25th May 2017 Padre Pio's Birthday

25th May 2017 Padre Pio's Birthday

Pio was a tough guy but very gentle, as I've mentioned before I believe he saved my dad's life which then led me to finding a wife and family. back in 1996
There is a film of his life on the Internet

I haven't felt like writing new stuff but tomorrow I'll give it a try while my daughter does her maths gcse exam, she wants a 9, which is a grade so high it would touch the clouds, so I'll ask Pio to help her. If she cannot be a doctor she said she'd be a maths tutor instead, I can remember getting the pump on my bum 50 years ago for not knowing my times tables.

My old camera finally worked today just as I was going to throw it away so here are some photos of me at my computer. Looking really rough and unshaven, I'll be in an action movie next, as a stand in for the bed room scenes, I couldn't do any of the running around  but...
Yes I write comedy.

 https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael%20Casey/e/B00571G0YC

As These Tears Fall

As these tears  fall ©

By Michael Casey

As these tears fall, we remember we have been here before.

As these tears fall, the love we feel hurts so much more.

As these tears fall, we are stunned and don't know what to say.

As these tears fall, we must remember them all.

As these tears fall, we think of the smiles.

As these tears fall, we remember the laughter.

As these tears fall, we remember the kisses.

As these tears fall, we touch their things that will never be used again.

As these tears fall, we finish ironing the shirt or the trousers that will

never be worn again.

As these tears fall, we feel a hole in our heart that aches so much.

As these tears fall, we remember their touch, comforting and more.

As these tears fall, we are heartbroken for our lost futures.

As these tears fall, we give thanks for what we did have.

As these tears fall, love carries on, we will meet again.

Too many Times

Too many times have I posted these poems, too many times we all cry together, too many times we sink with grief, too many times Evil raises its head.

But Our Love for each other always brings another dawn

Let There Be Light ©

 By Michael Casey

Let my tears be my words

Let the candle light be my eyes

Let the flowers in bloom be my lips

Let their scent be my blood

Let the wind be my breath

Let clouds be my mood

Let children’s laughter be my hope

Let widows’ sighs be my conscience

Let a stranger’s prayers be my delight

Let the bees be my wisdom

Let the trees be my strength

Let my patience reach to the stars

Let me be always remembered in your prayers

            

                The Dead and The Living (c)

                           by

           

                     Michael  Casey

     I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old, my father said not

  

     to worry as the dead are the same as the living, only the  laughter

  

     has left them, the sparkle has gone from their eyes, the worry has

  

     been lifted from their shoulders, and their voice has vanished  to

  

     eternity.

     In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the  twinkle  of  the

  

     stars, the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and

  

     the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter.

     

     I treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living,

  

     though I find the deceased are always more polite. My father also

  

     had a few words to say about the living.

     He said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul ,  yet

  

     they think their existence is everything, that they know everything

  

     because they experience many things with their senses.

     What the living don't acknowledge is that their time is short  and

  

     when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls  continue  without

  

     them, without their strong, without their weak, without  their

  

     beautiful or even ugly temporary form, to where I cannot say, only

  

     that it is a better place.

  

     Percy the undertaker placed the lid on the coffin, the soul was free

                          THE  BEGINNING

All Quiet on the Western Front

All Quiet on the Western Front

By

Michael Casey

Well my viewing figures have dropped off from USA, I think it may just be because the West Wing are all in Holy Lands, Muslim, Jewish and soon to visit Rome. So they cannot get to their desk to see what I’m saying today. I bet Theresa May would have liked a consoling word from Donald Trump. The policy of pay for your own social care has gone down like a lead balloon.

I have to declare an interest, nearly 20 years ago our dad went into a home after his near fatal heart attack, I was in the bed right next to his on the very same ward 20 years later. As for the home, the family paid for it, it cost 6 years salary in today’s money. The price of a house. Obviously we all thought it was unfair that he had worked hard all his life paying tax, but if you pissed your life up a wall you would have got it free.

That is the reality, who is going to pay for all the care? Two million extra over 75s who may need care. So who pays. Obviously we’d all love for the State, the Taxpayers to pay, but when the elderly are in the millions, what should happen. In the old days University was free, my brother bought my little sister a tricycle with his grant, a fiver I think. He went to Queens Oxford and my little sister got a tricycle, 50 years ago.

No SEVEN times as many go to University, or Uni as its called. Everybody thinks its a right. SEVEN times as many, if you have a child you could afford to buy the child an ice cream, but if you had SEVEN children what do you do?

This is simple Maths, and we says Maths in England not Math, we are not Americans. I won’t make the obvious Diane Abbott jokes. So what do you want for your Society? Education and Care, yes we all do, but who pays for it with all the high numbers? Perhaps Nicola Sturgeon in Scotland will lend us some money from all the Oil she still thinks she has. In fact that has all but gone. Scotland will become an Oil Rig scrapyard centre as a means of making money, according to a news report I saw.

There is a money tree being planted the length and breath of UK, right next to the wind farms, the wind from the turbines helps the £50 notes grow faster, in Scotland they have £100 notes, but I’m not jealous, good luck to them. Before I forget I stumbled over this picture of the Heather and Bonnie Scotland, it was GREAT, so do go visit Scotland, it looks amazing. And for the record when I was working in a hotel at CPNEC, the Scots guests were truly nice folk.

With all the lack of money the Political Parties have to explain who will pay, who will pay. Only they won’t they’ll just try and trash the rest. Our Liberal party seems to have dissolved at the moment, and Labour now has a stick to beat the Tories with namely Social care. Before Labour would have said soak the rich now they will defend the Grey vote, because it could help them win after an amazing fightback, or rather Tory own goal.

Boris has been leashed and tethered so far in this Election Campaign so I fully expect him to be let loose to attack Labour. If 80% of the Labour team said their own Leader was rubbish before, why is that not being repeated Ad Infinitum? If his own team have no faith in him, why should you. It seems as if the arrogance of being an expected runaway winner has come home to roost.

At the start of the Election I said it would NOT be a landslide and I predict 45 seats win for Mrs May, if she can character assassinate Corbyn then she will win, but now she will have to work really hard. The irony is that Labour will be defending the Rich and their Greed, and that way they can beat Mrs May, Politics really is that Topsy Turvy.

Terms are all relative, and I’d not bothering to put everything in speech marks, punctuation gets in the way of thought. I write for your ears after all. I am glad of one thing though. Tribal voting seems to be ending, Tactical Voting is coming to the Fore. It always should be like that. No Party deserves our loyalty, just as no petrol station nor grocery store deserves our undying custom.

They have to work for us and not the other way around.

One final thought, my mother was born in a shack on the shores of Cromane Lower opposite Dingle where Ryan’s Daughter was filmed. See photo below.My dad was a blacksmith in Kerry too, they came to England in 1944 with just the clothes on their back.  Dad spent 40 years sweating in asteel works in Smethwick.Their children studied hard, in what is now called inner city Birmingham, my bothers went to Queens Oxford, and Downing Cambridge. I’m the writer in the family. My children, the grandchildren of Irish peasants if you like, and the grandchildren of a very poor Shanghai people, and a Shanghai mum, these girls will be a Doctor and maybe a PhD in English. So if this can happen in 1 and then 2 generations why should anybody vote Tribally for any Politician.

We did it for ourselves