Autobiographical doodle.

My autobiography written today
a diary entry of poetic disorder
telling tales for my readership of two,
i fight the blues with written therapy.

Everything is coming at me at once,
nothing seems to sit in it's place.
I'm surrounded by chaos,
a muddle-upside-down-pot of life.







Reading of doodle dogs brings me a smile.
of Labradoodles, jack-a-poos and shcnoodles.
Then the education authority call,
bringing me back down to earth with a thud.

A house move should be joyful it's true,
new beginnings, a new start, a new home.
At last I am my own boss, i've waited for this.
Yet it's clouded in worry, oh red-faced am I.

Will I get the loan? If not what then?
Will I be able to afford carpets?
Where do I start with the garden, the rubbish?
Do I have cancer? Am I green? am I green?

What happened to the secret so easily embraced?
Why so negative, overloaded and knarky?
Remember how good everything is now,
not how is was, or could be or will be.