Judge ye not, lest thee be Judged

I'm extremely proud to have been awarded pole postion at Phil Amblers Prediction by last weeks winner R R Kovar.  Hearty congratulations also to runner up Clarkythecruel. Now I must face the trial of judging next weeks entries and selecting a winner, a though task when the entries are of such a high standard. Why not drop in and see how I  get on in my  time slot in the nice purple velvet judges chair So while I settle into the still warm cushions, I present my winning piece.

Shabby Chic

She didn’t like the curtains at first, but had to admit she was a convert now the swag was pulled tight around Sebastian’s neck. The disgusting vermilion material suited the gasping pallor of his pleading face. As life departed, a damp patch bloomed in the crotch of his tightly packed Italian slacks. She smiled a cold calculated satisfaction, “£10,000 for curtains and a tub of crimson emulsion.” She muttered to herself. Thanks to his dodgy stepladders, the whole thing looked like a mishap. At least Sebastian finally lived up to the promise of his slogan, “Rooms to die for…”

Bloody hell I won.

I was absolutely bowled over not to mentioned surprised to win last weeks flash prediction amongst a strong field over at Phil Amblers Blog. Congratulations to John Xero for winning runner up, with an excellent piece. 


Consort

It started off with stomach cramps, a bitter malady that bent me double. When the final facet of my agony manifested, it forced me onto all fours shrieking like a dog. Finally the homunculus issued forth from betwixt my thighs tearing my manhood as it left my body. I looked at the cat face of my newborn. Cloven hooves, assuring me of his immortal parentage, as he took to the wing the brackish scent of sulphurous brimstone wafted across the air.
Consort with the devil? Aye I did Sir, now I am jointly both father and mother to his child.

Joint Runner up at Phil Amblers Prediction

I'm truly honoured to be jointrunner up along with the extremely talented Sean Adams at Phil Amblers weekly Prediction, This weeks winner was Veronica Marie Lewis-Shaw with her fine entry quite literally  to die for   Congratulations to Veronica and Sean.

This weeks words were Cockle, Shake, & Lily I spent the week mulling over what I should write then as fate would have it, I came home to discover a cockle shell in the plant pot on my doorstep, thus my piece was born.

The Mighty Have Fallen

They started turning up all over our estate about a month ago; we thought they were cockles at first. Those that tried eating them shook in agony, as their mistaken delicacies devoured them from the inside out, leaving nought but soft soapy bones.

Nothing stopped them, even the government failed. Where they came from, no one knew. Tower block Lily knew though. Every night she cackled on the rooftop, her sightless eyes wide and milky grey, looking to the sky as she guided wave after wave of the conquerors to earth, as they fell silently from the sky like snow.

In Memoriam - Terry Holter

Today is yet another anniversary of the passing of my good friend Terry Holter. I didn't realise how good a friend he was, or the measure of his wisdom at a time when I had the opportunity to tell him. He fought his illness with dignity, and still had time to help others with their day to day problems. although I wrote the first verse of this poem last year, long after his passing I had Terry the fighter in mind when I wrote it. 

At that time I was still angry at his passing. On this anniversay I don't want to feel my anger at his life cut short, I want to feel the peace that I know he must feel now watching over his family and friends.

Rest in peace my friend, I carry your wisdom in my mind, and your compassion in my heart.

A Cowboys last ride

He’s riding through Death’s valley, on a mission heading south.
In another world above his bed, a sign says “Nil by mouth”
He’s catatonic, and a cowboy riding right up to Death’s door.
He’s gonna kick him up the arsehole, and give that shit what for.
He’s an angry desperado, who’s going to set the record straight,
He’s much too young and vibrant to breast them pearly Gates.
Sadly Death can never lose if a fight is to the Death
So bear that thought in mind when you draw your final breath.

Our rider slows his horse to a canter then with pride 

dismounts and takes his hat off, with a smile that’s big and wide.

He knows his fight is over, but a better life awaits, every negative is left behind along with earthly hates.

His life is celebrated with his family and his friends, because they celebrate his memory his life will never end.

He’s free to ride the prairie for as long as he dictates, until he wants to head to the homestead that’s beyond those pearly gates.