Pain and Prayer

Pain and Prayer ©

By Michael Casey

Let my Pain be my Prayer

Let my Screams be the Chorus

Let my Pills be the Verse

Let my Winces be my Supplication

Let my Pain bitten lips be my Hope

Let Sleepless Eyes be my Testament

Let my Aching Limbs be my Mantra

Let the Ringing in my ears be my Peel of Prayer

Let the stabs of pain in my heart reach high heaven

Let the fog of pain in my brain be lifted by God’s Grace

Let me down from my cross because you have already been on yours.

300,000 views on Google plus

300,000 views ©

By Michael Casey

I still don't believe 300,000 views of my page. If something is too good to be true then it is. Ask Sherlock Holmes. He used to live around the corner from our house, he got evicted for smoking too much dope. It’s true, go read the books if you don't believe me. We used to have a lodger called John Lennon, that's true too. He left when he met some Japanese girl. They had no money so they stayed in bed all the time. Another lodger when he died he left behind a brand new pair of shoes. My dad gave them to friend at the steel works, Billy was his name. The next day Billy grabbed dad and said "those are dead man's shoes his ghost chased me around the bed for his shoes" that's true too. And dad had not told Billy that they were dead man's shoes. Now you can see how I get all my stories, I just need one word and away I go. It’s a bit like instant noodles, just add water. Or in my case just add imagination.

 p.s. Mo Farah, where do you think he stole the symbol from?

Perception and Reality

Perception and Reality©

By Michael Casey

I was wondering what to talk about today, then I thought what kind of week have I had.  It’s been a week of contrasts. I’ve been threatened on the Internet and condemned too. I’ve also received thanks and too much flattery. I also had somebody who’d lost the argument condemn my spelling. If all somebody can do is condemn spelling, or the fact that I’ve not self-corrected my words then proves how shallow they are.

I like to entertain with my writing, and amuse and sometimes make you all laugh out loud. Why am I using Palatino type now? Because the guy on New Girl mentioned it so I took a look and decided to use it.  I have used Bookman Old Type before but now I may switch to Palentino all because a failed writer character in a show on tv mentioned it. Though I must say New Girl is a great discovery in our house. I do see the irony about a failed writer….

Now where was I, when you talk to friends you may talk about X, Y and Z, or zee if you are American. But talking about that doesn’t mean you want to do that all your life or ever. It’s just a conversation, you don’t think a brigade of US Marines really wants to dress in drag and go for a night of drinking. If they were in Holland with their Dutch buddies then maybe, providing the Dutch Marines paid for all the drinks.

If they happened to be in England with our Royal Marines then you can take it for granted that anything goes. We do have a long tradition of men dressing up as women, especially in Panto. As for our special forces, they can and will dress up anyway they like and speak local languages perfectly. Their commanding officers know not to say a word, and as for how senior law firm partners dress up at Christmas you would never never ever believe me, and I’ve been at a major international law firm Christmas party.

We all say things not knowing that somebody else will misconstrue it, if you say you like cashmere you don’t expect a cashmere jumper to appear on your desk. I don’t go out to work, I have my computer desk, so nobody is going to email one to me. Size 46 to 48 blue, if anybody knows where to send it. I could say I like Stella Artois too, or Ck One but nobody is going to parachute from the sky and deliver it to my house, not unless it’s a drunken Marine in drag, or several doing it for a bet.

The point is, we may say something and somebody thinks you are asking. Look what happened to Thomas a’Becket after the King said “who will rid me of this turbulent priest” I could say who will rid me of this badly decorated house. Ikea and a band of decorators are not going to arrive and do a makeover of my house. Totoro our cat loves peeling off wallpaper by  biting the wall.

So on it goes. A girl may have a crush on you, but not know you are gay. Or a boy may have a crush on you, hoping you are gay. A girl may have a crush on you, but you may think her ugly. You may have a crush on a girl and she is ugly. So the merry-go-round of love and lust and desire goes on and on and on , and up and down, and any other positions you can think of.

In diplomacy the dance of words is even more complicated, and each word has nuances and shades of meanings. If you say NO, it can mean many many things. Especially if you have pedants and journalists over analysing each syllable, which sometimes happens when you post things online. I always say, write your own stuff, and don’t comment on mine, bore your own audience, not mine.

Just Say NO

Just Say No ©

By Michael Casey

Fundamentalism of any sort is evil.  I've just had a joker say my arthritis pain in sent by the devil.
And telling me how to react to things in life.
IF ANYBODY READS ANYTHING OF MINE AND THERE ARE 9 BOOKS AND 2 WEBSITES AND AN AUDIO SITE TOO.
THEN THEY WILL REALISE I WRITE LIFE ENHANCING STUFF.
I WANT EVERYBODY TO ACHIEVE THEIR POTENTIAL, TO BE HAPPY, TO HAVE ENOUGH SEX OR NONE. TO HAVE ENOUGH ALCOHOL OR NONE. TO WORSHIP ANY WAY THEY WANT OR NOT AT ALL.
TO BE LEFT ALONE TO LIVE THEIR LIVES IN PEACE.
If I am not left in Peace and anybody wants to force their version of reality down my throat then I will ignore them and leave them to die in the desert of their own ignorance.
I think generally this is everybody's view in England, that's one reason it’s such a great place.
So please never ever try and force feed your nonsense down my throat. I'm happy we are all different, that's what makes life fun. But leave your Fundamentalism of any kind at the door.

The Ballard of Hank and Mary-Beth

The Ballard of Hank and Mary-Beth ©

By Michael Casey

Hank slid out of bed, his big bed, and went straight for the weights, it was his daily ritual. For 10 minutes he flexed this way and that way holding his weights, one in each hand. Then he lay down and did 100 sit ups, he was toned very toned. Putin and Medvedev would be jealous, Hank was more like the policeman in Electra Glide in Blue the old film, Hank was a policeman too just like the bodybuilder cop in the film. Hank was much much bigger though, and he smelt much nicer.

When Hank had finished his morning ritual he headed for the shower where he exfoliated and washed his every nook and cranny. His mum had been a hygienist and his dad had been a salesman delivering ladies perfumes and face care to the whole state. So Hank knew all there was to know about hygiene and makeup, he could have made a career out of it, instead he became a junior bodybuilder, until that fateful night when he saw Electa Glide in Blue at a late night movie show. So it was decided, he’d be a cop.

Hank was a natural cop, he was polite and very very observant, his parents had taught him all that, they had always told him to watch everything. So when He trained to be a cop it all just fell into place. He was a bit behind in target practice but in exchange for fashion and makeup advice Sue-Ellen taught him all there was to know about weapons and tactics. In fact every woman on the force came to him for advice, sometimes all he had to advise was use a thinner makeup brush or a different shade of lipstick. They were in Las Vegas after all and a girl had to look good, even if she was packing a gun and a badge. The other cops, the male cops teased him by saying he was gay, but secretly were totally jealous. If you want to  get the girls just study makeup and perfume, then you’ll always have plenty of female company.

Hank enjoyed his job and finally after 10 years he made sergeant, he never found the right girl though. He did have a great friend at the general post office Mary-Beth was her name, she was tall and had a great  smile, and braces, she had flame red hair. She always hid her figure in long dresses and baggy blouses, but she was great to talk to.  They were such great great friends.

So life went on, Hank patrolling and arresting as needs be, or just  warning folks to behave. It was a good life, he had a savings account at the general post office, it was his excuse to see Mary-Beth. He knew all about online banking, but that was not as good as seeing a real person, a girl, a girl whose smile would make your heart beat faster.

This went on for years, and could have ended in tears, tears at a graveyard for evil came a calling to the Las Vegas general post office. A punk named Skunk as high as high can be came looking for money with a Colt 45 in his hand and a bag full of bombs, or so he said. Mary-Beth pressed the silent alarm. Hank got the call on the radio, Las Vegas general post office. His girl was in danger, they say that it takes 1 minute 15 seconds to travel that stretch of road, Hank floored it, in 45 seconds he was yards from the general post office, his tyres were on fire.

They could see through the binoculars Skunk had taken hostages now, Mary-Beth was amongst them. Hank rung the general post office asking what the demands were. Dr Pepper and Kentucky Fried Chicken was the reply. Too much drugs had given Skunk an appetite. Two minutes later the food was ready. Stunk had another demand now, it should be delivered by a naked man, so he could tell it wasn’t a trap.

Hank looked at the other 20 police officers, he started to take his clothes off, it was his girl, he just had to save her. The female officers were open mouthed in awe, the men knew they had been wrong to call him names. Hank looked like the Terminator but with an American accent, and bigger with a side order of, well I’ll leave that to your imagination.

So carrying a tray a naked Hank entered the general post office, Skunk was suspicious, Hank was so big. You a body builder he asked. Mary-Beth had to intervene, so she told him a pack of lies about the body building club down the street and he, who she’d never seen before, well not totally buff naked, must be working as a food delivery boy to make ends meet.

Yes that’s correct said Hank. Hank looked her in the eyes and she tried not to look at his, at his, but looked in his eyes. They were lying so well together just like a pair of politicians, and little did they know that they’d be lying so well together a little later.

Skunk had his meal, before gulping down his Dr Pepper, he drunk it too fast and began to choke, so Hank seized his opportunity and grabbed the gun, only he slipped on a piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken and ended flat on his back. Skunk grabbed Mary-Beth by the hair and said he’d hurt her if Hank did not give the gun back. Hank looked at Mary-Beth she was the girl of his dreams, only now as he was naked in the general post office had he realised it after all those years.

Mary-Beth mouthed “no” as Hank got up and started to hand the gun over, Hank was naked in every sense of the word. Mary-Beth struggled from Skunk, her hair being torn out, she was ½ free. Hank slipped again on more food debris, he dropped the gun and it went off.

Outside the police ducked for cover, the police dogs all barked in unison. Hank knew it was now or never, so like a frog launching itself he launched himself at Stunk. Stunk and him rolled over the floor of the general post office, slip sliding away, how could one person be so messy with their Dr Pepper and Kentucky Fried Chicken. Stunk was reaching for the gun on the floor, so Hank did a clean and jerk, like weightlifters do. Stunk was a jerk and needed cleaning up, so Hank in one motion lifted him up and threw him at the window. Only Stunk bounced off the window, so this time Hank lifted him and held him tight before throwing him with all his strength at the window. This time, this time the window broke and Stunk was in the street on the pavement, I would say sidewalk but I’m  a Birmingham writer and we say pavement in England.

The dogs were let loose and enjoyed biting bastards, inside Mary-Beth cooed around Hank, was he ok, did he break his best fingernail when he threw the baddie through the window, the usual questions a girl asks a naked man, the man of her dreams, even if he happens to be naked.

Hank inspired by the occasion asked her on a date, could she would she go on a date with him. The other 40 hostages cheered. Mary-Beth looked at Hank and said, NO. Hank, naked Hank was crestfallen. But would he MARRY her, Hank was confused, then he looked up and  saw the date, 29^th February 1988.

So they were married in the wedding chapel next door, and they were good at lying next to each other. Mary-Beth turned out to  be like an Easter egg, once all the packaging was removed something wonderful was inside. As for Hank  he left the police force and became a body double for some Austrian actor whose name I forget.