Eats chocolate flies

I learnt something new about bats the other day

Oh yes Harold, what was that?

Well apparently they eat chocolate

No, they don't do they?

Yeah not half, they can't get enough of it

They ea' chocolate in the air

And even when they are trying to avoid crashing into an

Object, 

Why would they crash Harold?

Well, they've got very bad eyesight , you never

heard the expression blind as a bat Maureen?

Oh yes I have come to think of it

Well anyway by way of seeing better

and thinking cleverer they have a nibble

on a bounty perhaps or a flake

A flake!

What kind of a bat carries a flake with them?

Well something anyway in one of their pouches

and then they can avoid the object

....Doesn't it strike you kind of funny

How they suddenly see like a blurry image and 

then somehow have time grab a bite of chocolate

And then that gives them the boost of eyesight

and quick manoeuvring power they need just in time

Harold?

MMm

Not to mention, if you try storing a flake in your trouser

pocket, you're soon just going to end up

With chocolate down your trousers!

Perhaps Maureen..

Let me see that article Harold

That there word is echolocates not eats chocolate

They haven't got time for that Harold

It's sonor you know like on the submarine

And it isn't an excuse for you to eat any more bounty bars

You've have two today already.

When you can echocolate and fly around

catching flies in the dark

Then maybe you would deserve another bounty

But until that time, the cupboard stays shut!

Time's illusion

 And time was so locked away

And time was all we had to say

Time to say good day, 

Good bye

Time has flown away

Time's a bird in the sky

And Time's a magnate

Ready to attract the hangmate

Hanging in the Square

He died, So did she

It was only yesterday

Or was it tomorrow,

Or will it be

Oh dementia has time to borrow

Nothing lost and nothing's gained?

Hey nothing will ever be the same

But nothing is

Or Everything can change

And it will do

Or has done

Or simply time is a ransom

For a king

For Gold or Green

Or life or profit

Or nothing gained like change in pocket

Or holes in cheese

And why oh please Time is

An illusion to me

Thor the post modern

 And we hit the posts in and we made them sing

And the rubber hammer was like a tuning fork thing

It tuned into all the Gods in the clouds above

And Thor came down to hit the posts in for us

With each thunderbolt

He electrified the fences

And then he swore at all the posts

But they never once took offences

Thor was a most willing volunteer that day

When the rain came down on the Strawberry Line

And we all began to pray

"Thor just get us out of here!"

"Thor just finish the job!"

And Thor came down and brought his tools

For Thor's that kind of God

I wish I'd known him better

Maybe asked for his autograph perhaps

But hey I'm just a man of letters

And he's a man of action 'n' thunderclaps

There stands another post driven into the ground

Hark you can hear the hammer ring another pound

I lost sight of him just around 4 o'clock in the afternoon

The rain was falling heavily, total eclipse of sun and moon

But then I saw him going down over the hill like the sun

He sure was a son of Shepton Mallet

And if he wasn't, then I'd be a son of a gun

Rave in the tunnel

 There was a rave in the tunnel

They ran like Sally along the gunnel

All through the Springtime galore

And shoulder of the Funnel

Filled

But never runnel

Out of the river door

The beats were a blasting

Sound systems fasting

On the bread and water of lent

Ecstasy passed around

Like a new green crown

Of thorns since

What goes up must come down

And as they Brought him off the Cross

It was all I could do not to feel the loss

At the biting equilibrium between man and God

And animals nibbling at his toes

And Forest plants jangling bells as they grow

The rave of their lives in the vastness of space

And it was a time tunnel for those masters of grace

To age and not let raving madness take you

To Rave and not let aging sadness make you

Bitter as a bitter root, but darling in the hot pursuit

Of time and trust I feel I must, leave just a footprint

On the shore

The printemps and springtimes dance barefoot

Now in the sands

Beside the sea, that never sees but

Always understands

That magic is a mystery

And time a rolling beach

And love is a wave crashing

always just out of reach

Monday walk, April fools

 On the hill side

Where the sheep reside

And our love glides

Like a gull

Tractors muck spread

Was it fuck you said

When you tried to touch my soul

Steam clouds rising from the valley

White clouds floating like goldfish

Blue sky out in the horizon

We are walking satellite dish

Picking farthings, sometimes starving

To be starlings, willings wish

Shall I shower you in this star dust

Would it leave you pixie kissed?

I can hardly love to love you

But Love must guide me in the mist

For as the train runs through the valley

So the pain runs like a shopping list

Ecstatic Dance

 I met a dragon in the attic

It was dancing there

The DJ's tunes were ecstatic

And so she stomped her lair

And then she tuned to jungle magic

And wild became the air

The bears began their bearing

The horses began to bray

The dogs began their howling

And the beasts came out to play

I met a dragon in the attic

Dancing in her lair

The floorboards creaked

Like a boxer's canvas

As if with fighter's sweat they wreaked

And pounded feet 

and punched the air

Though not a single one once speaked

Some were slow reptilian, 

Others like burrowing moles

Some winged hawks dancing

Raising up their souls

And my sap was rising too

As the dead began to live

And the Zombies of the grave so tragic

New life the music began to give

Skeletons they swayed their hip bones

Whales wiggled from toes to thighs

Dinosaurs as old as chipped stones

Wailed out their prehistoric cries

And St Mark's Hall became a dancefloor

For the fireflies who burned and sparked more

In the scintillating darkness of closed eyes

Then like dazzled larks flew flashing up into new open skies

As the churches rang their bells out

For Easter Sunday they chimed

We too rose from our crypt tombs

Dancing dragons thrice crow-timed

And our spirits left our bodies

And our heads did belly dives

When the doors to hell flung open

And we were free to live our lives

Northbound on the South west coastal path

 Dipped in the black lagoon

Mother nature gave a boon

We enjoyed the sun and sea

On our road to Calvary

In fact the path a tortoise shell

Cracked then wet, baked and fell

Onto the beach where the seals dwell

We detoured round timeless dell

And ponies scuffed and thorns they scratched at

Our scarves and stuffed swimming backpacks

As we trotted down soggy hill side

where celandine grows over the rides

And sun dappled horses with distended bellies graze

Beside the estuary on beautiful sunny days

Then each bend and twist and turn

Leaves you amazed at rocks that burn

In the setting sun that returns

Down to rest in the sea's urn

Trying to remember what songs to sing

We saw a ship come sailing in

And glimpses of the bays and coves of coast

Great beauty had they of to boast 

 

And casting off now the funeral habit, 

Our pace quickens to that of a rabbit

But our feet before were more tortoise lead

So we were late arriving at Portishead 

When finally reaching that promised land

We could no more find a bus than could we stand

Yet somehow we must make it back to Clevedon

And recover my car, because that's where we leaved 'em

Luckily a fairy godmother was at hand

And when she suggested hitch hiking I couldn't understand

But an Angel with a cherub turned up in time

And into her blue chariot we both climbed

And not quite flaming, but at least it sped

Us far away from Portishead

We must thank our lucky stars

For all the others never stopped their cars

But this sweet child of God was sent

On Easter Saturday after Lent

And like Jesus rising from the tomb

We were freed from doom and gloom

Not that Portishead is a bad place

But you don't wish to be stranded there in disgrace

I am sure Clevedon is not a poor place for many

but also Portishead must cost a pretty penny

And of everyone who pointed out a bus stop to us

Not a single one had ever ridden the Clevedon bus