I searched for the corner of my mind On my journey Twists and turns

Imagination is such a wonderful thing For I have many flaw’s My imagination has so many more open doors For me to open and explore

I heard the rain crying tears of sadness The white cottonwool fluffy clouds caught the heavy teardrops

The world seems so dark It weighs very heavy on me How I wish for more daylight Sometimes I feel the dark takes over me

As the bird fledgling flew About to start a new chapter of life Caught in the crossfire Knives, swords and daggers The fledgling deep red

I felt like a teenager A cult culture never forgotten Well loved Where have all the years gone? Yes, a great big puppet show singalong

In the purple cotton wool clouds With sequin silver linings The pink elephant jumps up and down His trampoline in the yellow custard sky Th

A Sunday morning f**k Your head buried in between legs Licking my sweet tasting juices I moan with delight As your big swelling d**k

A new piece of glass I can now see the world more clearly Broken glass smashed

If our life were a blank white canvas You would want your art to be wild, free and beautiful

So fast the speed of light The rainbow colours fly past my eyes The deafening natural sounds I hear are so loud The world rotates

Home to work Work to home The deep winter nights Like being in an enormous fairground with many different lights

International Women’s Day Just happens to be my birthday We went to a posh restaurant today A rare event

International Men’s Day Man has the most important job For his big thick hard d**k Or his beautiful pr**k

Mr Fox is sat reading his favourite poetry book Wearing his reading glasses due to his short sightedness

Everywhere I turn I see the dripping liquid gold Everywhere the raindrops of liquid gold fall We are covered in liquid gold

The world is such a naked place Cold and wet I’m warm under the sheets Pyjama bottom and top

I am your Yorkshire Rose You smell my sweet aroma You cover me in roses My handsome thorn your word’s truly touch me

Bygone times Bygone days Someone’s memory Now passed down for every generation to remind and to tell

Swinging forwards Swinging back Always channel hopping Always landing on a cookery programme On every channel Overrun