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An
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Angels on Earth
Learn
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The Cosmic Corporation
This
is a book about angels on Earth and in heaven. ‘God’ takes the
child Michael on a holiday in heaven, to learn to be an Angel on
Earth and Archangel of our world. Through adventures with Light and
Dark forces in Earth, Heaven, and the Universe, Michael studies how
Angels help humanity stop Darkness destroy Light. Although written as
a story, readers learn teachings on many mystical and spiritual
subjects.
~~~~
Poems to Make You
Laugh, Cry and Think
Life's a Load of Bananas
Allan J. Sweeney
Copyright 2011 Allan J. Sweeney
Published at Smashwords
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Contents
Section A: From the Child’s Heart
Brainy
as God
My
bottom
Dogs should be given the
meat and three veg, not me
Pony
tale
Fat cuisine
Homework
The
secret cupboard
Section B: From the Humorous Heart
Tea-time
Alone
Mindless
Mark
Mediterranean
evolution
Autobahn
driving
Value
@ Allan’s café
Section C: From the Abused Heart
The
Dread Tread
Big
red hood (made for a mother-in-law)
The
cracked bar of soap
Trained
wolf
Haiku
to freedom + Doubled haiku: sensuality
Pain
I
am afraid
Section D: From the Romantic Heart
Dawn
Still
love
Meant
to be
I
do not love you
Decorating
love together
Dear
friend
I
miss you
Section E: From the Philosophical Heart
Patently
Things
Living
to the letter of the rule
20
– 20
Chocolate
Cream
buns
The
fruits of life
Section F: From the Cryptic Heart
Mid-word
(not foreword)
Time
Meditation
I’m
OK – You’re OK
Your
final lifetime
Bouquets
God’s
meal
Section G: From the Mystical Heart
Burning
F...e...a...r
Matter
Maltese
Knights
Milestones
of your heart
You
hiding (in space and time)
The
University of Life
Section H: From the Heavenly Heart
Playing
God
Heavenly
cry
…Hide
On
a wing and a prayer
God’s
life cycle of the human race
My
daughter
Wo-Man
Section I: From the Dying Heart
Death
breath
To
Angela
Release
O
The
groin
Message
from mother
Letting
go
Section J: From the Lover’s Heart
Sonnet
to Ann
Guided
together
Forget
to remember – remember to forget
I
need you
Thoughts
on the train
God’s
simple things of life
Sleep
Section K: From the New Year’s Heart
Last poem entitled: Space for your own poem
Dedication and thanks
This book is dedicated with thanks to God
who keeps me amused with
antics called ‘life’
Thank you to humans and creatures who knowingly or unwittingly wove a web in my poet’s mind.
Also dedicated to my life daughter Angela
who, on seeing the cover price* said,
‘dad, that’s really you!’
At
her young age it was amazing she’d had
any critique at all. So
I simply thought,
‘Life’s antics amuse many versions of me
so every Godly and ungodly word in this book
should amuse every reader as really me!’
And thank you for the love that exists
whether we write poetry or not
*Original price was:
"Cover
Price £70
(Less than £1 per poem!)
On sale now
at only
£15
(Includes many poems free!)"
Warning
It is unlikely that this book
will damage your health
But please do not swallow it whole
Section A
From the Child’s Heart
Dogs should be given the meat and three veg, not me
Brainy as God
My teacher at school says she’s trying her best
to make me intelligent – just like the rest.
But I won’t be cloned like a pea in a pod;
I just want to grow up as brainy as God.
My teacher keeps telling me off in the class.
She says that exams take hard work for a pass.
And I sit and wonder, ‘did God work at school?
‘Or can a small child simply grow up and rule?
‘Was God a small child? Was He punished with lines?
‘Did God give His school even one or two signs
‘that He would grow up to be ruler of Earth?
‘Did God learn at school how to guide souls from birth?’
I do hope He did ‘cos the job sounds just right!
And surely if God’s learnt it perhaps I might?
‘Cos God’s getting older and when His thoughts dim,
by then I’ll be ready, with brains just like Him.
(Inspired by my 6 year old niece Carrie-Anne who, when asked what she’d like to be when she grows up exclaimed profoundly, ‘I just want to be as brainy as God’.)
My bottom
My bottom speaks to the other girl on the bus.
It says, ‘did you
have beans today?’
It doesn’t speak
in pretty words,
you understand?
It’s in fun sounds
not understood
by parents.
(My 5 years old daughter Angela was surprised parents weren’t giggling after baked beans like she and her friends.)
Dogs should be given the meat and three veg, not me
Oh my goodness, how much I hate meat and three veg!
Dogs should be given the meat and three veg, not me,
then I could eat their bones.
Life would be much simpler.
Imagine taking just a bone for my school lunch.
Packing a big picnic would take no time at all!
Having lots of friends to tea would be so easy.
‘Yes please Mr Butcher, 85 juicy bones,
to last the week for my school lunch, picnics and friends.’
Simple, huh?
Look at all the time we’d save not boring shopping
at grocers (muck), greengrocers (yuck), bakers (hmmm, tuck!)
Though we’d still have to stop for the meat and three veg for the dog.
But then, we wouldn’t have a dog, if we didn’t
want to shop, and cook, and wash up the pots and pans.
And anyway, if bones are good enough for dogs,
they really should contain enough goodness for me!
(A 7 year old child, fed up to the top of her head with sandwiches and dinners, and pining to eat as simply as her dog.)
Pony tale
My hair was in a tangled mess.
I asked mum, ‘would you brush it, please?”
‘Of course,’ she said.
‘I’ll do it in a ponytail.
Just get the brush.’
The brush was nowhere to be seen.
My brother said he’d help, then called,
‘The bristles on this broom are great!’
‘A broom’s no good for ponytails,’
I shouted. ‘Aren’t brothers STUPID!”
‘THIS broom is PERFECT!’ he yelled back.
‘A garden broom dad used last week
To sweep away the horse manure.
It’s perfect for a ponytail!’
Fat cuisine
The mouse ate
breakfast with
a huge rat.
How sad’s that!
The rat was
better than
the breakfast.
Homework
Bears growl outside my front door.
They’ve letters to post of mum’s.
They’re far too clever for her to hear.
If only they’d do my sums.
(A day-dreaming young girl…)
The secret cupboard
The Easter Bunny is Father Christmas.
I know!
I found his top secret cupboard
beneath our stairs. His costume’s hoarded there.
A beard, a robe, it’s brilliant disguise!
It’s true!
I’ve seen it with my very eyes.
Each spring the cupboard fills with chocolate eggs,
then each Christmas with presents and minced pies.
Section B
From the Humorous Heart
Tea-time
upcupcupc
upcupc
pcupc
upc
and saucer and
S
P
I
L
T
tea
(More homework from the University course – visual concrete coloured humour – the original paper version contained a tea-stain on the page.)
Alone
Alone as a ghost-ship,
trapped in the Arctic ice.
Alone as an ice-berg,
broken away from land.
Alone as an island,
waiting for Robinson Crusoe.
Alone as Robinson’s barley water,
at Wimbledon.
(The
tutor on my Kent University diploma course in creative writing posed
homework as a humorous poem.
This poem received a merit.
NB –
Robinson’s barley water was always under the umpire’s chair,
waiting to be sipped at the end of a game.)
Mindless
Where is my mind?
I think I lost it yesterday.
If you’ve found it
Please don’t play with it. It’s not yours
To play with yet.
It’s still mine! And
I want it back!
I’ve placed an ad
In ‘lost and found’.
And, as my mind had gone to ground,
I got the police to scour around.
The dumb policeman frowned, ‘are you sure?
‘Was your mind sound?
‘Or has it always clowned around?’
I thought, ‘what mind-numbing questions.
‘That’s if I had a mind to be numbed!
‘Humph! I’d soon find my mind,
if only I could set my mind to it!’
There’s a reward. I’m a boxer
And a bodyguard.
And if you find my mind I’ll be your minder!
Well, my mind won’t mind if yours don’t.
(Inspired by Jim, a schizophrenic man I cared for in my home who part sadly and part jokingly asked me to find his mind.)
Mark
Mark
Righton
was frying
eggs, pouring
hot fat all over
his legs – when the
kitchen caught alight!
Or had he burnt Frisbees?
Trained fireman thought he’d
burnt Frisbees. Some neighbours
swore three flying objects bursting
from kitchen windows had layers
of scalding steam supporting
them. Whistling hit their
ears. Hectic shouts of
‘Fire! Arrest him!!’
echoed sombrely.
Today Mark’ll
fry again.
On your
mark,
Throw!
(Mark was a homeless gang member who took a room in my home. Attempts to teach him to cook seemed his gang attacked the cooker.)
Mediterranean Evolution
A dash of sea…
A flash of pee…
(My
university tutor for the creative writing class explained that the
poem he was about to read out astonished the world with its depth and
imaginative beauty. Then he read out,
‘In a potato, there is a
universe.’
I waited for the next line. But that was it. As a
raw poetry student, I couldn’t see any depth or imaginative beauty
at all.
So for my self-imposed homework, I wrote the above
poetic response, and at the next class innocently asked the tutor
what he thought of it. I’m still not sure he realised it was my
baby attempt at taking the p…)
Autobahn driving
What’s best about Germany?
Autobahn driving!
Audacious audible Audi drivers loudly laud me,
the auditing audience in audition
Skinny skiving Skoda drivers skittishly skulk
and skimp me down skid row
Workfolk Volkswagen drivers wag their dragons
to waggle my bandwagon
Mousy mercenary Mercedes drivers miss my misery
by mercurial mercy
Fat fiancée Fiat drivers feature fiasco feats of fear
and fete my fate
Dazed day-care Daimler drivers daintily drain
my day’s dream
BMW drivers b their m w selves.
I steer Schumacher-like, slew, skew, screw on cue,
to mach 2.
Politzei placate places where hell accidents dwell.
Yet no one helps horns of private pride
Or toots tenors of tantric terror.