DRONE OF PLUNDER, DRONE OF MIGHT

drone-strike

A seasonal verse!

The child’s smile has been stolen

He has no expression now

The Drone took out his family

His homestead and his plough

 

Yet one day when the scars of fear

Heal they’ll be replaced

First by tears of agony

That will leave a bitter taste

 

The bitter taste fades then grief arrives

And later anger comes

That’s when all innocence is lost

And he’ll the march to the sound of drums

 

Drums of Revenge, Drums of War

Will be ringing in his ears

Erasing all compassion

That’s when he volunteers

 

To undertake an evil deed

To do unto all the others

What was done unto him

His parents and his brothers

 

Yet the Drone knows not clemency

The Drone will never care

The Drone still flies up in the sky

Does not respond to any prayer

 

Oh Drone of Plunder, Drone of Might,

Drone armed with weapons oh so bright,

Eastward leading, hearts left bleeding,

Collateral damage it’s given right

 

 

An old one from this time last year reworked a little

MY ROMANCE IN A TIME OF WAR!

VIETNAM

I was the only Brit diplomat left

At the fall of Saigon, April 75

Thought it prudent to make a sharpish getaway

And escape whilst still alive

 

Just outside of the US Embassy

Amidst the panicking throng

A pretty young local girl approached me

Asked if she could tag along

 

She said, ‘Kind Sir, I will marry you

And be your hearts delight

If you can take me off to Blighty

For I’m in a state of great fright’

 

‘Crikey’ was my first thought

‘You’re so young and I’m so very old

And I score you 10 out of 10 my girl

If I may be so bold’

 

Yet ever the English gentleman

I felt it best if I did explain

‘Miss let me be quite honest

For I’ve no wish to cause you any pain

 

You see once I tell my story

One that brings with it little cheer

You maybe will think to change your mind

About me being your passport out of here

 

I suffer from many afflictions

Perhaps more than I’m able to count

First my back is in a state of ruin

So when making love it is you who will have to ‘mount’

 

And furthermore there’s my halitosis

It’s put off many a gal

And then my arthritic hands

Will do little for your wifely morale

 

Also I cannot raise one

Devoid of my vacuum pump

What with that and my wretched gout

Most girls think I am a chump

 

Additionally I am prone to wind

And of course you’ll have to put up with the pong

I belch, dribble and have a tic

Maybe you should just stay here in Saigon’

 

Having heard my woeful tale

She adjusted her delightful sarong

Thought about what she should do

Then uttered, ‘I’ll take my chances with the Viet Cong’

 

I often wonder what became of her

That stunning Vietnamese beauty

Still I’m not complaining

As her younger sister herself is a cutie

 

Who takes care of my every need

So no more am I so very alone

She collared me as her sibling left

Saying ‘Stuff her, get me out and back to your English home’

ICARUS & HIS LOVE OF MCDONALDS DOUBLE CHEESE BURGERS

icarus

Greek Mythology Explained!

Crete, quite a long time ago: Daedalus, an inventor of international acclaim is having a chat with his son Icarus regarding the swift departure the pair of them have to make as Daedalus has well and truly pissed off King Minos, the ruler of the island of Crete. We join the pair not long before they are compelled to take of their leave.

“If I’ve told you once Icarus I must have told you a thousand times.”

“What’s that Dad?”

“Fast food my son, fast food! Man cannot live on McDonald’s Double Cheese Burgers, Fries and McFlurrys alone. Look at the fucking state of you, you fat bastard.”

“Well if you must know I’m not living on McDonald’s Double Cheese Burgers, Fries and McFlurrys alone, I had a Garden Side Salad with it today as well as a Diet Coke…so bollocks to you.”

“Don’t I know it…there’s bloody cartons all over the place. For crying out loud don’t you ever clear up after you…and don’t just shove them anywhere and everywhere like a Spartan. Remember we recycle all that stuff here on Crete…and as for the ‘Diet Coke’ I do believe that’s comparable with closing the stable door after the horse has bolted.”

“Oh yeah, forgot about the recycling…and I’ll have you know Diet Coke doesn’t have any fucking calories so it must be healthy. Anyhow I object to you calling me a fat bastard…that’s right out of order that is.”

“Well firstly, what with you being one of the great unwashed I’m shelling out for all your scoff on a daily basis and you’re filling your face I estimate at least four times a fucking day at about 1400 calories a hit and on top of that you seem to live in Harry the Turks Kebab Shop most nights and God only knows the calories in those bloody disgusting Doner Kebabs you gorge on. I mean this is becoming far beyond a joke Icarus…you are, in short as fat as pig…your girlfriend’s pissed off with another geezer sensible little maid that she is…and there’s you a beached whale…I’m surprised you don’t get harpooned when sunning yourself on the beach.”

“Crikey hold your horses Dad…I mean I may have porked up just a tad but I’m still getting over Mavis buggering off like that…without a buy your leave…well apart from suggesting I look pregnant and that it’s unlikely I could see the old todger when watering the horse…I loved her you know…really loved her.”

“The thing is Icarus since King Minos has got the raving hump with me for bolloxing the invention what I conjured up to trap his arch enemy Theseus in with that Minotaur monster thing…well that and that little liaison he thinks – wrongly as it happens – I had with his daughter Ariadne, lovely girl that she is…he’s out to get us both.”

“What’s that got to do with my waistline then?”

“Everything…bloody everything! We have to escape this island sharpish and none of the fisherman will risk the King’s wrath so we can’t leave by boat hence, what with me being a bit of a maestro on the invention front I’ve made us both wings so we can simply fly off to Sicily where it’ll be safe…seeing how I’ve got pals in the Mafia over there.”

“Cool! When we leaving then. I fancy a bit of flying.”

“When I can make a pair of wings big enough to take your weight that’s when…well by necessity today as it happens as I been fortunate in getting hold of yet another barrel of wax.”

“Wax?”

“Yeah, wax…what of it? That’s what I’ve made the wings with.”

“Oh I was thinking of something a bit sturdier….you know, like a flexible yet strong material, say aluminium and maybe a few well-placed feathers to give them a bit of panache and all that…or better still go the tried and trusted balloon route…I just can’t see how wax is going to work.”

“Look who’s the inventor here. Anyway you’ll be fine so long as firstly we get your fucking bulk off the old terra firma and secondly if you don’t fly too close to the Sun because the wax will obviously melt and you’ll drop out the sky like a sack of shit out of a 747.”

“Roger that.”

“Right then we’ll leave lunchtime.”

“That’s handy I’ll have time to sort meself out a McDonalds take out for the trip. Nice one Dad.”

A LITTLE LATER OVER THE MEDITERRANEAN SOMEWHERE FLYING TWIXT CRETE AND SICILLY

“How’s it going then Icarus?”

“Alright to start with Dad but all this flapping is knackering me out and the sweat coming out of my armpits is like an open tap…I’m chucking up a bit as well.”

“You better try to catch a thermal and do a spot of gliding son. If your body temperature goes up any further you’ll melt the wings and that’ll be goodnight Vienna for you matey boy…a truly horrible belly flop onto the waters of the Med and thereafter a watery grave for you.”

“Oh do cheer me up Dad. Do you think these wings will still keep me air bound if I take a break from all this flapping type exertion then?”

“If you catch a thermal like I said, then yes they will hold up.”

“OK then here we go…by the way what’s a thermal Dad?”

TOO LATE; SCREAM; SLIGHTLY LESS LOUD SCREAM; ALMOST INCONSEQUENTIAL SCREAM; SPLOSH

“What’s a thermal Dad? How thick that lad was…beggar’s belief really. The boy surely can’t have been the fruit of my loins.”

BEST WE MEET UP AT FIRST LIGHT

CLEAVAGE 1

All the gals did envy her

And she filled the chaps with lust

She was well read and intelligent

Also noted for her bust!

 

A bohemian of free spirit

A wanton seductress

In the company of her lovers she was

Famed for her suppleness

 

I’d heard the whispers and the rumours

That she sought my company

And thus it was I strove to  look her up

In St Petersburg you see

 

For that is where she had announced,

Announced to one and all

She’d arrive in early summer

And remain there until fall

 

So imagine my displeasure arriving

In Mother Russia on that day

Only to discover she had changed her mind

And simply gone away

 

Eventually I caught up with her

In Italy, 1964

A clandestine meeting was arranged

At Portofino, near the shore

 

She looked me up and down then smiled

On that perfect afternoon

‘You like la dolce vita?

We make love by the full moon’

 

Crikey she’s not backward in coming forward

Was my first thought I must confess

And a full moon was due that night

I could but acquiesce

 

Imagine then my sorrow

As day turned into night

I turned up as we had agreed

Yet she advised, ‘Best we meet up at first light’

 

I stayed awake, went to a bar

Knocking back the vino

Slightly the worse for wear

I lost a fortune in the casino

 

Still as the dawn was breaking

She and I met up again

‘I’m busy, we’ll met at luncheon,

Sorry to be such a pain’

 

Restless from thinking all about

An erotic liaison laid on a plate

I tried my best to take a snooze

Failed miserably; such is fate

 

At lunch she prevaricated

Said meet her at her hotel at half past three

I concluded that if I didn’t get my leg across soon

It would be the very death of me

 

Yet as I was shown to her room

And found her lying naked on the bed

My tiredness quite caught up with me

And I slept like the dead

 

When I eventually awoke

She’d left a note fixed to the door

Saying, ‘I expected a stallion not a gelding,

And by the way like a pig you snore’

 

Bollocks!

SECRETS I WISH WE’D NEVER SHARED!

secrets

As we sat cuddling together

Sipping wine by an open fire

I resolved to simply remind her

That she was truly my heart’s desire

 

And so it was we then got to chatting

About life, love and honesty

She suggested we both share our secrets

Of former lovers from our history

 

Thinking this was a sound idea

I elected that I would go first

For I knew her to be such a shy girl

With perhaps just a couple of beaus to her name at worst

 

And thus it was that I explained

My erstwhile lovers numbered but a few

When she quizzed me on this very subject

I answered, ‘In reality I’m afraid just the two’

 

At this she seemed quite taken aback

So I said, ‘Your turn now’

She hummed and hawed, delayed a bit

Then said, ‘Holy cow!

 

There really have been so many

In the hundreds if the truth be told

Let’s see, a politician, a driving instructor

And if I may be so bold

 

To name a boxer, a doctor, a navvy

A postman and most of Surrey

A gamekeeper, a copper and a plumber

I do hope you’re not in a hurry?

 

Then there was the whole Wales rugby team

And the cordon bleu chef from Birkenhead

And I’d quite forgotten Tom, Dick and Gwendoline

Together they did share my bed

 

And of course there was a gym mistress

And a ballerina too

Plus the bloke from down the chip shop

And the chap who did that kung fu

 

As for the rest I’ll have to think

Or dig out my old treasured diaries

Yes that is the best plan

And will answer all your inquiries’

 

Plainly I found this quite disturbing

That she’d been at least thrice round the block

I’d marked her down as the virginal type

Yet now had to parry the knock

 

For she had had more pricks than a second hand dartboard

Of this I was now absolutely sure

Yet should I hold this against her?

Was it more than I could endure?

 

So I suggested we go out for dinner

At Raj’s Curry House and maybe sink a few

Yet even as those words had left my lips

She announced coyly, ‘I’ve had him too’

A BUNDLE OF TRUE LOVERS

acrobat

You always walked the high wire

Without a safety net

You were both brave and foolish

Now I’m cursed not to forget

 

The day you turned on a sixpence

The day you sent me away

Stole a pistol from your father’s study

And blew your brains away

 

The day they buried you was

One of bright sunshine

Many came to see you off

Most said, ‘she once was mine!’

 

That’s when the unseemly fight broke out

A bundle of true lovers

Each believing you loved him the best

Forgetting all men are brothers

 

Oh but such shenanigans

Your carnal passions brought about this feud

No man alive could keep pace with you

Certainly none within this brood

 

Of your mourning former beaus

Oh, how we ended up so bruised

Tarnishing your funeral thus

We really cannot be excused

 

And though I’m only guessing

A thought sits in my head

Was the reason that you topped yourself

Something that I said?

 

An adaption!

HOW STRONG THE WOMAN – A memory

pregnant_black_and_white-500x337

How strong the woman

How frail the man

 

He chanced upon her

Dressing

She had got so far as

Tights and knickers

Naught else

 

As is her way

A private conference

With the babe in her belly

Telling him to

Get his act together

And show up

 

She turns about face

‘Oh it’s you’

He beams

Tells her just

How wonderful she looks

‘No I don’t

I look ridiculous’

She disagrees

For once she was wrong

 

At the birth

She spat profanities

As if possessed

Seemed like an age yet

Got there in the end

 

Helpless and hopeless

He takes of his leave

For a minute or two

Nicotine and tears

In the grounds

Under the crescent moon

Composure partially restored

He returns

 

The child at her breast now

He kisses them both

Her first

 

All her life

She had had a ghost

Called George about her

Now she had her boy child

Called him George

She never did

See her ghost again

 

She cures his melancholy

Most times

The only one who can

 

Should he go the way of all flesh

This very instant

Then let it be said

He has known love

He has known devotion

That he was

Quite the luckiest fellow

 

Yet he remains in awe

Even now

How strong the woman

How frail the man

GO TELL IT TO THE SNOWMAN – ‘silly’ romantic verse

snowmen in beer garden 1

The longest night; the shortest day

A time that’s made for love

In mid winter’s frozen wasteland

You forgot your scarf and gloves

 

I think that was the last time

Last time my eyes met yours

I blinked first; all trust was lost

Time held me in its jaws

 

The crow sat upon a bare branch

Like me, he’s feeling low

You walked away, your back to me

Your footprints in the snow

 

I think that was the last time

Last time I had the chance

To call your name; to call you back

To join me in the dance

 

My collar up; wind at my face

I turned and walked away

Reflected on what I had done

And the things I gave away

 

I think that was the last time

The coldest time of all

The frostbite in my fingers

As I headed for my fall

 

Go tell it to the snowman

Go tell it to the moon

Go tell it to the naked trees

I won’t be back here soon

 

Because I am off back down to the pub

I have my mates to see

A good few beers; a curry

Feels bloody great to be free

 

Then I’ll go stay with Svetlana

She has a heart of gold

A sultry East European lass

And her bed is never cold

 

Another oldie

SAMUEL PEPYS BLOG DIARY OF ‘GREAT POSTS’

mikesteeden:

One I wrote a little earlier for The League of Mental Men!

Originally posted on The League Of Mental Men:

post

“Music, women and great posts I cannot but give way to, whatever my business is.”

Samuel Pepys

Comments: 

Oscar Wilde: “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the ‘great post’ and this Mr Pepys is one ‘Great Post’!” 

Monica Lewinsky: “Great Post.”

Bill Clinton: “Don’t I know it – ‘great post’”

Isambard Kingdom Brunel: “Great Post – and I know my posts!” 

Mark Twain: “The very ink of posts is written with fluid prejudice – ‘Great Post’ Sam.” 

Mae West: “Too much of a ‘great post’ can be wonderful.” 

Mahatma Gandhi: “The greatness of a nation can be judged by the way its ‘great posts’ are treated.” 

Joan of Arc: “Well I really must say this is a ‘great post’ what I have been tied to and set so artistically upon the bonfire.” 

Pope Pius…

View original 174 more words

THE ISLANDER

violin-baby-photo

Circumspect

The defining trait of

The islander of

Mongrel breed

No pity for the

Poor immigrant

 

Consummate

Self-belief also

He aspires to

Genetic superiority

Often he would imply

‘I am the epitome of

This once great nation’

A greatness of

Extravagant definition

And one that evaporates

Under scrutiny

 

The educated woman

Travelled from afar

A foreign land

A failed state

Weak and tired

Without hope

Seeking sanctuary

Seeking charity

At his doorstep

 

Spitting vitriol

Contempt

And hatred

Without foundation

Born of fact

He turned her away

Dismissed her relevance

As a human being

Quite overlooking

His own dubious heritage

And that of his counterparts

He was no true blood

Whereas

Unbeknownst to him

She was pure

 

To the pitiable anthem

Of monarchical devotion and

God-fearing obedience

Under the questionable

Emblem, that is

A trinity of crosses

Having harnessed

A stupid

‘Hail fellow well met’

Grin upon his face

Glass of ale in his hand

Sucking on a cigarette

And showing

No benevolence

For her plight

She, the stranger at his door

He ordered her to leave

Forthwith

On pain of force

 

His birth right

A cameo

A neo Edict of Expulsion

Inflicted upon a harmless

Deserving soul

Denied even the

Deliverance of

The maestro’s

Burning violin

 

Yet now

Here and now

He spreads his message

Far and wide

Nurturing an ever growing

Cancer of fools