Do you know any children that laugh at things like ‘Farts and Poo? ’ These are kids that you might catch sniggering with their friends and suddenly go silent when a parent get within hearing range.
These are kids that absolutely love secrets and rude noises.. Children that eagerly approach bedtime knowing that Dad is going to read them such a story. Secret stories that they are not supposed to tell mum about.
These are not evil stories, but short tales that encompass strange and unusual, but not unimaginable body function that could well be described as “Rude”
A rude story for children (link)
Let me introduce you To Aromat Introducing Aromat ( link )
Aromat and the sausage factory ( link )
Aromat and the river rescue ( link )
Aromat and the rodeo ( link )
How Horrible could it have been?
I recall watching the Queens Coronation on Television in 1953. Our TV had a large screen, at least it must have been because My mother and father watched it with me and my brothers and we were not the only people in the room. I do not think any of our neighbors had a bigger screen
I have no recollection of waiting for 15 minutes for the T.V. to warm up. I expect it was extremely fast because I have no memories of anybody getting fed up of waiting and walking out of the room.
I know that the images on screen were absolutely amazing because one of my earliest memories is of myself hiding behind the front room curtain absolutely petrified at what I am told was the early T.V. series called Quatermass.
I can remember many years later when I was watching my first 23 inch Television that the screen was huge. To be truthful I do not remember if I watched the Test Match in colour or back and white. Although I am fairly sure they played with a red ball.
I write this because I was talking to a young person the other day who said “It must have been horrible to look at those tiny screens in the old days”.
“NO” I told her. “ It was far less horrible than it is today”.
Granddad isn’t doing much these days, he rarely does a thing
He seems unlike his old self, quiet, maybe Reminiscing.
I hope he’s gently rocking peaceful in an old chair by the fire
he’s probably climbing mountains or recalling old desire
He’s been and done most everything and everywhere, and how.
hope he’s happy and contented to be re-living it all now.
He might be on a troopship, battling a crazy storm
could be fighting game fish on Queensland’s Capricorn.
Nothing that he ever did was ‘one time event that passed ‘
while legs get frail and pulse is week. His memories have last.
He told me once not long ago. ‘My memories on its knees
I still recall Just everything. . just not where I left my keys.
Getting married is like buying a shiny brand new car
you can floor the throttle pedal, spin the wheels,
Polish it, or buff it up, feel like a movie star.
We can even let the top down, whatever dream appeals.
The whining from the gearbox, never evident when new
with batteries that spark it into life each time with extra surge
It is exiting just to know it’s there, even when its out of view
This brand new acquisition excites and thrills each urge.
But time removes the sheen, and the speedo‘s, winding on
the constant clunk of changing gears, the heater fails to work
New models in the showroom, ‘Oooh that one looks like fun’
The old one to the garage, placed with the gears in “park”
Said the wisest of all creatures and cleverness the owl
“I am invented some new colors that none of you can see.”.
The rabbit asked “does it look quite pretty? . . can we see it now.?”
“I doubt it very much”, said Owl “your not intelligent like me“.
The Owl preened out his feathers and proudly puffed his chest.
with Rabbit, looking at intelligence upon the highest limb.
“Tell me lowly Rabbit, what it is you see, when looking at the best”
“I see a crazy bird, who doesn’t understand a single bloody thing”.
Key ( If it does not match with reality The most brilliant concept Is total crap)
I heard it said that, “Henry, never had a chance.”
So I pondered where it went.
Did it simply fade into the distance.
Then, how does one prevent
The hopelessness of circumstance
and loss without intent.
Sometimes its gone, without a second Glance.
Key ( the time to take hold of something is while it is there)
It is easier following footsteps when the toe prints at the front
Unless you’re quite adept at going backwards, but I’m not
Backward facing footprints always head to where they’ve been
I could have even traveled there. . . Maybe I just forgot .
I doubt that I will ever pace a path that’s not been trod before
and If ever get there I will surely be surprised.
I might just take a pile of wood and tools to build a door
Then lock the thing behind me. Locked in my own demise.
But knowing how I travel I will probably lose the key
And lock myself in somewhere nobody else will ever go.
Then maybe I will realize the stupidity that’s me.
And likely loose myself death, and no one else will know.
Bugger Bugger everything, I am staying on the Highway
I have never know quite where I am, plus I’m regularly Lost
I’m best suited more to not ever doing things my way
I’m a go in circles type of guy but I can’t afford the cost.
Key (If you do not know where you are going, you will not get there)
I do believed in Aliens a fact I can’t resist
I truly have encountered them,
have proof that they exist.
I meet them now and then.
They are from a different planet
Strange world I’ve never dreamed
I don’t know if their harmless and it
scares me . . . Close to screams .
Identifying aliens, as tricky it might seem
Simply put, these creatures look like us
a few years past . The way we used to ‘been.’
They will inherit all there is. No point to make a fuss.
Key ( Our Children will take over the world)