The Language by Robert Creeley

Pigeon impossible day

A Sunday when all should have been about eating cucumber sandwiches, drinking Cabernet, watching telly, browsing the net, browsing the net, browsing the net, browsing the net, reading the paper and generally nagging.

However, as things are not always what they seem, people were lost, then found then lost again...missiles and rockets launched and red buttons ...(well, to press or not to press?).

Anyhow, today was pretty much like the video with the pigeon impossible (see somewhere above).

An army of people has been involved, their efforts not spared and as much as I would like to put their names here (or their address, bank details and dates of birth) they are my secret agents, therefore they shall remain nameless and forever praised (by my Government, anyway).

I appreciate your patience while I am blubbering about 'stuff', I’m sure you want to know who was lost and who was found? Right? I can now confirm that is all about one person only...and not any person either, but my Mum travelling from Greenwich (London, UK) to Galati (Galati, Romania).

Due to extreme weather conditions, a lost telephone directory,its panicky owner, cheap airline (should they/ shouldn't they, depart/ land, today/ ever?), unable-to-cope-with-stressful-situations-or-without-someone-to-take-charge-mother and a few thousand miles between the countries where the action was taking place (i.e.Roamnia - UK), I can assure you that the MI5 and Scotland Yard were on 'code red' doing everything in their power to calm things down.

Though 'British are a great nation because they can laugh at themselves...By themselves we mean others and by laughing we mean invade...'(I heard this on a commercial break, while waiting for the computer to bleep and the phone to ring).

So all being well, we would like to report no registered life losses (not to my knowledge, anyway) and, while continuous monitoring shall remain our primary concern, I would like to dedicate a little song to myself, before the wine going into me as we speak should dig deeper into one's system...for a while to come.

I would like you to help me here, so stand up! Go on! Wipe that smile of you face as a start! Put your right hands (only one if you have it free, it would do!) to your hearts (for the ones who haven’t got a heart aim for the left nipple) and look straight ahead (or bored with a hint of hope!). Now, do not mumble the words, the song was written for me (and my predecessors)a few centuries ago, have a little respect, for God’s sake!
(Ready? Now press play...)

	Queen - God Save the Queen .mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

...Corina the 1st (C R) out.

Poem for an X - …exploring the relationship between [some] men and space

You had enough of me? I often seem to wonder
Sometimes I cry, my face turned to the wall
I know, it’s silly yet I can’t stop but ponder
The little things like: Does he care at all?

I then run to the mirror and turn my lips blood red
I take out the mascara, the blushers and instead
Of trying to forget you...Oh, I am such a fool
I’m rushing to your door-step, breaking another rule.

I count to three, a thousand and sometimes I loose count
I lean, peek through your key hole without making a sound
All I can see is darkness and dust: an empty place
For you must always have been my favourite waste of space