Really just doggerel but it feels good sometimes to get things off your chest! Here's a couple of themes!
Family... I come from a large opinionated family and I love them very much but sometimes they just know too much...
Don't give a lit topic to your siblings
Coz they're all too clever by half
They talk about anything knowingly
Right out of their communal arse
If you know just fuck all about Foucault
Or saw Levi-Strauss in a band
And Kate Atkinson is just a bit clever
Then carry on using your hand
And smear on a dollop of Trollope
Only George Eliot does it for me
And that is the way that we like it
Being all literary!
You had to be careful what books you gave my mum for Christmas. I broke the rules!
Just give what you like to your granny
It's time for her to engage
We're racist, we're selfish, we don't give a toss
Come on mum, get in a rage!
The Death of a Child. Nothing you can say really...
Despair
Everyone says they cannot find the words
To tell is something better left unsaid
We feel, we cry, we sympathise
Strong arms to hold - blind eyes
The letters sink like lead.
There is no point, no end, no consolation
This is the saddest, saddest place
A sudden ending, final desolation
Grief
Everyone says how well you’re doing
Another worn out helpless phrase
We weep alone, strap on our fronts
And play at getting through the days.
Sadness is like the sea, it comes in waves
Sometimes a slow tide covering the land
Sometimes a roll and smack
The breakers crash, a tiny hand
Time isn't turning back
And still no end, no peace, no consolation
And still the saddest, saddest place
And so unfair, this cruel destination
Funeral
You only live to hope it's getting better
The sun shines for a time,
The picture slides.
The clouds roll in
It couldn't have been wetter
The ripples all move outwards
Buffet those I love
Stuck on this voyage, held in this ark
I'm hoping for a dove
I'm trained to help, I'm born to put things right
I'll lend you money, sort out stuff
Take your side in a fight
But in this kind of darkness, in this place
I don't know where the switch is for the light
Hope
I only know that somewhere
There are sweeter memories
And that you'll find a better time
Bright sun, a bench and trees
Memories
There's a crack in my Dropbox
A place that's better not gone
It's funny when My Media
Knows you miss someone
Odd thoughts. What happens when your relatives in the USA open a Messenger thread at 2am, Brexit, Jeremy Corbyn, 2016, and Liverpool fans sorting out racists in Paris
And, lo, the prayers of the angels were as a multitude of pings in the mighty darkness and the many things that bring brightness and knowledge sang out in concealed crevices and the darkness of their being almost as one voice. And he that stubbeth his digit and feels your pain cursed Beelzebub in the darkness and sought out the concealed things and silenced them sliding their voices heavenwards so that there was quiet upon the Earth.
Lingering dreams of old great Brit
Electorate fed a pile of shit
Anti-Europe, anti-black
Vicious fascists looking back
Brexit puts us on the rack.
Fear no more the Corbyn's vent
Nor the Mail and Express dance
Fear not Momentum nor the Trotskies
Just enjoy a thinking stance
And if all ends up gone bust
You can feel principled when dust.
It's fashionable to think last year was shit
But Bowie, Cohen and the rest
Is just the half of it.
A vile group of thugs took a stance
To go on the rampage in France
The Reds sorted them out
So now there's no doubt
They were innocent victims of chance!