Some people leave footprints on our heart.
Cats leave fur on our sweaters.
Dogs leave drool on our shoes.
Families will crap on our doorstep.
So when life gives you crap, garden it and make roses.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
MY CHRISTMAS ANGEL
I've left a small window open for you.
13 comments:
Anonymous
said...
This sounds like something very sad that you have alluded to before? Or is my imagination working too much.
RH's CHRISTMAS MESSAGE! (Short version, he's in a hurry)
Hello darlings!- my little vanilla slices, my bursting cake shop full of cuties!- in which Miss X of Laugh-arse is a funny old tart. She's gone a bit stale, that's the trouble, from wanting to be a gingerbread man with balls. Well I'll tell you something darlin', no dame is ever born wearing tin pants, you create them yourself, like old Ned with his armour. But hello to all you cream puffs there, and to the rainbow cake at Blog Soda Pop. And Miss Grogon darlin', your poems should be sold at chemist shops as a cure for constipation. There's nothing more certain to give any creature the shits! Even an elephant. And hello to Broose the Goose who lays an egg with every sentence. This poor dumb bastard just can't spell. Having a beard makes him look half intelligent, but poor old Broose has the brain of a spongecake, and the writing ability of a lamington. And hello to the biggest fruitcake of all; my pioneer gentrifying little doll in West Footscray (or Yarraville/Seddon, I'm not sure). Well apparently there's living evidence to say so -but nevertheless, I can't believe you ever had a root.
Dunniel, Merry Christmas, you silly c-nt. I have said you are a funny man -in your very own way. And that's a big compliment. Buddy, you're on the right tram, but missing a few stops.
JT, may the breast of the robin brush your cheek with the kiss of angels, and the gentle joys of seasonal goodwill give you the strength to survive another year. Love and Best Wishes, David.
oh yes an angel. Christmas is not a good time for anybody suffering a loss - thank god for the drink. Feck.
I did a lot of driving today (well 400kms anyhow) and saw a lot of funny stuff. A crappy old van with amateur signwriting which said: "Eat a balanced diet - chocolate in the left hand and chocolate in the right hand".
He's my son, Andrew, he died at 24 and it's why I loathe mothers who reject their sons because they're gay even though he wasn't.
Damn it RH, I picked up on everybody except West Footscray and I don't want to be a child in Heaven, I want to be an angel with a great flaming sword then I'll sort out the world.
Davo, that was so beautiful it made me cry so I wrote it down in my journal in case blogger goes Titanic.
Brownie, that's not a balanced diet, it's chocolate in the right hand and booze in the left and for dessert, a naked bloke peeling the grapes.
Janet, would you believe after the raging fires we've had a white Christmas, in the high country, our outer suburbs and in Tasmania. Terrible for the animals though, if they lived through the fires, they would have died from the cold.
I have come up with a theory which I expect to make me a lot of money -and confound every professor in the world (which is a really sure way to make dough). Meanwhile I'm terrified to utter it. Well people are such gossips nowadays, you can't trust them at all. So I'll be slipping it into Mad Geoff's biography, just for a tiny bit of STUPENDOUS CONTROVERSY. And golly but if that don't get me lots of sales! Yes well it is definitely a bombshell, social workers will be jumping from windows, and their fat-arse boss politicians with heads up secretaries dresses for a bit on the side will curse that dirty little weasal Gareth Evans who did an Abo dance on the lawns of parliament house proving that sycophancy is a politicians best friend!
Pardon me Sue Ron but I just caught a squiz at your blog and was very surprised. Very surprised at you, Sue Ron. Ron, blogging may not be helpful to you, and I'm sorry about that, I am sorry you find it a "waste of time" but I would rather you hadn't said that, because it not only sounds cry-baby, it's also disparaging to other people. Blogging may have turned out a dud for you Ron, but you are not the entire world, just a part of it, which fact should be enough.
Thanks for telling Jah Teh. My mother nearly lost a son, not me I hasten to add. To loose a child when you are supposed to protect them must be awful. Of course that is not against you but a personal comment on how it must feel to lose a child. He must have grown into a very handsome bloke. Show us a pic sometime. Promise I won't make a sexual inuendo coment.
I've left a small window open for you.
13 comments:
This sounds like something very sad that you have alluded to before? Or is my imagination working too much.
RH's CHRISTMAS MESSAGE!
(Short version, he's in a hurry)
Hello darlings!- my little vanilla slices, my bursting cake shop full of cuties!- in which Miss X of Laugh-arse is a funny old tart. She's gone a bit stale, that's the trouble, from wanting to be a gingerbread man with balls. Well I'll tell you something darlin', no dame is ever born wearing tin pants, you create them yourself, like old Ned with his armour. But hello to all you cream puffs there, and to the rainbow cake at Blog Soda Pop. And Miss Grogon darlin', your poems should be sold at chemist shops as a cure for constipation. There's nothing more certain to give any creature the shits! Even an elephant. And hello to Broose the Goose who lays an egg with every sentence. This poor dumb bastard just can't spell. Having a beard makes him look half intelligent, but poor old Broose has the brain of a spongecake, and the writing ability of a lamington. And hello to the biggest fruitcake of all; my pioneer gentrifying little doll in West Footscray (or Yarraville/Seddon, I'm not sure). Well apparently there's living evidence to say so -but nevertheless, I can't believe you ever had a root.
Dunniel, Merry Christmas, you silly c-nt.
I have said you are a funny man -in your very own way. And that's a big compliment.
Buddy, you're on the right tram, but missing a few stops.
Love to you all,
-Robert.
Voices
As sleep moves in,
In Heaven we'll be children
Again.
Jahteh, your heart is open for anyone to see. You are blessed to have never lost a child's way of loving.
Merry Christmas.
Robert.
JT, may the breast of the robin brush your cheek with the kiss of angels, and the gentle joys of seasonal goodwill give you the strength to survive another year.
Love and Best Wishes,
David.
oh yes an angel.
Christmas is not a good time for anybody suffering a loss - thank god for the drink. Feck.
I did a lot of driving today (well 400kms anyhow) and saw a lot of funny stuff.
A crappy old van with amateur signwriting which said:
"Eat a balanced diet - chocolate in the left hand and chocolate in the right hand".
A-bloody-men to that.
A beautiful picture of a beautiful angel, JT. Thank you for sharing.
May you have a wonderful inner peace this holiday season.
Janet
He's my son, Andrew, he died at 24 and it's why I loathe mothers who reject their sons because they're gay even though he wasn't.
Damn it RH, I picked up on everybody except West Footscray and I don't want to be a child in Heaven, I want to be an angel with a great flaming sword then I'll sort out the world.
Davo, that was so beautiful it made me cry so I wrote it down in my journal in case blogger goes Titanic.
Brownie, that's not a balanced diet, it's chocolate in the right hand and booze in the left and for dessert, a naked bloke peeling the grapes.
Janet, would you believe after the raging fires we've had a white Christmas, in the high country, our outer suburbs and in Tasmania.
Terrible for the animals though, if they lived through the fires, they would have died from the cold.
I have come up with a theory which I expect to make me a lot of money -and confound every professor in the world (which is a really sure way to make dough).
Meanwhile I'm terrified to utter it. Well people are such gossips nowadays, you can't trust them at all. So I'll be slipping it into Mad Geoff's biography, just for a tiny bit of STUPENDOUS CONTROVERSY. And golly but if that don't get me lots of sales! Yes well it is definitely a bombshell, social workers will be jumping from windows, and their fat-arse boss politicians with heads up secretaries dresses for a bit on the side will curse that dirty little weasal Gareth Evans who did an Abo dance on the lawns of parliament house proving that sycophancy is a politicians best friend!
ROBBERT!
JT, may your angel be with you always.
Love
K&S
Pardon me Sue Ron but I just caught a squiz at your blog and was very surprised.
Very surprised at you, Sue Ron.
Ron, blogging may not be helpful to you, and I'm sorry about that, I am sorry you find it a "waste of time" but I would rather you hadn't said that, because it not only sounds cry-baby, it's also disparaging to other people.
Blogging may have turned out a dud for you Ron, but you are not the entire world, just a part of it, which fact should be enough.
Thanks for telling Jah Teh. My mother nearly lost a son, not me I hasten to add. To loose a child when you are supposed to protect them must be awful. Of course that is not against you but a personal comment on how it must feel to lose a child. He must have grown into a very handsome bloke. Show us a pic sometime. Promise I won't make a sexual inuendo coment.
Bad RH, commenters without blogs should not throw rocks especially not at my sweetie Ron.
Andrew, there's one of him in a post back in February. He'd just turned 18. He died 8 months after my Father.
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