me mum was a broken violin

me mum was a broken violin

My mother was a pianist but above all a broken violinist
She kept it, after she died, shuddered away
Each snapped string representing a piercing of each of we kids' collectively tortured souls
today a duck,lacking a drake, sought to reclaim her seven children
from well-meaning custodians
her wail of distress was like the snapping of seventy times seven viola da gambas upon a charnel-house killing tile-free floor
gutters to cache each drop
to be in the event recycled for ,you guessed it,
bloody pudding
me mum was a broken violinist

the boss is right,sort of maybe

when the boss said black is whaite but actually acutely greasy grey
i said
hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
this guy is twacked thought i to myself

and then i said
Yup, you right boss