Limericks for Jesus at Easter by Helene Smithee - work ing progress over the easter holiday.

 Im going to do some more in a bit so pop back later, like Jesus did on Easter Sunday

 if your just reading the first on that I wrote. Please add your own poemas and limericks for easter in the comments if your are artistic like i am. Thank you/.

Limerick number 1. 

 A young Jewish man who looked Swedish,

Once made the Romans quite peevish

so they did the snide

and had him crucifried

Although not everyone believes this. 

© Helene Smithee Easter 2014

 Limerick numer 2

 Good Friday was not quite so good

For Jesus when nailed to some wood

Now we eat fish thats fried

Because on Fried - day he died

and because fish arent 

 all covered in blood

(like Jesus was on the cross)

 © Helene Smithee Easter 2014

 

 This next one isnt a limerick but i am a creative soul and wont be nailed to any cross of regiment and rules i have to go with my flow.

happy birthday god bless you pictures Poem numvber 3

It's Easter weekend and so what we do

Is take a trip to B & Q

Because woodwork was Jesuses craft

that's why the nasty Romans laughed

and made him build his own cross from a kit

which made being crucifried even more shit.

poor Jesus. 

Does anyone know if POntius Pilate invented Pilates? If he did i might have to give up that genre of yoga because of its negative conitations.

 [some verse here by my protege E-Fluent}

On Easter Saturday there lied therein

in the tomb wrapped in some special linen

a loin cloth he'd bought in Turin

Was Jesus who died for our sin

and everyone was very sad

that Jesus had been killed by his Dad

who was also Jesus which sounds quite mad

But God works in mysterious ways like my i-pad

 (God inventing tablets)

and soon people would not trust their eyes

because instead of stinking and being covered with flies

Jesus Christ like a zombie would rise

which would be the most lovely surprise

to be continued....

The final ode of this poetry marathon fr  Easter comes again from my protege, young urbane poet E-Fluent. It is a great trubute thtank you E-Fluent for being part of this blog though I know you are indebted to me for discovering you and for all the guidance i have given you in your career. 

Rap For Jesus by E-Fluent

Hip hop and a hippety hay

Here's a rap for Easter Sun-day

Those Romans nailed J-sus thru his wrists and legs

so we can all celebrate eating cholcolate eggs.

A hip hop and a hippety hoo!

Hey Pontus, that was a mean thing to do

you tortured J-sus like a Spanish Inquisition

just to invent a new yoga position

why dint you show karmic peace and love

to our man J coz he's the son of the Gov (God)

A hip hop and hakuna Matata

thouse wounds were real cruel not fake stigmata 

(though stigmata it is a real thing)

After God Fried Day J-sus was unwell

they put him in a tomb where he started to smell

But our Lord JC wouldnt be forgotton 

he didnt let his corpse go all zombie-esque and rotten

Like some old take away chucked into a bin

after drying on the cross for our sin 

NO!

"I said NO Siree!"

and no Alas and Alack

Coz its Easter Sunday

And Jesus is back!!!!!!!!

Hooray!

(passio fruit - see what i did there.)

He is risen

like a souffley on Come Dine

Remember this dude turned water into wine

Yo! 

JC's feelin' fine

Rock it Jesus

Happy Christmas.

(I know its easter but Easter doesnt rhyme with Chrsitmas like Jesus does - E-Fluent)

Copyright E-Fluent 2014

Valentines Day 2014

I am in a hurry so here is a quick poem i have tried to make it into the shape of a heart or a vajazzle. but before that i send you all my love. here is a picture of some dolphins - they are tyhe abngles of the sea.

blaze the cat pictures

Valentines poem - a work in prgress. as any love truly is. So that is quite apt actually.

As King Arthur at                the battle of hastings
  or Steven Fry when         he was in heaven 17
     or Robin Hood             weraing green in
        the wood shooting at targets like the
           wide eyed pupil of mine lusting
              eyes or William Tell splitting
                apples as Issac Newton split
                  atoms using science for
                  making mead and cider
                      for the honeymoon
                        swoon and the beats
                               inside her
                                under the
                                     tree
                                   of
                                 love,

could you Adam and Eve it
that I would receive it
For I have been arrow struck by the beaty of you

OH BUGGER IT HASNT REALLY WORKED AND IVE GOT TO GO OUT NOW!!!!!

greek goddess pictures

Potrait of the poetess at a window as she writes

This is just a short poettry storm as i have just had coffee as a writing exercise. you never know when inspiration will strike and if, like me you, are a true artists you have to go where your creative beckons you to go, like a dandelion husk on the wond or a sticky bob on a cat's tale, or a special person chosen like Richard Dreyfuss to make mountains out of clay and venture forth into the u nknown with the space alans because you are a special prophet for the greys.

POtrait of the poetess at a window as she wrirtes

Throught the window, onto her damask, gossmaer alabster skin

the spidery dappling sunlight trickles through fading tree leaves

wisps of autumn light is patterning her pretty brow 

like a speckled mischeivous young trout 

winnowing through a babbling brook

her cheek bones are wise and thoughtful, 

and her pink lips moist with crisp ideas

words are her esential tools ;

she expressess, like breast milk,  

the craftwomans beauty of her existence 

through theire font dance quilling on the papyprus like old page

and in tune with Cleopatra, she too writes

of storm swollen loves past, in her own lifetime 

and previouos ones 

for she has jorneyed as many a woman, a figurehead bust

at the forefront of her ship

like chakrak Khan she is every woman and also none

she has never been a nun though

she is too passionate, too colourful an exotic butterly

besotted qwixsotic, erotic amazing Amazonain

her blood too spicy and hot - a wastrel to her cause

a sauce pot, a mexiocan dancer or serenina

twirling a light fantastic fire dance

maddened into a tangling of hair and a coughing up of yeasty phlegm

triffid like tendrils of Tarzans grip onto her helpless Jane

slain by the demon of jungle lust 

[ (readers dont read this bit) Note to me: find a way to come back to Yorkshire]

she has been on those moors and they have changed her... [end poem with elipstick coz its always good and add mystery]

{ i'll will have to come back to this because my noddles are ready]

Wierd ~Perceptions

This is not so much a proper blopgpost from me more of a freestyling riff of unkempt writing to get my creaive juices flowing but your feedback is welcome as everv. this is called weird percptions and is about distorted reality and whatever else comes out (ive not written it yet)

Wierd Perceptoins (poem)

wierd percetions round my unique, light worker brain
catching the electric orgasmeme
mother universe vibe
like a star burst weather vein
strange senations like opal fruits, space dust
 and lemonade
doesnt mean im going to insane
infitessimal incantations pumping through me - 
the ferric blood of gaseous planets
 all a swirl: a delerious dry ice disco 
on a super fast train
of this earth daughter's thought
and diurnal eternal astronsut 

wierd percetions what do these mystery messages mean?

a prphecy from the comos for this indigo conduit? 
things arent what they seem

weird perseptions.

 

 wierd perceptions and im not on transluscent drugs 

(unless you count ginsneg and echinashea)

so many mini micropscopic protoons 
and tiny helpless atoms we cant see

the indigo minutaei of truth is out there 

we must seek to find

lost as Altanis's Seahorse queen, 

but bubbling like a cross hair 

of an idea in our minds eye looker

our collective memory from when 

we were one ancient people, co-operating

building mud dwellings and sleeping in trees in swamps 

when we were onLY  A STONES THROW in years AWAY FROM BEING CLAY FIGURINES OURSELVES IN THE HANDS OF GOD'S

painting in cave walls with ochre and the blood of scarificial volunteers that are now mummy's

[Broken watches that were mysteriously fixed by Urie Gellar]

Weird perceptoins toss and swim 

like broken tailed sperm through my evervescent head
mad genius ideas, thwarted detstinations 
and confusion but the glorious truth shall be reborn
tho' corrupt dark forces of the CIA dost hide

their dark doings and evil dealings 

while spying in our minds.

but we shall cojoin our conscousness, 

fullfill our movement with  persistence

we know there are a thousand 

unreported Rossevelt incidents

we shall prove to the septics of area 41s existence

The government underestimates the force of our resistance

for we are at the helm

with help from other realms

weird percptoins. 

  copyright Helene Smithee 2013 
(a work in progress as we all are)

Halloween - a poem by helene Smithee

purple pictures

Let us away from mauve oneness and dabble in the apple blobbing recklesness that is the velveteen black and gothik purple of the anual festival of zombys and death that is halloween. 

Soon, it will be the whitching hour and we will be consorting with satan but only for a bit of fun. Kids will be learning knife skills hollowing out pumkins and suchalike. back in my day we only had turnups and it was a right effort to cut little faeces in them and sometimes we'd cut ourselves but it was fine because we didnt have comedy blood back then so it was all good for the effect. 

Some Christian people say 'NO HALOWEEN IS THE OCCULT YOU MUST NOT DO IT WEEJEE BOARDS ARE DANGEROUS' but i think all things in moderation its only a bit of fun.n Also, being an indigo child of the univers i know that we dont become ghouls when we die we go back into the celestial light -its the the water cycle but with light and our skellingtons just feed worms but we are not they - they are resudue of the physical world, not who we really are. 

So Remember - if you have been plagued by ugly teeth in this life, you will not be so when you return to the godhead. 

here is a fun poem about Halloween. 

Halloween

The melancholy pale maiden,

bloodless face of moon, translucent 
like a haunted ghost 

is she mestruating; 

does she even exist?

She cries sad, 

silver, glittery tears

glimpsing down onto the spooky, dark wood

atmospheric, swirling 

mist like gossamer 

envelopes the forrest 

like a hypnotic dancer

casting her spell 

on mesmerized menfolk

catches in drops 

in the webs of the deadly 

black widow bitterly waiting 

her lover and prey

a twig snaps!

and vampiric bats terrify, 

flitting their tanglous wings 


flapping fear into your silken, fair hair

a fox, a red gash, dashes out 

hurtling after wide eyed rabbit 

disturbed by the madness 

of mixamotosis 

bounces in the glint 

of his bulging dead eyes

a clock chimes: 

bong! bong! bong! bong! bong!Bong!

Bong! Bong! bong! bong! Bong! bong!

The midnight hour,

a time for witching, watching

the cauldron pots of spells cast

and disinterred corpses that dance

there dance macabre stealing souls

with their hard boiled egg zombie eyes

of those who have only half died

these evil doers will knock on your door

steel you away

and eat out your heart

this is no trick or treat; no time to be weak

keep you cricifix near to stave off your fear

and pray for the asylum of sunlight to come soon.

angel pictures

while in the distance you hear 
the blood curdling howl 

of the she wolf,
 as she is mated with the werewolf possessed and 

watched by the goat head

of the lord of all eveil.

Jesus, please help us.

i love grandma pictures

The end.

  Copyright helene Smithee 2012

i have added the audio in the future 2019 see it down there.

She Whale

I have been inspired by a fabulous video that i have witnessed that captures some intimate swimming monets of some beautiful humpback whales. 

I will post the video at the bottom of the page for you to enjoy and hopefully it will inspire you to write a poem about whales or some other sea creature of your choice, like the doklpins that are the angles of the sea. Though i think that whales must have some hevenly roll under there too, they are so peaceful and big like God's blue sky. Most of the wordls is under water, not just the mistical city of Atlantis that some of our forebaears came from (we know who we are as we have a special job to do on the earth) and it is no mistake that some of the universes most special creatures live under the sea. Octopuses even can open jars. This is surely proof that there is a great plan that we dont yet understand (well some of us do but its a secret until the time) octopuses have been on the earth for much longer than jars yet they know how to open jars. Think about it. I have gone off the point but my imagination just sparks off like a dominoe toppling record attempt with lighter fuel dribbled on each domino when i think of such wondrouesness of the netural world. And so it is with this in mind that i share this new poem. hot off the press. 

She Whale

Magnificent, majestic, giants of the deep

Some of you look gnarled; gherkins with eyes

bobbing and jostling through greeny fluid

innocent and pure as newborns in utero

Big barnacled elephants; dinosaurs of the sea

Yet you glide, o’er the tides

serene submarines of flesh and blubber

fat synchronised swimming ballet dancers,

slowly rotating like joyful lava lamp blobs

underwater fantasia hippos in the nude

but not rude,

it is as it should be, for thee.

Once your bones were confined in corsets and bras

That they too would tame the blubbery ebb

Of female forms in Victorian times

when women were Evil Eves

Hidden, covered and confined by man’s hatred

of his lustful undercurrents

his uncontrollable urges and surges

blamed on the splendour of the feminine flow.

Beautiful She Whale now we’re unkindly compared

unto you if we deign to be too fat, too languid,

too wide of breech, too much...

in a man’s world that beaches our dreams.

And so to the sea,

where they harpooned you to your bloody grave

though thine spirit left the earth, our planet,

from free sea swimming

unto the heavens; now you are stars,

not bras

your huge corpses were commodity, like women today.

your being: melted and sliced, sold every which way

made into soap that could never unstink

the vile ways of men

and into phallic like candles – man made light

From the body of one that swam,

naked under the watch of our milky true moon

at one with the clocks and seasons of schools of whales

and the secret sea

of she.

Here is the video that inspired. me

Stop the Fighting by E-Fluent

WWe are living in a troubled world. It is all antsy and iratible like the 

pea under the princesses mattress or the grit of sand in the oyster and 

lo, out of this mailstorm of hurt and tyranny, you E-Fluent, my muse 

and protege has written this great poem

. 

He is wise beyond his ears that one. It also has a rousing chorus so I

hope that one day we will see croweds of football fans chanting it on 

the terraces as they exchange pies and smiles and release doves and 

helium ballons (but not those chinese lanterns becasue they kill owls 

and frighten sheep) and we can be one in this world. We just need 

hope and the optimism of youth like young E-Fluent has here. This is
 a 
poem of great hope. I am very proud as I have taught him well. 
i am at 

last a sage. I dont know whats happened here its a right jumble but

 maybe that is meant to be a meteor for the chaos of war. 
 

Stop the fighting 

Stop the fighting stop the war

Ask yourselves what are we fighting for

Put your guns down live in peace

Stop the fighting make it cease

Stop the fighting for every kid
Hate and hunger - lets get rid

Stop the fighting, put down your blades

 Stop the theiving and the ram raids

Help you neighbours lets be kind

Help deaf people and help the blind

Stop the fighting what is it for

Make it happen don't close your door

Use a pen and not a sword

Turn a cheek like our good lord

Stop the fighting lets see it gone

Can't solve problems with a loaded gun

Stop the fighting stop the pain

Make sunshine not the bullets rain

Stop the fighting we'll be as one

Each a good daugther or a son

Come together stop the fight

Come on lets make this world right

Let's fix the world that we have broke

And hold hands while we share a coke

a cola (not the drug).

  Stop the fighting and all the crying

Too many people are hurt and dying

Stope the fighting love one another

Sister father Mum and brother

Grandads nanas aunties and neices

Stop us blowing the world to pieces

Cousins stepchildren and nephews

Don't let them light the dynamite fuse

Stop the fighting lets write a story

About a time of hope and glory

When everyone said "Yeah, count me in!"

If we pull together we can win

Stop the fighting stop all hurt

Come on everyone - lets make this work!

Peace to everyone!

Copyright E-Fluent 2009