Suckin up all you can suckin up all you can suck and suck.
Workin up under my patience like a little tick.
Fat little parasite.

Suuuuuck me dry.
My blood is bruised and borrowed. You thieving bastards.
You have turned my blood cold and bitter,
beat my compassion black and blue!

Hope this is what you wanted.
Hope this is what you had in mind.
Cuz this is what you're getting.

I hope you're choking. I hope you choke on this.
I hope you're choking. I hope you choke on thiiiiiiiiiiiis.

Taken all I can taken all I can, we can take. Taken all you can taken all you can, we can take.
Got nothing left to give to you.
Blood suckin parasitic little blood suckin parasitic little blood suckin parasitic little tick!
Take what you want and then go.
Hope this is what you wanted.
Hope this is what you had in mind.
Cuz this is what you're getting.

[Parabol]
So familiar and overwhelmingly warm
This one, this form I hold now.

Embracing you, this reality here,
This one, this form I hold now, so
Wiide eyed and hoopeful.

Wiide eyed and hoopefully wild.
We barely remember what came before this precious moment,
Choosing to be here right now. Hold on, stay inside...
This body holding me, reminding me that I am not alone in
This body makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illuuuusion.

[Parabola]
We barely remember who or what came before this precious moment,
We are Choosing to be here, right now. Hold on, stay inside...
This hoooooly realityy, this hoooooly experience.
Choosing to be here in...
This body. This body holding me. Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me, feeling eternal all this pain is an illusion.

Aliiiiive!

In this hoooooly reality, in this hoooooly experience. Choosing to be here in...
This body. This body holding me. Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me, feeling eternal all this pain is an illusion...

Twirling round with this familiar parable.
Spinning, weaving round each new experience.
Recognize this as a holy gift and, celebrate this
(chance to beeeeee alive and breathing 2x)

This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality.
Embrace this moment. Remember. we are eternal.
all this pain is an illusion.

Stifling a yarn

In order to be remember and retold through the years, a story must be either fascinating, interesting, amusing, engrossing, intriguing – or all of these things. In an effort to render my usual public service, I now present the following stories…which are none of these! They’re under the series title “Stifling a Yarn”.

Frank was down to his last dollar. It had been his idea in the first place – the trip to Las Vegas for a “Second Honeymoon” – and now this had to happen. Marie, his wife, was still upstairs unpacking. She could hardly suspect that his stroll down for some fresh air had ended in total ruin for them over a dice table. The check he’d just written had accounted for everything they owned.

            Frank looked up from his last silver dollar, and saw the slot machine. It was one of those super-duper-special-bonus jobs which paid $5000 for $1 to the play who lined up the right three symbols. That was almost exactly how much he’d just lost. With a little luck…

Hands trembling, Frank inserted the dollar and pulled the handle. If he didn’t win, he would lose his business – his wife would divorce him – his children would hate him – and everyone else would despise him.

            The reels clicked to a stop with a bell –a cherry – and an orange.

            So he did – and she did – and they did – and everyone else did.

Everyone felt sorry for the poor old man who lived in the weather-beaten house on the corner, even though he wasn’t very sociable. In fact, he only opened the door once a month to receive groceries, for which he paid exactly $2.50, enough for three pounds of rice, a few cans of sardines and some dried apricots. But when he opened the door to get these pitiful supplies, neighbours glimpsed the wretched clothes he wore and the unkempt condition of the rooms behind him, and they couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

Then, one month, the old man didn’t answer the grocery delivery boy’s knock. Someone phoned for help. The police came and found him lying in a mildewed cot surrounded by piles of litter and junk. A doctor pronounced the old man dead of malnutrition.

Afterwards, the police searched for a clue to any relatives they should notify. Just as they were about to give up sifting through old magazines and newspaper and bits of string and tin cans, an officer noticed a loose board in the floor.

“Hey,” he called, “look at this!” He pulled away the board, stuck his arm into the dark hole, and extracted a small, black, dog-eared bank book. He opened it slowly.

“Well I’ll be switched!” he said, and paused it to the next man. Each in turn took the book, read, and muttered incredulously.

For there, carefully lettered on the page left after the last withdrawal had been and the book cancelled, was a recipe for rice, sardine and dried apricot casserole.