

Sadly as a result of the twisted racking cracking

Of his body’s being.

It spent moving

His spine choked frame in the ways of his days

Him I squinting saw

Not him then

Thran

With the self blinded

Hurray of the Cyclops.

 

Last time at home

A fella:

Brother to one in the company

Complained to the slow barman

-I’ll get you done!

But the bar was packed

And the barman

(Who I too, thought slow)

Was having none of his old craic.

 

-Get me done?

He hollered

-Get me done?

-You can fuck off,

Yer barred!

 

Old Belfast bashing

Hard man against the new.

The silence of naked fear

That such a statement

might once have entailed

Bloody death or at least a beating

Was gone

The bouncer gleefully bounced the

Soul scarred, jail tattooed poor twerp

Drinkless

Out into the night.

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Germany Win The World Cup – Lahm Lifts The Golden Sausage! – Ginger Sooty Reports

 

Ginger Sooty filed this from Copacabananananana Beach last night.

Hello,

Philipp Laum Lifts The Sausage Of Destiny

Germany Won The World Cup!

Philipp Laum held the FIFA Golden Banger of Destiny aloft in the Maracana last night and proclaimed, “V R der Champs Ja!”

Their win had much to do with the inventive attacking play of midfield dynamos Glock and Spiel and the extremely strong ankles of Bastein Shcweinsteiger who took a pasteing from the leery Latin layabouts of Argentina (who should have won).

The Germans wonderfully coiffed Coach, Joachim “Me Dye My Hair? – Never!” Louw can now relax and work out the final piece of his masterplan for footballing dominance – the reintroduction of the mullets.

Holland beat Brazil 3-0 in the 3rd place play off game and this probably means curtains for Brazil coach “Big” Phil and his team of wailing God botherers.

So well done to Germany.

My highlights revolve around two moments involving the Dutch team.

Firstly there was Arjen Robben’sh,”I tripped ova der Mexican’sh shaushage to earn der penlti,” incident.

 

 

And then Robin Van Persie’s dive-volley header against Spain which marked the beginning of the end of a wonderful Spanish team. This is even more extraordinary when you consider RVP had a meat pie on his head at the time.

 

Other Things You May Have Missed

Darth Vader has mad himself available for selection for Germany.

On Me Head Luke!

Sadly,  Buddha has announced his retirement from international football.

 

Benedict Cumberbatch announced that England would never win the World Cup, “Until we play 3 at the back.”

Thank God It Is Over!

 

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