“The Unmade Bed” – a poem

As I gaze at “the unmade bed”
Uncharitable thoughts stream through my head
‘This person’s a slut,’ I cruelly judge
Whilst others will croon and poetically fudge

‘It’s so post-modern’; they all will croon
Has Modern Art fallen much to soon?
When daily life is deemed to be ‘art’
How will we tell the two apart?

‘A Sink of Dishes’; unwashed and dirty
‘The Giggling Girl’; so coy and flirty
But looking back into the past;
A plate of fruit, a blue boy’s sash

A sweeping landscape full of drama
A dragon fighting a knight in armour
The world has always reflected such
But now we decry and damn as much

Art is in the eye of the beholder
And now our tastes are getting bolder
So if you dislike ‘the unmade bed’
Go look at something else instead!

unmade bed

Advertisements

Off The Beaten Track – a poem

Take me to somewhere the tourists don’t go
I want to see real life; deep inside it’s soul
I need to be somewhere which eluded the guides
To be in place where realness resides

I yearn for the place off a beaten track
Which hasn’t been covered by some weathered hack
It’s difficult to reach, a bit of a slog
And is not in the pages of some travelogue

So take me away and nurture my soul
A glass of something cool will help with my goal
A nice plate of food and good company
Hands up, who wants to go there with me!

“Terror” – a poem

When will humanity learn to know
To set down arms and live as one?
When will hateful fighting cease
In some God’s name, til the bitter end?
When will politicians learn to know
That the cost of war is too great a price?
Peace may not be a profitable game
But we don’t live life by balance sheets!
The profit and loss of human lives
Costs more in life and WE pay the price

“Self Love” – a poem

When sleep evades the waking mind
And physical love is all you crave
Employ the soul to a turning tide
And love thine self unto the grave

The carnal thoughts are held within
And sweet fantasy comes into play
Only you know your secret sin
To cease the spoils of the day

Avoidance of selfish doubt
Kills the death-knell of sleepless dreams
Don’t always believe what you sometimes see
For it in midnight’s haze, life is not as it seems

“Chip Paper” – a poem

“Chip Paper”

Tomorrow’s chip paper; the latest issue
A web of lies as thin as tissue
Flimsy stories masking the truth
Of the state of the nation and their youth

Political tales of horror and woe
Wondering how they sink so low
Twenty four hours of fame or glory
Tomorrow’s chip paper, but today’s top story

“Budget” – a poem

Bring me the head of Duncan Smith
Skewered on a stake
Osborne, Cameron, Morgan too
In fact, bring all his mates

The charge at hand is duplicity
And for killing the nation’s soul
They live in an alternative reality
And have consumed fair living, whole

Whilst tabloids scream “We’re Having Pay Rises!”
Have they really thought the sorry mess through?
For the humble members of society
Will end up paying for that too

You can’t take something from nothing
That’s basic economics, right there
Tory Maths just don’t seem to add up
And there’s nothing about it that’s fair

For the rich will just line their pockets
With investments and pensions and cash
Whilst the poor ‘s eyes will roll in their sockets
As they struggle to make the ends last

And if you decide to have a family
The next generation to thrive
Then you’re on your own, decent citizen
Don’t you feel so glad to be alive?

I fear for the state of the nation
With five more years of this hell
So bring me the head of Duncan Smith
And bring all his mates heads as well!