Totally unexpected
Not what we’d foreseen
If we’d known that this might happen
Events quite so extreme
We’d have taken due precautions
And it never would have been.
It’s dreadful what has happened
And can not be explained
There are no due precautions
For unexpected things.
via UNEXPECTED
They called him parsimonious,
Miserly and mean
But didn’t know the life he’d led
The lean times that he’d seen.
The hard times made him careful
And canny with his cash
He’d rather money in the bank
Than spending that was rash.
You couldn’t call him generous
He’d rather keep his cash
But was he such a bad man
Or just shaped by his past?
via PARSIMONIOUS
Insidious, undermining
Sapping your morale.
You may not see it coming
But it lurks there all the while.
Insidious, unspoken
The elephant in the room
There’s no way to confront it
But it scrapes away at you.
You may not see the problem
Or where it’s coming from
But it attacks the very fabric
The core of who you are.
If only it would surface
Be named for what it is.
Insidious, undermining
That’s the way it is.
via Insidious
No doubt of his rectitude
An honest, upright man.
He’d always do what he thought right
Refrain from doing wrong.
No doubt that he was righteous
A stickler for the rules
But compassion for us weaker folk?
Some thought he was cruel.
He’d never ever waver
Or give a guy a break
Some times being perfect
Is hard for folk to take.
via Rectitude
Guess that was its genesis
The place where the whole thing began.
You took a bite of the apple
Then things kind of got out of hand.
Back then we only had good times
We’d do pretty much as we chose
But you wanted a slice of the apple
And that was the start of our woes.
Up to then it had all been so perfect
Those good times are hard to forget
But the glorious vision of Eden
Is obscured now by tears of regret.
I dream of a day we’ll get back there
And things will be perfect again
Meanwhile there’s just toil and hardship
And all of our troubles remain.
7
via Genesis
Must you be so strident
So forceful with your views?
Any chance you’ll hesitate?
Why so short a fuse?!!
Someone pressed your button
I find you have a few!
You’re not short of opinions
React so to the news.
Can’t you reign it in a bit
Think before you speak?
Sounding off the way you do
Will only bring you grief.
It doesn’t get your point across
Passion’s not enough
They’re not hearing what you say
Your tone has put them off.
via STRIDENT
Sometimes bravado is foolish
It’s just not the right way to go
But casting aside all discretion
Is sometimes the only way through.
If there’s nothing much in the locker
And more to be gained than you’ll lose
Striding out with a swagger
Can be quite the best path to choose.
Act with sufficient conviction
Look like you mean what you say
It might just be foolish bravado
But perhaps you’ll still carry the day.
via Bravado
If you liked Cucumber Rhumba you might enjoy this.
Listen up youth to what I’m sayin’
Cos I’m long in the tooth and I ain’t playin’.
Got a gammy knee been pensioned off
I ain’t Hip Hop more like hip op.
A burden on the NHS
Wastin’ my time with guff like this.
Get me a stair lift, zimmer frame
Too old n’ stiff for party time
Kind of past it – know what I mean?’
‘Get Down with tha youth’ just ain’t my scene.
Hate Hip Hop – am more into tunes
Dodgey dad dancing – playin’ the goon.
Kind of tiresome getting old
Past your bed time, feeling cold.
Shuffle off grandad, had your day
No one’s listnin’ to what you say.
Can’t quite cut it any more
Legs are tired and feet are sore.
Listen up youth it’s comin’ to you
Ain’t gonna tell you what to do.
Just make the most of what you got
View original post 66 more words
First published June 2016 – the football got better, nothing much else has.
We cocked up the Brexit vote,
we cocked up at football
All we want’s another beer
and tuppence in the bureau.
Their face is painted red and white,
Their shirts are made of nylon,
They drape themselves in England flags,
sing like their a moron.
It’s no go the muddied oafs
England beat by Iceland.
Tears run down the English face
We slink back to our Island.
David Cameron he messed up,
He hid behind the sofa
Boris Johnson made a face;
he hit him with the poker.
Feel a pain between your ribs
Maybe you’re in Labour?
Mister Corbyn all alone
Beggared by his neighbour.
Cock a snook at clever folk
Don’t believe in experts
We’d rather read the Daily Mail
And sneer at cocky Herberts.
No time for city types
No time for cockneys
Cheered up the northern folk
To kick them in the Hockneys.
It’s three cheers from Scottish throats
It’s three cheers for Sturgeon!
England is a basket case
So send out for a surgeon.
Grandad is a bogey man
Gave away our future.
Patch it up with sticky tape
Or mend it with a suture.
It’s goodbye the Polski sklep.
Goodbye to summer.
The country’s going round the bend
But where’s the Polish plumber?
It’s no go the NHS
The promises mistaken.
All the nurses on a boat
And all the money’s taken.
It’s no go my dear true love,
it’s no go my poppet,
Work your hands from day to day,
the winds will blow the profit.
The glass is falling hour by hour,
the glass will fall forever,
But if you break the bloody glass
you won’t hold up the weather.
Last verse and inspiration for this piece, Louis MacNeice, Bagpipe Music, 1938.
From an original version published on the eve of the Brexit vote.
Hurrah for Little England
She cast herself adrift
Say goodbye to Brussels
We’ll head into the mist.
Don’t know where we’re going
The captain’s overboard
But we won’t be ruled by foreigners
Or people from abroad.
We’ll resurrect our Empire
They’ll surely want us back
So it’s goodbye to the future
We’re turning back the clock.
No need for foreign factories
No need for all those jobs
For life will just be perfect
With all the foreigners gone.
We’ll reclaim all our colonies
Take America back;
Canada and New Zealand
They’ll surely all want that?
Goodbye foreign subsidy
That’s not what we need
Londoners will pay for us
Let’s let London bleed.
Goodbye banks and bankers
We don’t need city jobs
Life will just be perfect
When Britain’s on its tod.
It really should be easy
Why the awful fuss?
Those beastly Europeans
Make it hard for us.
It’s really not your business
We won’t obey your rules.
Why do you think as customers
You have the right to choose?
Andrew Green's Poems 