I am so sick and tired of him thinking he can go into my room and treat it like his own. I mean like …he even takes my stuff like it’s his own stuff. But whan I go into his room he turns bright red and throws a tantrum. Last Friday I wanted to chill out and listen to some music but whan I got upstairs ha was asleep on my bed. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not a perve or anything, but he just seems to think that he can do whatever he wants.

I have tried to sit him down and explain my feelings but he just shrugs his shoulders with a smirk on his face and says…”Hey Sis…You need to take a chill pill!”

I mean big brothers can be cool sometimes but at the moment he is getting on my nerves. I also noticed $20 missing from my room and when I asked him he said, “It’s not like I stole it sis, I was going to give it back to you when I got paid”. Scheesh!

So now I have decided to lock my room and big brother is all sulky and won’t talk to me!!! Boys are so stupid sometimes!

Wendy found it really hard to survive in the countryside because it was full of cow pats. She would try to trundle merrily but despite being a somewhat likeable child she found it challenging to hold a smile on her pudgy face for more than two minutes. Her daddy was a big stout farmer of below average intellect who never seemed to do anything but drive his big green tractor around the house from dusk till dawn. Her Mommy was definitely the brains behind the organization and often said that if she weren’t in charge then the place would fall apart. She was probably right. The only thing that really annoyed Wendy about her mother is that they never ate at Pizza Hut. “Wendy” her mother would say. “If god intended us to eat out of cardboard boxes he never would have invented plates”. This seemed odd to Wendy as she knew that God couldn’t have invented plates because he was just a story like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. Also, Wendy didn’t have a problem eating off of plates, it was just what her mother put on them that made her unhappy. You see, Wendys’ mother was a vegan organic farmer and they always had to eat yucky raw crap that tasted like grass or leaves. Not just that either, but the food was mostly raw into the bargain. “Cooking it kills the nutrients and vitamins Wendy” her mother would preach. Thank God for school meals. She must have been the only kid in school who actually enjoyed the “overcooked swill” as the other children would call it. But for Wendy it was a well deserved break from having to constantly crunch her food like a rabbit or a squirrel. Instant potatoes, thick greasy sausages and lumpy stodgy gravy was like her birthdays all rolled into one. Too bad it was just once a day and only Monday to Friday but it was better than full time veggie hell. Mandy who sat next to her sometimes brought fizzy exploding powder  which they would put in their mouths during Maths classes and try not to laugh at Miss Gibbons. It was hard, especially when Mandy would make monkey sounds under her breath. Wendy didn’t hate Maths but she liked Art and History a lot more. Her Mother would give her a packed lunch and say “Don’t eat the school food Wendy, it’ll kill you”. If she knew about the exploding candy and the monkey noises I believe she would drop dead but the school food scenario would really nail the coffin shut. But luckily Wendy is really good at keeping secrets. (to be continued)

Double double toil and trouble

You fat ape you burst my bubble

I thought dating fair and dandy

Your hands everywhere very randy

My date was awful and made me mad

No fun for me but I was glad

when it was over

I just finished me new poem and it’s a whopper…

I just know you kiddies will love it.

A cup of tea on the strand

A cup of tea on the strand,

Now wouldn’t that be grand,

A piece of toast,

Who ate the most?,

With that cup of tea on the strand.

verse 2 (it gets exciting from here on)

A cup of tea on the strand,

You may see it as bland,

But the wind from the coast,

Filled my teacup with sand,

Oh, my cup of tea on the strand.

(ok its really takes form in the last verse…seriously)

A cup of tea on the strand,

The cup fell out of my hand,  (gosh! say I!…just for effect - not part of poem)

Right into the water,

But pulled out by my daughter,

Alas to the tea on the strand.

Oh! My! Me heart is all a flutter. The excitement of it all.

I need a fag.

See you all soon.

Here is my Christmas poem as a gift to you:

Christmas Spirit

Did you wait for Santa or are you all growed up,

Santa never came to me cause I was a little pup,

I tossed and tugged at mammys hair like a cat gone totally mad,

Then turned my attention to my half pissed, ugly dad,

The nuns came singing outside our door with plastic christian smiles,

The half baked gereatric girls with zeppelin inflamed thighs,

I downed the gin, I downed the rum and followed it with whiskey,

Then took some pills from mammys bag that made me kind of frisky,

I then blacked out for half a day, I know it was a sin,

Looks like I’ll celebrate this Christmas in the looney bin.

The world has gone topsy turvy,

like a seaman full of scurvy,

picnic baskets lightly carried,

upturned wagon, happily married.

Oh, the joy of simple folly,

damn it’s raining where is my brolly,

helterskelter flattened pancake,

we move over for the handshake.

Time is fleeting on the street,

a heavy load for my poor feet,

wispy willow lay me down,

with your heavenly feathered crown.

Now wasn’t that nice and it didn’t take me long to write.

Please feel free to be a critic…if you like it tell me too. ;o)

There will be a lot of new poems here too.