Toad on a Grecian Urn

There’s a toad on my urn

what’s it doing there?

Is it brushing its teeth,

or combing its hair?


There’s a toad on my urn,

how’d it get up there?

It had to jump high

up in the air.


I got that urn myself,

I stole it from Con.

I have to hide it away,

every time he comes round.


He got it from his mother,

before she died.

Don’t worry I checked,

there are no ashes inside.


The toad looks pretty fat,

I hope the urn doesn’t break.

If I have to steal another,

I feel sorry for Con’s sake.


‘Struth, that’s enough carry on,

that’s all you need to know.

My  urn is a beauty,

The toad only so-so.

Toads may be ugly, but who wants to be lonely.  An urn may be beautiful, but it will never hold you – at best it will only hold your ashes.  Toads on the other hand are always up for a cuddle.


International Burns Day

I thought that it

must have been

International Burns Day

with the victims on parade,

their different scars on display.

Marks I had not seen before.

Hair up, showing pigmentless flesh

below the ear.

Flashmark along the arm.

Puckered skin running down the rear

of a shoulder.

Are these the marks

that all lives leave,

everyday little tricks

usually hidden up a sleeve?

Did everyone see?

Or was I gifted to view

a deeper reality?

What use was that to me?

It was a conversation starter,

but not much of one.

I prefer “Do you come here often?”,

its not as scary.

I saw through the cosmetics,

the veneer of confidence

granted by beauty.

I saw everyone’s little horror story.

I averted my eyes

from windows and mirrors.

Would I have to blind myself?

Perhaps I could find a nice lady

to do it for me.

We are all scarred.  Some days it is easier to bear our own.  Some days it is harder to bear others.  We judge ourselves by others too often, not knowing what is below.  But would you like to see underneath?  Be warned, it is bloody under there.

Unnatural natives (2) and other distractions


Body artfully draped

Wrist carefully exposed

Window opened just a little

A late night pose


Trap wary

though jaded

Set the scene

Lure them in


Room ransacked

Car carjacked

Best of all that morning

Feelings stolen away


Cheap furry buddhas


Take away nirvahna

Delivered every night


Take it all away.


Light sticks

Light sticks

So be careful where you throw it.

You think you’ll take my horrors away?

Light touch

You think I am too sensitive?

For equating exposure with dismay?

Light box

Have you read the instructions?

You’re gonna put my fears on display

Light blinds

Use only as directed

There’s a reason we have both night and day.


The End

Don’t look up.



I think vampires are better explained by the numb – bat, not the vampire bat.  The victims are always willing.  You don’t live forever, it just feels that way.  There are lots of cryptid bats where I live now.  Still, its better than the cold.

If you would like to see some other stuff I do, have a look at the Joe Chip portal.  There’s usually a nice picture of a bird even if you don’t like what I write.

Chariots of the gods?

Nice car, Pastor.

What’s the mileage?

Does God drive one like that?


I have a solution

to arguments about evolution:

go and feed the poor.

All of you.  Yes, you too.  Off you go.  Shoosh.


How many angels dance on the head of a pin?

All of them!

All the time!


Join in!


Brand new Theologica

Theologi – car

Shiny bright

Across the sky it can drag a star

Make day from night

For the toughest labours

of Hercules

Safe for the family

and the Crash of the Titans


(You wouldn’t guess its a hybrid.)


Yes, it remains a fact that no matter how often they look in the Holy Book, not a theologian alive can tell me, what does God drive.  The only motorbike in the Bible is the Triumph, though.

I posted a poem about ancient astronauts and relationships with fathers here.

And please remember, the portal to all things Joe Chippish is here.

Sad Party Thing

It was Flag Day

so we wrapped ourselves in our flags

and went to the pub.

Everybody else had the same idea, but.

All the flags were the same

because we are all Flaglanders.

It would have been nice to wrap myself

in the flag of difference

but I was too scared.

Everyone looked the same.

The fun idea had become

A Sad Party Thing.

It doesn’t matter.

The flag unites us.

Our fear of looking different unites us.

All eyes are wary on Flag Day.

Everyone smiles with their mouths

as they lift their beers,

but all those eyes are looking about.

And those eyes are quick.

You don’t want to stand out.

Not on Flag Day.

There are no excuses.

It is not “I pay my taxes” day.

It is not “I am a human being, I have rights” day.

It is fucking Flag Day.


You sad party thing.


Edgar gave me an East German flag years ago but I decided not to take it.  I would have had to explain it for a start, and anything that needs explaining marks you as an intellectual, and we all know they need to be taken down a peg or two.

The Joe Chip portal has been updated here.  There is a nice picture of a bird.