| Around the world in 24 hours
Posted: 5/25/2008 1:20:22 PM | Around the world in 24 hours
Neopolitans fighting with the law
Why, what's the matter, what on earth for
Riots in Naples, fighting with the police
The protestors try and close of the streets
Man the barriers, oppose Berlosconi
The Neopolitans consider their new PM a phoney
Toxic waste dumped near the city walls
To many gypsies making unwanted house calls
So men make barricades and gather bottles and stones
As Naples under tonnes of rubbish moans and groans
Argentina in shock because of the strike
President Cristina de Kirchner got a hell of a fright
The farmers have had enough of the President's new taxes
So Cristina's short lived popularity no longer waxes
Prices are rising, inflation is growing
Now the peasants are revolting thinking of deposing
Inequality and poverty are again on the rise
Cannot be neutered by Cristina's pretty eyes
Britain's are stranded at the Calais ports
No more cheap imports, no more exports
The unions are aggrieved they have to work another year
Surely it's not that the French of work have a fear
The French like strikes it's a national sport
At least once a year they close all the Channel ports
The farmers complain their subsidies are too low
So the rest of Europe pay them not to grow
Why grow food to help feed the starving masses
When farmers can get paid subsidies for sitting on their ass*
The left wing unions want to retire at the age of sixty
So being self employed I will just have to whistle dixie
Zimbabweans are locked behind Methodist church doors
Exclaiming that they are black and not to be confused with Boers
Don't harm us, don't burn please do not kill
We came to your country not meaning any ill will
Xenophobic black South Africa no longer a rainbow coalition
No sign we can see of black man reconciliation
A progressive constitution ensuring freedom under the law
Means very little to migrant Zimbabweans as they die and fall
The necklace is out and rubber hugs the neck
Doused with petrol and match, black burns black
President Mbeki lets Zimbabweans die in his South African home
Being consistent he also lets them die where they come from
24 May 2008 | |
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| Sooner or later
Posted: 5/25/2008 2:02:28 PM | Sooner or Later
The time is coming
Maybe sooner than you expect
When our civilization
Is going to collapse with neglect
Once again
As history continually foretells
Violence with ensue
As we again live through hell
The savagery of man
Will once more be released
No more will we need
Redundant ministers or priests
Individuals and nations
Will take again to the sword
No more will the world
Live by peaceful accord
No more the tractor
Again the ploughshare
No more appeals to civil rights
Or laws that are deemed fair
Man's chief export
Will again be death
As resources dry up
And there is very little left
Nations will compete with nations
For water, oil and crop
Pestilence will become abundant
Men in the fields will die and rot
Internal disharmony
Civilization will break down
Death, disease and starvation
Will once more come to town
The rule of law
Will give way to that of the gun
Men will kill men
Some will do it for fun
City populations
Starving half dead
Will return to the green fields
In the hope of getting fed
Servitude and slavery
Once again common practice
As we again return
To the old human rat race
I kid you not
These days are near at hand
When your only salvation
Will be your own piece of land
With a strong brood to defend
All that is rightfully yours
When water in streams and inlets
Will once again be pure
The five contintents will compete
In new world wars
With more complicated alliances
Than ever known before
Conscription will be compulsory
For men of all ages
No more need then for poets
Or academics or sages
Dog will eat dog
As populations dramatically decline
The cycle has starting turning
It's just a matter of time | |
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| Years gone, years still to come
Posted: 5/26/2008 12:31:52 AM | Years gone, years still to come
What's a few years
Give or take one or two
Age is only a number
No need to feel blue
I'm as fit as a fiddle
I don't look my age
I can dance all night long
Karaoke on the stage
Delusional people
No sense of proporton
Wanting to camouflage age
Wanting a visual distortion
Age is not just
The look on your face
When you wear lots of makeup
And dress with good taste
Age is not just a number
It's a mathematical subtraction
Take it away from your life span
Then it's a bit of a distraction
Once you are past forty
Half your life is behind
What condition your body
What condition your mind
Have you taken good care
Have you exercised both
Or have you been negligent and guilty
Or physical and mental slothe
No good saying
I can do as much today
When twenty years ago
You stayed in your bed all day
Can you still climb that mountain
Can you finish the marathon
Can you do mental arithmetic
Compete in a triathlon
Can you work fourteen hours
Six days a week
And are your buttocks still tight
Here give me a peak
I am fifty he says
But I feel thirty six
But inside his heart and lungs
All needing fixed
I have smoked for thirty years
But I'm still feeling quite young
Panting and wheezing
With nicotine stained lung
I like my vodka
And sometimes a martini
I don't know if my liver
Looks like a fettuccine
I'm over sixty
I look only forty four
But my knees and joints
Continually feel sore
I'm fifty five
Doing what I have always done
I've always been sedate
But being sedate can be fun
Get into the squash court
Run yourself into the ground
Then ask yourself honestly
As your heart starts to pound
Am I really as fit
As I was ten years ago
Are my internal organs all working
Or is this a facade or show
Have I lived a life
Were age does not matter
Or is it simply my ego
That I wish to flatter | |
|
| Years gone, years still to come
Posted: 5/26/2008 7:05:15 AM | years gone...years still to come!
was too long
in a marraige that didn't fit
felt like an ol' lady
wasn't happy one bit
now the marriage
is long gone
am happy as can be
have now moved on
love being 53
my ego isn't in question
but the life i choose to live
it's funny that you mention
what you get is what you give
so in my younger days
i may not have been so wise
too busy dealing
with all of his lies
but not at all bitter
am happy at 53
each day is getting better
i am happy i'm just me | |
|
| Years gone, years still to come
Posted: 5/26/2008 9:28:14 AM | Rosie is finally happy at the age of fifty three
No more shitty nappies to change on her knee
When she becomes fifty four
With a man to adore
She'll start acting again as if she's only thirty three
Rosie does yoga so she can bend her back
Not like some others who show utter neglect
When she meets her new beau
His face will be a glow
Cause Rosie might still be good in the sack
 | |
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| Written in the Stars
Posted: 5/26/2008 10:05:01 AM | Written in the Stars
As I consult
My astrological sign
I look expectantly
Hoping to find
The answer to my dreams
The answer from afar
The solution to my needs
Found in the stars
With Mars entering Venus
I should be alright
I assume with some luck
I'll get some action tonight
My outlook seems good
The astrologer goes on
Mercury is in retrograde
So I must wait upon
The new moon which is imminent
It will bring passionate times
Providing no loved one
Reads any of these rhymes
Tell me more Mr Astrologer
You have built up my expectations
What is going to happen
What say the constellations
Will I find romance
Will true love find me
Will I win the lottery
Please of some comfort be
Is that which is to be
Fated by the stars
Or are you lot all charlatans
A bunch of greedy liars
How will I know
How can I see
Oh! I see of course
You provide the answer for me
I have to ring this number
To find out some more
My in depth forecast
I can now explore
I just need to call
At the premium rate
To see what's in the stars
To see what's my fate
I'm not an astrologer
But I can certainly foretell
That if I ring this number
All will not be well
I will go into debt
Will have to take out a loan
To pay a fcuking charlatan
For a predication on the phone
Go on you auld wnaker
Stop robbing old ladies
Why don't you just go out
Steal milk bottles from tiny babies | |
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| Wasting my time on the Internet
Posted: 5/26/2008 1:48:48 PM | Wasting my time on the Internet
Is this what has become
Of you my friend
Sitting at the keyboard
A means to an end
One hour or two
Or perhaps three or four
Sitting on the internet
Looking to be adored
The Spring has arrived
The sun warms the earth
Outside awaits
The land of your birth
The trees have flowered
The first fragrance has now gone
You sit at the screen
Typing on and on
Your time is precious
There are places to go
Mountains to climb
Rivers in full flow
There are things to do
With each passing week
Is it better to type
Or better to speak
The Spring will pass
Summer will have come
Yet out of your study
You may not depart from
Addicted to the internet
No difference it seems
The loss of so much time
Persuing your dreams
I wish you good fortune
I wish you success
But please heed my advice
For this I suggest
You need no one else
To savour the Spring
Sometimes a new partner
Will only clip your wings
Summer is beautiful
With another or alone
Go on, get out
To the sea shore with a cone
Watch the clouds
See the waves roll on in
Sit on the park bench
It ain't no great sin
Watch the young lovers
Holding each others hand
Listen to the sound
Of the near by brass band
Walk around the park
Do it again
Burn of the calories
Feel the warmth on your skin
Turn of the computer
Turn on your head
Pull that bloody plug out
Before you go brain dead
Why waste your time
Hours upon end
Hoping to meet
Your imaginary friend
He who would meet you
Is walking natures path
Whilst you sit inside
And type in the dark | |
|
| Winter Walk
Posted: 5/26/2008 2:11:10 PM | Winter Walk
Strolling beside you
You helped keep me warm
Your hand in my pocket
Walking through the raging storm
Rain belting down
Wind directly in our face
Heads bowed down together
We walked the very same pace
Your foot following my footsteps
You worked hard to keep up
You never once complained
The rain did not interupt
I could feel your contentment
You felt I think protected
Never did we two feel
Ever at all neglected
You were my first
My first real true friend
As our pace quickened
To get to journeys end
Our bodies were battered
So cold were those nights
Our pace was relentless
Our skins became numb and white
Your hand gripped so tightly
For fingers still so very small
You head rested on my arm
Never did we two once fall
Numerous winter nights
We tramped that cold Belfast street
Like two raving lunatics
All for a bag of sweets
But then you were just three
And you were my first son born
And I still fondly remember
Those winters nights being
Packed with winter fun | |
|
| Eyes (lies) Across the table
Posted: 5/27/2008 11:16:30 AM | Eyes (Lies) Across the Table
He looks across the table
Coffee in his hand
His voice has changed slightly
More authorative trying to command
She listens intensely
Words flying through her mind
Be cool be calm she tells herself
Saying nothing unkind
So the dance commences
The initial sparing has been completed
Skirmishes won evenly
These two parties competed
An intimate dinner
To decide the way ahead
Or just an attempt
To get the other into bed
Two potential partners
Sounding each other out
Best language, best manners
No disagreements, no need to shout
He praises her looks
Her style, her complexion
She wonders to herself
Can he still get an erection
He asks about her prospects
About her desires
She tells him half truths
But never is she a liar
She asks about his salary
He muliples by three
As he thinks carefully
About caressing her knee
The car he drives
Is on loan from his boss
But he doesn't explain that
As her hair she doth toss
Her age when given
Seems to be a mistake
But then her golden brown tan
Is also a fake
He names all the places
He has on holiday gone to
She wonders if first class
This man always flew
She quotes with some distintion
Her ream of qualifications
Several strange ologies
With genuine authentication
She's now a beautician
She finished her diploma
She fails to mention
Her contact lenses and melanoma
Her girdle is killing her
She dying for a cream cake
But is she gives in now
She'll have fresh cream on her bake
He was still ravinous
After finishing his main course
He wanted to finish her plate
But that would have caused discourse
He's on a diet
He says with a sly grin
He fails to mention
His perchance for the gin
They are both "social" drinkers
They drink without excess
Only six nights a week
On Sundays they take a rest
Both like activities
They both smile and agree
Mainly getting a large pizza
Red wine and watching TV
He says he doesn't respect
Loose immoral women
As he offers her another brandy
As part of his scheming
He only wants a woman
Who has an inquiring mind
As he tries to get a sneaky peak
At her cute little behind
She can't stand men
Who just want sex
And don't treat laides
With the utmost respect
Then her eyes near pop
When the wine waiter walks past
Now that's what she calls
A real piece of ass*
They are not telling lies
Nor are they distorting the truth
But when each finds out about the other
They'll both hit the roof
These first dates
Can be slighly overwhelming
With slight distortions, exaggerations
And personal over-selling
One person deliberately
Inflates his ego to impress
The other wears a padded bra
And a low cut dress
I never looked good
Exposing my hairy man breasts
And after all these years
I still fail to impress
FOOTNOTE:
Does the above scenario
Perhaps hold true
May something similar
Also have happened to you
You want to impress
You tell little white lies
Knowing all along
You wear a disguise
Not knowing or caring
It the other is fibbing
Some call it lying
Some call it kidding
After a few meetings
After several distortions of the truth
You've created a new personality
Created a brand new you
Can you really expect to find
That one soul mate you seek
If at the very onset
He prevaricates and is so weak
That he can't be brutally honest
And stand in front of you
With blemishes and warts
Which all others can see through
Saying this is me
Take me or leave me
For I shall live truthfully and honestly
The truth shall set me free | |
|
| Songs of Hate and Love
Posted: 5/27/2008 11:40:25 AM | | I really like these two poems, especially the second. It speaks to me. I have felt the same. Excellent. | |
|
| Songs of Hate and Love
Posted: 5/27/2008 11:57:04 AM | Sure there was an auld fella liked the Beamish
Jez if he didn't write poems that were fiendish
He liked his stout black
Along with the craic
And he didn't like his wimin feeling squimish | |
|
| Our Parliamentarians
Posted: 5/27/2008 1:15:06 PM | Our Parliamentarians (No son of mine)
The asylum has been overun
By thieves and crooks
Devious weasel little bastrads
Can't even properly cook the books
These men of shaddy character
These bastions, yes bastions
Of civilisation
Are to worshipped
Across our great nation
They are shining examples
To show to our kids
How they to can get on
Not end up on the skids
Father, my child
Said to me one day
When I grow up
I want to get an MP's pay
Fcuk I nearly choked
I nearly exploded
No son of mine
Will be free loaded
You can be a bookie
You can work in a bar
You can even my son
Sell second hand cars
But no son of mine
Is for Westminster bound
Do you think your old dad
Is some sad old clown
No son of mine
Will sell his soul
For a few shillings
And a huge pot of gold
Go out rob pensioners
Go out get a life
But if you become an MP
I'll end yours with a knife
Interdule: And the reason why!
Not satisfied by their salaries
And generous expense accounts
They continually scheme
To maximise the amount
Then they challenge the law
To keep their expenses hidden
The public must not know
Public disclosure is forbidden
Acountabilty and Transparency
Must apply to thee and me
But of Freedom of Information
MPs must be free
What answer to the plebs
For their perks of the trade
Are you mad they say
Should MPs be so enslaved
What do your think
We MPs are
Slaves to the people
That's going far to far
They get new kitchens
They have their second homes
But they don't get enough money
They continually moan
So they vote themselves more
Above inflation increases
Whilst the money in my pocket
Continually decreases
They increase my taxes
To pay for their sons and wives
Some day, some day
The night of the long knives
The Speaker Michael Martin
Is a joke and an auld fool
As his hands dip into the till
To get his share of the pool
Now the Health Minister
One called Mrs Ann Keen
Is also having her share
From the money making machine
Her and her husband
Get their life insurance paid
So we the public can pay out
When the other one is dead
Fcuk we can't even kill them
Without them screwing us
And the bastrads wonder to themselves
Why all the fuss! | |
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| Secret!
Posted: 5/27/2008 2:12:11 PM | Secret! (Re: Rest fo the World)
Secret of England's Greatness (Re:Ulster)
The secret of happiness
The secret of contentment
To lose your anxiety
Minimise your resentment
The way to progress
The way to survive
Listen here one moment
Let your mind come alive
The message of hope
The message I bring
The glad good tidings
Of which I sing
I'm going to tell you
I'm going to explain
You will rejoice
Be free from your pain
The solution is simple
The solution is free
Lend me your ear
Let me tell this to thee
You can tell all your friends
You can tell all your mates
Do not be fearful
Don't hestitate
Spread the good news
Spread the word
You first heard it here
You heard it from Bird
You've been awfully patient
You've been really quite grand
Now this epiphany
Will make you my fan
Here is the secret
Here is the way to achieve
Just listen to me
Be my disciple and believe
This is the key to success
This is the key to communication
If you be like me
Have very low expectations
I'm never disappointed
I never feel sad
I don't expect too much
So for anything I'm glad
I live in a dream world
Where I am extremely blessed
Where less is the more
And more is the less
Low expectations
The opposite from the magazines
I don't want to be a star
That's not one of my dreams
To run for five miles
To pee and hit the pot
To have toasted heels
These things hit the spot
To have enough spare cash
To purchase a newspaper
These are the expectations
Very few will savour
So the secret is out
Keep your expectations low
One step at a time
See your confidence grow | |
|
| Blame it on the Moon
Posted: 5/27/2008 3:25:15 PM | Blame it on the Moon
Blame it on the moon
She said
Blame it on the moon
Our love died all to soon
She said
Our love died far to soon
Come back to me again
She said
Come back again please come soon
Hold me in your arms
She said
Underneath this silver scarlet moon
Don't ever let me go
She said
Tears on her cheeks festooned
It was not my fault
She said
It was hers, hers that cow the moon
I was deranged not myself
She said
Cursed, cursed by the wretched moon
Bewitched was I
She said
Bewitched that night
Enchanted, beguiled by the moon
Never otherwise
Would I have cheated on thee
She said
The moon, it was the moon
She said
The moon it was her
Can't you please see
She made me do it she said
I left and said
The moon
Yes it was the moon
Who finally set me free
 | |
|
| West bank Jew
Posted: 5/28/2008 10:19:19 AM | West Bank Jew
Ehud Olmert
The Prime Minister of Isreal
May yet find himself
Doing time in jail
Just another politician
Caught with fingers in the till
Will he resign
Some say he will
On goes an Inquiry
With the Isreali courts
Was the PM guilty of bribery
Was he corrupt
He is said to have extorted
Perhaps 200,000 dollars
Now the police are looking to have
Ehud collared
The bastion of democracy
Within the Middle East
Has it's own politicians
Who like their palms greased
It's not just palm trees
That are coloured green
So to some international statesmen
Who are financially obscene
Are you surprised
Are you astonished
Do you perhaps wonder
How so many dollars can vanish
Cartier watches
Short breaks at the Ritz
First class air travel
Well, economy is the pits
Olmert now gives new meaning
To the term West Bank
For he has his personal financial backer
Morris Talansky to thank
So can an extortionist
Deliver peace in the middle east
Depends how much
His palms are greased | |
|
| Standing Strong
Posted: 5/28/2008 10:37:55 AM | Standing Strong
You stood by me
You stood so strong
For all that time
It was so very long
When others departed
Fair weather friends
You stood by me
To the very bitter end
My road I made hard
No light could I see
But it was you all the way
Stood firmly beside me
You could have upped and left
Left me far behind
That's not your nature
So gentle and kind
Yet behind the mask
Of gentile dedication
Was a tenacious stalwart
My personal salvation
You choose this hard road
Never where you compelled
And never once
Did you ever rebel
When I was close to exhaustion
Ready to give in
It was you, it was you
Willed me on to win
Courage and fortitude
You demonstrated to me
Friendship never ending
Unconditionally guaranteed
The battles are now over
The victories hard won
Now we can both relax
With each setting sun
As the day draws to an end
As the sun sets in the West
Of all my companions
You never failed to impress | |
|
| The Bag Lady
Posted: 5/28/2008 11:23:49 AM | The Bag Lady
No need to worry about her mortgage
No need to worry about interest rates
This elderly lady for many years
Has been resigned to her fate
No permanent roof over her head
She sometimes slept under a ceiling of stars
She knew the position of different planets
She could tell the difference between Jupiter and Mars
The Bag Lady is timeless
She never ever seemed to have grown old
She walked the same route each day
Well that's what I have always been told
All her worldly possessions in six carrier bags
She wore old worn out sandals
On unwashed feet and unwashed legs
Same coat and hat worn all year round
As she walked from her hostel bed
To one of the parks in the centre of town
Sitting on a park bench
Watching the world sail on by
I don't think she was unhappy
She always smiled and always said hi!
Always a good morning
She never asked for coins or notes
This lady was no beggar
Not by the authors she would quote
She would stop to feed the squirrels
Watched for ever the swans and ducks
Gave sweets to all the children
I think she thought she was in luck
Her carrier bags were never far
Never far from her sight
I often wondered what she carried
Where she spent her Christmas eve night
With the passage of time
I saw the Bag Lady no more
I read then in the death columns
She was found dead
Lying on the Salvation Army floor
Next day her name was in the headlines
Her photograph was on the news
Her anonimity was shattered
I bet she would have been confused
No longer just a bag lady
She was given a proper name
And I wonder if she would have welcomed
Her new claim to fame
For the hospitality of the soup kitchen
For all her nights in the Army Hostel
Millions of pounds of a legacy she bequeathed
Cause she was a life long pentecostal | |
|
| Old faces
Posted: 5/28/2008 1:20:52 PM | Old Faces
Old faces
Present no longer
So you sit and reflect
Ponder and wonder
Another old friend
Gone to meet his maker
Which one next
To require a pacemaker
The joys of growing old
Of becoming mature
Seeing old friends
Life endure
Oh the joys
Of meeting in the street
Jim moans of his lumbago
David cries of crippled feet
Go to the pub
Boys sitting from the crack of dawn
Supping their pints
In a place they belong
No longer conversation
Revolves around the ladies
They talk about hernias
And other's fatal coronaries
Morbid conversations
To while away time
Conversation turns to football
When the weather is fine
Frank mentions his bad knees
And his pending operation
Sean cries into his drink
About his marital separation
William's bad back
Is giving him gyp
His older brother Bobby
Needs a new hip
Eight or nine old men
All sat around
All moaning about life
All being profound
Decrying the state
Of the National Health
Their frugal lifestyle
Their lack of real wealth
Their inconsiderate children
Their meagre pension
Then I happen to mention
My sexual tension
Well fcuk me!
What have I said
They all looked at me
With eyes blood red
Wullie splutters
Sean spits out his drink
What do your mean
I have to think
You still have sex
Wullie's face lights up
All the boys stop
Stop their sup
Glasses down
Eyes all looking at me
I tell them to fcuk off
And go for a pee
Come back to the table
Find a new pint sat down
What's going on
This was my round
Each face staring
With wide beady eyes
I know what's coming
They all start to pry
Like spotty teenagers
Just started senior school
They still want to know
If I can still use my tool
I admit to them
I'm still sexually active
I have a real sex life
It's not interactive
A deadly silence
Throughout the bar
Then the lads all laugh
Call me a fcukin liar
Paddy goes back
Whinging about his chest
Whilst I slip out
To take of old Sadie's dress
 | |
|
| Old faces
Posted: 5/28/2008 1:47:21 PM | The Grip
Brendan Kennelly
In Moynihan's meadow
The badger turned on the hound
and gripped.
The hound bit and tore
At the badger's body,
Harder, harder
The badger gripped.
The men ran up.
O'Carroll shouted, "Quick! Quick! Crack a stick."
The stick cracked.
Deceived,
The iron jaws relaxed.
The hurt hound bit in fury.
Again the badger
Gripped.
The neck, this time.
No loosening now.
Fangs tightened in a fierce embrace
of vein and sinew.
No complex expertise, no difficult method,
No subtle undermining, no lying guile,
Only the simple savage style.
As the hound weakened, slumped, died.
The white teeth parted
Red with the fresh blood.
The men watched him turn,
Head for a hedge,
Low grey killer,
Skin ripped from sides, back, head, neck.
O'Carroll prodded the dead hound
With a blackthorn stick,
Said, more to himself than to others
Standing there -
"A hundred hurts are bad
But a good grip
Will break the heart
Of the best hound in the land."
And I raise a glass, to toast your superior grip on the neck of poetry, bird. | |
|
| I Blamed Elvis
Posted: 5/28/2008 2:03:34 PM | I Blamed Elvis
Driving along
Radio on
Hound Dog blaring
Me singing along
Foot to the pedal
Eighty miles an hour
Suddenly a blue light flashing
In the following car
Got me a ticket
Got me a fine
I blamed Elvis
For losing my mind
Went to the dance
Boggied on down
My girl was jivving
With some other clown
In the Getto
Was played on the deck
I watched her stoke him
On his biceps and pecs
They upped and left
Left me all alone
I blamed Elvis
For ending up on my own
The radiogram was playing
Perhaps a bit to loud
I'm dancing and bopping
I'm one of a crowd
Jailhouse Rock
Was played by the radio station
I turned the beat up
To my ruination and damnation
The neighbours complained
I was arrested
I blamed Elvis
To the judge I protested
Standing in the dock
The judge looks at me
He's only a young lad
Maybe only 43
Who is this Elvis
He says to my brief
I put on the radio
By the Court's own leave
The jury start rocking
The foreman starts to wail
I blamed Elvis
For my six months in jail
I went into prison
To serve my time
The convicts where horrible
All the time I was confined
They stole my cigarettes
Spat on my food
They made me take drugs
And do other things rude
I started bingeing
I started eating burgers
I blamed Elvis
For getting hooked on frankfurters
I died of obesity
Taking too many pills
I knew that I should
Have made out a will
They took me in the coffin
And laid me to rest
I was adorned
With my best Elvis vest
They played Crying in the Chapel
As the Preacher read the narration
I blamed Elvis
But they gave him an ovation
Knock, knock, knocking
On heavens door
Where are you St Peter
Still shagging those whores
St Peter looked down
From his rimmed horn glasses
I think he thought
Another one of them asses
Let me in, let me in
He said sternly no
I blamed Elvis
For he was giving another show | |
|
| Pen and paper Pushers
Posted: 5/29/2008 12:21:39 PM | Pen and Paper Pushers
(If you are a bureaucrat, work in administration
or the civil service - and, and - are proud of it,
don't read on - you have been warned)
They only produce
Statistics and paper
No end product
For all their "labour"
Fill in their expenses sheets
Take annual leave
Live of the state
Manufacture spin and weave
They made themselves indespensible
They have grown in power
Huge government departments
To audit all manpower
They set the agenda
They dance to the beat
They give out flack
But can't stand the heat
The petty bureaucrat
Is an obnoxious creature
An odious
Twentieth century feature
Totally unconcerned
About the final end product
He's here to monitor
Your adminstrative conduct
You have to have filled in
Forms A, B and C
Then a few more
All the way down to T
Irrespective if during your day
No other work is complete
These forms must be finished
So says the elite
They care not
If budgets are underspent
Of if "X" number houses
Are uncompleted for rent
They are unimpressed
If the system is slowed down
Their paperwork must be completed
To add to their crown
Every box must be ticked
Irrespective if required
If uncompleted
You just might get fired
They create more paperwork
And hence more paper jobs
But so much less gets done
The state just gets robbed
The system becomes top heavy
With level upon level
A self fulfilling prophecy
Becomes the bureaucratic devil
They create departments
Levels above and below
But no fcuking end product
Nothing concrete to show
They self protect their jobs
With their political masters
It's never their fault
They can't work any faster
They need another level
To help them push paper
Then they suck up for more money
And gain bureaucratic favour
So many more people
Much less delivery
The final end product
Becomes ancillary
Healing the sick
Sustaining the poor
Building new houses
Has no real alure
The bureaucrat who pushes paper
Is totally uninterested
Only in uniformity
Is he or she fasinated
New forms to be produced
Send them into elation
Systems and procedures
Are their only fasination
Who cares about the sick
The illiterate, the old
Three copies in triplicate
One copy in bold
Fcuk the rain forest
It's not a policy feature
Their need for more paper
Cares not for threatened creature
Only one method
Only one way
Everything needs to be standardised
Or they will cut your pay
You are not allowed to think
Outside the box
You can't use your initiative
Your brain must stay locked
If a new problem arises
You must refer to the guide
Or pass the problem sideways
And then go and hide
Don't complain to those senior
Fcuking timid little puny men
Only interested in their pension
And their pending gold pen
If you dare make a complaint
Your name will become known
For criticism is frowned upon
No seeds of doubt can be sown
Criticism is seen as negative
Never likely to improve
Because it eminates from below
Those in the groove
Minions are not suppose
To address issues of policy
That's solely for
The higher up bureaucracy
Those in towers
So far removed from the ground
Their heads are up the arses
As they look all around
They can't see the problems
Because of their own shite
For it was them who wrote
The policy in black and white
Don't dare take a risk
Don't you ever be courageous
Don't ever get the job completed
That would be outrageous
Don't deviate from the norm
Adhere to their system
Of face their scorn
Who wants to listen
To those at the coal face
What do they know
Keep the plebs in their place
Policy and delivery
No longer integrated
Those who actually deliver
Very lowly rated
So what if they they get discouraged
So what they become demotivated
Standardisation and routine
Must always be contemplated
Twist the problem
To suit their set solution
Then the petty bureaucrats
Will give you absolution
Policy makers
To far from the point of action
Deliver solutions
Which become a distraction
The final goal
Is not the problem to resolve
But the solution to be
Is in the paperwork disolved
Over administration
Is what the civil service does best
Then they will retire early
To take their well earned rest
They support their political masters
They cover their mistakes
And in return the Executive
Keep employing these fakes
Expand the health service
But fewer getting better
Increase public spending
The private sector to fetter
Housing is urgently needed
More money is allocated
Less houses get built
Bureaucracy first to be sated
Paid to push pens
Paid to push paper
But not I would argue
Paid for your hard labour | |
|
| Democracy's death
Posted: 5/29/2008 2:28:48 PM | Democracy's Death
The politics of lies and fear
Everywhere abound
Everyone wanting to hug
That same middle ground
No more left
No more right
Grab the centre
That's the big fight
No more Old Labour
No more One Nation Tory
Centralist politics
A new age story
Politics of concession
Politics of deceipt
Where politicians of every party
Won't issue a receipt
Democracy is doomed
Sitting on the norm
No great controversy
No motivating storm
The electorate are disillusioned
The vote is not cast
Democracy is starving
It's committing suicide fast
No more do voters
Get angry, get motivated
It seems these days
More are getting simply frustrated
Big Brother
Now gets more participation
Than general elections
Which decide the fate of the nation
In the North of Ireland
We once voted with passion
So many bloody elections
No vote was ever rationed
The vote had a high price
Many would try to buy
Some voted with the bullet
Leaving others to die
Electoral fraud
Was an ever present feature
Now like the dinasours
That's an extinct creature (*)
Votes where not cast
To give some cretins their seats
But to ensure that the other side
Was kept in defeat
Extreme opinions maybe
But it galvansied action
Nothing like polarised views
To enthuse an election
Now in the UK
America too
Very little separates
The red from the blue
Education, Taxation
The Welfare State
Very little differentiation
From two parties we love to hate
As the extremes meet the middle
This I comprehend
I fear democracy
May soon come to an end
(*) except in certain parts of England! | |
|
| The Prejudiced Bigot
Posted: 5/30/2008 4:12:14 AM | The Prejudiced Bigot
I'm a prejudiced bigot
So what's new
I'm not gonna lie
Just to impress the likes of you
If these words offend
It's not my intention
But the words in the title
Where never my invention
How you construe
Or perhaps Misconstrue
That I'm afraid is
Totally up to you
I'm an individual
With my own free mind
I say what I think
Don't mean to be unkind
But if you want honesty
If you want truth
You can't hide feelings
Which simply annoy you
I'm a bigot with strong views
I don't sit on any fence
I have deep sealed hatred
And want recompense
I dislike authority
I hate all politicians
I dislike religion
With it's systems and conditions
I don't hate God
For I think he made made
And he give me free thought
From what I can see
The power of speech
A particular sort of mind
He made me different
But he did not make me blind
The prejudiced bigot
Is intregal to democracy
It's the freedom we wanted
From the old aristocracy
I'm not a surf
I'm not a slave
I don't need any master
To tell me how to behave
I don't care for your ethics
I don't care for your codes
I have given consideration
I have chosen my mode
I will grant you the same freedom
To express your own biased views
That's you inalienable right
Only for you to so choose
The right for all men
No matter their station
To deliberate and say
Without prevarication
Who cares if my views
Offend thy ear
I don't need to be silent
Just because you are queer
I don't want be ordered
Which are the correct words to say
I'm an indiviudal
I shall have my way
You too are free
To disagree
To voice your opinion
Irrespective of me
To be a bigot
To be prejudical
To avoid uniformity
And all things official
To say what you think
Not to have your mind fettered
For no one including I
Can be considered your better
To have free expresion
To have freedom of thought
Means the prejudiced bigot
Simply cannot be bought
So let me celebrate
Those much maligned words
For the prejudiced bigot
Is as free as the birds
He instigates honest debate
He puts forward his opinion
Never does he shy away
Under others dominion
Go celebrate your bigotry
For it means you have taken a stance
Unlike so many these days
Who simply sit on the fence | |
|
| New Policy to Bestow
Posted: 5/30/2008 10:37:04 AM | New Policy to Bestow
Stagnant minds
Stagnant times
All reduced
To childish rhymes
Production ends
Production fails
And all I do
Is weep and wail
Paperwork systems
Paperless offices
No substitute for
Personal sacrifices
Economic burdens
Economic woes
Bureaucracy does not care
It flourishes and grows
Compare and contrast
Compare both sectors
Public and private
Graphs and vectors
Bureaucracy grows
Bureaucracy increases
Gross domestic product
Declines and decreases
Inundated with paper
Inundated with forms
The private sector
Has been forced to conform
Independence lost
Independent no more
The public sector
Moves to the fore
Incorporates the private concern
Incorporates man and bairn
Insidious it has crept
Engulfed us all
See now the result
The UK's downfall
Revenue pumped in
Revenue wasted
Systems and policies
We all now have tasted
Streamline this output
Streamline this process
But they need more personnel
For the systematic neurosis
Civil service employment
Civil service enjoyment
Construction industry
Faces redeployment
Workers redundant
Workers on the dole
But the Permanent Secretary
Has a fcuking new policy to bestow | |
|
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