Tuesday, 24 May 2016

Pig at the wheel


Written in the late nineteen eighties; I keep meaning to do an up to date version. Just need those damn car manufactures to come up with some decent names!  Still, I think it works well as a set of limerick style verses, whatever decade it's read in so.........

Pig at the wheel

Beware of the pig at the wheel
He's out for a laugh and a thrill
It's like an ambition
His personal mission
To injure to maim or kill

You never know where he'll be
Sometimes he drives a Capri
But he may well appear
In a Cavalier
Or Convertible XR3

In a flash he comes up from behind
With swift overtaking in mind
And his lights on full beam
He'll make you scream!
And go temporarily blind

He'll lie through his teeth without shame
In response to your accident claim
When his nose out too far
Ploughs into your car

He'll turn round and say you're to blame

With no signal for left or right
He's out there all day and all night
On a desperate quest
To be fastest and best
Cutting up every vehicle in sight

So remember to keep your eyes peeled
To avoid being injured or killed
If you want to survive
When your're out for a drive
Beware of the pig at the wheel

Kill the poor


Wrote this to one of Gilly's tunes around 1994: never did get to play it live. Another rant at the flag waving establishment: hopefully the content speaks for itself.

Part of the UKIP logic project.

Kill the poor

Throw the flags away
Why should you die to save

When you know that you're despised
By the people that you praise
They just love to patronize you
With their condescending ways
Till you get so bitter and twisted
You don't know which way to turn
Still you look to them for guidance
When will you ever learn?

They starve a nation for a petty gain
And change the story to hide the pain
Their media pages advertise the lie
More provocation from the old school tie

Kill the poor
(Left them bleeding on the floor)
Kill the poor
Bullets fly, guns roar

All history changes
For convenient lies

Look at the soldiers in a grave yard
What exactly was it for?
The cause that got them slaughtered
In someone else's war?
"They died for today's freedom"  
That's what the leaders say
And the leaders got their freedom
But they're taking yours away

They always tell you that it's for the best
But they're not the ones being put to the test
To make the ultimate sacrifice
And pay the biggest percentage of the price

Kill the poor
(Left them dying on the floor)
Kill the poor
Bullets fly, guns roar
From behind the scenes
They operate the puppet strings
Are you ready to die
For the patriotic lie?

In times of peace and war
They love to kill the poor

It's generated hatred
Fear making you blind
Embedded in your mind
Against your own kind

Kill the poor
It's been done many times before
You go over the wire
Into machine gun fire

To kill the poor
Kill the poor
Kill the poor

Wednesday, 18 May 2016

When was Britain great?


Cheers to Jonna for the second line. But mostly cheers to the guy who tried to force his Brexit opinions on me earlier today, thus turning my pen into a machine gun: fuck the sword.

UKIP logic part one:

When was Britain great?

Are you British are you proud
Is it in your D.N.A?
To sing “God save our gracious Queen”
And celebrate Saint George’s day?
“What’s wrong with that?” I hear you ask
But please don’t take it personally
I’ve got some questions of my own
And I was hoping you’d tell me

When was the last time Britain was great?
Was it back in eighty four?
When Thatcher took the miners on
And with their faces wiped the floor
And later sold our industries
Even the water that we drink
Our rail and our utilities
Everything but the kitchen sink?

When did Britannia rule the waves?
Was it in the seventies?
When Amin sent bananas in jest
To a land financially on its knees
The Pistols sang “God save the queen
No future no future no future for you”
And Jimmy Saville got away with rape
(Apparently Margaret Thatcher knew)

The nineteen sixties had great bands
The Beatles, The Kinks, The Stones, The Who
John Lennon sang “All you need is love”
And for a while it seemed
That at least was true
Would you rather remember rivers of blood?
Do you think Enoch had prophetic sight?
Have you read the speech
In great detail?
Do you tell it to your kids in bed at night?

Maybe Britain was great in world war two
The bulldog spirit can’t be denied
But didn’t Russia also play a part?
And what about the help
Roosevelt supplied?
And did the British people in Forty five
Really think it was Churchill who won the war?
If he was the greatest ever PM
What the fuck did he get voted out for?

Were things any better before that time
With poverty and debt never far away
Was the general strike of twenty six
A homage to the fairness of the British way?
I remember a story my nan used to tell:
Four older brother’s, lives barely begun
Diphtheria was rife, and whilst they slept
It paid them a visit, and killed each one

Was Britain great in the first world war
When countless youngsters lost their lives
Their sacrifices formalised in
letters sent to mothers and wives
And was it right and was it just
For fifteen year old boys to be
Put to death by firing squad
For running away from the enemy?

Was Britain great when the Titanic sank?
And the poor, being not much more than slaves
Watched as the lifeboats rowed away
As they froze to death in their icy graves
Throughout British history it seems to me
That greatness was something enjoyed by few
For everyone else life was dark and grim
Is that where you want to go back to?

Are you British are you proud
Is it in your D.N.A?
To sing “God save our gracious queen”
And celebrate Saint George’s day?
Is this, your land of hope and glory
A shining example to human kind?
You say you want to make it great again
But it never really was
Except for in your mind
























Saturday, 14 May 2016

Pissing blood



Pissing blood

Some people
Prefer to piss
With their eyes closed
Or with the lights out
Because after all
What they can’t see
Can’t hurt them
And though it’s often said
That happiness
And sadness
Are ephemeral illusions
And are like two sides
Of the same coin
Or two parallel lines
Sandwiching the truth
They are mostly happy
Not knowing
And they try not to think
About the thief
That comes in the night
To grab the unsuspecting
As they go on living
With their heads
Buried
In the sand





Saturday, 7 May 2016

The Conqueror






Jack and the Like tree (a fairy story)

Part four:

The Conqueror

There was a place called Facebook land
Where life affirming like fruit grew
And in that land a demon ruled
And from his throne, he blew and blew
And sent a billion like fruit seeds
Towards a door left open wide
They blasted through, then downward bound
Were scattered by the winds outside

And after one year in the ground
Each tiny seed, too small to see
Would germinate and then become
A new, gigantic like fruit tree
And everyone who ate the fruit
Would soon become a helpless slave
Deluded by the lure of fame
And self-importance that it gave

The passing of a second year
Would see them stricken with disease
In search of fruit (like one before)
In millions, climbing up the trees
There on his throne, the demon sat
Anticipating what he’d planned:
He pondered on the countless fools
Trapped forever in Facebook land

But all of this was jeopardised
When Jack – the planter – closed the door
The demon could not find his breath
The wind he’d conjured blew no more
He sought and found the hapless boy
And had him now in his embrace
“Your part is played, now you must DIE!”
He screamed into his frightened face

Jack, helpless and resigned to fate
And thinking that he’d soon be dead
Imagined then another voice
Whispering quietly in his head
“He is the beast that lives inside
And I will freeze him now for you
Have faith and hear the words I say
For there is something you must do

The only way to kill the beast
Lies deep within his beating chest
And once removed the beast will die
But know this first, for here’s a test
The thing that you have come to love
The like tree fruit that you adore
Will vanish once the demon’s dead
And all the trees shall be no more”

Jack shook his head in disbelief
For surely this could not be so
But then a cold wind chilled the air
And like a creature made of snow
The demon frozen, could not move
His mouth, in shock was open wide
The voice in Jack’s head then returned:
“You must be quick, Jack reach inside”

Jack put his arm inside the mouth
And pushed as deeply as he could
And as he clasped the beating heart
He suddenly then understood
The meaning of the whispered words
And what the demon’s death would mean:
A life without the like tree fruit
Was something he had not foreseen

No more feelings and selfish thoughts?
There surely could be nothing worse
Than knowing that his life was not
The centre of the universe
His story was a mundane tale
No one would read it, not a word
A mass of insignificance
That no one saw and no one heard

The like fruit gave him all the things
Reality could never give
Without the fruit he was but dust
Without the fruit he could not live
“Jack, stop thinking about the fruit”
The voice inside his head returned
“Just grab his heart and pull it out
Then bring it to me to be burned

Focus your mind Jack, concentrate
For I will help you with this task
Pull out the heart and kill the beast
That wears your features like a mask”
With newly acquired inner strength
Jack brushed aside the things he feared
He pulled and ripped the heart away
The demon screamed then disappeared

“Come to me Jack, I am waiting
 Here by the door you left behind
I'll cure your like addiction
And end the torment in your mind”
Jack turned around and then he saw
The ground that he was standing on
Was now a big wide empty space
And all the like fruit trees had gone

Jack, remembering what he held
Looked at the object in his hand
Its shape was of the letter “F”
The mark, he knew, of Facebook land
“Come to me” the whisperer said
Bring the symbol of false desire
The spell cannot be broken till
The demon’s heart is in the fire”

And so began a lonely quest:
Mile after mile, day after day
Along the path of nothingness
Through shades of black and white and grey
Jack walked in solitude and pain
And emptiness beyond compare
Till finally he found the door:
The whisperer was waiting there

With gladness and with proffered hand
He gave the demon’s heart away
The hooded figure held it high
And in his mind Jack heard him say
“Behold the demon’s frozen heart
A symbol from the depths of hell
From whence it came, it must return
Come fourth and break the demon’s spell!”

And in the distance Jack then saw
A terrifying wall of fire
The hooded figure left him then
And walked towards the burning pyre
And as he walked he grew in size
As tall as any like fruit tree
His head and shoulders now so high
Jack craned his neck but could not see

And in a FLASH! The fire was gone
The figure, now of normal size
Turned to Jack and lowered his hood
And saw his disbelieving eyes
“Jack, fare you well now go in peace
The trees have gone, our work is done
We’ve broken too the demon’s spell
That was two years ago begun

Go through the door and back in time
And two years younger you shall be
All this forgotten, but one thing:
Have faith my friend, remember me”
And with those words he disappeared
And Jack walked through the opened door
And in his garden there he stood
And it was as two years before…….

………

A boy out walking down a lane
Once came across a like tree seed
Inside a bag on which was writ
“For satisfaction guaranteed …….”
He picked it up and in his mind
There came a distant memory
A quiet and comforting refrain:
“Have faith my friend, remember me”

The end.



The demon within





Jack and the Like tree (a fairy story)

Part three:

The Demon Within

There was a land where giant trees grew
In forests stretching far and wide
And on each tree, there was some fruit
With magic properties inside
Each fruit was shaped just like a fist
Tightly clasped and with upraised thumb
Who ate its flesh would be a slave
And to all else, blind, deaf and dumb

A wind was howling through the trees
Each branch was shaking to and fro
And fruit, succumbing to this wind
Fell crashing to the earth below
And in each fruit were many seeds
That now lay scattered on the floor
And at the mercy of the wind
They drifted through an opened door

And then they floated slowly down
Silently, like dust, unseen
Eventually to land upon
A place their like had never been
Except one: found some time ago
In a bag, by a boy called Jack
He planted it and grew a tree
And climbed it and did not come back

This bag was dropped two years before
An imp with wickedness in mind
Placed a Like seed there inside
And left it for the boy to find
Unseen he climbed the tree with Jack
And found the door and through he went
Then from his forest throne he blew
And through the door the seeds were sent

Jack, lying on the other side
Awakened by the demon breeze
Looked up and saw the opened door
And slowly crawling on his knees
He entered into Facebook land
(For that is what this place was called)
And seeing all the trees therein
In shock and awe stood up enthralled

The wind, as if in anger blew
And its ferocity increased
Jack pulled the door and slammed it SHUT!
And all was quiet, the wind had ceased
The demon imp (now grown huge)
Sat down upon his throne and glared
He knew that Jack had stopped the wind
And spoilt the plan that he’d prepared

And rising from his chair in rage
The demon creature borne of hell
Went deep into the forest there
To find the boy that broke the spell
And Jack, still tired and unaware
With thoughts confused and movements slow
Moved forward in a dream like state
Unwittingly, towards his foe

The woods were filled with giant like trees
Just like the one that Jack had grown
And on the ground beneath them lay
The Like fruit from their branches thrown
Jack greedily consumed each one
There found upon the forest floor
And steadily with strength restored
He carried on in search of more

Hour upon hour, amidst the trees
He walked and on occasion, stopped
To gather up, amongst the leaves
The fruit from which the trees had dropped
With confidence achieved once more
Onward he marched and knew not where
His destiny seemed now fulfilled
A boy alone without a care

And in that state of shallow bliss
He walked the woods by day and night
Then stopped, then ate, then carried on
With tunnel vision guided sight
Then came a voice: “Jack turn and run”
It whispered from inside his mind
Or did it come from near the door
That Jack had left so far behind?

Then there came a terrible SCREAM!
That filled his heart and mind with dread
“I know you boy, your name is JACK
And when I find you, you’ll be dead!”
In panic then he turned and ran
With terror frozen on his face
And presently, he found a glade
And - so he hoped - a hiding place

But no, the demon’s voice still raged
“You never will escape me Jack!”
He tripped and fell and now he felt
The monster’s claws upon his back
Jack, petrified, and paralyzed
And fearfully resigned to death
Was twisted round and now could feel
Upon his face the demon’s breath

“Open your eyes Jack look and see
I want you now to understand
How much YOU are responsible
For all these things that I had planned
I am the ruler of this land
And all of it belongs to me
But YOU planted the like tree seed
And spoke the words that grew the tree

If not for you the giant tree
And Facebook land would not exist
Open your eyes and face me Jack
You can’t refuse when I insist”
Jack’s eyes flashed open and he saw
And recognised then with a groan
The face that looked right back at his
Was no one else’s but his own

End part the third



The climber





Jack and the Like Tree (a fairy story)

Part two:

The Climber

There was once a gigantic tree
Its top so high and never seen
Its branches hanging with strange fruit
Its leaves all shades of evergreen
And on its trunk there clung a boy
Ten thousand feet above the ground
So slowly, branch by branch he climbed
With hook and harness upward bound

On each branch was a clustering
Of blue fruit of the strangest shape
A clenched fist with a risen thumb
The size and texture of a grape
Of luscious and exquisite taste
There lay a secret in its store
Who tasted it became a slave
And once picked, it would grow no more

The giant tree at first appeared
A year before this tale is told
And jack (the climber) ate its fruit
Before it was but one day old
Thereafter every day he came
To pick and eat without a care
And by the time a month had passed
The lowest branches he’d stripped bare

And very soon the higher fruit
Reached by a ladder disappeared
And higher still by scaffold Tower
Too soon each branch was picked and cleared
Till finally there came the day
When all that he could do was done
Jack climbed down from the tower resigned:
All accessible fruit was gone

A year went by, the seasons passed
Jack looked for signs upon the tree
But all that grew was his despair
No buds or blossom could he see
Hence presently this tale returns
To Jack - the climber- on a quest
To find the fruit to fill the void
And desolation in his breast

His senses craved the like tree fruit
His ego ever wanting more
His self - importance drove him on
All other things did he ignore
Deluded by his selfish lust
He climbed from branch to branch to find
The fruit that calmed and satisfied
The yearnings of his tortured mind

Jack then two months upon the tree
With only one thing on his mind
Onwards and upwards there he climbed
All branches, stripped bare, left behind
The fruit that gave him sustenance
And satisfied his every need
It’s fleeting gifts of power and joy
Remained the focus of his greed

Jack then three months upon the tree
His clothes were ripped, his skin was rank
His teeth unclean, his hair unkempt
His hands were cracked, his face was blank
And ever upwards still he climbed
With feelings of despair and grief
The Like fruit clusters still not picked
The only source of his relief

Jack then SIX months upon the tree!
His body wrecked his spirit drowned
For nigh a barren week had passed
And no fruit clusters had he found
Jack, exhausted and diminished
Yet still continued to ascend
With pull and grip, he carried on
Upwards towards his journey’s end

Then seven months had come and gone
And Jack, unconscious, climbed no more
That night he reached the highest branch
And saw there at the end a door
And there he lay in dreamless sleep
Aware not of what fate had planned
Or that the doorway there began
The path that led to Facebook land!


End part the second

The Planter


I just recently read The Ramayana and The Mahabharata: two wonderful Hindu stories with masses of meaning. I particularly liked the way the Mahabharata is written in verse translated from Sanskrit.

I decided to attempt an epic (by my standards) of my own. I hope that in a few thousand years it gets translated into Sanskrit and is hopefully recited by one of Vyasa's decedents.  


Jack and the Like Tree (a fairy story)

Part one:

The planter

A boy out walking down a lane
Once came across a like tree seed
Inside a bag on which was writ
“For satisfaction guaranteed
Dig a deep hole and plant therein
And every morning for a year
upon that spot a comment make
And there your Like tree shall appear!”

And Jack,(for so our hero’s named)
Was young, and had time on his hands
So every morn, come rain or shine
He catered to the seed’s demands
A comment sometimes from within
And sometimes one of Google found
Was uttered daily as advised
By him upon that sacred ground

Three hundred and three score plus five
Each day he marked them every one
Spring, summer, autumn, winter passed
And when the final day was done
There still was nothing to be seen
No shoot or sapling sprouting there
Jack went despondent to his bed
In disappointment and despair

With weariness, and restlessness
And torment on that final night
In darkness there awake he stared
Eyes sore with unfulfilled delight
Till finally he fell asleep
His thoughts exhausted and resigned
Then came to him the strangest dream
A nightmare of the darkest kind

An overture of horns and drums
(A tune of dread and pain and fear)
A lightning FLASH!  A thunder CLAP!
The sound of footsteps coming near
Jack hiding in a darkened glade
For in that land a beast did dwell
More fearsome than the basest fiend
That ever walked the depths of Hell

“I am the ruler of this land”
The ever searching creature said
“I know you boy, your name is JACK
And when I find you, you’ll be DEAD!”
Jack, running from his hiding place
The monster’s breath upon his neck
Then tripping on a fallen branch
Lay helpless like a pawn in check

Resigned in terror there he lay
As talons grabbed and clawed his back
Then came a voice from far away
His mother calling “JACK JACK JACK!
Jack wake up it’s only a dream
Poor love you do look terrified
Get out of bed and come and see
There’s something going on outside”

A crowd had gathered in the street
Their faces gazing at the sky
Behind Jack’s house a tree had grown
So unimaginably high
A trunk so wide it filled the space
Where once a well-kept garden thrived
Jack with his mother stood transfixed
No bush, no lawn, no flower survived

With eyes wide open, mouths agape
In wonderment, and quiet dismay
More people came to view the tree
Drawn to it on that fateful day
For none had ever seen the like
It was magnificent indeed
A marvelous thing to BEHOLD!
A giant borne of the Like tree seed

End part the first.