This Sort of Thing...


The Treadmills of My Mind



Sing a song of two and a half new pee

As we mourn the decline of the bumble bee

And the sewage floating in the sea

Taints the daisy taste of your chamomile tea


Sergeant Pepper and Colonel Mustard

Are bearing arms; the world’s disgusted

Just blame it on the maladjusted

Not grand old dukes who can’t be trusted


Well I’ve been losing my mind, crying all night in bed

Whenever I dream it’s of banks and bloodshed

Those seventy-two virgins playing games in my head

Dear Agatha saw this; it’s murder she said


Stuffed shirts in a palace have the whole world controlled

Misshapen young bodies on the streets die of cold

I’m careering through time behind a silken blindfold

Why’s Jeanne Jugan condemned me to live to be old?


There was an old woman who lived in a boot

They wanted to move her; some awful dispute

A cantankerous obstacle to those who commute

Locked her up in the mental red brick institute


Possession, obsession with horseless carriage

The movie stars' sell us their fantasia marriage

A satanic globule; who can like Nigel Farridge?

In my masterclass you’ll learn to disparage


Parsley, sage, onion and Rosemary Squires

Filthy lucre laundered in gold tumble driers

Fomorians dance reels as humanity expires

Whilst fanning the flames of our funeral pyres


Like a circus going viral

Like a seal with sex appeal

Always twisting and contorting

Despite the weariness I feel

As the nightmares all rewind

Hallucinations that I find

In the treadmills of my mind


The Treadmills in My Mind

Number of comments: 2

23/11/2023 12:11:11 - Rosemary Squires

Don't forget, Turlough, that those hands that do dishes can feel as soft as your face with mild green Fairy Liquid.

23/11/2023 21:43:20 - Dorothy Squires

Go on our Rosemary. You tell him!
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