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Frank Coppinger

of

Rosemount, Queensland, Australia

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Revolving Stage

by

Frank Coppinger


There is something inspirational I must write about today
Itís ĎYou Can Heal Your Lifeí, a brilliant book by Louise Hay
It says that if you read it all, youíll heal your inner self
Then youíll find peace and confidence, and even worldly wealth

It details all impressions that can tend to pull you down
And tells you just how wrong they are and why it is you frown
It then enlists the things that you should think and say and do
In order to receive the things of benefit to you

I went right through them all at first and then re-read them slow
And realized that I have got a long, long way to go
But NOWís the moment I must choose to start along the way
And I trust the affirmations I repeat now every day

I rejoice about the power that is there inside of me
And accept the love it brings me, the inner harmony
I really try my very best to love and to forgive
Because I now accept that thatís the only way to live

And here is where I hit a snag, although I really try
To forgive someone who hurt me very much in years gone by
Iíve hated and detested him for oh! so many years
That every time I think of him it just renews old tears.

Despite the fact the fellow died a long, long time ago
Itís very very painful and really hurts me so
To think of how he shared a love affair with my late wife
When I very nearly lost the only true love of my life

In following the suggestions Louise writes into her book
I pretend Iím in a theatre and have just enjoyed a look
At this very manís performance, which has justified applause
And share with him the pleasure of the audienceís roars

His singingís been exceptional, his voice is quite unique
But as I still despise him, I have a fit of pique
Instead of seeing him adored, I see him as reviled
The anger still inside of me, the thought of wife defiled

A wholly different picture then presents itself to me
I see the man as he attempts to reach the note, high C
The strain upon his face and neck is awesome to behold
This is the hardest note to reach, or thatís what Iíve been told

As he attains the highest pitch, and as the C note starts
He strains a little bit too much, so much so that he farts
It rumbles all around the place and silences the band
And Iím so happy hearing it I give a great big hand

And after that his pants fall down, heís standing looking silly
And just to put the cap on it, heís got a tiny willy
Heís mortified, Iím gratified, my anger now appeased
I laugh and my resentment now, at last I know has eased

So thanks to Louise Hay for leading me along the way
Though it may be unconventional I feel Iíve had my day
All of that forgiveness now is welling in my heart
Amazing how it happened, it was triggered by a fart.


The Frankenstein poem

by

Frank Coppinger



The doctorís minion, Ygor stood by with expectation

As Frankenstein informed him that he planned a new creation

"If we collect sufficient bits to finalize my plan

I can stitch them all together and construct a whole new man"

"When my creature is completed it will need a power source

To activate it properly it needs a driving force

Ďcos stem cells arenít discovered yet and DNA unknown

And itíll be two hundred years before they make a clone"

You go around the cemeteries and find some body parts

Some thighs and eyes and ears and arms, some torsos and some hearts

Some solid feet to walk upon, a brain with which to think

A largish mouth with teeth inside so he can eat and drink.

Iíll need some metal clamps as well as needles and some thread

And maybe some large nuts and bolts to fasten on his head

Ygor replies "Yes Master" as he limps into the mist

An evil grin as he consults his gruesome shopping list.

He wends his way through foggy streets to catch the horsedrawn bus

And studies the crumpled brochure heíd received from ĎGuts-R-Usí

He plans when he has finished there, heíll head towards the morgue

The address heíd found on Google under London Health dot org.

Frankenstein looked at the sky and viewed the gathering clouds

A clap of thunder sounded, far away and not yet loud

A flash of inspiration came, anticipation heightening

He could have all the power he needs if he could harness lightning.

He constructed apparatus made of glass and bits of wire

And fixed it to a copper tube, his spirits rising higher

The window he threw open wide and poked the tubing out

A lightning flash connected and he gave a joyful shout

As bright blue sparks danced down the wires they made an awesome sight

He knew heíd found the answer and he felt his nerves go tight

Just then he heard a sound outside of wooden wheels on stones

As Ygor pushed his handcart full of flesh and blood and bones

He quickly raced across the lab and opened up the door

And helped his servant carry in his ghastly load of gore

Together they positioned bits upon the bed of leather

And set about with gusto to stitch them all together.

A nut and bolt inside the neck, a steel plate in the head

The figure almost human as it lay upon the bed

The extra bits were jettisoned into a nearby bin

As a roaring clap of thunder created such a dreadful din.

The storm was fast approaching and they really had to hurry

Ygor was apprehensive but he didnít need to worry

As lightning struck the copper bar and traveled down the wire

The doctor tweeked a knob or two to make the current higher

The sparking wires did their job to animate the being

The two men cheered wildly at the sight that they were seeing

And then, to their amazement, the figure moved and spoke

A deep and gloomy monotone, not quite like other folk

Its face was not quite human and it never broke a smile

The curling lips suggesting that its mouth was full of bile

No sign of human conscience there, like a beast out in the paddock

"Quick shut the power off Ygor, weíve created Philip Ruddock".

(Ruddock is an Australian politician with all the attributes describing the Frankenstein being)

Frank Coppinger