In Praise of Cats

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In Praise of Cats

I like cats. Cats are nice. They
don’t answer back. They are
cuddly and don’t have plans
to dominate the world.
I like cats.

I like cats. Cats are calm. They
know what’s important. They don’t
care about sales forecasts or
tax deadlines.
I like cats.

I like cats. They don’t have
hidden agendas. Their philosophy
is ‘live and let live’.  Except if you’re
a mouse of course.
I like cats.

I like cats. They aren’t high
maintenance. They aren’t
always full on. You can be
yourself with cats.
I like cats.

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Dinner at eight

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Dinner at Eight

Sitting opposite I gaze
into your never ending eyes of blue.
Your black dress hung so
beautifully round your neck.
We chat about the weather and
how we must go out more.

Your long limbs beckon me
under the table and in my
mind I’ve left the room
and I’m upstairs turning the
door handle and entering the
hotel room.

In the intoxication of the moment I’m
trying to focus on your mother’s
new garden chair. But all the
time I’m thinking of soft
yielding thighs and trains
slinking through Swiss tunnels.

By Tim Jones 12-10-11

Bad day at the office.

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Bad day at the office

A bad day. Hungover.
Argued with the wife.
Damned if I want this job.
The screams cut right through my head.

But not this one.
He is silent
As I open his back.
Plough red furrows.

Bloody job.
My bloody arm hurts.
The least he could do is bloody scream!
So I hit harder.

Thirty lashes later.
Is he even conscious?
As I check, he whispers something.
He forgives me.

What?
He forgives me?
He’s the criminal!
Isn’t He?

Down the wire

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Down the wire

His eyes can’t see as
his hand reaches out
for love down a twin
cabled coloured monster. No
love but fingers move with
the constant expectation
of a hungry child. When
will you love me he shouts
but muffled voices and
long silences are all he can
hear. A gentle swelling of the
eyes and he withdraws to
the dark cave of numbness and
pain.