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Monthly Archives: February 2015

Nobody Can Like A Pelican

25 Wednesday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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pelicans

Down at the water edge wades a sad

Bird.

The saddest Bird that you have ever

seen or heard.

He is down on his luck.

He cant find the energy to chirp,click

or cluck.

He lives on the edge of the lake

But he isn’t a Duck.

He is a Pelican

He goes by the name of Phil.

He has a mighty big bill.

About as long as a window sill.

The reason why he is down

is because he cant find a job.

If he could see over the counter

He would find a bank to rob.

If he was a little bit faster

he would catch a Fish with his gob.

He is willing to do anything

He will do any chore or job.

He lives with his Grandmother

Nan the Pelican.

She has raised Phil since he was a

chick.

Because his Mother was poorly

and always sick.

She brushed against against a reed

and got bitten by a Tick.

So Phil and his Nan search the Web

Looking for a suitable position.

Phil looks at the vacancies

and comes to a decision.

He thinks he would be a good baby

sitter.

And so he applies for the job.

And to his astonishment

he gets the job.

He waddles off to work

even though he isn’t a Duck.

He knocks on the door of his new

employer.

Mr and Mrs Schmuck.

The Schmucks are desperate for

a sitter.

For their daughter Lucy

who is three months old.

The Schmucks go off to a party

Leaving Phil and Lucy to themselves

Lucy is restless and she starts to cry.

Phil is frantic he doesn’t know what

to do.

He picks up Lucy and puts her in his bill

thinking to use it like a bouncer

It does the trick and Lucy falls to sleep

But in all the excitement Phils bill slams

shut.

And Lucy is like a pearl in a clam

Jesus Phil is thinking that wasn’t part of

the plan.

Phil manages to open up his bill

And Lucy is a funny shade of Blue

Phil doesn’t know what to do.

 

He tries bill to mouth resuscitation

and thirty compresses.

Lucy starts coughing

and she looks at Phil

with a look that impresses.

Phil is thinking maybe he isn’t cut out

to be a baby sitter

But there is one thing about Phil.

and that is he aint no quitter.

So it is back to the drawing board

And he buys a suit that he cant really

afford.

Because nobody can like a Pelican.

Cause Phil is the main man

or Pelican.

His next job is as a landscape assistant.

He boss is mean and quite distant.

Phil does his best and uses his bill as a

wheelbarrow.

But he is hurting from his muscles to his

bone marrow.

He only lasts one day

The work is to heavy and physical.

His feathers are getting ruffled

And his next job is

searching for Truffles

Underneath the Oak trees

the Truffles wait to be dug up

But the usual digger upper er a

is a Pig.

Not a down on his luck Pelican.

Phil tries his best but his bill is to

long.

He cant quite get a handle on things

Truffles are worth a lot of money

just like diamond rings.

If he had a bill like a Heron

or a beak like a Sparrow

he would have been a good wheelbarrow

If he had a beak like a Budgiregar

or drove a fancy car

Or if his feathers didn’t get ruffled

He would have found those elusive

Truffles.

Good jobs are hard to find

and Phil the Pelican

is on the hunt again.

Maybe he can use his bill to open s

Sardine can.

Or he could build a house with an open plan.

Maybe he could be the next Prime  Minister

Or maybe something less sinister.

Phil the Pelican will do anything to earn a

dollar.

Wear a suit and a shirt with a collar

Or even wear a pair of shorts

and get a job on the ports.

Phil the Pelican is one proud Bird

Strutting around like a Peacock

His next job was on the loading dock.

Driving a fork lift is a tough job for a

Bird.

Trying to control the pedals with a huge pair

of webbed feet.

His huge bill hits the steering wheel.

Causing the tongs to come out of

alignment

And the contents on the pallet end up

on the floor.

Now Phil don’t work there no more.

Phil the Pelican goes back to his favourite

piece of water to contemplate his next move.

He needs to find a job where he can get into

the groove.

And he gets right down to the hub.

And he lands a job in a club.

He is Phil the Pelican the DJ man.

Playing all the RnB funk,soul and all

the classic sounds.

Watching the vinyl go round and round.

He loves being up on stage

watching the people shake their arses

Drinking beer and looking cool in his

cheap sunglasses.

After the gig walking down the street.

He has the whole world at his feet.

But Phil the Pelican doesn’t like to be out

at night.

He has a bit of bright light fright.

Too many people too many cars

So much smog that you cant see the Stars

or his scars.

Phil the Pelican has come to realise that

all that he wants.

And mark my words.

All he wants to be is a Bird.

Flying free doing as he pleases

Flying high drifting with the breezes.

Scanning the skies watching for Hawks.

He is glad to be away from all the hassles

and money talk.

He is a Bird and that is what he does best

He doesn’t have to pass a physical or IQ test.

He just flies and swims and does whatever

takes his fancy.

Thinking about his Bird

Big billed Nancy.

The waters of Lake Macquarie are good for

a Pelican.

He can spread his wings and he can take to

the sky.

Maybe dive down and catch a Fish.

Phil the Pelican is a Bird again

He got his wish

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Plastic Sweetheart

22 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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inflatable dolls

I look under my bed

where my sweetheart likes to sleep

She is laying there all quite

she doesn’t make a peep

She only comes out occasionally

maybe about three times a week

I give her a bit of a wash

and she shines like brand new

She doesn’t look like anybody

Or maybe just a bit like you

I took her shopping the other day

I got a lot of curious glances

Cause my baby squeaks  when she

walks.

She has an O for a mouth

So she cant really talk

We couldn’t get home quick enough

My sweetheart crawled under the bed

She looked really sad

and kind of deflated

The next day we decided to try again

We went to the beach

There was a good breeze blowing

and my sweetheart started to float

away

I tied her down with fishing line

so she didn’t stray.

And still she didn’t have anything to say

She started to squirm and squeak

looking lost and uncomfortable

She had sand in every crevice and crack

We left the beach

and we didn’t go back

We got back home

and we needn’t something to eat

I fed her with a spoon

but she was full

she didn’t have any room

The next day we thought we would

go to the Cinema

What could go wrong inside?

Just then I heard a whistling sound

My  baby was going down on me

And not in the way that you think

She looked at me disparingly

and she started to shrink

Jesus,get me out of here

I need a goddamn drink.

I tucked her under my arm

and made my way to my car

Blue lights flashing in my rear

view mirror

We didn’t get very far.

Mr Policeman knocks on my window

and asks me for my licence

He glances over at my girlfriend

Sitting there all quiet

looking a bit under the weather

And he says’Have I got a licence

for that?’

‘For what?’ I ask.

He said that if you want to own a

plastic sweetheart

You have to pay the price

He said that if I don’t pay

‘How long do you think your secret

will last.’

‘Word around here travels very fast.’

So I handed him $1oo

and we were on our way.

Mr Policeman looked at me

and said ‘Have a nice day.’

On our way home

I stopped to buy some skin tone

patches

We get home and I lock the door with

all three latches.

I don’t want to get interrupted.

My plastic sweetheart

just lays there on the floor.

All untidy and crumpled up

She needs some care a bit of air.

So I am pumping away

getting all sweaty and hot

Come on baby breath that air

so we can jump in the cot.

Nothing seems to be happening

My sweetheart is still deflated

My plastic sweetheart is overrated.

The next morning and the pump has

done its job.

My plastic sweetheart is all full of

life.

Foot loose and fancy free.

I am going to fill her with something

about 10cc.

This cant go on

people are starting to talk

They are saying that my sweetheart

isn’t real.

That she is a fake.

And that she is only after one thing.

And that one thing is a wedding ring.

Come now I am not crazy

I know that after a few beers

I can get kind of hazy.

But I know the difference between

right and wrong.

I know the difference between plastic

and human flesh.

Is it love that I am feeling?

That is mighty debatable.

Cause you see.

My sweetheart is inflatable.

 

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Death Row Inmate #2309

20 Friday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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death row, old sparky

You mightn’t have heard my name

But I was in the news about a decade

ago.

They say that I committed a murder.

But I never did.

I sit here on death row

I am inmate #2309.

It is written on the front of my prison

issue uniform.

The brightest Orange that you have ever

seen.

I sit here all day and night

just  staring at the walls.

Thinking about outside this cell

Thinking about my wife

Thinking about my life.

There are thirty days,before they

fire up old sparky.

I will sizzle like a steak

Maybe boil like a Potato.

Fried or boiled

I will be dead either way.

 

My appeal is in motion

But I have been appealing for

years.

Maybe I am not very appealing.

Lawyer after lawyer.

They tell the same old story.

We need new fresh evidence.

To take before the judge.

I need an eye witness.

They say that they found my DNA.

I wasn’t there

I swear on my mothers grave.

I sit here all day and night

Thinking about the sunshine

Thinking about sex

Thinking about what comes next.

By the way,my name is Cletus.

Cletus Williams

I am a 33yr old black man

from Mississippi.

Wishing I was someplace else.

The murder happened in 2005

on March 1st.

A little girl named Carly Nom

was abducted and killed

just a block from my home.

They say that black don’t crack

that we all look the same.

I must have a lookalike out there

I wish he would come forward

So I don’t sit in the hot seat.

25 days to go before my execution

25 days to get my affairs in order

25 days,I got to ring my lawyer.

My lawyer says that she is trying

but things are moving slow

If there is any news

She will let me know

My life is hanging by a thread

I need that phone call

I sit all day and night

Now I am doing pushups

Thinking about that phone call

Thinking about Ma and Pa

Thinking about the blues

20 days to go

And my phone call is finally here

My lawyer tells me that there has been

a development.

And that she will keep in touch

Keep in touch!

I need more then touch

I need some action

My time is running short

Time is going so fast

only 10 more days before I am

strapped to old sparky.

I cant eat I cant sleep

Only 5 more days

My arrives in person

She is very optimistic

It seems that there is a family

secret

A secret my Ma has kept to

herself her whole life

Now I find out that I have a twin brother

A brother who was adopted out at birth

An identical twin brother

A twin with the same DNA.

My lawyer told me that they are

searching the birth records

But so they cant find any evidence

of his birth

All they have is my Ma’s word.

How could my Ma leave me sitting in

this cell.

For all of these years

When she knew that I was innocent

I sit here all day and night

watching the news on TV.

Thinking that maybe they will air my story

Thinking about well thinking

thinking about all kinds of things

Thinking about old sparky

Maybe there will be a blackout.

The night before my execution

I am given my last meal

Chicken and rice and some juice.

A Priest arrives and says some words

that I don’t really hear.

The next morning at 6am

A couple of guards come to escort me

to the execution room.

I get off my bed

Have my last look at my cell

The guards grab my arms and

lead me down

Down the corridor of pain

The corridor of shame.

The execution is painted a dull Green.

It is funny the things that you think about

The tears are running down my face

Urine running down my legs

Where is my Ma?

Where is my lawyer?

They strap that funny metal cap on to

my head.

Maybe there will be a short circuit

Maybe they have converted to gas.

The phone rings in the next room

The Warden has the phone to his ear

A funny look comes across his face

Is that look good or bad?

It must have been good

Because I am unstrapped.

From that chair

I am led back to my cell

Where I need time to myself

And a change of underwear.

It turns out that they finally have

located my twin brother.

Unfortunately,there has been

another murder.

My is caught at the scene.

The DNA is a match.

I am finally released

The Govenor has given me a pardon.

I am sitting at the bus stop

waiting for my ride home.

Thinking about my future

will I get a job.

Will I meet a girl and get married.

Thinking about all of those wasted

years.

Thinking about

Well you don’t want to know what I

am thinking about

I am free.

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Creepy Movie

17 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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beer, scary movies

Ah yes,this is the life

laying back having a few beers.

I am about to watch a movie.

As my friends will tell you

I am not exactly a movie fanatic

I might watch one or two a year.

Okay time to get started

time to get my arse into gear.

I got to the fridge to get a fresh brew.

Then I sit in my chair,and press play.

The movie I am about to watch

Is a creepy movie.

Straight away I am starting to get nervous

a bit apprehensive.

Beads of sweat dot my forehead.

My nerves are somewhat sensitive.

The first victim falls to the ground

The head goes one way

The body the other.

I give a little jump

and said something like ‘sweet mother.’

I cant believe that much blood can come

out of one person.

The blood fills the screen

The blood fills my mind.

I will have a few more beers

It will give me something to hide

behind.

After about an hour

I pick up the remote,and hit pause.

Not that I am scared or anything.

Just well,just because.

I look at the TV screen

and all I can see is Red

Maybe it is time to finish my Beer

and head off to bed.

But no, I am watching a movie

and watch a movie I shall.

Victim number three or maybe five

lays splattered on the floor

I hope like hell that she survives

But going by all the blood and gore

I know that is wishful thinking

My bladder is full

My heart is sinking.

I go to the fridge for a refill

and settle in front of the screen

I hit play and victim six

is sliced,diced and ground.

I know one thing for sure

She is no longer around.

My bladder is bursting

I need some relief

I need to visit the bathroom

I need to go now

No more beers for me

Not for ten minutes,anyhow.

The tension is building

I am waiting for victim number seven

to appear

Here she comes right on cue

The Diceman is waiting

ready to slash and burn

Victim seven doesn’t have long to wait

It is now her turn.

Man this is really getting to me

all that suffering and pain

Yeah,I know it is just a movie

and none of it is real.

I know that I am a wuss bag.

But I cant help the way I feel.

Victim number eight is running late

The movie hits a flat spot.

It is time for a snack.

Some Vegemite on toast.

Now that really hits the mark

Now back to watching the movie

Sitting alone in the dark.

Victim number eight  acts like Paris

Hilton.

All wooden

About as sexy as a mannequin.

But the Paris lookalike try’s her best

But she is riding a wave

that will never crest.

My mind starts  to  wander

This movie is getting on my nerves

I have ben watching this crap for over

an hour

Which is fifty minutes more then it deserves.

But wait a minute

I think that the Diceman is looking my way.

He his looking past the camera

Past the TV screen

The Diceman is one nasty fiend.

I rub my eyes

And I have another look

The Diceman gives me a wink

and a little smirk

I think that the Diceman is sbout to go

to work.

Surely this isn’t real

He is just a movie bad guy.

But the Diceman looks me straight in

the eye.

And whispers my name

And I know that I am in the middle

of a deadly game.

I think Jesus these movies are really

getting interactive.

This getting to know the characters

is really going a bit overboard.

Am I about to feel the edge of a sword?

The Diceman looks at me with deadly

intentions.

I say,hold the phone ‘I have a couple of

questions.’

But the Diceman doesn’t have any answers

All he has is bad acting and a sword.

I am really getting worried

My scrotum heads towards my throat

I am in a boat

That doesn’t want to float.

But then I get some inspiration.

And I pick up the remote

and I press stop.

The Diceman disappears

along with all of my fears.

 

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Am I Late?

15 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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bullying, running late

I have never been on time

not once in my life.

I live in my own little world

Where time seems to move in

another dimension.

It all started on the day I was born.

I was three day’s overdue.

My mother was pushing and pushing.

I finally came out with a sound like

a whoopee cushion.

It was all noises and pains

I could have sworn.

That was the day I was born.

My first day going to school.

I get up on the Sunday morning

all excited.

Where is everybody?

Am I late?

No,you fool,you are one day early.

I finally get it right and get to the Bus

stop at 8.55.

That’s a pity,cause the bus left five

minute’s ago.

My body is fine.

But my mind is on ‘I don’t want to go

to school’ time.

When I was nine yrs old

I started to play Rugby League.

We played in black and gold.

The same colour’s as the Tiger’s.

We played our game at three

but I arrived at four.

I don’t play Rugby League no more.

I got to buy myself a watch.

Or maybe I can tell time by the Star’s.

Yeah right,maybe I can also live on Mar’s.

I don’t mean to be late

I alway’s want to be on time.

Just like the weather alway’s want’s to

be fine.

But it never seem’s to work out that way.

My first day at high school

And I am freaking like a freak.

My mouth is open

But I can not speak.

First lesson is at 9.00am

I roll up at five past.

I try to sneak in,maybe the

teacher want notice.

He noticed alright,he gave me

six hit’s of the cane.

Jesus,that hurt

I am a skinny little fellow

And I hated being hit by that piece

of willow.

Why couldn’t I be late for that?

For pain,i am on time

For fun,i am alway’s late

The other kid’s saw through all of

my ruse’s.

And in revenge,they gave me a whole

lot of pain and bruise’s.

Finally,my last day at school

I am all smile’s and high five’s

I got out of that fucking hell alive.

Sorry for getting off the subject

Which is,Am I Late?

But writing this brought back memorie’s

that I detest.

Maybe now,i can lay my school day,s to rest

After all that cruelty and humiliation

that they call education

I am ready to move on

My first day at work

Am I late?

Yes I am,but it wasn’t my fault

I read the bus timetable wrong

and I arrived a bit late

probably by about two hours

My boss wasn’t impressed

And he asked me ‘Cant you read a watch

or a clock?’

I said of course I could

‘Maybe you can suck my          ‘

So,anyway,at my new job interview

I am only fifteen minutes late

I told the interviewer,that I had

to wash my Cat.

He just pointed at the door

And that was that.

I was unemployed for a while

I had interview after interview

I was never on time

But I liked the sleep in’s

getting up in time for lunch

But I was running out of cash.

So anyway I met a girl,named

Yolanda.

She was really cute,with a face

like a Panda.

Things were getting hot and heavy

you know,in the bedroom

I was really going well

But then I had this feeling

‘Oh no’

For once in my life,i was early.

Yolanda wasn’t impressed

with my premature finish

And she kicked me out of bed

and I landed on my butt.

I got a bruise,and a nasty little cut.

So after a few girlfriends

I think I have finally found the one.

Her name is Samantha

She is tall and leggy

And she purrs like a Panther.

On our wedding day

I go to the wrong church

Am I late? Of course.

I finally find the right church

I am a little bit late

Only by about an hour and a half

Samantha isn’t impressed

She thinks for a while

And then she kicks me up and down

the church aisle.

Samantha is right footed

And she kicks like a mule.

She wont stand for any nonsense

She is nobody’s fool.

Why am I always late?

I cannot answer that question

I think there is a glitch in my system

I have a lot of ambition

But not much wisdom.

Well anyway,the wedding went ahead

pretty much on time.

only two hours late

Samantha gave me a look

Like she was a shark

And I was the bait.

That was ten years ago

Today is our anniversary

Sometimes we are friends

Sometimes I am her adversary.

We have three lovely kids

two girls and a boy

I missed every birth

I just cant be on time

I missed seeing my kids

take their first breath.

I cant turn back time

I am ashamed by my lack of

punctuality.

People have always told me that I

will be late for my own funeral

Well I hope they are right

That is the one time

When I will gladly be late.

Shit,whats the time?

I have a Doctors appointment

I should have been there an hour

ago.

Why do the hands on my watch move

so slow?

I hold it to my ear

I can hear the ticking

And ten years on and Samantha

is still kicking

I gotta go

I have to stop writing this story

Cause Samantha is the Shark

And I am the John Dory

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Fate

11 Wednesday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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fate

A Star fell from the Sky

and hit me on the head

I was seeing Star’s,haha.

My head was hurting,it like,bled.

A Train came off the track’s

as I was walking across

I guess that Train told me

who was boss.

I went to the beach

and there was a tidal wave

As I can not swim

I went to my grave.

My leg is hurting

I have a pinched nerve

I think I am getting

more then I deserve.

I went to a fancy restaurant

And ate a meal,with a trace of

nut’s.

As I am allergic

I spewed up my gut’s.

I went bushwalking

And I got bitten by a snake

I fell to the ground

I did not wake.

There are a million way’s to die.

It only take’s one,and you are dead.

Fate is going to grab you

and tell you that your time is up.

Maybe I am dreaming

And it is all in my head.

I went for a swim

And got eaten by a Great White.

It didn’t take much

Just one bite.

I went paint balling

and got hit really bad

Got a welt,got infected

I guess fate was calling

I went to work and I got

attacked by a rabid Chicken

It found my eye’s

And it just kept on picking

sticking,picking,sticking.

Fate,is like your final date

Do all you want to do

before it is to late.

Minute by minute

your time is ticking

But in the meantime

I am still alive and kicking.

I went for a bike ride

Down the Fearnley track

I came off,on a hard shoulder

Fate just looked at me

and said,told ya.

I just wish that fate

would give me a bit of a rest

I have had enough of the pain

I try to be tough

But I guess it aint enough.

I go skydiving

Well you can guess the rest

I land with a thud

I say to fate,thank’s a lot bud.

I go to the letterbox

to collect my mail

And I got stung by a Bee

I have a reaction

I can no longer see.

I go shopping

and get caught shoplifting

Fate is a gift

that keep’s on gifting.

Fate is a word,that I have come

to hate.

You cant escape it

You are caught in it’s web

Spiderbait.

Fate will sneak up behind you

and bite you on the arse

trying to get to the toilet

without a hallway pass.

I played a game of Cricket

The ball hit me in the knacker’s

now they look like

a couple of Jatz cracker’s.

I don’t want to leave the house

inside I am safe and sound

Surely fate cant find you

If you don’t want to be found.

I play a round of Golf

I am swinging

free and easy

I get struck by lightning

while standing

under a tree.

Sitting on an outdoor Dunny

Got bitten by a Red Back Spider

Got bit on the butt crack

By that nasty little Red Back.

In the hospital

recovering from the bite

Laying in my hospital bed

the overhead TV fall’s down

and hit’s me on the head.

It is a bright and sunny day

what could go wrong?

Went for a walk around the lake

Got attacked by a Black Swan.

Okay fate,you win

My hand’s are up,I surrender.

You have got the best of me

from January to December.

I walk around in wrap around sunglasse’s.

So fate cant see my face.

A hat hat complete’s the disguise.

So between me and fate

who will win the race.

Well we all know the answer

fate cant be defeated

You can try all you like

But fate,will not be unseated.

Fate is like a tube of Supa Glue.

He is gonna stick to me and you.

He want give up

he is who he is

I think the time has come

for me to finish this poem

Fate is calling.

He is calling me home.

Well that is all folk’s

Fate has whispered in my ear

He told me

That my time is near.

Well I back answered

And I told fate to fuck off.

He just smiled

and shrugged his shoulder’s.

He told me my life is over

It has unfolded.

I gave it one last effort

and I told Mr fate

that he is unwanted

Can you please just go away

and leave me alone.

He just stared

with a steely look in his eyes

It is time for me to say

my final goodbye’s.

I am still waiting for fate

to knock on my door

I don’t mind waiting

I can wait for year’s

But when he finally say’s

Steven,your time is up.

I will accept my fate.

You cant put your life on hold

Okay fate I will do as I am told

That is it,my time is over.

But could I tempt fate

could I be so bold?

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Fly Like A Beagle

08 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in stories, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

dog, superhero

Sally Jo was playing in her backyard

With her mother Tracey watching her.

Sally Jo knew that if she was a good girl

a new pet Dog was on the card’s.

So early on Saturday morning,Tracey drove Sally

Jo to the Dog pound.

Sally Jo was all excited,jumping up and down.

Hopefully they can find a likely looking hound.

Straight away Sally Jo saw the Dog that she wanted

It had a white spot on it’s forehead.

The Dog that she had spotted was a Beagle

Who was even more excited than Sally Jo.

Sally Jo sat on the ground,and the Beagle ran over

and licked her on the face.

Sally Jo knew that this was the Dog for her,and said

to her Mum ‘This is the one,let’s go’

The Beagle also saw the connection,and thought ‘What

are we waiting for,let’s go to your place.’

So Sally Jo and the Beagle finally arrive back at her house.

Sally Jo know’s that she has to give her new Dog a name.

The Beagle is kind and gentle,who wouldn’t hurt a fly,or

a mouse.

A name comes to Sally Jo,the name of her Grandaddy who

had passed over.

The name is Eddie.

It is way better then those common name’s like Prince or

Rover.

So Eddie it is.

Eddie settle’s in well,he has Sally Jo wrapped around his

little finger,or paw.

He is well fed,and has a bath every third day

Eddie love’s his new home,with a flap on the door.

Eddie hope’s that this time he can stay.

A few day’s later Sally Jo is playing in the sand pit.

Eddie is yapping and is trying to pull clothe’s off the

line.

Sally Jo is hoping that Eddie would quieten down a bit.

Eddie couldn’t care less,he is feeling mighty fine.

Eddie gave a sharp tug on a red beach towel.

It come’s loose and land’s on his neck.

A strange thing is happening,and Eddie let’s out a

howl.

The towel attaché’s it self to Eddie,and he is thinking

‘What the heck’

Eddie slowly stand’s upright,the towel is hanging like

a cape.

An SD appear’s on his chest,which stand’s for Super Dog.

Sally Jo stand’s there her mouth agape.

She falls to the ground,and slip’s into the fog.

Eddie looks around him,and he know’s that he is

now a superhero.

He lift’s up his hind leg’s and take’s to the sky.

He is airborne,and he wag’s his tail goodbye.

He doesn’t know where he is going.

Maybe he will look for a damsel in distress.

He is flying like a Eagle

No,make that a Beagle.

He soar’s above the Earth

his red cape in his slipstream.

Is he really flying

Or is it all just a dream.

Just then the Super Dog logo on his chest

start’s to flash and chime.

Super Dog has a job to do

And that job is to fight crime.

As he get’s lower to the ground,he see’s a couple

of shady character’s

down the end of a lane.

A third person is on the ground.in a whole lot of pain.

A bullet hole in his chest,leaking a lot of blood.

Some one better stop the leaking,before it turn’s into

a flood.

That someone is Super Dog.

He land’s between suspect one and suspect two.

And before they know it,he bang’s their head’s together.

And that is the end of Bill and Trevor.

He place’s his paw on the man on the floor.

And the bleeding immediately stop’s.

He hear’s a siren in the distance,and know’s that

someone has called the cop’s.

He doesn’t want to be seen.

Who would believe seeing a Dog in a cape.

Again his SD logo start’s to flash a signal

And by the sound of thing’s it look’s like a rape.

With his Super Dog power’s,he has a heightened

sense of touch,sight and smell.

Somewhere nearby a girl is going through hell.

With his nose leading the way,he fly’s to the scene

of the attack.

He come’s upon the perp

dressed all in black.

Super Dog reaches into his pocket and grab’s a

week old bone.

Sitting next to his lead and mobile phone.

He cock’s his arm and throw’s the bone like a

boomerang.

I guess that it is all over,

Cause the fat lady just sang

The victim is with the paramedic’s

The perp is with the cop’s.

Super Dog make’s good his escape

with a jump kick and a hop.

Super Dog has got an itch that need’s scratching.

And not only because of flea’s.

He just want’s to bring about justice.

And put the bad guy’s on their knee’s.

Once again his chest logo goes off,loud.

Burning a hole in his soul.

Somewhere nearby a little kid,is in a well

dug hole.

A cruel little man is holding the kid for ransom.

He has been in trouble all his life.

But the girl’s think that he is handsome.

He want’s one million dollar’s,and he want’s it by

five.

Or little Joey Pringle,will no longer be alive.

The Police are scrouring the area,knocking on door’s

and asking a lot of question’s.

They know that a lot of little kid’s go missing,too many

to mention.

They are getting desperate.

They are running out of time.

Their only hope is that the good Samaritan,who has been

helping them,can find the scene of the crime.

What they don’t know,is that their helper is souped up,

super sensed canine.

Once again Super Dog,takes to the skie’s.

Smelling for a scent,listening for a little boy’s cries

He comes across a farmhouse.on the outskirt’s of

town.

He thought he smelt something,thought he heard

a sound.

He sit’s down,put’s his left paw on the grass.

And then looks to the heaven’s for help.

Then he get’s all excited,and let’s out a little yelp.

Twenty feet away,and two feet underground.

A little boy lays in a box.

Super Dog run’s over,and start’s to dig like a demented

Fox.

A few second’s later,Joey is finally breathing fresh air.

He look’s up and see’s a Dog with a flashing symbol on

its chest.

But Joey doesn’t care,he just want’s to see his Mummy

and have a little rest.

Super Dog is exhausted.

Fighting crime,takes more out of you ,then you think.

He just wants to go home to his dinner,and have a drink.

He locates his home,and land’s not that far away.

He doesn’t want Sally Jo to see him as a Super Dog.

He is just Eddie the well loved stray.

Sally Jo see’s him coming,and let’s out a cry of surprise.

Eddie is crying also,he can feel is heartbeat rise.

Sally Jo and Eddie are reunited in the middle of the street.

Sally Jo gives him a cuddle,and his favourite treat.

Eddie drags the red cape,and puts in the back of his kennel.

Where Tracey grows Tomatoes and Fennel.

The logo on his chest is no longer visible

It has gone to silent mode.

Eddie is in his backyard,running around

barking and yapping.

Sally Jo is jumping up and down laughing and

clapping.

But Eddie knows that the happiness want last.

Sooner or later,he will catch up with his past.

Super Dog will reappear

And once again he will fight crime.

And deal with all the legal Eagles.

There is one thing that he loves to do

And that is,to

Fly like a Beagle.

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Doing My Blue’s Thang

05 Thursday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

dreaming, The blue's

I am a skinny white boy who loves to sing

the Blue’s.

I slide across the stage in my not so Blue

suede shoe’s.

I plug in my guitar,and play the best that

I can.

I am the real deal,im your Hoochie Coochie

man.

I am on tour right now,maybe I am coming to

your town.

Come and hear me play,and hear my stripped

back sound.

If I play to fast I am going to break a string

I just want to lay back.

Doing my Blue’s thang

I lay down a fat back beat.

My back’s me up a treat.

The spotlight hit’s my face,my heart start’s

to race.

The sweat make’s my shirt stick to my back.

But I don’t care,cause I am in the middle of a six

string guitar attack.

Backstage after the show,the dressing room is

full of hanger on’s.

And groupie’s who want to party

they don’t care about the song’s.

If I play to slow

people will say ‘What happened to the rock’

But I don’t care,fast or slow.

I just want to sing.

Just doing my blue’s thang.

I live for the music.

It is embedded in my Brain.

I dream about tab’s and chord’s

AT breakfast,i write out the word’s.

After my second cup of coffee

I have finished a song.

I ring up my producer,and book

some studio time.

I just want to lay it down while it is

fresh in my mind.

The producer is late,and that is one thing

that I hate.

Time is money,and we are talking about

my money.

It doesn’t grow on tree’s,so mister be on

time,please.

The seession’s go well,everybody is in

top form.

The wall’s of the studio are bouncing with

the echo of our sound.

The thought’s in my head go round and

round.

I want to play my music forever.

I don’t want to have a normal job.

Working 6 to 2.30 is not for me.

I want to live my rock n roll fantasy.

All I want to do is play and sing.

Plug in my Strat,and do some guitar

hero move’s.

On stage playing some funky groove’s.

So come out and hear me sing

Just doing my Blue’s thang.

Playing out on the road is tough.

There are plenty of trap’s and pitfall’s

Drunkin’ idiot’s and their catcall’s

I block it out I don’t hear a thing

Just doing my blue’s thang.

The Blue’s are all about being down

and out.

With not enough money to go around

Not enough food on the table.

All your clothes are hand me downs.

You just live from week to week.

But the Blue’s is also about being proud

of  who you are.

Laying on your bed,reaching for the star’s.

Knowing that if you are feeling down,just

remember there is alway’s someone lower.

So look people right in the eye.

Don’t look at the ground.

So alway’s dream your dream’s.

Sing your song’s,play your guitar.

Act in a play,paint like Picasso.

Just get out there,and give it a go

So if you are feeling down in a funk

Feeling a little blue

If you need a bit of a lift.

If you want to go back to being the old

happy you.

Come out and hear me play and sing.

I am just doing my Blue’s thang.

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Was That Elvis?

03 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

elvis, Parkes

Is that who I think it is?

The sideburn’s,sequin suit,black hair

and a need to visit Jenny Craig

Sort of give him away.

As one of his song’s goes

I did it ‘My Way’

My Aunty Hazel,is riding on the Elvis train.

She ride’s the train every year,in Parke’s

NSW on the Western Plain’s.

Where there are plenty of cheer’s

and quite a few tear’s.

 

This year the Elvis festival is celebrating Elvis

80th birthday.

If Elvis was still alive,he would be rocking in a

wheelchair.

Where his ‘Blue Suede Shoe’s’ would never hit

the ground.

His hair would be a Silvery Grey.

He is in his favourite shape.

Which is round.

Elvis in his hey day was up there with the best.

In fact he was the King.

He played all around the United State’s with

very little rest.

People would travel for miles to watch him

gyrate and to hear him sing.

My Aunty Hazel booked into the ‘Heartbreak

Hotel’,which is just down the road from The

Bridge Over Troubled Water’

Then she went to get a room.

The Clerk said That’s Alright Now Mama’,and

handed her a key.

The place was full of nostalgic daughter’s.

Parkes is jumping,what a sight to see.

Elvis was managed by a Colonel,no not

Colonel Sander’s,Colonel Parker.

The colonel had a bit of a shady past,and

a ‘Wooden Heart.’

He moved with the like’s of Bonnie and Clyde

and Ma Barker.

My Aunty Hazel walked into the local.

Where the jukebox was blasting ‘Jailhouse Rock.’

She sat in a corner booth and had herself a soft

drink.

She had Ione eye on the local band,and the other

eye on the clock.

She had an early start.

 

Just then she felt someone tap her on the

shoulder.

A guy asked ‘Are You Lonesome Tonight’

While Aunty Hazel was flattered,she pointed

at her wedding ring.

The guy said ‘Don’t Be Cruel’,I can be your ‘Hound Dog

Aunty Hazel said your love don’t mean a thing.

Was that Elvis?

Who just walked past

Was that Elvis?

A blast from the past

Was that Elvis?

On the other side of the street?

Was that Elvis?

A person I would love to meet.

As we all know Elvis had his demon’s.

He took way to many pill’s.

He loved to eat Peanut Butter and Banana

sandwich’s.

He was mismanaged and he was surrounded

by a bunch of yes men.

Elvis I am sorry to say,took a lot of spill’s.

Just near my Aunty Hazel,a young couple sat

at a corner table.

The guy is thinking ‘It’s Now Or Never’.

He want’s a ‘Little Less Conversation’,and A

little more action.

The girl is thinking,come on baby,’Love Me Tender.

It was a mutual attraction.

Was that Elvis?

On the back of the train

Was that Elvis?

At the end of the lane.

Was that Elvis?

At the edge of the stage.

Was that Elvis?

You cant turn back the page.

My Aunty is a great Elvis fan,and has been

for most of her life.

Million’s of people around the world think

the same.

A lot of his female fan’s would gladly be his

wife.

The hair on the back of your neck stand’s up

When they hear Elvis name.

As we all know Elvis died in 1977.

On the wing’s of a White Dove he flew off to

heaven.

But his legacy live’s on.

His life is celebrated the world over.

From London to New York.

From Gosford to Dover.

Whenever you are feeling sad.

Just play some of your favourite Elvis tune’s

The music will lift you and fix any old wound.

It will take you to a happy place.

And put a smile on your dial.

Elvis no longer walk’s this Earth

and he hasn’t for a long time.

But you know his music live’s on

So everything is fine.

Elvis has left the building.

This story is dedicated to my favourite Aunty

My Aunty Hazel.

 

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