Poetry

Friday, 7 October 2022

Small Talk

 What's the weather like?

What's the weather like?

How you doing?

What's the weather?

I bought a new car,

No you didn't

Yeah I bought a new car 

It's a Nissan

No you didn't

Yes I did

What's it like then?

Quite good.

How's your cat?

Yeah she's well

How's your cat?

Yeah I just said she's swell

No you said she's well.

Yeah and what's your problem?

Well that's no kind of answer... for a cat!

I mean she could be better I suppose, she seems pretty happy

all in all, she sleeps a lot.. Look,why so many questions?

It's called small talk

Oh cool, I'm down with that..

Are you? Because you don't seem that good at it?

I just need practice that's all.

Ask me something then?

How's the family?

Oh yeah, they're fine

That's nice.

Yeah it is, look what time does this meeting start?

5 minutes.

Oh God 5 minutes, look sorry I've got to go and make a cuppa, I'll be back.

Sure, no problem, leave me just like that.

Look we're just chatting, aren't we?

No we're making small talk, nothing's more important than that!

Oh I see, I didn't realize you felt like that about it.

Well I do.

Ok I won't leave you pal, no worries.

Ok thanks.

How's the weather there then?

Look sorry I've a call on the other line, I'll call you back.

Ok no worries, see you later.

Yeah, uh huh...

Thursday, 6 October 2022

I long for the mountains

 I long for the mountains

Where the grizzly bears roam

Where there's wood on the fire

And a path made of stone

Oh I long for the mountains

The mountains of home


Where the wood chucks twitter

And call out in tin tones

Where the miner's gold glitters

in the pans full of loam

Oh I long for the mountains

The mountains of home


I long for the mountains

where the fountains they shiver

And you drink up the water foam

Where the trees stand and quiver

And the leaves they shimmer like chrome

I long for the mountains of home


Where there's snow on the caps

And there's ice in the stream

And you know all the maps

And the mice all look keen

On the mountain, where the grizzly bears

roam

I long for the mountains, the mountains of home


Where the kettle's on the fire

And the metals in the ground

And the beef is on the wire

And the moles are in the mound

I long for the mountains

The mountains of home


Where the dogs in the yard

And it's chasing the cat

Where the hogs looking hard 

At the man in the hat

And the child's a sleep under the piano

I long for the mountains

The mountains of home


Where the wind whispers softly 

Through the trees on the river

Where the father of time

He cries stand and deliver

And all of the pines beside they quiver

Oh I long for the mountains

The mountains of home





On The Edges

 It's on the edges of things you find out what's true

It's on the edges of things

Said the crow

You find out what you already know

Edges, and sedges and hedges

Those are places where the wind blew

On the edges of things

Life is free to happen

Out where things cross lines

And borders and countries

That's the reality

It's on the edges of things

Where the dandelions grows

Where the ducks are in a flux

And the bee stuffs its nose

It's on the edges, in sedges, in hedges

It's on the edges of things 

That life really shows


In dragon fly fledges, in Lily pad pledges

In sedges, in hedges

On the edges of things


Is that your sex face?

 Is that your sex face she said to me

Because I think I've seen it

Somewhere on TV

Yes that was me I said with glee

You can turn me on

You can make me pee

In a golden rain of ecstasy

But first get me my brolly

My kingdom for a brolly

Oh it never rains but it pours

When you're doing sex tours

They should make new discoveries

Upon nudist colonies

Oh the natives came running 

Throwing their "spears" at Columbus

And he had to shoot them all

With his enormous blunderbuss


Was it my fault they ran at me he said

Quite miffed

All I did was set anchor at their shores

He said as their bodies bloodied up the cliffs


Oh sex and death and all of this

It really is a case of hit and miss

If you hit death you miss sex

And vice versa I guess

Though like a hit and run accident

She lay there bleeding

And I said I have forgotten my feeling

Let my put my death mask on

Ah now ask me again is that your sex face son?

I shall say yes, indeed it is

As there is no difference

In this petit mort

Except to let out breath and snort

Or gruffly guffaw like a lion or pig

Is that your sex face?, well yes I believe it is


Freeze dried

 tooting cartoon in his tomb

He knew how to relax

He was sure of death and taxes

Because he was freeze dried


Oh Maslow was an Egyptian with

His pyramid of needs

But you watch him turn to stone

When his account bleeds

Because he was freeze dried


Well the coffee in my cup

It comes straight from the beans

But it is not black but colour I have seen

Because it was freeze dried


Well I met the thief in the bar

And went home with him

In the get away car

He sure was as grim as coal tar

 BUT  he was freeze dried

Buttocks

 You buttocks, your buttocks

Your shins and your sandals

Your pins and your vandals

Your scandals of sleaze

Your buttocks or shuttocks

Or closeted muttocks

And tussocks of fussocks

And closets of ease

Oh come from your buttocks

Speak forth your rude shocks

ruttocks and rollicks and rolling your cheese

Down hillocks and hussocks

And hattocks and haystacks

And bayracks, and may slacks

In feysacks of peas

Or pick strawberry tea cakes

Remonstrance bees wax

Or flea tax on market,

Oh do park it please

Your buttocks I mean

Down on your seats

And now you are seated

Then listen well to me


buttocks

futtocks

hammocks

hat tricks

headstocks

shamrocks

bannocks

buttock

cassocks

destocks

Shepton Show

 A is for apple

Just a pure comedy song

Just the way we can grapple for where we go wrong

Live and be merry

Die and get long

Like the shadows in the orchards

When I was young


Cow play of the herd

Instinct, moo movement

Turd ringlet, who ever heard

Of a bull

With a ring in the end of his nose?


Shire horses suffolks

Built like tree trunks and their buttocks

Not even the endless toning in a gym

Could come up to the mark on him


His great grand daddy was an American Stallion

Brought over by the owners

Mustang, no mustang Sally

Drive your rodeo out of town

Clip, clop, tightly prigged

Pony tails of the braids

Like their riders so tight lipped with bit in mouth

And dressage horses,

slim of ankle


Not these tanks,

They have no fur for the clay earth

To clog in

Shoed