unless its got to do with
my overheating personage,
I don’t really give a shit
about making up lovely little
heart felt poems.
Oh, and unless there is
a solution,
to the massive overheating
which I’m pretty sure I could
fry a fucken egg on;
I don’t give a shit
about poetry right now.
kpm ©
embracing the weeds.
turns out,
they’re healing.
and edible.
kpm©
Stop
worrying.
Now.
No.
Just
stop.
kpm©
I have a blogging friend.
Her name is Kara.
She’s a bit stubborn.
She’s one hell of a machine too!
And she loves …
Pickles.
Yep. Thats right.
Pickles.
Now my friend has a few things ‘happening’.
And she could do with some pickles right now.
And I thought I might package some of our NZ pickles up and send her some.
However, due to the recent immigration ‘restrictions’, I wasn’t sure if those little beauties would actually make it over the border:
And it would seem the only pickles welcome are those in this sandwich!
Oh and in a McDs burger:
So my alternate solution was going to be to send Kara some nice pickle related paraphernalia … like theses:
But found that these would probably not make it over the boarder either … as they are ‘alt-solutions’ and these aren’t welcome … just ‘alt-facts’.
But not to be deterred!
It would seem blogging hasn’t been completely censored yet …
A – Hah, I thought … Why not ‘send’ Kara a beautiful little post, reminding her that she is deeply admired; that her ‘comments’ and virtual friendship are also deeply appreciated … and that if she doesn’t meet her ‘obligations’ … I shalt virtually kick her ass ;)
So Kara, This last pickle Accolade is Just For You :)
Please get better-er soon :)
And for everyone else:
Check out the quick witt of Ms Kara @
“POLISHING DOOKIE
Making the best of the sh*t I’ve got”
& here we go again.
just like a cheesy line from a cheesy fucken song.
great.
kpm ©
wail. like you feel it.
like you want them to feel it too.
kpm ©
ode to the undies
that have held
everything
in place ~
that have comforted
and hugged
the ass cheeks
on a long winters night ~
that have been the forever
faithfuls
the ‘go toos’
the reliables.
May you rest in peace,
albeit,
pieces.
They are to be
cremated …
this evening
sigh.
_______________________________________________
kpm ©
being
.
just being.
its not as easy as it sounds.
kpm ©
Our old house:
our first beach house.
There lived an old
power meter box.
Lovely old thing.
Full of character,
and cobwebs.
At night you could hear
It tick over.
And gently hum,
as it racked up the dollars.
But I’m going to miss it;
Miss it’s ticking and humming.
They don’t make them like this
anymore.
And tend to rip out these and replace
them with those over-rated
digital fuckers.
But I prefer these.
Old and glorious models.
kpm ©
kpm© : me & pts (d) 