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Monthly Archives: March 2015

Olaf The Caveman

31 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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cavemen

Olaf the caveman is sitting in his man cave

Shivering and shaking

He was really feeling the cold.

He has been eating nothing but ground up

insects and grubs.

Since the day he was born.

What he wouldn’t do for some hot Chicken

Beans and Corn.

Hot Chicken Beans and Corn.

It is a legend that has been spoken about for

years on the grapevine.

Another clan that live on the other side of the

old world.

Near a peat bog mire.

Say all that you need is something that they call

fire.

Olaf sits in his cave still freezing off his butt

He is sharpening his flint bladed axe.

He isn’t concentrating and he gives himself a

nasty cut.

He throws the axe into the axe bucket

That cut stings fuck it

But flint on flint sure does leave a mark

It creates something that is called a spark.

Olaf the caveman jumps up from his fur

covered stool.

All that reaction from throwing his tool.

Now Olaf the caveman isn’t all that smart

But he also is no dummy.

He grabs two of his axes and a handful of

straw.

He rubs the two axes together

There are a few sparks and something more

Smoke and then a few little flames of fire slowly

take hold.

Now Olaf the caveman isn’t so cold.

Olaf goes go’s out in the snow to collect

some fire wood.

He carries a big load as much as he could

Wet wood doesn’t burn all that well

Olaf soon learns that much.

And he stacks the wood in the corner

near the kitchen hutch.

Life is finally looking up

the cave is warm and cosy

But the downside is that the

neighbours are getting nosy

They want to know who is the bright spark

And how is your cave lit up after dark.

Olaf ignores the neighbours and just concentrates

on his life.

It is time to settle down and find himself a wife.

So he picks up his club and go’s out on his quest

He has his eye on a local girl

you can forget the rest.

Her name is Wild flower

And just like the flower she is wild and free.

Olaf is smitten

Wild flower is good looking and great company.

To make it official Olaf gives Wildflower a love

tap with his club.

Even though it didn’t really hurt

she gives the spot a rub.

Olaf decides to come clean with the neighbours

And he invites them to his cave

He tells them to sit still be quiet and don’t

misbehave.

Olaf rubs two pieces of flint together

and the sparks begin to fly

and the smoke reaches for the sky

His guests just sit there

their eyes filled with wonder

Outside is the sound of thunder.

The storm cant dampen the spirits of the

cave clan.

They have seen the fire

they have felt its heat.

Now they can finally eat some cooked meat

Olaf go’s hunting early the next day

With his spear,axe and bow and arrow

And Wine in a vessel made of clay.

He is hunting Wooly Mammoth.Caribou

Bison or even a Wild Turkey or two.

But what he takes home is a half dozen

Rabbits.

He couldn’t aim properly.

He went to that vessel one time to many

Either drinking or spending a penny.

But when he gets back home the clan is happy

to have meat to cook

They gather around the fire to get another look

They still cant believe the heat coming from

the flames.

They will be warm when they are hit by the

summer rains.

Olaf is in a happy mood and he go’s back to

his cave.

And he gives Wildflower a tap from a different

club.

And straight away she is with a bub.

To celebrate the union Olaf go’s off hunting

and the spears Caribou.

The clan is happy that Olafs aim has improved.

And they have a huge feast of meat.

They eat it with Potatoes Beans and Beet’s.

Nine months later and Wild flower and Olaf are in

the birth room

Wild flower is about to deliver a Baby

The Baby is to be born on the first day of the

new moon.

That is a lucky sign the Baby is born with a silver

spoon.

Everything is going to be fine.

And fine iot is.

Wildflower has given Olaf his first son

The boy is named Hansel.

He sleeps most of the time and is real gentle

Olaf still hasn’t had a meal of Chicken Beans and Corn

But all he cares about is the health of his first born.

Olaf Wildflower and now little Hansel

just live from day to day

Hunting eating and staying out of the cold

With little Hansel doing what he is told

Most of the time anyway.

Fire has made life a lot easier

The clan live a life of peace and quiet.

But trouble is brewing an evil wind  is blowing

Well that is it I have got to get going.

Keep an eye out for the next instalment

Olaf the Caveman The peace is shattered.

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Is There A Conspiracy?

27 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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conspiracy

I went shopping the other day

to the local supermarket.

I bought a few things

and I made my way to the

checkouts.

I go to the express lane

12 items or less.

 

Well obviously the people in front

of me cant count.

The first person has 18 items

the second 15

and the third 16.

 

Finally it is my turn

The checkout girl says she has to

make change.

And change the receipt roll in the

register.

Jesus is it just me

Or is there a conspiracy.

 

After that I visit the bank

I am in luck

The queue is only half a mile long

About an hour later I am the third

person in line.

The person getting served is sure

taking her time

she and the teller are having a good

chat.

I really do enjoy waiting in lines

I have nothing better to do.

I am surprised there isn’t a robbery

That would be the icing on the cake

Finally it is my turn

The teller tells me she is out of money

She is waiting for more

Jesus is it just me

Or is there s conspiracy

 

I am driving home

and I get stopped for a RBT

The Cop says to blow into this

Of course I pass

I have been standing in line all day

Who has the time to drink?

 

I am on my way

Of  course all the traffic lights are red

The person in front of me is going 45 in

a 60 zone.

All I need now is a flat tyre

Or a Kangaroo to jump out in front of me

All I want to do is to go from A to B

not A to Z.

 

I look in my rearview mirror

and I see a car getting really close

A little to close for comfort

and he gives my bumper a little nudge

and I hit the car in front

Jesus is it just me

Or is there a conspiracy

After checking out the damage

and exchanging details with the

other drivers

I limp my car home.

 

Finally I am home

I can sit back and relax

Watch some TV  and have a few beers

maybe something a little stronger

While I think about the conspiracy

 

A couple of hours later

my blood pressure is back to normal

I am back to my old self

Then have come to realise

that there isn’t any conspiracy

It is just crap that happens to everybody

It is just part of living in a city

Shit happens

Don’t reach for a bottle or a pill

Just chill.

 

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The Thinking Pier

24 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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depression, suicide

I wrote this story a while ago

I wasn’t going to post it

but I have decided that it needs

to be read.

It is about depression

If you or anyone you know has

depression get help. I did.

 

I have found a favourite spot in the bush

About a 10 minute walk from my place

Where no one is around

Where no one can see my face

I call it the thinking pier

It is right on the edge of the lake

With me is my demon

I hope he doesn’t wake.

 

My demon lives in my head

And for most of the time he is asleep

But if I get a bad memory

thinking about the past

Then the demon awakens

I think he is here for keeps.

 

I call it the thinking pier

but only the stone foundations remain

I sit on the stone

and unleash the pain.

 

The pain in my head is a good friend of

the demons

I am hearing things

dreadful sounds I am receiving

Am I still breathing?

 

I sit on the thinking pier

and my tears begin to well

I do some more thinking

and my tear drops fell

 

Some flow into the waters of the lake

and join 10 trillion other tears

Tears of the downtrodden

that have flowed over the years

I sit there for a couple of hours or more

My mind goes back to the dark times

I think about the bad things

Then my mobile phone rings.

It is the demon calling

He tells me to do it.

Just slip into the water and float away

I don’t want to listen

but the demon has his way

 

When I hit the water

will I sink or float

Maybe I will be hit by the propeller of

a boat.

I make sure of things I should of worn

a heavy coat.

 

I sit on the thinking pier

Trying to block out the demons words

But they stick in my head

like the droppings from a thousand Birds

Man I hate those fucking words

 

It is getting dark

maybe I should head on home

But I wait a little longer

and then struggle my way through

the bush

If I get to close to the edge

maybe the demon will give me a push.

 

I sit on the thinking pier

listening to the water lap against the shore

Thinking that I really don’t want to be around

no more.

 

I grew up a loser

and I am still one now

No one wants to hang with me

I am always alone

Like I am right now.

I go for a walk around my suburb

I walk close to the edge of the road

Maybe I will step in front of a car

Is that a step too far?

 

You wont recognise me

I am nothing but road kill

It would be a bit gruesome

But also the ultimate thrill

 

I sit on the thinking pier

then I stand up

and I take off all of my clothes

I slip into the water

It is bloody cold

I just float

and let the tide take hold

I think about the Great White Shark

that is hanging around the lake.

 

Come on you motherfucker

With one bite bite me in half

then circle around and eat up the pieces

so that nothing remains

Then there is no more pain

 

I sit on the thinking pier

I am soaking wet

From my ugly head to my toes

Will I get through the dark times?

Well no one really knows

 

The demon starts to whisper

I wish I could close my ears

He whispers words

that I don’t want to hear

But then I start to listen

and I start to nod my head

And I start to agree with every word

that he said.

Piece of shit scumbag loser pretty boy

I have been called plenty of nasty names.

The really bad names I will not mention

The demon has planted the seed

Will I do the dirty deed?

That is the question

 

Some people think that I am gay

but I have never worn pink

But then again

I really couldn’t give a fuck

what people think.

 

But their words still cut deep

Maybe it is time

for the final sleep

 

I struggle through

just living day to day.

Wishing that the demon would just

stay away.

 

I might look happy on the outside

But inside I am hurting.

It sure has left a nasty impression.

This fucking depression.

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The Goat And The Pop Tart Princess

20 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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goats, Princess

A sad little Goat is sweating in the midday sun

Hasn’t her owner heard of the word shade

All of the Goats pain is man made.

 

Her chain is about six foot long

She can hardly reach her water bowl

If she was a Dog she would howl

If she was me she would scowl.

 

Meanwhile in a place not that far away

lives a Princess.

A Princess devoted to animals

If they are in her care they will survive

No more then that they will thrive.

She is Princess Tanya from Wilcannia

She lives in a house up Cessnock way

And caring and feeding her pets

takes a lot of her pay.

There is another thing about Princess

Tanya from Wilcannia.

The thing is Princess Tanya hasn’t got blood

in her veins

She has liquid sugar

She has a very sweet tooth cakes pastries soft

drinks and all sorts of lollies

But when she goes shopping Pop Tarts

fill her shopping trolley

It doesn’t matter what flavour

she will eat them by the box full

She will eat twenty a day

and that is no bull.

 

The Goat is still tied up

She is bleating an awful sound

Her cruel owner is never around

The water bowl is almost empty

The grass has been eaten down to the

ground

Once again the Goat bleats that awful

sound

 

The Goats owner is a cruel old man

Who doesn’t deserve to own a Goat

or even a Dog or a Cat.

not even a pet rock.

 

The Goat is getting frantic

as she tries to reach some grass

But she is one tough Goat

she is the top of the class

She gives her chain another tug

and the iron peg comes loose

And finally the Goat is free

she has escaped the noose

The Goat is happy but also sad

her long floppy ears cant quite hide

her tears

as she runs into the scrub

All she wants is a owner to love her

and give her belly a rub.

 

Princess Tanya from Wilcannia

is sitting in her lounge room

a Pop Tart in one hand

a cigarette in the other.

She is thinking about her  collection

of  animals

and she wants a new pet

she isn’t very fussy

she will take anything she can get.

Her eyes go to the front lawn

and she sees that it is need of a mow

She tried to start the mower yesterday

but she couldn’t get it to go

 

But then she thinks what she really needs

is a Goat or a Sheep

Then the grass could get a clipping

while she has a sleep.

 

The Goat is just roaming around

at least she has plenty to eat

But she is still unhappy

and a little unsteady on her feet

She is startled by a noise

and she takes off at a sprint

She doesn’t really know where she

is  going.

Then the peg on her chain gets

snagged on a root.

She is chained once again

and all she can do is bleat

so she turns her mouth to the sky

and she goes bleat bleat bleat bleat

With all of her might

This Goat wont go down without a fight

Meanwhile Princess Tanya

is laying around watching a movie

when she hears the sound of a Goat

A Goat in trouble

So she jumps to her feet on the double.

 

She races outside to find the source of the

sound

That Goat is frantic

It has to be found.

 

Once outside she realises that the sound

is coming from down near the creek

She races down there and she sees that

the Goat is laying down looking very weak

As she gets closer the Goat looks her right

in the eye

The Goat sighs with relief and lets out a

mournful sigh

 

Princess Tanya drops to her knees and releases

the Goat from the chain

The Goat is relieved to be free from the pain

Princess  Tanya walks towards home dropping

some crumbs behind her

looking back every now and then

To see if the Goat is following

The Goat gets the message and she struggles

to her feet

Then she starts to follow the stranger

She just knows that she is in no danger

 

Reaching home the Goat and the Princess

have already formed a bit of a bond.

The Goat has found a new home

The Princess has waved her magic wand

Princess Tanya names the Goat Gretel

She took a while to settle

but now she is part of the family

She fits right in place

You cant keep the smile from her face

Now the Goat and the Princess

are always together

When the Princess goes off to work

The Goat waits and frets

Will they be together forever?

You bet

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Dire Rear

17 Tuesday Mar 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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hot seat, out of your depth

I went to a football game the other day

I sat on the grass on the hill.

My favourite team won

they were in for the kill.

I am my thirteenth beer

some goes in my mouth

but most of it I spill.

My shirt is saturated

I feel like a bit of a dill.

 

Man this grass and dirt is really

uncomfortable.

my arse is completely numb.

I have to get out of here.

I have a dire rear.

I decide to take flying lessons

I will be in charge of a plane.

I feel like Steve Mc Queen or

maybe John Wayne.

The Instructor shows me what

controls to push.

But they all look the same

My mind is losing control

then it starts to rain.

I cant see a thing

the instructor takes the reins

if anything should happen

he is to blame haha

This pilot seat is like a slab

of concrete.

Get me out of here

I have a bad dire rear.

 

I think I would be a good race car

driver.

So I go to the track

All of me went that day

But part of me didn’t come back.

Things are going well

I am racing through the gears

Going really fast around the bends

This is easier then I thought

What was I worried about.

 

The steering wheel feels a little

funny.

Like a wheel has lost its balance.

The wheel hasn’t lost its balance

it is bouncing down the track.

My butt cheeks clench

I try to keep control

Just get me out of here

I have a bad dire rear.

 

Ok that didn’t go so well

maybe I should find something

a bit more mellow

I am going to become a fire fighting

fellow.

 

Naturally they put me in charge

of driving the truck

I pray to Jesus wish me luck.

 

A call comes in

a house is on fire

I slide down the pole and jump

into the drivers seat

I turn on the siren

I am out of here

But maybe I should wait for the other

fire fighters.

 

Ok we are all on board

I race to the scene at a hectic pace.

It brings back memories of when I

used to race.

The memories aren’t good

This will be better touch wood.

 

We arrive at the scene

I am going a little fast

I sort of clip the kerb

and demolish the fire hydrant

Water flies into the air.

But not where it is supposed to go

The house I am sorry to say is lost

This fire fighting seat is little to hot

Get me out of here

I am sorry to say

I have a bad dire rear.

I have always liked the water

So my next job

is the Captain of a cruise ship

I travel the world

going from city to city

I am in control of a ship the length

of three football fields.

It makes you stop and think

This ship is in control of Colonel Klink.

 

Coming into Newcastle harbour

just past Nobbys head

I sort of over steer

and run right into the pier.

People scatter

the whole wharf disappears

 

Whoops maybe I should stick to

automatic.

This Captains seat is a little to hot

to handle.

Just get me out of here

I have a bad dire rear.

I have come to realise that I have to

play it safe.

My next job will be sitting down

until I chafe.

 

So I apply to become an Astronaut

and to my surprise I am accepted

to the course.

Maybe they haven’t heard about my

last job

where I almost destroyed a city.

Somebody should have checked

that is a pity.

First day on the job

wearing an anti gravity suit

I pass the G force test.

that is a miracle right there

And I fly off to the stars.

I am sitting next to a Monkey

floating past the Milky Way

On my way to the control panel

my hand brushes against a lever.

The Monkey flies past

on his way to somewhere

And I just felt something land in

my underwear.

Please God get me out of here

I have a bad a really bad dire rear.

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The Head Honcho (In A Poncho)

13 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories, Uncategorized

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gangs, ponchos

Yeah I am the head honcho

and I do wear a poncho

You got a problem with that?

I didn’t think so

cause if you did

We would take a trip to San Francisco

a one way trip for you.

You would dig a hole

and then you would jump in it

Cause no one with any street sense

would ever talk about my dress sense.

Cause now you are in the shit

knee deep in the doo doo

another victim of the urban voodoo

Yes I know that wearing a poncho isn’t

exactly the latest style.

And it can get rather breezy.

Maybe I should wear it wear pants?

Only joking

I always wear the chinos in  shade of Green

They make me look menacing and kind of mean.

I drive around the streets in a bright purple Chevy

My tattoos tattooing

My gun primed and ready.

If anybody crosses me

I put them in the ground

They look to the sky

with a glassy eye stare

with a bullet in the head

they aint going anywhere.

I am the head honcho

looking pretty cool in my knee length

poncho

All the girls wish they could be mine.

But first lets backtrack a bit.

 

My name is Raul and I have lived on the

streets since I was six or seven.

Picking the pockets of the tourists

just trying to stay alive.

Eating food from the garbage can

just trying to survive.

I did what I had to do to get through

the night.

I learnt how to act tough

I learnt how to fight.

Shoplifting stealing stuff from cars.

Rolling drunks as they stumbled out

of the bars.

Anything for a dollar

just get me through the day

Some food in my stomach

and a place to stay.

The streets of LA  isn’t exactly the

yellow brick road.

If my pockets are empty

why am I carrying a heavy load.

I started to hang with a couple of other kids

you could call them bad

But at the same time they were the only

friends to be had.

They introduced me to a gang who lived

life on the edge.

They walked along the ledge

But somehow they never fell.

They must of dipped their toes in the

wishing well.

I was sixteen and I think the well has

run dry.

I am waiting for the sun to fall from the

sky.

The gang members tell me that I have to pass an

initiation test.

I have to show them who is best.

They say that I have to kill a rival gang member

who has been doing what he shouldn’t oughta

He has been messing with a members Daughter.

I am shitting bricks how am I going to do the deed

Maybe he will choke on a Avocado seed

I aint so lucky

I have been given a deadline of two days.

Sixteen years old and I have to commit a murder

They give me a choice of weapons

a gun or a knife.

Either way I am going to take a life.

Okay I am ready the target is in sight

He is walking on what he thinks is the

sunny side of the street.

The knife feels heavy in my hand as I

approach the unfortunate one.

On second thoughts

maybe I should of brought a gun.

But no a knife will have to do

It is to late to back out now.

I cross the street and I struggle with

my emotions.

Should I do it?

Or should I pike out.

Before I know it I have the knife in my hand.

With one thrust the blood starts to spray.

I am saturated his life is fading fast

Jesus I don’t know what to say

I just walk away.

The gang is happy I have passed the initiation

They are happy with the situation.

At sixteen I have taken a persons last breath

I don’t know what to say

I just get on with my day

The killing has elevated me to a new

level.

I am now the 3IC  of the gang.

People stand aside when I cross their path.

They don’t want to feel my knife

They don’t want to feel my wrath.

The second in charge is standing in my way

to the top.

So he will have to go.

His name is Billy Joe Hill.

I think he comes from the South.

He has a lazy eye and a wise ass mouth.

This killing will have to look like an accident.

So the current head honcho doesn’t become

wary.

Me and Billy Joe are on are way to Coney Island.

We go on the ferry.

We walk around all day doing a bit of this and a

bit of that.

Just filing in the day.

Billy Joe mouth is working  overtime.

He sure can talk a whole lot of nothing.

I still haven’t thought of a way to put him

on his way to hell.

Maybe push him under a Bus and say he fell.

But then Billy Joe comes up with the idea

for his own demise.

Billy Joe might be the second in charge

but he isn’t very wise.

He suggests we go into the Subway.

To smoke a little weed.

They will give me a chance to do the

dirty deed.

You see Trains run on electricity.

And the one thing you don’t touch is the

third rail.

Time to fry Billy Joe Hill.

I cant afford to fail.

Billy Joe is still jawing and he fails to see

the danger.

I give him a little nudge

He loses his balance and touches the rail

Sparks start to fly.

Billy Joe sure does fry.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

I explain to the Cops that Billy Joe was a bit

unsteady on his feet after smoking a lot of weed.

He didn’t believe that the third rail was dangerous.

He wanted to be Mr Courageous.

The Cops brought my story

and Billy Joes death was ruled death by

misadventure.

The head honcho(in a poncho)

The poncho that will soon be mine.

He said that it was a pity about Billy Joe.

But it was business as usual

He suspect a thing.

The head honcho comes from Mexico.

He is called El Cockaroacho.

Cause he is dirty mean and mighty unclean.

He has ruled the gang with an iron fist.

He has a Meth uses skin and teeth.

There is nothing good about the head honcho.

All except his poncho.

This time I don’t mess about.

I stick my knife between his ribs.

Things get quite messy.

He should have worn a bib.

He bleeds all over the poncho

that ex head honcho.

After a bit of a wash the poncho is as good

as new.

Except for the hole that my knife made.

But beggars cant be choosers.

that is only for losers.

So now I am the head honcho

I am the king of the castle.

The king of the streets of the East side.

If you see me coming

You better run and hide.

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The Squirrel Allergic To Nuts

09 Monday Mar 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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Tags

food allergies, squirrels

Stuart the Squirrel was laying in his bed.

He has a stomach cramp a big pain in his guts

He knows that he shouldn’t have done it

but he ate a handful of nuts

He knows that he is allergic to nuts

but he really likes the taste.

H has to race behind a tree

He has to do something more then a wee.

He is a Squirrel and his favourite food is nuts

What is he supposed to eat,grass.

well if you think that then you can kiss

Stuarts Squirrely little arse.

Well a Squirrel cant survive on just fresh air

He needs something to eat as long as it isn’t Dairy

or Meat.

On an adventure he sees a farmers field growing all

kind of things of many shapes and sizes.

He starts to dig and unearth what is called a Carrot.

He starts to chow down and he thinks ‘Het these things

are incredible.’

nice and sweet and really edible.

He eats about ten Carrots every day for about a month

He has noticed that his eyesight is better.

But there is a bad side effect.

He looks like he has applied a whole bottle of fake tan.

His friends are starting to call him Stuart the Orangutan.

Stuart the Squirrel is out walking the next day looking

for his next meal.

And he stumbles across a cabbage patch.

He thinks he can hear a Baby crying

A Stork is flying overhead.

But Stuart the Squirrel couldn’t care less

he just wants to be fed.

He chews into the Cabbage and the texture feels

real good on his tongue.

It brings back memories of when he was young.

When he used to squirrel away Nuts.

Now he cant eat them they give hell to his guts

He keeps on munching on the Cabbage not

knowing of the consequences.

Stuart feels a build up in his bowels that he has never

felt before.

Then lets loose a huge explosion of noxious gas.

Enough gas to power a city the size of Lahore.

Stuart is thinking maybe Carrots and Cabbage are

best eaten in moderation.

They sure do give you a pain in the guts

Stuart the Squirrel is sure missing his nuts.

Stuarts throat is dry he needs something to quench

his thirst.

Some water or maybe a glass of milk.

Then a lie down on sheets made of Silk.

But then a word comes to his mind and that word

is Lactose.

Stuart the Squirrel is Lactose intolerant.

Once again he visits that tree.

When he gets back he looks very weak

Just like his Aunties cups of tea.

They do nothing for you except make you

want to pee.

Stuart is wasting away to a shadow.

He cant find a food to eat that doesn’t have any

bad side effects.

Carrots Cabbage and Milk play havoc with his system.

He needs to find something that he can digest

He needs some words of wisdom.

So Stuart climbs to the top of a mountain and calls

out to the Squirrel God.

‘Please God give me a sign I don’t mean to complain and

whine.

‘But I am looking for a food that I can digest,so I can

give running to the tree a rest.’

Straightaway God gives his reply and a bolt of lightning

strikes from the sky.

And hits Stuart right in the nuts(isn’t that ironic).

Stuart lets out a startled squeak.

His fellas are red and burnt and a little fried.

Stuart the Squirrel is went home to his bed and cried.

The next morning Stuart is feeling better.

He has applied some lotion to the tender spot

He likes a little heat but nothing that hot.

Stuart gets out of bed in his house in the trees

His stomach is rumbling it needs some filling.

Stuart tries to ignore it he watches some TV

you know just chilling.

But the rumbling turns into a grumbling.

It wakes up the whole house.

Stuart is so desperate he would even eat a Mouse.

His Mother tells Stuart that he has to find his own tree

Make something with for life.

But first she tells him that he has to get his allergy

under control.

Find a food that your stomach can digest

Then love will take care of the rest.

Stuart wanders around the woods.

Thinking about food and where to get it.

Something like Nuts but without the reaction.

No stomach cramps  loose bowels and constipation.

He has had enough of those.

Stuart has a brain wave and off he goes.

Stuart has remembered a farmhouse that he visited

a while back.

He remembers seeing some Cereal in one of the rooms

around the back.

The Cereal was All Bran and he remembers that he liked

the smell of it.

But what about the taste will there be a reaction?

Stuart enters the house through the kitchen window

and he sees a box of  All Bran.

And he runs as fast as a Squirrel can.

He reaches in a paw and puts a few pieces of the Bran

into his mouth.

He waits then swallows.

He waits for a reaction but there isn’t any.

He waits a little longer his stomach is nice and

calm.

He really likes this place.

He could handle life on a farm.

Stuart the Squirrel now lives in the farmhouse

in the roof next to an Owl

He sneaks out at night and eats his fill his fill of

the Bran.

Keeping a wary eye out for the farmhouse man.

He is happy he has found a food that he can eat

Without any adverse affects.

Without running behind that tree.

He is now just a regular Squirrel having fun and

playing.

Cause nothing beats being regular.

You know what I am saying?

THE END

Thank you for taking the time to read one of my stories and if you have the means could you please make a donation to go towards my ambition to become a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

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Secret Agent Ma’am

06 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

CIA, female agents, London

You have read the books and seen all the movies

about the Secret Agent Man

James Bond,Jason Bourne and all the rest.

Well this is a story about the Secret Agent Ma’am.

A female agent named Agent Cynthia Chance.

Give her half a chance and she will take it.

Give her your heart and she will break it.

Cynthia grew up on a farm in the state of

Georgia.

Dreaming about life in the city.

She was sick of picking Peaches.

She is good with a gun

And she can ride a Horse with the best of them.

When Cynthia was ten years old she was sitting

at the kitchen table.

Dreaming about being a Secret Agent.

And eating her favourite meal which was

alphabet soup.

And that will come in handy when you think

about it.

You have the FBI CIA NSA DEA TFA and all

the rest.

Cynthia made sure that she got good grades

in school.

And that is what she did.

She got A in all subjects.

On to college and Cynthia is still dreaming her

dream.

Quantico Fort Meade fort Lauderdale.

She doesn’t care where she is posted

As long as she gets a post.

But first she has to finish college.

After college she applies to all of the

before mentioned three letter employers

And the CIA shows some interest.

Can she come in for an interview?

Well of course she can.

She wears her lucky outfit and her pumped

up shoes.

And she walks out of the door with a look of

confidence.

The interview starts on time

Cynthia is very nervous and she starts to sweat.

But she answers all of the questions.

And then her time is up.

Cynthia leaves the building she doesn’t know

what to expect.

She is told that she will receive an email in a

month.

Telling her if she has been successful or not.

Cynthia goes back to the farm.

Her parents are happy to see her back at home.

Cynthia helps around the farm but her mind is in

another space.

She boots up her laptop every hour on the hour.

waiting for that email.

On the 29th day her prayers are answered.

And Cynthia is offered a position at the CIA.

She flies off to Fort Meade and she is put through

her paces physically and mentally.

She is put to the test.

Cynthia passes with flying colours.

Nothing can keep that girl down.

She not only passed but she finished in

number one position.

It goes without saying but the male recruits

weren’t happy to being upstaged by a female.

But Cynthia doesn’t even notice she is just

getting on with her training.

All the running jumping gym work.

Plus all the time spent in the classroom.

It doesn’t leave much time for romance.

Cynthia knows that she has the goods

With bright Blue eyes and killer thighs

But all she wants is her first posting.

And she gets it.

Her first posting is to London,England.

A safe post for a rookie.

Her title says Cultural Attache.

But she really is a Spy.

Cynthia likes the outdoor Cafes when it isn’t

raining.

A month after her arrival in London she is enjoying a Latte

at her favourite Café.

Then there is an almighty bang.

And a double decker bus explodes in a fireball.

Body parts and debris rain down on the

bystanders.

Cynthia automatically goes into Spy mode.

And she spots a black Saab parked just up

the road.

With a couple of suspicious characters inside.

She draws her Beretta and approaches the car

from the rear.

The passenger suddenly aims a weapon out of the

window.

Cynthia goes tap tap and the rear window explodes and

both occupants disappear in a red mist.

All up there are 42 fatalities and 30 injured.

Cynthia has passed her first test and the bad guys are

down.

For at least one more day the streets of London are safe.

Cynthia the Secret Agent Ma’am is ready for whatever

happens next.

Move over Bond and Bourne.

Cynthia Chance is on the case.

Her mission.

To save the human race.

Keep an eye out for the next instalment.

Cynthia Chance in Second Chance.

Will you take the chance?

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Mother Nature RIP?

04 Wednesday Mar 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

global warming, mother nature

The old lady is sick

and she has been for years.

Her condition is getting worse.

Is her condition terminal?

Maybe not quite yet

But it want be long

and that is a safe bet.

We as Human Beings

have to wake up to ourselves

We are never happy with what

we have,

We always want more.

We buy a car,a sensible size is

not enough.

It has to be a gas guzzling four

wheel drive.

We buy a house and it has to  be

two stories with a pool.

We buy a takeaway meal and we

always upsize.

If we don’t watch out the Rainbows

will fall from the sky.

The old lady

shakes her head in anger

Will people never learn

Sooner or later the tide will turn.

A factory in downtown Paris

Is leaking toxins into the river Seine

All the Fish and Frogs all of the

animals living in that river.

Are killed outright or die a slow

painful death.

The water in that river is the water

that people drink.

Come on people stop and think.

The old lady

rolls over in her bed

she has a stomach ache

Time is running out

it is make or break.

The rainforests in Brazil are

being decimated at an alarming

rate.

Just so people can have wood chips

toothpicks and matches.

And all the rest.

Human Beings are the worlds number

one pest.

Come on people how are we going to

breathe.

If there aren’t any trees.

Who will pollenate the plants

if there are no honey bees.

It is enough to bring an old lady

to her knees.

Do you want her to say please?

The old lady

is the original Greenie

She is the keeper of all the Fauna

and Flora.

So come on get your hand off your

weenie.

You better not ignore her.

In Florida an introduced Python is

killing off all of the local wildlife.

So no more animal sounds are heard.

And of that you have Mother Natures

word.

In the western suburbs of Sydney

Another housing estate is in the

pipeline.

With the razing of all the trees and

shrubs.

Are the Koalas ,Possums and Birds

supposed to live on electrical poles

Come on people set higher goals.

The old lady

sits up in bed clutching her chest

The pain is getting stronger.

If the old lady dies

so does the planet.

In China the smog is so thick.

You cant two feet in front of you.

The colour of the sky is a nasty shade

of yellow and grey.

If they keep on going like that

Mother Nature will make them pay.

Another oil tanker has capsized in the

gulf spilling oil in the water 10 million

barrels or more.

Everything is covered in a greasy oily slick

It is enough to make you sick

Very sick

The old lady

Stares at the ceiling

she can no longer sit up

Her eyes are burning in a rage

We have come to the final page

There are no more second chances

The time to act is now.

Mother Nature has had enough

it is time for retaliation

A strike that will hit every nation.

Drought,floods,disease,tidal waves

tornados,cyclones.

She will unleash them all until we all

come to our senses.

If we don’t learn a lesson

Mother Nature will teach us a lesson

or two.

So everybody  on this planet in every country

and nation

We are all part of creation

So clean up your act.

Mother Nature is talking to every one

of us.

So rein in your greed

rein in your need.

Don’t live beyond your means.

You know that everybodies favourite

colour is Green.

The old  lady AKA Mother Nature

Her condition is stable.

But it could quickly go from bad to

worse.

And if that happens Mother Nature

will be mighty pissed.

And if we let that happen

We will cease to exist.

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You Are Like Playground Equipment

01 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

cricket, relationships

I was sitting in the park the other day

watching a game of Cricket.

A cheer went up, down go the wickets.

As a new batter strolls to the crease

my mind starts to wander.

And I have a look around

and something breaks the peace

I catch sight of some playground equipment.

They remind me of you

you know why.

We have had this argument before

about your mood swings.

Just like the swings in the playground

back and forth,to and fro

back and forth to and fro.

Just like when I open the door

and want you to go.

You start to walk out and come back again.

Like a swing back and forth to and fro.

Just open the door and go.

A shout goes up another batter is out.

He strolls away shaking his head.

He failed to score.

And out of the corner of my eye

I see a See Saw.

It goes up and down up and down

down and up down and up.

Just like when you have been drinking from

the Devils cup.

When you are up you reach dizzy heights.

And you are a good person to be with.

But when you are down

You drift down to the depths

It really gets to me.

And saps all of my strength.

You are like playground equipment

You say you are going to change

but you lack commitment.

Our love is like broken rusty

playground equipment.

Another batter comes and goes

he is out leg before wicket.

But I cant concentrate on this game

of Cricket.

My eyes drift back to the playground

equipment.

I think of you reaching for the stars

Just like the kid playing on the monkey bars

But just like always you don’t reach up

You always look down

and you lose your grip

and you land heavily on your hip.

Just brush yourself off and climb back up

Just get a better grip on the bars

get a better grip on reality.

One day I hope that you do reach your star.

And that you land on your feet.

You are like playground equipment

sitting in the park all alone

Waiting for someone to come out and play.

Sometimes you can wait all day

You are like playground equipment.

A cheer goes up another batter walks to

the crease

I am thinking how quiet it is

I have finally found some peace.

I am thinking about you

about you talking no sense

giving me all kinds of lip.

Then my eyes look at the slippery dip.

How you just slide on down

and land on the ground.

I just think come on baby

just grab hold of the rungs

and climb up the ladder.

But I guess all the songs have been sung

and you go from sad to sadder.

You are like playground equipment

sitting all day in the rain

A little bit under the weather

Always in a predicament.

You are like playground equipment.

The last batter walks onto the field.

They need two runs to win.

This is the last game of the season.

The ball flys through the air

and the stumps are broken.

As the players leave the playing arena

My eyes are once again drawn towards

the goddamn playground equipment.

I walk towards them

thinking about my favourite girl

and her lovely sounds

My eyes are drawn to

the Merry go round.

I climb onboard

as it goes round and round

The thoughts in my head are also

going round and round.

I sit on the horse

thinking about your favourite perfume

Yeah you are a bit moody

but who isn’t?

You say things that you don’t really mean

But who doesn’t?

Then my nostrils start to twitchThat scratch starts to itch

I know that smell

I have scratched that scratch.

As the Merry go round goes around

I see you standing there.

And what is that on your  face?

Is it a smile?

I hold out my hand and you climb aboard

We start to chat like lovers under the covers

And I have come to realise that things aren’t

all that bad.

And if I open up my mind

there is fun to be had.

You are like playground equipment

sparkling in the Sun.

waiting to have some fun.

You want to try and change

and show some commitment.

You are just like a piece of shiny

playground equipment.

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