The finger picks

‘They’ll have your guts for garters’ and that is just for starters they will then take your fears marinade them for fifty years and serve to you out of the blue your pension plan. who’s the Man? well not me. I pick a string or two on the bluegrass banjo practise rolls several chords and…

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Transparencies

They through no fault of their own become see through torn worn out a Styrofoam effect chipping from the rim splitting down and in pieces they’ll be we’ll be none the wiser which is the appetiser and when they’re gone we’ll go on to the main course which is guilt free if they’re not there…

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Endings

The sausages looked so serene sandwiched between two slices of bread, I led them to the breakfast plate said grace and ate heartily, if there’s a sausage heaven I hope that they’ll forgive me…

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