Rainbow

Rainbow

When the sun shines, on a wet day in June,

I see a rainbow, can you see it too?

It’s like the sleeve of Dark Side of The Moon:

Red, yellow, pink, green, purple, orange, blue.

Someone on Twitter says, all he can see,

Is the representation of a flag,

An advertisement for LGBT;

"Woke" promotion of liberals in drag.

Walters, Wright, Gilmore and Mason, stained;

He’ll not be playing Pink Floyd anymore;

“Is there a straight flag?" he crossly complained,

Light refraction, wasn’t what he saw,

Certainly not on the box set cover,

And possibly not even in the sky;

Does the sky support a same-sex lover?

Is nature itself a "WOKE" kind of guy?

I see rainbows, the lunatic sees red,

On the grass, in the hall, and in his head.

 

Team Harry

Team Harry

I’m not a monarchist by any means

But I’m curious about kings and queens,

And though I never cried or stood outside

Buckingham Palace when Diana died

Or later spectated the funeral

With sobbing people innumerable

I watched the solemn cortege on TV

And clear as daylight Harry I still see

Walking next to William down the Mall

Dry-eyed and dignified as I recall

And mourners from all corners of the land

Eagerly shook Harry by the hand

Smiling lovingly wishing all the best

To Princes William Harry and the rest

The mourner’s hands so Harry later said

Were wet with tears for Harry’s mother dead

Tears shed for someone who they never knew

Except through tabloids and a faux interview

And the boys who knew her better than all

Betrayed no cares held the mourners in thrall

How many mourners since things have turned sour

Are posting on Facebook and Twitter now

Condemning Harry for having a say

While the tabloids publish day after day

Populist opinions venomous bile

Misjudgements fit for a kangaroo trial

Aspersions cellular levels of hate

Slurs against Meghan for not being Kate

As the likes of Morgan and Clarkson preach

More of the same in the name of free speech?

I’m not a monarchist but once again

I’ve no gripe against royals in the main

The way I see it the monarchy’s there

Whoever once asked to be born an heir?

But if I was a spare in Harry’s place

The press forever being on my case

Even to the detriment of my wife

I too would leave for a different life

And offer as truth my story for sale

Refuting the lies of the Daily Mail

The Algorithm

 The Algorithm

The algorithm is a beast

Of appetite gazillion

Glutting on an endless feast

Of personal opinion

It chews digests expels a stream

Of consciousness (depleted)

And everyone receives a meme

Updated or retweeted

Sometimes I fall to pondering

If I should leave the centre

Set myself to wandering

Where enemies would enter

There would be rejection

Unacceptance by the whole

No mirror hall reflection

I’d be deemed to be a troll

But what if I pretend instead

To be in full agreement

Contradict what’s in my head

In favour of appeasement

The algorithm then would change

And following this new lead

Would defecate a different range

Of memes on my newsfeed

The point I’m trying to convey

Is all that’s being written

Goes the algorithm’s way

And everyone gets bitten

We may be individuals

With different points of view

But words being mere victuals

Who is feeding who?

Bounty

 

Bounty

Mars removing Bounty

From its Celebrations

Received from every county

Indignant condemnations

For coconut and chocolate

Covered mini bars

Are the nation’s favourite

O’er Milky Way and Mars

Galaxy Maltesers

Snickers we accept

Why then choose to tease us

With Bounty bar reject?

Ah but it was all a trick

A stunt for advertisement

Mars had never planned to stick

With Bounty’s bar’s retirement

Bounty is the best by far

Its loss was bound to hurt us

What a clever bunch they are

Those marketing researchers

Incel

 

Incel

An angry Misogynist celibate

Whose ego was puffed up and delicate

Discovered a crowd

Like-minded and proud

And now he’s a right-wing degenerate

My Desperation

 

My desperation

 

People’s lives are going down

Talking about my desperation

Too much poverty in this town

Talking about my desperation

The NHS looks about to fold

Talking about my desperation

I hope I die before it gets sold

Talking about my desperation

My desperation

My desperation baby

 

The workers’ rights fade away

Talking about my desperation

Zero hour jobs are here to stay

Talking about my desperation

Cuts to, health and education

Talking about my desperation

Tax breaks for every corporation  

Talking about my desperation

My desperation

My desperation baby

 

 

 

The monkey the cork and the elephant

The monkey the cork and the elephant

A cork in a strange experiment

Was placed in the arse of an elephant

For scientists to view

A year’s worth of poo

And document figures of measurement

A monkey they trained intensively

To climb up a ladder repeatedly

And pull out a stop

On reaching the top

From whence it descended immediately

The pachyderm with a full tummy

And cork wedged tight in his bummy

Was after a year

Led out to appear

In place of the elephant dummy

The monkey with no hesitation

Ascended toward the rear station

And pulled with all might

Till gallons of shite

Came gushing beyond contemplation

The scientists there gathered were covered

The shortest among them were smothered

The elephant heaved

Quite simply relieved

But the cork-puller never recovered

They saw him remove and embrace it

And desperately try to replace it

But the bowels once moved

The exercise proved

A suicide mission let’s face it