A Monologue – Of Memories

A Monologue – Of Memories

  My memory of Barry Humphries Barry Humphries has always inspired me. Better known to many all around the world as Dame Edna Everidge, it is the other talents of Humphries that I have most admired. Writer, actor and teller of tales. I wrote the following piece based on the style and my memory of a monologue I once heard him deliver in a one-man show many, many moons ago.  A Monologue – Of Memories As electric toasters go, it was a classic. All Australian mined metal and made by Aussies in blue overalls somewhere near Glebe probably. Weren’t they were the days? When Aussies made stuff for Aussies and played

The Wonderful Certainty of Death

The Wonderful Certainty of Death

The Wonderful Certainty of Death Death is so easy, so finite and pure, It has its own wonder and simple allure. Would it take seconds to pass through the gate? To eternal peace, far from life’s hate. I would imagine that once I had travelled this course, From a life taught to cherish, there may be remorse. But what would I miss, the pain of each day? Or the constant reminder that I’m just here to pay. Give me your money! The living shout out, Is this all that life is; I say, ”just about.” Money and greed, and anger and spite, Wouldn’t I rather and unending night. The mailbox

The Beautiful Bird

The Beautiful Bird

The Beautiful Bird Many years ago, I set my eyes on the most Beautiful Bird I had ever seen. She was dazzling in her beauty and song. I was entranced, and from that moment on, I was to devote my life to the wonder of this creature. She was wild, but was caged so tightly, and it was almost impossible to go near her, but over patient months and years, the Beautiful Bird began to trust my devotion. It took so long, but time was of no importance, until the day she would trust my hand in her cage. Her fears, built over many years, were slowing ebbing into a

A Time To Be Me

A Time To Be Me

A Time To Be Me How much of life is ours to make? Do we make our own mistakes? Or do we live to others rules? And work through life with borrowed tools. Do we own our lives we lead? Are we just here to simply breed? And fill our time with useless tasks, Am I the first one who has asked. What is the point meek existence? I plan to put up some resistance. To make a life for some to see, It’s now time, time to be me. I’ve lead a life by all the rules, I now return the borrowed tools. The house, the wife, the kids,

Page 1 of 712345...Last »

By continuing to use the site, you agree to the use of cookies. more information

The cookie settings on this website are set to "allow cookies" to give you the best browsing experience possible. If you continue to use this website without changing your cookie settings or you click "Accept" below then you are consenting to this.

Close