Macro-Shaft Spill Chucker problems

 Deer Sirs and Madmen,

Eye recently done low dead a copy of My crow shit Widows 13 to my foam butt I am knot hippy roundabout the whey hit his workingman. The Productive Test future lever seams to pot the write worlds that eye tip.

Eye new have two pot dishes inn bee twine the litters

Fur egg samples,  Eye writ two my fiend "I-W-I-L-L--B=E--A-T--H-O-M-E--T-O-N-I-G-H-T--I-F--Y-O-U-W=W=T=T=O--C-O-M-E--R-O-U=N=D--M=Y==H-O-U-S-E--F-O-U-R--A--M-E-A-L" and hit writ "Eye well bee hat good two tight if ewe won't cum roundamout my mouse sour a neck".  That is know home his hit?

When Eye tip no, meanng no, the spill chucker pots no, butt if eye tip no beemning no, hit pots no.

Hand my grill fiends name is knot Jerky.  Eye ham know hippy whit what.

Sew pleas whit con eye due two pot it write or con we go bake to the last won witch was bitter?



Sours faithlessly

A Rider

BRUNO: AN ANGEL EARNED HIS WINGS: April 2025

 Off to the hospital on a festival day,
I arrived outside for a one day stay,
Prepared to enter, prepared to wait,
Made my way to the hospital gate,
But to my surprise and I admit dismay,
The lock on the gate was blocking my way.

I thought we'd have to walk quite far,
But suddenly an angel appeared in his car!
His name was Bruno and he was brown,
Dressed quite normal, no heavenly gown.
"The gate is locked, you cannot get in!"
He said with c heeky but blissful grin.

A grin that shone like a celestrial star.
"I'll give you a lift in my little blue car!"
We needed not to worry more,
Bruno took us to the entrance door.
That made me feel like I was a king,
And Bruno was earning his white Angel's wings.

April 202

Sainsbury's St Clements Chhescake complaint

 To Saisnbury's Quality Control Department:

Dear Sirs and Madmen,

I must complain in the strongest possible terms without expletives about your Taste the Difference St Clement's Cheesecake slices.

It says quite clearly on the box that it contains "hidden pockets of oranges and lemon curd".  Sadly this was not the case.

In fact we never found any hidden pockets, they were clearly visible from the top!  Not only could I see them, but neither could my dinner guests which I am sorry to say included chilfdren.

Unless of course those triangular orange coloured bits were there as a bonus or as a way to distract us from searching for the hidden pockets?

As a recompense we would appreciate it if you could send us some hidden pockets as soon as possible, so that we can add them in if we buy the cheesecake again, which we probably won't as we can make much better cheesecake ourselves - the only reason we bought it was for the hidden pockets and we were sadly shocked and disappointed that we could not find even one.  I guess maybe they were possibly just hidden too well.  Maybe you should remove the claim from the packet to avoid dissapointing other customers?

Sheila not Shiela

Reflection is recognition that brings clarity and joy

 One can never find true peace, love, joy, contentment in this world until one learns to find it first within inside where is has always been.  

Only then can we recognise peace, love, joy, contentment and only then will we reflect it - only when your candle is lit can we light other candles.    

That brings gratitude and understanding.    

Then we can have clarity.  Then we can really enjoy life.

Sand through the Hand - a Poem by Alun Buffry (1982)

 

Sand through the Hand

by

Alun Buffry

(1982)

Life flows so quick like golden sand

Each grain a day passed through God’s hand

Each moment precious as a jewel

And Yet I waste it like a fool.

You looked at me my heart to sway

But blind I was and looked away

Back to desires and lust and greed

From which You begged me to be freed.

I never ceased to grab and hoard,

Always forgetting my sweet Lord,

That Love lives on within inside

From whom no soul would wish to hide.

I pray to you Lord, to be so kind

And give me strength to ignore my mind,

So from your path I’ll never stray

And at your feet my life will stay.

Those things for which once I craved

You showed inside and I was saved,

Life’s flow became a flow of bliss.

Each grain a chance Your feet to kiss.

And if ever off I stray again,

Please call me back to Holy Name

That Light inside me, make it glow,

Your endless love, please let me know.

Dreams within Dreams

 Introduction to If Only Suomi - a love story through time:

Most books are considered to be fiction or non-fiction or a combination, written before or after the events therein. Those are either historical, which can include a lot of speculation and guesswork; simply made up, futuristic, speculative, prophecies or wishful thinking. This book is all of that. It’s questionable when exactly it was written. It is clearly written after events in the author’s life, but both before and after the present day. in 2020, on our calendars.

It includes memories and dreams, prophecies and wishful thinking. In fact, some sort of time travel. If only in the mind.

So what is the difference between dreams and memories?

We can have memories of dreams and dreams of memories.

We can have dreams within dreams.

What is the difference between reality and illusions or imagination? Dreams can seem very real and what we normally call reality can often seem unreal.

Ancient religions tell us that the world is nothing but an illusion, just at twinkle in the eye of the Creator, a cutting from the fingernail of Krishna, ‘Maya’.

“All the world's a stage. And all the men and women merely players.” wrote William Shakespeare.

As children we sang

“Row, row, row your boat,

Gently down the stream,

Merrily merrily, merrily, merrily,

Life is but a dream.”

Modern-day scientists may tell us that the whole Universe and everything around us, even our own bodies, is made of subatomic particles, too small to see with the naked eye, and waves, that sometimes it may be a particle and sometimes a wave, wave-particle duality and, according to the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, we can never say exactly when and where a particle is. They say that it is mostly space and that it is our senses and brains that put it all together so we can live in it. In other words; an illusion.

Others even say that technically it is all holographic! We are not actually here at all!

And some religious folk who believe in an all-powerful God may say that it was all made not so long ago, to look like it is much older, like a film set or a game of Dungeons and Dragons.

Then there are dreams within dreams.

 

PUT IT RIGHT YOURSELF an environmental poem by Alun Buffry

 

PUT IT RIGHT YOURSELF

by Alun Buffry

Look down for a moment at this Human race,
From origins to now, changes we trace,
That 'though most of the time we didn't want war,
We let politicians and military men store
Our weapons of hate - or protection they say,
In case we have enemies to strike at one day.
So, now we all stand facing each other,
Knowing all die if man strikes his brother.

Some people here shout about nuclear power;
The atoms are split not to make enemies cower;
Used instead to make heat, movement and light,
But some people feel radiation ain't right.
The burns, they tell us, will start with an itch,
Yet daily we continue to push down the switch,
For the sake of economy and to ease our lives,
To amuse the children and appease the wives.

None of us want deadly fumes in our heads,
Yet most of our cars are still pumping out lead,
And carbon monoxide and satanic gases
Which surround the globe and will choke the masses.
See - we all need to travel and warm up our homes.
It's so far from us that strange ozone.
The scientists, we hope, the solution will find,
While we run round like mad men to satisfy our minds.

We hide away the old, the mental, the spastics,
We dig our big holes and fill them with plastics,
We flush down the toilet with all kinds of shit,
Polluting the rivers and oceans with it.
The fish, they are dying, some species are lost,
We all say we're sorry but won't pay the cost;
Won't give up our luxuries, take care how we tread,
On this our planet, and live gently instead.

There up the road is a chemical factory,
The products, we think, are quite satisfactory.
The pollution it's causes around us, us bugs,
But it's all in the creation of bottles of drugs,
To cure all (they say) of illness and sores,
Forgetting to tell us the factory's the cause.
Ask how can we stop it, make the guilty atone,
When we are all using the same economics at home?
So, next time you notice the rivers all stink,
Remember at home what you put down the sink.
Next time that you feel that the air is impure,
Remember the fumes and the smoke that we pour,
Out of our chimneys and cars. Think of the mammals!
Remember each one of us is in essence an animal.
And if you choose now not to swim in the sea,
Remember the nasties were put there by thee.

One thing we all know in our heads is for sure,
A Huge sacrifice is needed and maybe much more.
We must think of the things that we use and we trash,
What we burn and destroy will have a backlash:
Poisoned air, water and radiation kill slow,
And the poor Human race has nowhere to go.
Unless each person can get into their head,
That the cause and effect will make it all dead. 

 as read by Winston Matthews, RIP 

 

Kicking Balls, a poem by Alun Buffry

 

KICKING BALLS

by
Alun Buffry
(May 2025)

That day did come I said goodbye,
And daily since I'd want to cry,
'Cos heaven's not in cloude on high,
And Angels not up in the sky.

The Master said it's all within,
No Karma comes from past lives sins.
The world we take upon the chin,
And on we struggle thick and thin.

Those that passed on from our sight,,
We wonder if perhaps we might
Meet once more on lofty height
Beyond this world and all its plights.

Illusions monks tell us ia all around
As beaten gongs that speed their sounds,
Vibrating air and through the ground
To free us from our temple mounds.

One day each one of us must go
And only then se'll surely know
The crops that grew from seed we'd sowed.
And answers to our lifetime's woes.

Welive our lives between two walls.
We walk our paths with its pitfalls.
In truth I said, all in all,
What fund I had kicking life's balls.

 

Stardust, a poem by Alun Buffry

 STARDUST

by
Alun Buffry
(May 2025)

In a mountain village far from the sea,
Grows an ancient family tree,
From those people long ago,
To those who nowadays we know.

The youngsters say "Who really cares,
What one says or what one wears?"
Whilst elders say "Listen here my sons,
Who really cares? Well you'll be one!"

You risk your lives in sport and play,,
You hope, I think, you'll survive the day,
To live and prosper well and long
And keep that youthfulness so strong.".

The world we see is not the same
The good old days we seldom blame,
For throwing hope into the trash
And base our lives on counting cash..

We throw out all the children's toys
Seek transient pleasure for our joys
Forgetting who we truely are,
Just dust from some faint and distant stars.

"The Carer" Teacher, Master, Guardian Angel = the One who cares). To those that feel that they are alone

 To those that feel that they are alone

"The Carer" Teacher, Master, Guardian Angel = the One who cares)

There was a man (or woman) walking along the shore with his Carer. They chatted and laughed and the man learned many things and felt safe. Dangers around seemed small and irrelevant, obstacles were not a problem.

When he looked back he could see the two sets of footprints, his and those of his Carer and felt great comfort in that.

But suddenly, in a particularly difficult patch, he felt alone. When he spoke nobody seemed to answer. Nobody seemed to care about his problem and he began to feel sad, devastated, fearful, confused - he looked back and saw only one set of footprints in the sand.

He asked himself - was that an illusion - do I have anyone who cares, who can I turn to for help and guidance? His loneliness was overcoming him, but what could he do but struggle onwards. He didn't even know where he was going or why.

After a while the terrain became easier and he had gotten through it. Just as suddenly a voice sounded next to him and he saw that his Carer was back.

"Why did you leave me alone at such a difficult time when I most needed you?" he asked.

"I never left,"" said the Carer.

"But I looked back and saw only my footprints in the sand," said the man.

"They weren't your prints," replied the Carer, "they were mine. I could see the path ahead was so difficult, so I carried you."