Ten foot c*ck and a few hundred virgins

by Tim Minchin

("If you're a religious person, you might want to pop out for about five minutes...")

So you're gonna live in Paradise,
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins.
So you're gonna live in Paradise,
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a ride on a UFO,
And when the Lord comes down
in his shimmering chariot of salvation,
You're gonna be the first to know.

And so if...
God was there from the very beginning
He invented men and women,
Then He also invented wanking,
Then He said wanking was sinning.
So if I'm feeling randy
I'm not allowed to hand-shandy,
But having sex with my family,
That is just fucking great.

It's all there in Ezekial 8,
Just before He opens up His big Pearly Gate,
And says that it's a sin
To take it up the date,
Even if it's great,
Even with your cowboy mate.

So you're gonna live in Paradise,
With a ten-foot cock and few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a shot at the greener grass,
And when the Lord comes down
With his shiny rod of judgement,
He's gonna kick my heathen arse.

So if you...
Cover the bodies of your women
Everybody is grinning,
Because black is so slimming,
Though it's not great for swimming.
But it gives you an erection,
With the increased sexual tension,
What with the U.V. protection
That is second to none.

You'll find it all in the Qur'an
Just next to the bit that justifies guns,
And says that it's a sin
To take it up the bum,
Even if it's fun,
Even with permission from your mum.

Oh, so you're gonna live in Paradise
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a shot at eternity,
And when the Lord comes down
And I haven't done my penance,
He's gonna disembowel me. Ohhh...

You say that...
If I...
Stumbled on a watch I'd assume it had a watchmaker,
That a muffin presupposes a baker,
So you must agree sooner or later,
That this proves that there's a creator.
So if I put my foot in a stinker,
You'd assume the existence of a sphincter,
Thus you don't need to be a great thinker
To conclude that God's a bum,
Which negates the words of Genesis 1.

Which made Him out to be so much fun,
Until Adam succumbed
To temptation,
And then His only son
Got nailed to a gum,
Or the Middle-Eastern equivalent,
Which suggests that God's omniscience
Is nullified by His ambivilance,
Unless it turns out that He's impotent.

And if God can't get a boner,
I guess that explains the plethora
Of huge erections in His honour -
Because we all know a steeple's just a subconscious
compensatory manifestation of a huge stiff penis -
Still He tells us that it's heinous
To stick a penis up your anus,
Even if you're famous,
Even if you're good at tennis.

So you're gonna live in Paradise
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a ride on a UFO,
And when the Lord comes down with 
his big stiff slippery, rod of justice,
I'm gonna be the first to go,
He's gonna send me down below,
He's gonna whip me like a 'ho,
Do you really think so?
I'm gonna be the first to go.

Bloody men

Bloody men are like bloody buses -
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.

You look at them flashing their indicators
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.

If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars, the taxis and the lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.

by Wendy Cope

© Australian Doctor

Dietes grandiflora

Dietes grandiflora © Jennifer Phillips

Puzzle pieces

It's done, finished.

The pieces pieced, 

piece by piece

back together.

But I've missed a piece, 

because you were

my completeness.

It may be complete, 

but my heart is missing

the piece where

you fit, 

you fitted, 

and now I don't fit

my life.

© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)

Puzzle © Ricevi Kabbalah Blog

Not too late

Tell me how you've been,

Tell what you've seen,

Tell me that you'd like to see me too.

'cause my heart is full of no blood,

My cup is full of no love,

Couldn't take another sip even if I wanted.

But it's not too late,

Not too late for love.

My lungs are out of air,

Yours are holding smoke,

And it's been like that now for so long.

I've seen people try to change,

And I know it isn't easy,

But nothin' worth the time ever really is.

And it's not too late,

It's not too late for love,

For love,

For love,

For love.

by Norah Jones

Norah Jones

Passionfruit flower

In the garden...passionfruit flower © Jennifer Phillips

The Gnu song

A year ago, last Thursday

I was strolling in the zoo

when I met a man who though he knew the lot.

He was laying down the law about the habits of baboons 

And how many spines a porcupine has got.

So I asked him:

"What's that creature there?"

He answered, "Oh, it's a h'Elk"

I might of gone on thinking that was true 

If the animal in question hadn't put that chap to shame

And remarked, "I h'aint a h'Elk, I'm a Gnu"

"I'm a Gnu

I'm a Gnu

The g-nicest work of g-nature in the zoo

I'm a Gnu

How do you do

You really ought to k-now w-ho's w-ho

I'm a Gnu

Spelt G-N-U

I'm g-not a Camel or a Kangaroo

So let me introduce 

I'm g-neither man or moose

Oh g-no g-no g-no I'm a Gnu"

I had taken furnished lodgings down at Rustington-on-Sea

Whence I travelled on to Ashton-under-Lyne it was actually

And the second night I stayed there I was wakened from a dream

That I'll tell you all about some other time

Among the hunting trophies on the wall above my bed

Stuffed and mounted, was a face I thought I knew;

A Bison? No, it's not a Bison. 

An Okapi? Unlikely, Really. Could it be a Hartebeest?

When I though I heard a voice...

"I'm a Gnu

I'm a Gnu

A g-nother gnu

I wish I could g-nash my teeth at you 

I'm a Gnu

How do you do

You really ought to k-now w-ho's w-ho

I'm a Gnu

Spelt G-N-U

Call me Bison or Okapi and I'll sue

G-nor am I the least like that dreadful Hartebeest,

Oh, g-no, g-no, g-no, 

G-no g-no g-no, I'm a Gnu

G-no g-no g-no, I'm a Gnu"

by Michael Flanders / Donald Swann 1960

If you open your mind too much, your brain will fall out (Take my wife)

by Tim Minchin

If anyone can show me one example in the history of the world of a single
Psychic who has been able to prove under reasonable experimental conditions 
that they are able to read minds...

And if anyone can show me one example in the history of the world of a single
Astrologer who has been able to prove under reasonable experimental conditions 
that they can predict future human events by interpreting celestial signs...

And if anyone can show me one example in the history of the world of a single
Homeopathic practitioner who has been able to prove under reasonable experimental conditions 
that solutions made up of infinitely tiny particles of good stuff dissolved repeatedly into relatively huge quantities of water have a consistently higher medicinal value than a similarly administered placebo...

And if anyone can show me one example in the history of the world of a single
Spiritual person who has been able to prove either empirically or logically the existence of a higher power that has any consciousness or interest in the human race or ability to punish or reward humans for their moral choices or that there is any reason - other than fear - to believe in any version of an afterlife...

I will give you my piano,
One of my legs,
And my wife!

It is because you are

No, not a temptress

I met at some  smoke filled hovel -

But you,

with whom I swooned

at the full blown moon

...with whom I presupposed

that the plum was a rose -

with whom I slept

and with whom I rose

  

Therefore, you must know

there cannot be

much forgiveness

for this -

So watch me turn :

(I have been  practicing this for a while now)

this holding of my head  up high -

 this stamping of my foot

         and walking away.

by Omukuvah Otido

Rose © Jennifer Phillips

Underneath a red moon

by N'dea Davenport 

Blocked

The phone occupies a small corner of my bed - 

yet you occupy all the corners in my head.

I lie awake, wait for your call - 

reduced to apathy, is this all?

Another waking dream, so real, so true - 

all I can dream of is you, is you.

I cannot go forward, cannot go back - 

I should give up on you, go and pack.

Instead I lie in wait, for what?

I ache to give us one last shot.

If you don't call - 

I think I'll bawl.

© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)

(Written a for Poets of G+ competition based on photo provided for prompt below)

Chemical restraint

He lies there - bony,

wasted - a shell of himself.

Confined in his shell -

a prison not of his making..

His listless eyes stare, hung in their sockets.

Chemical restraint was easier

for them, for the staff, 

as he became anxious

in his slow descent into Hell:

Alzheimer's then Dementia.

These strange arms, these people

pulling at him - his clothes, his arms..

He's trying to fight them off -

not understanding. 

They're trying to shower him

For convenience...

without constraint

they injected:

"Chemical Restraint".

Because its easier...

to force the arm of

a person reduced

to a vegetable,

for amenity...

into a shirt-sleeve.

The drugs caused him to suffer a stroke.

This is quite common

among the unknowing, unwilling

unchampioned recipients

of chemical restraint.

So much suffering he wears

for this administered convenience.

on his emaciated visage,

for the ease of the staff.

His only pleasure 

was to waft aimlessly

along the corridors

of the nursing home,

picking up things, fiddling, 

putting them down.

Underpaid and overworked -

the choice to drug patients

for ease of care

is the burden of guilt

they choose to wear.

How can they sleep?

His eyes on visits speak

a brief connection

and then gaze past as if

he want to leaves here,

this Earth, this horror - 

confined in his contorted body

in a bed, on wheels...

He lies locked

in the demented plaques of his mind...

He feels pain and fear and hunger

yet cannot speak his need.

Let him fly free in death,  

and leave this place he never chose,

never asked for.

Let him fly now to the next place,

or to the peaceful arms of oblivion -

anything better

than his semi-starved living Hell.

My father, how you suffer.

Your bed on wheels is the prison

that houses the prison

of your mind, your body.

You didn't ask for this.

How could you even speak?

No one should endure this daily hell

they inflicted upon you.

You - my father...

who made me,

and made me

a catapault to shoot at the birds that

ate the fruit on our trees.

Made halters for my horse,

constructed me a boat,

made fences, gates, repaired anything -

intricate metal, and works of leather -

kangaroo skin boots for winter,

a stringybark hut,

biltong hanging in the shade.

You, my father - an international rowing champion

reduced to two nappies a day because

that's all the allowance allowed 

by Governmnent Aged Care Facilities.

You who so tenderly stroked my back 

and spoke to me softly as a child, 

taught me the types of birds and trees 

and to listen to the bush.

You did not deserve this.

No-one deserves to be trapped first

in the cage of their mind 
and then in the cage of their body.

You pay daily for a convenience of administration.

I am sorry, and I cry for you, my father.

© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)

My father in better times.

Top five regrets of the dying

1. I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

"This was the most common regret of all. When people realise that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honoured even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made. Health brings a freedom very few realise, until they no longer have it."

2. I wish I hadn't worked so hard.

"This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children's youth and their partner's companionship. Women also spoke of this regret, but as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence."

3. I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.

"Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result."

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

"Often they would not truly realise the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying."

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

"This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realise until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called 'comfort' of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content, when deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again."

Source: 
"Top five regrets of the dying" The Guardian - Wednesday 1 February 2012
© 2013 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved.

Space Oddity

Ground control to Major Tom

Ground control to Major Tom

Lock your Soyuz hatch and put your helmet on

Ground control to Major Tom

Commencing countdown engines on

Detach from station and may God's love be with you

This is ground control to Major Tom

You've really made the grade

and the papers want to know whose shirts you wear

But it's time to guide the capsule if you dare

This is Major Tom to ground control

I've left forevermore

And I'm floating in most peculiar way

And the stars look very different today

For here am I sitting in a tin can

Far above the world

The planet Earth is blue and there's nothing left to do

Though I've flown one hundred thousand miles

I'm feeling very still

And before too long I know it's time to go

Our commander comes down back to earth, and knows

Ground control to Major Tom

The time is near, there's not too long

Can you hear me Major Tom?

Can you hear me Major Tom?

Can you hear me Major Tom?

Can you hear...

Here am I floating in my tin can

A last glimpse of the world

The planet Earth is blue and there's nothing left to do

A revised version of David Bowie's Space Oddity, recorded by Commander Chris Hadfield on board the International Space Station.

There is pleasure in the pathless woods

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 

There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 

There is society, where none intrudes, 

By the deep sea, and music in its roar: 

I love not man the less, but Nature more, 

From these our interviews, in which I steal 

From all I may be, or have been before, 

To mingle with the Universe, and feel 

What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

by George Gordon Lord Byron

Forest near Marysville VIC © Jennifer Phillips

At the gates of Heaven

Bless you, my child, 

for I know that you tried.

You gave your all, 

though you regularly dropped the ball.

You didn't know what it was you had to know?

Never mind that now, you put on a good show!

You learned some songs and passed them on.

But now alas, your time is gone.

You still don't know why you are here?

You are here to learn, my Dear.

It's very noisy down there - phones and iPods - we need more of us.

We want you to come join the Holy Chorus...

So welcome to Heaven, come right in...

We'll start you right off easy, cleaning out that bin.

© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)

All that I wanted

Shadows out on the pavement 

follow me around like your memories. 

Waking without you beside me, 

without all this aching 

I’d think you were a dream.  

I guess we never found our way. 

I’m thinking that it’s safe to say. 

But you’re the only one that I, ever wanted... 

You, all that I wanted. 

You, for love, love.

Breathing, breathing without you, 

heaviness weighing on my chest. 

Give me a line to hang onto, 

I’m dangling forever over the moon for you.

I guess we never found our way. 

I’m thinking that it’s safe to say. 

But you’re the only one that I, ever wanted... 

You, all that I wanted. 

You, for love, love.

by Shelly Fraley

© Shelly Fraley

When I was 10

We gnarled chubby knees 

on convoluted trees 

as we swayed upon the yardarm 

sailing stormy seas. 

We bruised our immortality 

threw caution to the breeze 

only darkness overcame us 

as we did just as we pleased. 

And the man in the moon  

has found good company 

with a giant leap of faith, 

and a verse in history. 

Upon Infinities of youthful days 

imagination feeds, but the 

feigned light of yesterday 

hides darker memories.

by Paul E. Smith

Tree © Jennifer Phillips

Duality

The sight of

your hair strands

stranded over

your eyes

exceeds aortal

capacity,

unglues

the cellular,

releasing

the quanta.

My heart

finds

your heart

in a thrumming,

sacred,

chamber music

duality.

© "Neon Veil" (All rights reserved)

Hey Jude

Hey Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better

Hey Jude, don't be afraid

You were made to go out and get her

The minute you let her under your skin

Then you begin to make it better

And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain

Don't carry the world upon your shoulders

For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool

By making his world a little colder

Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah

Hey Jude, don't let me down

You have found her, now go and get her

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better

So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin

You're waiting for someone to perform with

And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do

The movement you need is on your shoulder

Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah yeah

Hey Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her under your skin

Then you'll begin to make it

Better better better better better better, oh

Nah nah nah nah nah nah, nah nah nah, hey Jude

[Repeated]

by The Beatles

Great grandmother's favourite sayings

Good-better-best

Never let it rest,

'Til your good is better

And your better best.

Life is mostly froth & bubble

But two things stand like stone, 

Kindess in another's trouble

And courage in one's own.

To John Bland

My Lamb, you are so very small,

You have not learned to read at all.

Yet never a printed book withstands

The urgence of your dimpled hands.

So, though this book is for yourself,

Let mother keep it on the shelf

Till you can read. O days that pass,

That day will come too soon, alas!

by Edith Nesbit (Mrs. Hubert Bland) 1902.

Over the rainbow

Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high

there's a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby..

Somewhere, over the rainbow, skies are blue

and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.

Someday I'll wish upon a star and

wake up where the clouds are far behind me...

Where troubles melt like lemon drops away

above the chimney tops, that's where you'll find me.

Somewhere, over the rainbow, bluebirds fly...

Birds fly over the rainbow, why then, oh, why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow,

why, oh, why can't I?

Sung by Judy Garland in movie: "The Wizard of Oz"

Rainbow into ocean © Jennifer Phillips

In the dark

Sometimes I feel like I'm in the dark,

even when I am sitting in a sunny park.

Trying to find my voice in the clutter of my mind,

I seek soul's solace, yet do not find.

Sometimes I feel as though my breath is

sucked away by a thousand other inhalations.

Feels like shouting silently across a crowded mall, 

words echo down my mind - that harlequin hall.

Wrapped up alone in my soul's shawl, 

every day I feel I'm gonna fall.

Everything I once held dear

I no longer hold so near.

I let it drip like blood between my fingers, 

slip from my grasp, but my ennui lingers.

I feel only now I'm finding my voice,

and you can't sing the songs of my choice.

One day I might wake into who I truly am - with you, or without you.

Until then, I stay down. With my demons.

© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)

Shawl © Jennifer Phillips

Demons

When I think of you in the city,

the sight of you among the sights,

get this sudden sinking feeling

of a man about to fly.

Never kept me up before.

Now I’ve been awake for days.

I can’t fight it anymore,

I’m going through an awkward phase.

I am secretly in love with

everyone that I grew up with.

Do my crying underwater...

I can’t get down any farther.

All my drowning friends can see, 

now there is no running from it. 

It’s become the crux of me, 

I wish that I could rise above it.

But I stay down,

With my demons

I stay down,

With my demons.

Bats and buzzards in the sky,

Alligators in the sewers.

I don’t even wonder why,

Hide among the younger viewers,

I huddle with them all night long.

The worried talk to God goes on.

I sincerely tried to love it,

wish that I could rise above it.

But I stay down,

With my demons

I stay down,

With my demons.

I stay down,

With my demons

I stay down,

With my demons.

Can I stay here? I can sleep

on the floor

Paint the blood and hang the palms,

on the door

I do not think I’m going places anymore.

Wanna see the sun come up above New York.

Oh, every day I start so great,

then the sunlight dims.

The less I look, the more I see

the pythons in the limbs.

Do not know what’s wrong with me...

The sour is in the cut.

When I walk into a room,

I do not light it up.

Fuck.

So I stay down,

With my demons

I stay down,

With my demons.

I stay down,

With my demons

I stay down,

With my demons.

by "The National"

If the owl calls again

At dusk

from the island in the river,

and it’s not too cold,

I’ll wait for the moon

to rise,

then take wing and glide

to meet him.

We will not speak,

but hooded against the frost

soar above

the alder flats, searching

with tawny eyes.

And then we’ll sit

in the shadowy spruce

and pick the bones

of careless mice,

while the long moon drifts

toward Asia

and the river mutters

in its icy bed.

And when the morning climbs

the limbs

we’ll part without a sound, fulfilled, floating

homeward as

the cold world awakens.

by John Haines

Owl from Copyright Free Images

Jump start

Jump start © Michael Leunig

The hormone guide - Survival tips for men

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