| | Partisan PoemsPage 3 of 38 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38) | Never to be a winner
I couldn’t believe it
Fate had been kind
She had class, she had style
And a fantastic behind
Yes believe it or not
She had turned up for a date
Right on time
Not a bit late
Hair to perfection
Lips inviting
Face made up like a model
So bloody exciting
I couldn’t believe it
What was she doing with me
We danced and we partied
To well after three
Then next morning I awoke
And she was still here
She’d stayed the night
After the whiskey and the beer
I felt elated
Though worse for the wear
As I looked at her back
The locks of her hair
Not wanting to wake her
I let her sleep on
Just happy she’d stayed
That she wasn’t gone
In slumber she rolled over
And it was then that I saw
The lady I slept with
With her face in the raw
Mascara a mess
Eyes as black as the night
Dark rings around her eyes
Skin stretched really tight
Foundation missing
Sheen badly faded
She said she was fifty
Now she looked jaded
Can one age overnight?
Maybe the problem was me
She’d aged a decade
Now of make-up she was free
Stubble on her chin
A moustache starting to show
If it hadn’t been my bedroom
I’d had to run I’d had to go
Her hair had been dyed
Now so to was my pillow
With white and grey roots
She looked like a chinchilla
Her cheeks blown out all puffy
With veins pumped up with drink
Metamorphosis had set in
Well at least that’s what I think
Overnight she’d transformed
Her class had disappeared
Now I could see hairs
Below her nose and on her ears
Her teeth had gone yellow
The nicotine had set in
Typical of my luck
Am I never going to win? | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/17/2011 4:58:40 PM | Aha! It would appear you caught up with Janet after all ... so sorry things didn't work out :)
i very much wish i had some sort of prize to award you for soft-rhyming chinchilla ... that's true poetic daring right there! lol | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/17/2011 7:11:27 PM | ^ indeed! :)
bringing one back from the past...in honour of this wonderful poet....
Posted: 12/2/2008 8 44 AM
written on bird on the wire's 'Songs of Love and Hate'....
Flight of the bald eagle....
One day the bird awoke
and realized he was
completely featherless
utterly naked
bare bird skin showing
white pearlescence glowing
wrinkles and bulges
now completely revealed
so he went to the bird doctor
and said, hey, what's the deal?
what can I do
to re-grow my feathers
now so few?
And the doctor said
my dear bird
it's not what's on your head
that shows your beauty
but what comes through
from inside of you
So just continue to be
who you are internally
and I'm sure one day you'll see
your feathers will grow back
even more beautifully
And so the bald eagle
did as the doctor said
and every day
he worked on seeing
the beauty of everybody
and as his heart grew
so, indeed, his feathers did too.....
all except for the top of his head
to stay bald instead
as a permanent reminder
of what that doctor had said
welcome back, bird!  | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/18/2011 2:20:51 AM | Devorah
This bald eagle is now even more bald! But is considering a toupee!
Great to see you again.
Bird
Interpretations
Misinformed
Again misplaced
Misinterpreted
Out of place
Signals wrong
Wires mixed up
Communications
Again corrupt
English, Spanish
German, French
Speech of men
Words of wench
Misinformation
Wrong prognosis
Literary failings
Wrong diagnosis
Words in letters
In ink and page
The idiot, the doctor
The academic, the sage
Unsound hypothesis
Wrong conclusions
Words like symbols
Form illusions
Pictures drawn
By words are tainted
Colourless images
Inaccurately painted
Ever so
Throughout history
Behind the words
We cannot see
Behind the lines
The letters formed
Our thoughts our premises
Are deformed
Who’s to know
Who can see
Interpretative meanings
F*ck never me | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/18/2011 2:21:19 AM | Beautiful
Beautiful she was
But he could not see
Problems seeing wood
Problems seeing trees
Myopic vision
Dark shades in the light
Vision distorted
Eyes dim not bright
Beautiful she was
Plain to all others
His father, his mother
His sisters, his brothers
Friends and family
Neighbours as well
They all could see
They all could tell
She radiated beauty
Like a halo she glowed
Beauty from her cup
Continually overflowed
Her cup runneth over
Her beauty ran deep
An angel she looked like
Awake or a sleep
You didn’t need 20/20 vision
To admire her fine features
All except him could see
This beautiful creature
All except him
For to love he was blind
To beauty he was impervious
He couldn’t read the sign | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/18/2011 5:20:28 AM | The Metropolitan Police
The Met’s in turmoil
Sir Paul has gone
For taking freebies
He’s been forced to move on
For Health Spa recovery
Gratuitous perks
So many assh*les
So many berks
Give back your knighthood
You should no longer be called Sir
Incomprehensible imbecile
This idiotic pair
You and your Assistant
Both top of your tree
Rotten f*cking apples
Now all can see
Commissioner Yates is in trouble
The Met’s in the shit
The law is an ass
Corrupt and unfit
Too close to the Murdocks
Not up with the game
Non-committal on hacking
No sense of shame
All puppets of Murdock
All puppets of the state
Snouts in the troughs
Peelers I hate
Bent coppers in uniforms
Investigations gone wrong
Now hear them squeal
Listen to their song
Bent coppers, bent politicians
Bent newspapers as well
The cornerstones of democracy
Shot now to hell | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/18/2011 11:24:30 AM | PC Plod
(aka Assistant Commission John Yeats)
PC Plod
Resigned to day
Well what do you know
What can I say
Plod resigned
He’s feeling quite pissed
I think he resigned
Before being dismissed
He’s a bit ticked of
Blames inaccurate remarks
Malicious comments
PC Plod barks
They’re all out to get me
So he’s resigned his job
For the good of the nation
That’s what he sobs
He seems to forget
His shambolic investigations
Into press hacking
Into the press of this nation
He seems to forget
His erroneous ways
For allowing the Murdocks
To go free on their way
Seems PC Plod
Aka Commissioner Yeats
Is not very happy
Is in dire straights
Now the Met are rudderless
Poor Plod’s feeling blue
He’s innocent he pleads
He swears it is true
Innocent until proven guilty
Idiocy is no crime
Except PC Plod
Except in this rhyme
Guilty of incompetence
Guilty as sin
Pleadings complete
Excuses wearing thin
Dismissed, disgraced
But no hope of detention
Dismissed and still retaining
A full tax payer’s pension | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/19/2011 1:53:31 PM | Charades
Theatrical shows
In Westminster’s halls
The great and the good
The insignificant and the small
Little people watch
As great men converse
Words manicured
Egos nursed
The political establishment
Not themselves clean
Interview the press
Paradoxically obscene
Interview the police
No cautions no arrests
All ba*tards together
Politicians, police and press
Theatrical spectacles
To keep us amused
Questions avoided
Deliberations confused
Acts of contrition
Acts of remorse
Egos anointed
Personalities endorsed
No news is bad news
No publicity is bad
As the media records
This farce this charade | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/20/2011 1:39:54 AM | Simple
Keep it simple stupid
Keep it plain
Uncomplicated
Reduce the pain
Why overcomplicate
With intellectual discourse
Just keep it
Get straight to the source
No pissing around
No Fannying about
Speak your own mind
Not quietly, shout out
Fear not others
Proclaim your ideas
Discard all opinions
Discard all your fears
Just keep it simple
Simple and sound
Don’t be pretentious
Don’t act the clown
Elevating your station
Changing your phrase
Overcomplicating the simple
Hiding in the haze
No need to be clever
Straightforward is best
Direct and simple
This is the test
In obscurity lies uncertainty
Prevarication duly reigns
Please just keep it simple
Keep it simple keep it plain | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/20/2011 2:10:13 PM | My Name Is
My name is Walter Mitty
Perhaps you’ve heard my name
Ever where I go
I bask in all my fame
My name is Walter Mitty
This I must confess
But they say that I fabricate
In order to impress
My name is Walter Mitty
I’m normal just like you
Except for one small detail
I never can be true
Today I work for the government
Tomorrow I’ll be a spy
The next day I’ll be a banker
Yet I work for MFI
My name is Walter Mitty
My lover is Sharon Stone
Can I have your number
I’ll ring you on your phone
I’ll ring you from my penthouse
My suite on Beverly Hills
I’ll tell you tales to enthral you
I’ll impress you with my skill
I’ll take you to the Savoy
Then I buy you caviar
I’ll have my chauffeur pick you up
In my armour plated car
Or perhaps I’ll be really humble
Better not make a fuss
Give me please your number
And I’ll take you on the bus | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/21/2011 1:40:52 AM | Window Shopping
Full grown men
With faces to the glass
Noses squashed
Reflections of the past
Window shopping
Without money in their purse
Shopping for a teacher
A stereotypical nurse
Full grown men
Who should behave
Looking in windows
Minds enslaved
Shopping for love
For better for worse
When they don’t have a cent
A dime in their purse
Full grown men
Behaving as boys
Still looking in windows
For collections for toys
Noses pressed tight
Tongues hanging out
Mouths salivating
When there’s nobody about
Looking not buying
Just admiring the goods
Whistling and ogling
Shouting things rude
Full grown men
Stood transfixed
Thinking with their heart
Acting on their d*cks
Full grown men
Admiring the window dressings
Whispering laughing
Silently confessing | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/21/2011 3:28:47 PM | Two Roads
One road to be chosen
The other road rejected
One heart to be elated
The other heart dejected
Two roads now in front of you
You have to pick and chose
One road brings you joy
The other brings the blues
Life is never simple
There’s never just one way
Should you come or should you go
Should you chose to stay
Two roads two journeys
The selection you must make
Please take your time and chose carefully
I beg for pities sake
One road we go together
The other road we drift apart
Make you selection well my dear
Use magic, science or art
Two roads two directions
One to sorrow one to joy
One to bring you laughter
The other will destroy
Two roads now on offer
Over each horizon you cannot see
One road leads to prison
The other sets you free
Two roads at this juncture
The high road and the low
Never more to meet again
This I think you know | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/22/2011 3:26:02 AM | Removals
Take away my confidence
Take away my job
Take away income
Listen whilst I sob
Take away my house and home
Take away my possessions
Take away my belief in God
My prayers and my confessions
Take away my family
My parents and my bairns
Take away my thoughts my hopes
All of my concerns
Take away my future
My present and my past
Take way all those things
They were not meant to last
Take away my health
My body and my mind
Take away my hearing
My sight, yes make me blind
Take way all whom I love
Take way my bride
But the one thing you can’t ever take
You cannot take my pride | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/22/2011 10:52:00 AM | First and the Last
I guess you could call her
The first and the last
The first real love
This lady from the past
The first of many
Others followed in her wake
Pale imitations
Counterfeit fakes
She was the first
The first to thrill
The first to get close
To know my will
She was the first I cared for
She was number one
She could shine like the moon
Radiate like the sun
She was the first and the last
When she left there was a void
Hopes were diminished
Dreams destroyed
She was the last to love me
She was the last to care
Then she departed
Who said life is fair
And yet I’ve no complaints
Things could have been worse
Better to end life’s journey
With the woman who was first | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/22/2011 3:36:08 PM | Big In the City
She said she worked in business
I thought she was just a chancer
She boasted she was big in the city
I preferred in the end a pole dancer
Or maybe perhaps a stripper
Yea a hooker from the street
Someone not so expensive
Someone a little on the cheap
She might have been big in the city
But Christ she cost the earth
Did she think that I was royalty
Well heeled from the day of my birth
She drunk only the best of brandy
Only the finest of wine
She earned ten times my salary
The clothes she wore were fine
Silks and clothes made in Italy
Designed by fashion kings
Who spoke in high pitched voices
Sounding just like old queens
She might have been big in the city
Well spoken with plenty of money
But I dumped her to be with my pole dancer
Now isn’t life just funny | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/22/2011 4:37:19 PM | Ologists
You’re a f*cking imbecile
See said to me
Fair comment I thought
I couldn’t disagree
You’re one stupid wa*ker
She clarified
I couldn’t have rebuked her
No matter how I tried
She was spot on
Hit the nail on the head
Then she said she wished me
She wished me dead
I was good for nothing
A complete waste of time
I’d amount to nothing
I was wasting time
Wasting my time
Wasting hers
I was not just laid back
I really didn’t care
I thought she was wonderful
Perceptive and blunt
When she finally lost it
Called me a c*unt
It was then I said to her
Though I admit I was pissed
I was really disappointed
At my psychiatrist
She then started crying
She lay down on the couch
All went silent
Just like in church
She said I had broken her
She admitted defeat
As I sat taking notes
I sat on her seat
She started raving
There were tears on her cheeks
As she blamed her parents
For making her weak
She blamed her tutors
Some b*astard called Freud
She was laughing demented
Looking overjoyed
So I had her committed
In the next bed to my ex
For professional ologists
I swear I’ve no respect | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/23/2011 12:53:52 AM | The Face of an Angel
Her skin was pure
Without a flaw
Unblemished it was
No make-up left raw
Alabaster smooth
Like a six month old child
Not a wrinkle around her eye
Or her mouth when she smiled
Her skin was smooth
Read a porcelain jar
Nee the glass in a mirror
The hub in a car
No chemical gloss
Still you could see your reflection
The tone of her skin
Flawless to perfection
The touch, the feel
Not too dark not too bright
All proportions created
All conditions just right
The face of an angel
Black boots, corset, red lips
My mistress the sadist
Cracking her whip | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/25/2011 11:40:46 AM | Born to Die Early
Born to die
Early not late
So it was
Poor Amy’s fate
Killed by the dope
The needle and the drink
Sad and all alone
Makes a body think
Killed by her family
Hangers-on and her mates
Born to die early
Never to live late
Aged twenty seven
Feint praises now reign in
Hollow empty gestures
Already wearing thin
Mediocre talent
Eclipsed by the booze
Erratic behaviour
Drugged and confused
A role model for our children
Hardly says I
Veins pumped up with heroin
Needles in her thighs
Intoxicated inebriated
Addiction her cardinal sin
Suicide by misadventure
Aka whisky aka gin
Too much too early
Too little too late
Born to die early
Never to live late
Never to have children
Leaving behind chaos and sorrow
Leaving parents without a daughter
For today and all tomorrow
Leaving behind grief and self questioning
Guilt trailing in her wake
Not a role model for our children
Please for pity’s sake
Born to die early
Never to live late
Six foot under with the worms
The addict’s early fate
Shallow praises, hallow tributes
From the junkies in her class
Showbiz fecking sycophants
With their heads up each other’s ass
She was born to die early
Her talents limited never realised
With a voice to rock the angels
But with heroin inside her eyes
Born to die early
Never to live to see old age
Never to see what was written
On the next turn of the page
Born to die early
No children, no love, no spouse
This is what won’t be written
In tomorrow’s press about Winehouse | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/25/2011 1:00:43 PM | For forever
It was always for forever
Never anything less
I never told her that
I never confessed
I played a game
The one most men do
Nonchalant non-caring
It simply wasn’t true
It was always for forever
From that first moment we first met
I’d sleep in the night
Never able to forget
In dreams when asleep
When in work during the day
Whenever she left in the morning
Anytime she was away
I knew it was always for forever
My love would always linger on
Long after she might depart
Long after she would be gone
I knew it instinctively
But this secret I kept well hidden
For men have these societies
Where revealing secrets is forbidden
She left never knowing
The secrets I kept inside
She left never knowing
That my love would never die
She left thinking
That I never loved her deep inside
The one I hoped to marry
The one I wished would be my bride
It was always for forever
For forever and nothing less
But despite all my bravado
I never could confess | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/27/2011 11:34:51 AM | Wee Lily
Wee Lily’s not the same person
She use to be
That’s what my old mother
Said to me
In a conversation today
About her friend Lily
Who called my mum stupid
She said mum was silly
She’s not the same lady
She’s going down hill
She can’t remember names
And she has to take pills
Her daughter says
She’s perfectly OK
But I’ve heard she’s Alzheimer’s
Senile Dementia they say
It’s terrible getting old
Said my dear old mum
As she reflected on Lily
Her long time chum
She forgot my name
And after all these years
My mother lamented
Close to tears
She can’t make a full dinner
She gets terribly confused
Listening to the radio
Watching the news
She still recognises her children
But she can turn rude
It’s a very great shame
For her children are so good
They call each day
Take her out for a drive
She says she’s sixty two
But she’s really seventy five
She asks for her husband
But he’s long since gone
Then she lapses into old memories
Can sing all the old songs
Her husband died
In the Korean War
But Lily thinks he run off
And is living with a whore
She can swear like a trooper
When she’s in one of her moods
Otherwise she’s a lady
Really very good
It’s a terrible pity
My mother said all the same
As she called me John
Yet John’s not my name | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/27/2011 12:00:49 PM | Precarious
Precariously balanced
This thing called life
Hanging by a thread
For a husband for a wife
For a child and its postcode
For an infant without a mother’s milk
For a child born in the West
In a cot draped with silk
One single instance
The loss of a job
Dignity is gone
Self confidence is robbed
A partner departs
Through divorce or through death
What else remains
What else is left
The children move out
Life moves on
Tomorrow arrives
Yesterday is gone
Time has moved forward
Yet you have stood still
As we watch Television
Too much time left to kill
Precariously balanced
Life’s sensitive scales
Between glorious achievements
And harrowing tales
One drink too many
One chromosome too few
Doors fail to open
Long is the queue
Precariously balanced
Hanging from a string
Delicate as gossamer
As a butterfly wing
This thing we call life
On a precipice stands
Not solid as a rock
But rests on the sand
Balanced on a knife edge
On a precipice on a arête
This thing we call life
Don’t you ever forget | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/28/2011 1:38:18 AM | Pseudo Intellectuals
Pseudo Intellectuals
With their academic degrees
And qualifications
Thinking they’re the bees knees
These professors and doctors
These university freaks
Thinking they’re clever
Thinking they’re unique
Not understanding
The difference is all academic
Between educated and intellectual
They’re stupid systemic
Pseudo academics
Thinking they’re the crème de la crème
Posturing and pontificating
As they stoop to condescend
Idiotic morons
Writing papers and thesis
Academic garbage
Unintelligible faeces
Unimaginative uncommunicative
Unsustainable unimpressed
Of pseudo intellectuals
I’m not really impressed
Riddles
Talking in riddles
Poor communications
Ever the same
Misinterpretations
Grown up adults
Not able to converse
In speech, in writing
In words or by verse
Cross purpose remarks
Poorly defined
Better sign language
Or Brail combined
Talking in riddles
Not listening to the words
Not hearing not thinking
Clearly absurd
Forever today
Yesterday as well
Talking in riddles
The sure way to hell
Hearing only what we want to
Dismissing all the rest
I to talk in riddles
I’m guilty I confess | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/28/2011 10:19:10 AM | Looking Younger Feeling Older
I’m really five four
But I look forty four
I’m also an old liar
Rotten to the core
I’m aged fifty four
And the lines on my face
Confirm that I’m ancient
From an elderly race
My lines I would argue
Are lines of distinction
Although some might suggest
They’re lines of extinction
The crow’s feet around my mouth
And at the sides of my eyes
They say I’m fifty four
Crow’s feet don’t tell lies
I’m not like these ladies
Who suggest they look ten years younger
As they look for a man-child
For youth they all hunger
I’m past middle age
I’m well past my prime
And I write crap thoughts
In verse and in rhyme
I’m old and getting older
My skin is like old leather
But I’m a harmless enough soul
Good for a bleather
I look old and I feel old
Still I don’t fool myself
For I’m in really good nick
In sound mental health
I’m fitter than many teenagers
With their fifty inch ars*es
And I’m approaching fifty five
Now isn’t that just a farce
Still seems woman want looks
They want the looks of the youth
And that’s not me
Honest, that’s the truth | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/28/2011 10:19:39 AM | The Kentucky Fried Queen
I told her she was fat
Oops I hit a nerve
Fifteen love
Once again my serve
She said I was horrible
She was just carrying a few pounds
I said she was obese
Into the second round
I hit her with a volley
Saying soon she would be dead
Six extra stones
And the cholesterol being fed
I went for the knockout
When she said she was happy
I asked her why she was all alone
Without a hubby or a chappy
She scored an own goal
The coup de grass
Saying her bottom was genetic
She had inherited her ass
She muttered about her genes
And her very large bones
She really wasn’t heavy
Just a couple of stones
But she was size 26
With elasticated jeans
And her friends gave her the nickname
The Kentucky Fried Queen
It was then she smacked me
Called me a mother
Forty five love
The game was all over | |
|
| Partisan Poems
Posted: 7/28/2011 1:44:28 PM | Stigmatisation
It’s unacceptable
In today’s police state
To be verbally incorrect
It constitutes hate
The political police
In their wisdom they decreed
That from stigmatisation
This world shall be free
Stigmatisation
Was considered a great sin
You couldn’t use words
Such as fat such as thin
Words took on new meanings
In the work and in the school
Children weren’t stupid
There were no longer fools
No one was a criminal
In all men there was good
The political police
Outlawed all speech deemed rude
Maybe they were right
Perhaps their motives were sound
Men weren’t obese
Simply more round
Strange things are paradoxes
Things we can’t foresee
What happened to society
When from stigma we were free
No joshing no name calling
At chubby lads in the park
For those actions were pure evil
Never just a lark
Fat boys had feelings
They weren’t fat just overweight
Why call them names
Just because of fate
Now look what happened
Without stigmatisation
We’ve all gotten larger
Obese is this nation
Belt lines are growing
Shirt collars are extending
Calories and cholesterol
Now we’re befriending
Epidemic proportions
All over this land
You see name calling became criminal
Stigmatisation was banned
Ironic the consequences
For stigmatisation had its rightful place
It helped chubby boys become lighter
Bittersweet was its taste
Now because some fecking do gooders
Declared stigmatisation a crime
Our hospitals are exploding
Due to increasing waistlines
Young men are dying early
Massively overweight
Because stigmatisation was declared unacceptable
In this modern day politically correct state | |
|
Home
login 
