Dear Agony Aunt ©
By
Michael Casey
Dear Kevin, or is it Kay Van,
I don’t know the newspaper was smudged when I came across you. I was softly crying to myself in the toilet cubicle when I noticed the pile of newspapers, and your column was on top. So I had a read as I waited for nature to take its course, one of the reasons I’m bullied is because I visit the toilet so often. But a toilet cubicle is a last refuge, when life is so hard and you have no friends, too much spicy food, can do that. Though it is perfect revenge, they bully me, so I fart loudly and stink the office out, they cannot fire me, as my dad is the union leader.
So I finished my business, and looked for tissue paper, only there was none, the company decided to enter the spirit of recycling, hence the pile of newspapers in the corner of each cubicle, underneath a laminated photo of David Attenborough, we don’t want him getting splashed after all. But I tore off your address and that’ s why I’m sending you this message, not in a bottle but in a slightly stained old newspaper.
Where do I begin, well I’m fat and silver haired and I wear shades and I’m from Birmingham, actually in Old Forge and Singing Anvil which is over the border from Birmingham, it’s in the Black Country, you know where all the factories and steel works and soot and grime used to be. And I am a Writer, Writer, not waiter, nor any other W word. See you’re not listening to me either, I should have used your column to wipe my behind instead of writing to you. Columnists my arse, hang on that made me laugh, considering where I found you, in the corner of the toilet cubicle underneath David Attenborough’s laminated photo.
So that’s a sign, you made me feel better already, so I will write to you after all, Mandy swears by you, she reads your column everyday when she’s having her fag break sat on the toilet, then she comes back and shares it with all of us in the office. Obviously, she won’t have a fag in the office, it’s not allowed, due to Health and Safety, besides as I’m so gassy there could be an explosion. We did set fire to one of my farts in the office once when we were working late on a project, that’s when we found the photo of David Attenborough and decided to put him in the toilet cubicles above the recycled newspapers. And Mandy did drop her fag once and set fire to her panty hose, she came back into the office, all exposed screaming I’m on fire, I’m on fire. David saved her by throwing a vase of flowers at her panty hose, it extinguished everything. It was Rosemary and stuff, but they do say that Love Grows where my Rosemary grows, David and Mandy got together after that. She was soon pregnant, she had thought she was on the shelf, until she set fire to her panty hose, and exposed herself.
Though she always said she could have married a Fireman instead, if David hadn’t had been so quick thinking. But it was True Love, there was an eternal flame between them, you might say. We just bought her panty hose as a Wedding Gift, and a fire extinguisher. But I don’t want to talk about her, I wanted to talk about me, like all writers I must be so self-absorbed, well that’s what it says on “How to be a Writer” if you Google, I could not afford the hardback so I just read all the reviews. I’m saving my pennies there’s an offer on at Iceland, so I may buy a 3 litre bottle of dry cider, I’ve not had any alcohol for 3 months, not that I drink. But every quarter I have a quart of cheap booze. No I’m no Hemmingway, but 12 pints a year is my limit, so I look forward to my tipple. I could rhyme a word with tipple but you can do that for yourself.
So people mock me, you a writer, a &&&&&ing security guard more like, or a slim down Sumo, as they laugh in my face. But they soon changed their tune on Valentine’s Day. I printed off my poem and laminated it and put it on the wall in both sets of bogs. David Attenborough had a run for his money then. People queued not for the toilet but to read my Poetry. I signed it too, Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham then I wrote in crayon NOT a &&&&&ing security guard in crayon on top of the lamination. Lots of flashes in the toilet, everybody but everybody took a photo and soon it was all over the Internet. And do you know what, the crayon message was removed and somebody put my photo from my ID badge underneath . With it a printed message underneath, This is Michael Casey the Poet and Writer, he’s from Birmingham and normally he wears shades, we don’t think he’s fat just fabulous.
So I don’t know why I’m wasting my time writing to any Agony Aunt, just stay happy always as you eat popcorn with the love of your life, but massage her first, and you will be truly rewarded….
and here is that poem:- in English and Korean
Michael G Casey email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
You’re Never Alone When You Are in Love ©
By
Michael Casey
Love is being together , Love is a smile , a Look , A Touch
Or Just A Sigh , Not really knowing why you chose one another .
Yet Together Till You Die
Love is a Kiss soft and gentle on the cheek which warms your
heart and makes you glad you chose one another .
A Kiss can lead to more but I’ll leave Passion locked Safely
behind a bedroom door
Passion spent you’ll not give up each not even for Lent .
You’ll just lie in warm embrace and remember you forgot to say
grace .
Whispers and Promises are made , plans for the future and if
she put her hair this way , Do you think it would suit her ?
Then giggles and more embraces , Till the Night is over and with
a dig in the ribs you make him move over .
Then your oneness complete , you have to put up with his cold feet !
But when you are apart your hearts are still one ,
Thought half is absent you are still one .
His socks under the bed , and after what you said .
His “toys” scattered about , and the clout you’ll give when he
returns and the warmth of your body he yearns .
His cold feet to chill you after he thrills you , are absent yet the
thought makes you smile , at least you have the comfort for a while.
His grins and leers , which makes you smile at least you’ll have
peace for a while .
But his heart is still with you , the love is always there – as
bright as your fair hair .
Close your eyes and he is still there , Remember the embrace as
he played his fingers across your face .
Let your dreams go and remember the whispers in your ear, warm
kisses on your shoulder before he gets bolder . The warmth of love
that soars through your blood .
Dream long , Dream deep , your Man toils while you sleep, though
you are apart you are still together whatever the weather , for you
are never apart for he is locked in your heart .
Though sometimes he can be trying , there’s Never any need of
crying for your love is Undying.
Always remember he fills your heart even when you are apart
End
Michael G Casey에게 이메일 michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
당신은 사랑에있을 때 결코 혼자가 아닙니다 ©
으로
마이클 케이시
사랑은 함께하고, 사랑은 미소,보기, 터치
또는 한숨 쉬다, 왜 당신이 서로를 선택했는지 정말로 알지 못한다.
그럼에도 불구하고 당신이 죽을 때까지 함께
사랑은 당신의 몸을 따뜻하게하는 볼에 부드럽고 온화한 키스입니다.
마음을 쓰게되어 기쁘게 생각합니다.
키스는 더 많은 것을 이끌 수 있지만 나는 열정을 안전하게 잠그고 떠날거야.
침실 문 뒤에서
열정은 사순절을 위해서조차도 포기하지 않을 것입니다.
너는 따뜻한 포옹에 거짓말을하고, 잊어 버린 것을 기억할 것이다.
은혜.
속삭임과 약속이 만들어지고, 미래를위한 계획과
그녀는이 방법으로 그녀의 머리카락을 넣어, 당신은 그것이 그녀에게 어울릴 것이라고 생각하니?
그 다음 킥킥 웃음과 그 이상의 포옹, 밤이 끝날 때까지
갈빗대에서 발굴하면 그를 움직일 수 있습니다.
그럼 당신의 하나가 완성, 당신은 그의 차가운 발로 참아!
그러나 당신이 떨어져있을 때 당신의 마음은 여전히 하나입니다.
생각 반은 결석 한 당신은 여전히 하나입니다.
침대 밑에있는 양말과 네가 한 말대로.
그의 “장난감”은 흩어져 있었고,
그가 돌아 오는 몸의 보온과 따뜻함.
그가 당신을 흥분시킨 후에 당신을 차게하는 그의 차가운 발은 아직 결석하고 있습니다.
생각은 당신을 미소 짓게합니다, 적어도 당신은 잠시 동안 편안함을 느낍니다.
그의 미소와 leers, 적어도 당신은 미소 지을거야
잠시 동안 평화.
그러나 그의 마음은 여전히 당신과 함께합니다. 사랑은 항상 거기에 있습니다.
너의 공정한 머리카락처럼 밝은.
눈을 감고 그는 여전히 거기에있다.
그는 당신의 얼굴을 가로 질러 손가락을 연주했습니다.
꿈을 꾸고 귀에 속삭이는 것을 기억하고 따뜻하게 해주세요.
그가 과감하기 전에 어깨에 키스. 사랑의 온기
당신의 피로 솟아 오릅니다.
꿈을 길게, 깊은 꿈을, 당신의 남자는 수면 중에 수고를합니다.
너는 별거 다. 너는 아직도 날씨가 무엇이든간에 너와 함께있어. 너를 위해서.
그가 당신의 마음에 갇혀 있기 때문에 결코 분리되어 있지 않습니다.
때로는 그가 시도 할 수도 있지만, 절대로
당신의 사랑을 위해 우는 것은 언ying은 것입니다.
그가 항상 떨어져 있어도 마음을 채운다는 것을 항상 기억하십시오.
종료
snap is me in Lourdes France 30 years ago when I started as a writer
this was when I wrote The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
