It's All About Boiling

I'll bet all my handbags that Gordon Brown's face is in his porridge this morning because, according to former Home Secretary Charles Clarke, "Labour is destined to disaster"
Thanks Chaz, I'm sure the beleaguered boiling-with-rage Prime Minister needs to hear that.
I'm going to stick my neck out and say that Gordon Brown will be booking a removal van in the next few months.
I can't write any more about Gordon because I'm getting in a lather, and I can't get in too much of a lather on account of me having a lot to do in the kitchen today. And sensitive delicate flowers like me, shouldn't have choppers and boiling saucepans in their hands when they're overwrought.
I need peace to cook.

So I'm going to take a deep breath now, put on gauntlets and try to get Monty out of the wardrobe, (can't have him in there in case he strokes my new woollies.....) then I'll enter the kitchen put on a plastic pinny and Radio 4 and make a huge bucket of carrot soup and a dozen spicy apple fingers.

Also chalked on the board is :
Make Strawberry cake for the old people
Write sensuous love poem
Do something about my beard.

Late Night Poetry

Like I was laying my best baby boy in his cot
I carefully set down small brave young flowers
into the moistness of my fertile garden
their weakness
their innocence
making my empty breasts
heave

I then watered them
from my love filled eyes
and fed them meat
from the angry plains between my fuck fine thighs.


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I heard his voice
and sucked it in
like the dying gasping fish

His words
lay on my tongue
and then opening up
I swallowed them whole
one by one
Till I couldn't take no more
but I could
So here's my mouth
fill it.

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