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The Hole in the Bathroom Wall

The cottage was old, it needed some work
The walls were of crumbling stone,
The windows, like eyes in a tumbledown Kirk
Were staring, like sockets of bone;
I hadn't much money, I hadn't much choice,
'I'll take it, ' I said to the man,
If only I'd known what the future would bring
I would never have shaken his hand.

My marriage had failed, I had my young son
Just three and a half in the spring,
We bought an old bed and a table, two chairs,
Drove up there and went to move in;
The floorboards were creaky, the walls were damp,
The place was as filthy as hell,
I sat the young lad on the floor by a lamp
And I cleaned, until darkness fell.

The rooms were all empty, they echoed and stirred,
I thought I heard whispers and moans,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Part 3 of Trout Fishing in America

SEA, SEA RIDER

The man who owned the bookstore was not magic. He was not a

three-legged crow on the dandelion side of the mountain.

He was, of course, a Jew, a retired merchant seaman

who had been torpedoed in the North Atlantic and floated

there day after day until death did not want him. He had a

young wife, a heart attack, a Volkswagen and a home in

Marin County. He liked the works of George Orwell, Richard

Aldington and Edmund Wilson.

He learned about life at sixteen, first from Dostoevsky

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poem by Richard Brautigan
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Bathroom Peeper

Lured by the light in the bathroom come he,
The bathroom peeper,
Prowling through the layers of black.
Seeing two paws clinging on the window bars
Of secrecy, or a pair of hot eyes
Burning through the holes of lust,
Village virgin whoops,
When the bathroom peeper slinks away.

As the romantic sun rays make the canal ripples smile,
He hides in the bushy banks,
Throwing his blue eyes in to the distant nudity.
Sometimes, he is seen being chased
By the boors with bamboo sticks.
But quick oblivion is a bliss,
And he gets duty bound again.

Hiding is a risk
But peeping is a pleasure.
His aesthetics taught him

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poem by Fabiyas M V
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A City of The Old

A mature old man from the myth raised a question, 'Who is the oldest poet on earth? . '
when you are old, you will understand more about hope.The city of the Old without hope is the city with lots of hope in the myth.
kitchen, bathroom, market, forest, stock-market, shares prices, bank accounts, logistics plus and minus; the archeology of the old men's skills on carrying travelling bags.
what is the difference between old-aged homes and theatres?
the tide is rising up.
what is your last words?
A sandwithed present moment between the past and the future
congested aesthetics
Buddha said, 'Human beings exist only for a moment'
for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment vfor a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment
where is your hope escaping?
Is this bank account important for you?
Is the kitchen important for you?
Is the bathroom important important for you?
The bathroom said, 'I clean it again and again and who is making dirty again and again?
Let's listen to the birthrooms' voices.
A mature old man from the myth raised a big question, 'Who is the oldest poet on earth?
waling to the east and looking backwards,
this is the oldest myth on earth.
In ther city of the old, nothingness, autobiography, biography, courage, nurseries, paddy fields,

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poem by Nyein Way
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Under fire at home

At times your were extremely happy
and impulsive, sometimes morose,
withdrawn or suicidal
trying to hide from the world
or sometimes even aggressive.

Your Manic-Depressive Psychosis
needed a scapegoat
to whip, to burn with molten plastic,
to cut and stab with a knife
and to shoot at with a gun.

You told me
that you had cheated me
with another man
while I was busy
with the computer
and smashed your heels down
on some software
breaking compact disks and started

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poem by Gert Strydom
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Anne and the Boys's Bath Night

It was the boys' bath night
and you had bathed
and were drying yourself

with the white towel
they had given you
when the bathroom door flew open

and Anne stood there one-legged
in her pink flowered nightdress
perching on her crutches like a hawk

her eyes bright and dark
a smile lingering on her lips
well bugger me

she said
what a sight
for a girl's lovesick eyes

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poem by Terry Collett
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A Very Strange Medley (V.S.M.)

there's barkin' at the kitchen
yellin' in the hall
ringin' at the door bell
poundin' on the wall
kids out a sight
and kids in the way
no time to cook on this hectic day
come on,come on,come on
get a bucket of chicken
finger lickin' good
have a barrel of fun
goodbye ho-hum
say hello to your family
come on everyone
at Kuntukey Fried Chicken
have a barrel of fun
when ever you're driving
and where ever you're bound
like a good neighbor
State Farm is there

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song performed by Barry Manilow
Added by Lucian Velea
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Learning How To Rocknroll

Billy on his way to school
Didnt care too much about the teachers and rules
But he had a plan he said hed try it one day
One he knew would leave them all with nothing to say
He had a friend who said hed teach him how to rock and roll
After school when he was feelin good
Hed go home and do the things that he understood
He would rock in the kitchen and roll in the hall
And billys mother said you got no sense at all
But we know too well that he was
Learning how to rock and roll
cos he would rock in the kitchen roll in the hall
Stand on the tv and climb up the wall
Jive on the ceiling lay on the floor
Crawl through the bathroom and cry out for more
And thats the only way to do it
When youre learning how to rock and roll
Teach me to rock...
Willy turns to the mirror and gives his hair a flip
He would mime to elvis and curl his lip

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song performed by Cliff Richard
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Finding Oneself......... [EXTREMELY LONG; Growing Up; Relationships; Humor

Part One

When Bri was 13 and in grade 8,
he noticed classmates beginning to date.
At school (other) boys got their way with the girls with a kiss.
But Bri didn't have the urge; he thought 'what's this? '
He decided he should give it a try,
but each time he tried, the girl would cry.
Not only would she cry; she would run away and hide.
Bri felt between himself and the other boys a great divide.

Back home after school he'd seclude himself in his room and cry.
Through his mind was repeated the question 'why? ' 'Why DO they cry? Why? '

Bri was a straight A+ student with no flubs.
He played football but (except for 'Cooking') he joined not clubs.

After a few months Bri gave up (on girls) . He had NO close friends to set him right;
his parents should have known the problem, but they weren't bright.

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poem by Bri Edwards
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A new father quickly learns that his child invariably comes to the bathroom at precisely the times when he's in there, as if he needed company. The only way for this father to be certain of bathroom privacy is to shave at the gas station.

quote by Bill Cosby
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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