Tuesday, 16 June 2015

Acid Sid's Last Gasp.

Acid Sid's Last Gasp.

Acid Sid was of disrepute.
He sold drugs to kids in a snazzy suit.
His pockmarked face was in a snarl
as he walked round with his mate Carl.

I put Carl in so that it would rhyme
but it was Sid alone who did the crime.
I chased him off; how he did cough.
He ran until his lungs gave out,
plus, he suffered terribly with chronic gout.

I said, "now look what drugs have done,"
he said, "I'll shoot you with my gun."
The bullet whistled past my head
and hit his mate Carl, who fell down; dead.

I felt guilty of a crime,
I'd introduced Carl to make it rhyme.
Acid Sid said, "I've another bullet."
He touched the trigger,but he didn't pull it.

His acidic lungs gave up on him,
His eyes rolled up, all glazed and dim.
The pain ebbed out of his gout riddled feet,
as he went to hell to face the heat.

Monday, 15 June 2015

Fiddle Dee Dee.

Fiddle-dee, dee.

Under the spreading chestnut tree,
I met a wench and she liked me
-Hey, ho fiddle-de-de.

My hand did wonder above her knee,
under the spreading chestnut tree
-Hey ho fiddle-dee dee.

that wench she had to marry me,
and we-well-
Hey ho fiddle-dee, dee.

I'm a fiddle-dee, dee and a fiddle, de, doe.
A fiddler I'll let you know,
under the spreading chestnut tree,

Keep your daughters under lock and key
away from that spreading chestnut tree.
Hey ho fiddle-dee, dee,
under the spreading chestnut treeeeee

Rocking away those wartime blues.

Rocking Away Those Wartime Blues

War babies came in with a bang,
in a war when they sang
of Bluebirds, Kitbag’s and Farewells.
Heroic parents with stories
to tell of their Glories
in a hell where their brave comrades fell.
Flat caps and Mack’s and demob suits
and very shiny leather boots.

They fought for peaceful days.
So we got a new craze...
We put on our blue swede shoes
and danced away those blues.

In peace, we did what we pleased.
tight trousers, short skirts,
youths with long hair,
and draped jackets that came down to our knees.

We danced a fast dance
with an unusual stance.
Jive was alive,
girls were thrown in the air,
they didn't care.
as we rocked the dance floor,
pony tails in girls hair.

We rocked around in blue swede shoes,
We rocked away those wartime blues...
The clock struck one two three and four,
now we are knock, knock, knocking on heavens door.
We are rock rock rocking, knocking on.
Ah, how good was Freedom?

Old Baldy.

He looked in the mirror this morning; he finally had to admit;
He hadn't a lot of hair left; In fact there was only a bit.

Once, it was thick; and wavy, he could comb it back in a D.A.
At twenty seven he combed it forward, as it was then it started fading away.

Nobody seemed to notice; as the Beetles were then all the rage,
He just said ‘I have changed my image; to look like those blokes on the stage.

When it started to get a lot thinner, he was getting worried; it’s true.
So he combed it up from the nape of his neck; it’s the only thing he could do.

Then the day arrived when his cover was blown, the wind was really high;
It lifted his waves up and down on his head, and they looked like they were waving goodbye.

He heard of a new cure for baldness. They said rub chicken muck in your head;
He didn’t do the full course of treatment, as the wife would not let him in bed.

Now he’s shaven the fuzzy bits from his head, and refrained from wearing a vest;
And like those macho men in the movies, he now flashes the hair on his chest.

Sunday, 14 June 2015

Born fit? Keep it!

That's what I'll be.

Born 1942,
that's true!

27th of July,
Had a good run?
Not yet son.

keep going,
no slowing,
Born fit?
Keep it.

you lose!

And beer,
cigarette smoke,
You croak,
on coke.

Fast food,
slow body,

Time will come
when my life's done.
Some is luck, you cannot duck,
when the cancer bullet hits,
you go chuck.

The name,
of the game.
Life's not cheap,
thrills are.

Saturday, 6 June 2015

The New Poets of Rap.

The New Poets of Rap.

Poetical, historical,
Record of our time
poets of rap
truth in rhyme.
listen hear
don't sneer
young here.
Look see
not just me
it's he, she,
she and he.
Together stand
apart fall
stand tall
for all.
Listen, listen, listen
eyes open, glisten
in recognition.
Remember Rock?
parents in shock
rock on with rap
close that gap
catch up
get the map.

The Days of the Whistle Blowers.

Oh how the mighty fall,
few now walk tall,
Some fiddled expenses, some fiddled with girls,
grinning bedecked with bling, gold teeth and pearls.

MPs, Celeb's, Newspaper Hacks.
Once only flashers in gaberdine macs.
Slandering people who won't give a story
making up tales so nasty and gory.

You watch my back I'll watch yours,
Don't let our secret go out these doors.
Aha! there's a mole, he's been underground,
he's now a whistle blower, his scruples are sound.

Another Mole, in velvety suit,
smart, intelligent, astute.
Two whistle blowers who can be believed,
Victims and Constituents are now relieved.

More whistle blowers, they can't be ignored.
whistles are screeching, Oh my Lord.
You shouldn't be crooked, your a Lord of the Realm,
A member of Parliament should be at the helm.

Celebs should be celebrated, not Vile and reviled,
Worse than animals out in the wild.
Free speech when true,
not words that suit only you.

At last they are falling from their high perches,
Hypocrites, Thieve's, perverts;
even in churches.
Scum of the earth they floated on top,
now at the bottom;
and! A top Cop.

Oh how the mighty fall,
 they no longer walk tall.
They  are down and out.
Victims were brave enough to shout.

Some may be dead, some may be old,
Who would have known?
without whistle blowers...
So Bold!

Thursday, 4 June 2015

We are one Race, Human.

Once we were all one Race,
Until politics showed its face,

Who is right?
They fight!
Force by might.

Guns and bombs,
Hurt the poor.

Pick your side,
or hide.
There for the ride.

Families flee,
ordinary folk,
like you or me.

We were one race;
We are many;
Christians, Muslims, Jews;

Dressed in robes;
costumes! of times gone by;
from superstitious times;
Praying to those on high.

Who is right?
Those with might?
Black or white?

Suffer the children;
in the cauldron of.
religion, racialism greed and hate!


Wednesday, 3 June 2015

A Country for Hero's?

The NHS is in a mess?
Who's to blame? Guess!
Is it me? I'm an oldie,
Once called a 'Goldie Oldie',
Respect is what they got,
Not us lot.

Living too long,
that's what's wrong.
Taking up beds?
What fat heads!
If we live long,
 that can't be wrong.

We done our bit,
we're fit!
We're not ill,
bit over the hill.
Not in Hospital,

 Out in the Cold,
Because were old.
From cradle to grave,
been through a war;

Paid our dues,
Now we have Tory blues.
Rich men,
in shadow of Big Ben.

Look after their own,
put us in a home.
We pay for our keep,
whilst relatives weep.
Massive bill,
nothing left in the will.

No hospital bed,
No care!
That's what I dread.
Terminally ill?
Pay your care bill.

Hospitals for young,
we're bottom of rung.
Care on the cheap,
Cash? Toffs keep.

A country for hero's?
Yawning Generation Gap Rap.

I'm going to have a shout at rap,
close this yawning generation gap.
I'm 70 and  up for it.
lets have a go,
we'll strut our stuff in the hood,
that's good.
We have our soul,
 and rock and roll
Now live in this time, talk in rhyme,
lets have a go; Yo!
We all have our point of view,
Now it's their time give them their due,
let go, Yo!
Come on you Dads, here's your chance
strut your stuff take a stance shout at the pensioners rapping dance ...

Dads Rap Pack.
Come on Dads' now here's the chance,
 join in with Dads' Rap Pack Dance.
Wave your hands up in the air;
 Kids embarrassed? You don't care.

Jump around on spindly legs,
the blood will rush to those old pegs.
Do a roll, you know you can,
spin on the floor like a fresh air fan.

The Mother Rap Packers follow on,
fans of Walter, Fred & John.
Wear your flat cap back to front,
Your on the dancing partner hunt.

Now we've all got on the floor,
youngsters making for the door.
we don't care were having fun,
We are Dads' Rap Packers son.

The pubs all ours now kids gone,
we'll have an old fashioned singalong.
Move you arms like a choo-choo train,
back to your childhood again.

Grab a partner, swing her round,
grab another when she falls to the ground.
Let your daft out, no one cares,
they all know you've had many beers.

Had a good Night? I think so,
in the morning you'll be feeling low.
head is banging, embarrassed too,
it all floods back as you sit on the loo.

Lets Rap, Pack?  ENIT!

 Rap ain't bad Granddad.

Tap our plates to new poetry.
Stop yo winging rap aint bad,
Follow me, the rap granddad.
wear your caps; beanies too;
If your shy a hood'll do.
Tap, tap, tap it's rap
Put over the top yo point of view,
like Keats and Wordsworth; Tennyson too.
Older poets then me or you
Musics fast catchy- few!
tap those feet hear t words,
don't dismiss like verbal turds.
Tap, tap to the rap.
Not boring ranting crap it's new poetry ITS RAP!
Iceberg cool, cool as ice, all the rage raging on the new age.
tap, tap to the rap.
Hip hop Is that a cop?The Oldest Rapper in Town.

No Pressure, All Pleasure. A Generation Gap Rap.

    There'd been a war
we were poor.
Hand me down
we didn't frown.
Not new; but clean.
No money, not mean.

Flat caps for lads,
one of dads.
Girls in mums skirt,
Boys in dads shirt.
Violins? Its sad?
No not that bad.

No pleasure?
No pressure!
Make do and mend,
No up to date trend.
A stitch in time,
saved Mam nine.

No pressure,
all pleasure!
Grew our own food,
it tasted good.

No credit,
No debit.
We didn't complain,
No cars, just a bus, sometimes a train.

Grew up, its Rock,
parents in shock.
Rock and Roll,
Blues and all that jazz.
Punk and other razzmatazz.

Young no more,
Grim Reaper at door.
Today we have Rap,
In generation gap.
Left behind without a map.

The Great Nature Show.

Leave your, Game Boy,
 PC, and Wii,
 come with me,
away from all modern triviality.
Without plastic beams and plastic brass;
and all night clubs with writhing mass.
 Where birdsong is top of the charts
and creatures have the starring parts.
Hedgerow, stream, meadow and tree,
make up the stage scenery.

The curtain rises on part one  SPRING.
Music arrives on feathered wing.
Robin Hedge-sparrow, thrush, dipper, wren,
are trilling in hedgerow, wood and glen.
Skylarks liquid melody flows from high;
crystal clear tune from clear blue sky.

yellow hammer flutters among the trees,
singing, 'little bit of bred and no - cheese.
Squirrels and dormice in acrobatic acts,
with death defying leaps, they land intact.

In athletic games hares run and jump.
Toe to toe,  they grunt, hiss and thump.
The dipper curtsies and bobs enthusiastically.
What a great show; and its all for free.

The scenery changes with a more splendid hue.
More performers fly in.  SUMMER is due.

Now we have part two of the great nature show.
The stage radiates in a magnificent glow.
In cobalt flash, Kingfisher dives'
producing a fish; before your very eyes.

Dragonflies in limpid blue,
are on the aerobatic agenda too.
Moths and butterflies flutter gaily by;
sublime with splendour that makes the audience sigh.

Rabbit and hare run at a rapid pace;
performing in the great nature race.
But the faster hare reaches sixty miles an hour,
with long muscular legs as springs of power.

The stage struck pheasant struts in regal attire;
the cock of the north; plus any southern shire.
Watch Otter slide down the slippery bank.
An aquatic show of graceful, spiral, supple flank.

The morning mist lifts to reveal the next scene,
silvery laced webs bordering a golden sheen.
Its AUTUMN, part three, the trees wear a new suit,
the hedgerows and briar's offer free fruit.

The dawn chorus strikes up' all the community sing,
Starling, robin, finch, sparrow, red-wing;
also the thrush, wren field-fare and tit.
Every species does more than its bit.

Jackdaw does his funny mime,
then mischievously turns to his thieving crime.
Raven does his funny walk,
Mallard laughs, 'Quark, ack, ack, ack.' He should talk.

Overhead there's an amazing sight,
Geese and Swans in arrowhead flight.
At dusk the choir gather again;
closing part three with a beautiful refrain.

Virgin snow covers the stage.
Part four WINTER. Frost bites, the winds in a rage.
Mistle-thrush provides the music now;
determined to out whistle the wind somehow.

Stoat dresses up this time of year;
the party gatecrasher in ermine fur.
Adults only for this part of the show;
signs of struggle, blood stained snow.

Through the still night air glides the ghostly Barn Owl.
Did he commit this deed so fowl.
It may have been Foxy; he's so sly.
He was seen skulking around nearby.

Was it Weasel? If you would like to know,
get out and about for the Great Nature Show.

Tuesday, 2 June 2015

War Hurts All, Spread Peace, Walk Tall

Peace? Where's Peace?
Fight for peace?
Wage war?
No peace for the poor!

Who is right?
 Fight for right.
Some wrong, some right.
Fight, fight, fight!
With all your might.

At the end of the tunnel,
 there may be light.
Who's to say?
You are right?

That light;
not bright,
in the eyes;
of those who like to fight.
Entrap young men; rhetoric bate,
murder, hate, a heavy weight.

Honour? Where?
Not there!.
Look in the eyes of Families,
Children... Shed a tear.
See real fear.

Rounds of bullets.
Round and round;
A vicious circle;
The killing ground.

Torture, hurt, Dirt!
Tyrants, Terror, Deceit.
Death raining from the sky's.

Religion, Power, Wealth and Racial  Hate.
Tyrants fall.
War hurts all.
Spread Love, walk tall.